Chapter Text
“Are you Elim Garak?” The man asks the question as the two of them stand stopped at the overgrown roadside. He’s tall, slim, almost frail looking with a head of dark curly hair cut short, and hazel eyes that look out from dark circles. The man that he’s speaking to is older. His face is ruddy and pinched, eyes narrowed suspiciously as he regards the other. He’s heavier, the frayed flannel shirt layered over a dusty T shirt that says “Zombie”. The slender man has a few days’ stubble. It’s clear the older man with the light brown hair hasn’t shaved in weeks. He regards the slender young man with suspicion.
“Not as I can tell. The two of you supposed to hook up here?” He speaks with a Dublin accent.
“I don’t know... that is em... I don't quite remember. I've forgotten a few things...” the slender man answers. He’s looking out into the field past the tilted stone wall and chicken wire along the top. There aren’t any sheep in the field any longer.
“S’not a good time for a fella to forget himself. Dangerous, you know?” The older man looks around furtively. The sun is starting to hang low on the horizon and he shifts from one foot to the other. He’s carrying a backpack and the barrel of an old rifle is visible behind it. The slender man is silent a moment then blinks at the statement.
“You’re a long way from home, aren’t you?” The slender man speaks more deliberately and his accent is more Southern English. He’s wearing a Smiths T shirt and jeans. His hands are tucked into the pockets, the bottoms hanging over red Converse that appear quite clean in comparison to the older Irishman’s brown work boots.
“Family vacation,” the older man answers more tersely “Haven’t made it back home yet.” It’s suspicious to see a lone figure carrying nothing with them.
The Hunters are everywhere.
“Right,” the slender Englishman says, looking past him discreetly. “Do you think I might walk with you a bit? I think I saw an old cottage off that way and well, you can see I’m not really in a position to defend it.” He gives a shrug, an apologetic smile. The Irishman barely relaxes.
“What about this Garak fella? He comin’ ‘round any time soon?”
“If he’s late, that’s his loss I suppose,” the slender man says with a small quirk of his mouth. “You know it’s not safe to wait around out here and I’d miss him terribly but ah… he can take care of himself.”
“I don’t have nothin’ here ‘cept this old huntin’ rifle.”
“I don’t have anything either. Just my company if you don’t mind a spot of chatter. I’m afraid I don’t always know when to keep quiet.”
The older man laughs at that.
“Maybe once upon a time I’d be cheesed off by a fella not knowin’ when to shut his gob but… S’pose it don’t matter so much now. Keep a little in front of me though, will ya? Yer leadin’ the way and all besides…” He steps back carefully into the road as the man walks slowly past him. Neither of them have a concern for vehicles. The cars attract too much attention to use. The slender man pauses as an afterthought and holds out a hand.
“I’m Julian, by the way. Julian Bashir.” When he says that the other man rubs at his eyes and the tension goes out of his shoulders considerably.
“Julian Bashir… Christ, I know you! Took second place in the Nationals that last year before…” He pauses here, that brief moment of respite. “Yah, ‘fore the world went to Hell.”
“Would’ve been first if I hadn’t hit the wall,” Julian answers with a grin.
“Yeah, literally, mate, bit of a tough break there. Dunno how you even pulled that off.” He shakes Julian’s hand firmly. “Miles O’Brien. Honored. I used to play a little myself. Maybe coulda given you a run fer yer money too in my day.”
“Well, the honor’s mine, I promise,” Julian says as he starts walking. “I haven’t seen another soul in I don’t know how many weeks. I was starting to worry that I was the last man on Earth.”
“You and the Spoonies,” Miles answers falling into step beside him.
He doesn’t see Julian’s step nearly miss at that.
“The Hunters," he corrects. "They’ve done a thorough harvesting. Wales is a dead zone. I know. I was there. It's nothing but the landscape and the birds now.”
“Christ..." Miles mutters crossing himself. "Harvesting, eh? Sounds like something they'd call it. Still, makes ya wonder what they’re even saving this shit for.”
“Hunting. I mean, a hunter doesn't burn the forest after he's finished with the deer. You should know that if you're a hunter yourself,” Julian murmurs finding a break in the stone wall and stepping through it. “The house is this way. I don’t think anyone else would have found it since I passed it earlier. It was pretty well hidden from the road. I… don’t mean to pry but are you alone or is your family-”
“Gone,” comes the strangled reply. “Gone quick,” Miles continues with a whisper. “Keiko, Molly, Yoshi… You?” He picks up his pace after answering that question, as if now just becoming aware of how exposed they are in the open field.
Julian matches his paces but doesn’t seem particularly hurried.
“My mother and father. It wasn’t quick for my father.” There’s another small quirk of his mouth at that one. “It shouldn’t be much further- just on past the tree here.” He walks closer and looks at it a moment. “Right, this is it then.” He turns his head, hands back in his pockets. “It’s a left here back a ways.”
“Sure we’ll make it ‘fore dark? Ya know their eyes in the dark… like bloody pit vipers.”
