“It could have all been so different,” Q announced.  

Garak struggled to keep his breathing under control.  The closet seemed smaller than he remembered.  

“Aren’t you the last bit curious?”

He closed his eyes, trying to bring his heartbeat down.  “No,” he managed to lie convincingly.  

Q smiled.  “Let’s face it.  He wasn’t the best father, was he?  This whole closet business was just the beginning.  Why didn’t you kill him that day?”

The hanger was suddenly in his hand again, the one he’d twisted and reshaped in the darkness.  He had planned to plunge it into his “uncle’s” heart when the enormous door swung open, thus ending the eternal torment.  

“I couldn’t think of a place to hide the body.”

“Not quite the truth.”

“I wasn’t sure I could do it.”

“You’re getting warmer.”

“I loved him too much.”

The handle turned from the outside and the door opened.  The events that occurred in the past unfolded differently today.  In one swift move, the child Garak catapulted himself from the confined space and buried the pointed end of the hanger into Enabran Tain’s chest.  From the older man, a small sound of surprise escaped.  Then he fell heavily to the floor, a smile forming on his face.  Death followed swiftly.  Garak collapsed on top of him, blood mingling between them.

“Poor daddy dearest,” Q taunted.  “Murdered by his only son.”  

Garak’s chest ached, his heart beating so fast it thundered in his ears.  He panted, struggling now more than ever to catch his breath.  A second later, he rolled away and hit the ground himself.  

Q, now replacing the form of Enabran Tain, lay on the floor beside him, the same bloody wound replicated on his chest.  

“That wasn’t one of your better plans,” Q remarked.

Garak grasped at composure. “I can’t say that it was.”

(Written a few years back for DrToilette, who knew Q like none other, and who is very sadly no longer with us.  Memory eternal.)