“Pit vipers is it? What would a Dubliner know about snakes? I thought they were all supposedly driven out,” Julian teases.
“Apparently not all of them,” Miles mutters. “Hear they can smell ya too. I try and keep clean, try and mask it with dirt otherwise. Don’t eat anything too fragrant. You ever see one of those fuckin’ lizard monsters they got?”
“Riding hounds,” Julian corrects again as they walk deeper into the forest.
“Jeez, we're not in school, eh? I don't think the Spoonies'll shed a tear over a few names. Hounds is it? Not like any hound I ever seen and my da’ kept plenty fer huntin’. Ya sure we’re goin’ the right way?” Miles asks as the thick tree covering casts darkness over them both. Julian shrugs unconcerned.
“There’s a tributary running around up ahead. We can burn the bridge after we cross it.”
“Sorry mate, ‘fraid I don’t have a light. ‘sides, the fire might attract ‘em this way dontcha think?” Julian reaches into his pocket and takes out a lighter in response.
“For my cigarettes,” he explains with another shrug, not answering the question. “I know it’s an awful habit and there’s not really anywhere to find them anymore. I like to be prepared when I can though.” Miles snorts.
“Christ you patio people and yer fags. Nothin’ on ya but yer fags and a lighter. My da’ used to smoke the damn things too. S’probably what killed ‘im.”
Julian doesn’t immediately answer him, searching around, finally pausing and raising a finger.
“Right, there it is.” He indicates a bridge far off in the distance though Miles doesn’t seem to be able to see it. Still, he expresses relief as Julian leads him closer to the fast rush of water and the old wooden bridge over it. “But I suppose you’re right. The fire would attract them, wouldn’t it?” he murmurs softly, looking back out into the darkness across the water.
“Jeez, ya think? It’s a wonder they haven’t got ya before now. Gotta figure this Garak fella must be lookin’ out right good for ya. Helluva thing if ya can't even remember what he looks like. Bloody Spoonies… You ever seen one up close? Nasty looking buggers, they-”
“There it is,” Julian interrupts him, gesturing again through the dark woods. “It’s been overrun with ivy but I think that’s for the best. It makes it more difficult to find.”
Julian takes the lead, Miles carefully walking behind him. He walks faster through the brush, the path long overgrown and Miles curses as the ground grows uneven and he nearly trips.
“Oi, look, I know we gotta take cover ‘for long but I’d rather not break a leg in the process.” He’s breathing heavier from the extra weight of hit kit. Julian stops so that he can catch up but he doesn’t turn around.
“Ah, sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. Right, break a leg that’d make it pretty hard to run, wouldn’t it?” he says with a soft nervous laugh.
“We can’t all be Tennis champs, ya know,” Miles says clapping a hand on Julian’s shoulder.
“No… we can’t all be… there it is now, do you see the path?” Julian follows a few more steps, brushing Miles' hand off him.
“Can’t say that I…” He trails off as Julian stops in front of what appears to be a massive ivy wall. “Well I’ll be damned.”
Julian pushes the door open and for a moment the pitch back of the inside makes the dark woods look almost bright by comparison.
“What’d I tell you? Watch your step.” Miles follows him quickly.
“Think ya might make use of that lighter, mate?” he asks as he shuts the door behind them. “Not all of us are bloody English owls here." He feels for locks and slides a bolt when he finds it. "S'funny. Used to think the bombings were the worst thing I ever lived through.” Miles sets the backpack down by feel as well, hand lingering on the rifle a moment before he takes it up. “Never thought it’d come a day when I’d miss The bloody Troubles.” His hands have a faint tremor to them. “Shoulda been in Monaghan in ’74. Now there was a…” He stops at the sound of footsteps.
“Shit,” he swears under his breath as he raises the weapon. “Julian get back,” he whispers urgently, reaching out in front of him. Miles' hand on Julian’s shoulder turns him around suddenly in surprise.
It’s then that he realizes Julian’s eyes are glowing green in the darkness of the room.
"Miles? Is something-"
“Oh God… yer with them,” he chokes out. Miles hesitates just a moment when Julian blinks with those glowing eyes. The gun is snatched from his shaking grip and thrown back into the house, firing off with a loud bang and a flash of light.
"Sorry, I forgot you wanted a light. I may have fibbed a bit though, I don't have any cigarettes..." Miles takes a step back going for the door, blinded when Julian flicks the lighter on. There’s a figure behind him. The door won’t open. The shadows bounce off the cruel ridges if its face as that scant light illuminates the Hunter. Miles nearly trips over his bag as he steps sideways. The Hunter smiles at Julian wickedly before seizing his mouth in a long kiss, a stream of red swapped between the both of them.
“God, that’s bloody brilliant,” Julian gasps as the Hunter takes the lighter, letting it go out. "I brought you a little something if that's alright." There’s a crash as Miles blindly stumbles towards the direction where the gun was thrown. The Hunter takes Julian’s hand in the darkness.
“Such a thoughtful gift, my dear,” it purrs against his mouth. “Perhaps there’s hope for you yet.”