The Secrets We Keep

by Mijra

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Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek, its characters or any of its concepts. I just love telling stories. And if you're enjoying yourself while reading this piece of fiction, that's all I could ever hope for.^^

Note from the author: This story again is canon-based. It's fairly harmless compared to my other stories... but it is rather sad. So please be warned... And here again – if this story were a drama and each chapter one episode then the ending song of each episode would be "Snow Dance" from the Japanese band Dreams Come True. And now, enjoy!^^

Synopsis: Growing up and finding your own way isn't always easy. And sometimes innocence can be taken from us within the blink of an eye. Set during Julian Bashir's years at Starfleet Medical Academy.

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"You mistook a preganglionic fiber for a postganglionic nerve? Any first year medical student could tell them apart... You purposely answered the question wrong because you didn't want to be first in your class... You couldn't take the pressure..."

- Altovar; Distant Voices (Season 3)


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Chapter 01

"The boy who ran away"

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When he left the building, snow was beginning to fall.

It was a chilly December evening, and his breath came white before his eyes when he stepped out into the clear night air, almost unconsciously drawing his coat tighter about him. The temperature had remarkably dropped after sunset, and he was sure that tonight was going to be particularly cold. Rubbing his hands together, he hurried to key in the security code into the panel next to the door. The last lights inside the building went out, and the soft click that followed told him that the security lock had snapped into place. As always, he was the last to leave.

Snow flakes were floating lightly in the air around him, when he finally threw a last checking look around and hurried across the open space in front of the building, eager to get home and out of the cold. Again, he had spent far too long at work, his research keeping him busy as usual. But that was the problem with turning your hobby into your job. You never knew when to call it an end. Now he'd go straight home, grab some sandwich out of the replicator, shower and go to bed. Shoving his hands into the side pockets of his coat, he strode quickly toward the gate that was separating the grounds from the illuminated street beyond.

He was almost through the gates when a movement in the shadows drew his attention. Unsure, he stopped. A quick glance around the dark place told him that the grounds were deserted and quiet, as well as they should be this late at night. Squinting, he tried to decide what it was he had seen in the corner of his eye. Was his mind playing tricks on him?

"Hello?" he called out into the darkness.

There it was again. Something had definitely moved in the shadows. Frowning, he ventured closer, forgetting the cold that was already starting to creep under his coat.

"Is there anybody there?" he tried again.

Another moment later, and a few strides further into the twilight, he made out a figure crouching against the wall that was running around the grounds. It was the slender form of a teenage boy who sat, with his knees pulled up to his chest and arms wrapped protectively around them, on the rim of one of the withered flowerbeds. With his black hair and dark clothing, his silhouette was hardly discernible in the dim light.

"Hey..." he said softly at the unexpected sight.

The boy visibly startled, his head snapping up. Even in the faint light from one of the street lanterns in their back, it was obvious that he had been crying. His cheeks were flushed in spite of the biting cold, the wet traces of tears still glistening in the weak moonlight. He looked as if he was terrified about being found like this, yet too exhausted and worn down to hide or run away.

"Jules...?" he exclaimed in stunned surprise when he recognized the boy's face.

A look of silent horror crossed the boy's young features and his eyes grew wide. "Mr. Amos..."

"Jules? What are you doing here? Why aren't you home?" Amos almost instantly dropped his bag and crouched down in front of the boy until his eyes were level with his. He quickly scanned the boy for injuries or traces of a fight. After all, it was almost past ten in the evening and surely no time for a fifteen year old boy to hang out in the deserted grounds of his school in a freezing night like this. Not for Jules of all students.

The boy seemed to stiffen at his words, new tears forming in the corner of his already sore eyes. He bit his lip, but didn't answer. And with dismay Amos noticed in the dim light that he wasn't wearing but a thin blue sweater. No coat. No scarf. No gloves. As if … he had stormed out of his home without paying a second thought to the consequences. The realization made every alarm bell in Amos' mind start to ring.

"What happened? Do your parents know where you are?" Amos tried gently, remembering that Jules' family was living quite some way from school. He must have used the public transporter. No way he could have walked all the way here. It would have taken him over an hour. But what on Earth was he doing here?

Jules' stubborn silence only served to increase his worry.

"You know, you'll fetch a cold if you keep hanging out here. Do you know how late it is?" he offered lightly, trying to catch a glimpse of the boy's face.

The boy sniffled, as if in response. Still, he stared defiantly at the ground at his feet, obviously hoping that Amos would leave him alone if he just kept ignoring him long enough.

"Jules, you know that you cannot stay here."

For a long awkward moment, neither of them spoke.

Then Jules hugged his knees closer to his chest. "Can't you just pretend you didn't see me?" he finally pleaded in a weak voice. He was shivering all over, though he tried hard not to give away just how cold he really was.

"And let you freeze here to death?" Amos arched one brow. "You know what your parents would do to me? Say nothing of our headmaster." He decidedly clapped Jules' shoulder. "Come on, Jules, I'll bring you home."

The boy's eyes suddenly grew wide at the suggestion, a shadow of fear crossing his face. "No! I'm not going back home!" he blurted out. His young face drew into a pleading grimace. "Please, I don't want to go home."

"Jules..."

"You can't force me to go!" the boy retorted, this time more vehemently, a sudden flicker of angry determination in his tear-filled eyes.

Amos shook his head. "But you're parents must be sick with worry by now."

"They don't care," the boy said bitter, his voice quivering slightly as he turned his face away from Amos' questioning gaze.

An argument with his parents? Then it must have been a very vigorous one. Jules wasn't exactly the sort of child to rebel against his parents. Not that sort of kid to act without thinking. And certainly not the sort of kid to run away from home.

"Jules, you can't stay here. It's night and it's cold," Amos tried to reason with the boy.

"I'm not going back home." Jules' tear-smeared face glistened in the moonlight, his eyes resolute.

Amos sighed, running a hand through his hair. For a long moment he stood silently next to the boy. Then he nodded. "Okay," he finally gave in. "You don't need to go home. But I won't leave you out here on your own." Rubbing his chin, he threw a quick look around, quickly considering his options. "Tonight, you'll come with me. You can stay at my place." With that he offered his hand to help Jules up from the ground. The boy stared at him in confusion, the rational part of his young mind obviously telling him that Amos was right, even though the emotional part of him was poised for flight. After some long seconds, and with no real option, Jules hesitantly took the hand he'd been offered, letting Amos bring him up to his feet. He didn't face him, nor did he say another word, when he let Amos lead him toward the light out in the street.


The first thing he did upon coming home was put the boy straight into a hot bath. It was almost a miracle that he hadn't already caught a cold. He'd been shivering all along the way even though he had tried hard not to let Amos hear his chattering teeth. He had kept silent for the past half an hour it had taken them to get to his apartment. He'd made no objection when Amos had ordered him into the bathroom, turning up the heater and telling him to stay at least for the next half an hour in the warm water.

In the meantime Amos went to the kitchen, gathered the remnants of yesterday's dinner and put them into the recycler, trying to bring some order in the chaos that had begun to dominate his life of late. For a moment he thought of calling the boy's parents, just to let them know that everything was okay with their son. But eventually he decided against it. Perhaps it was better to hear what Jules had to say first. After all, he didn't know what had happened. Perhaps it was best to hear the boy's version of the story first. There still would be time to call them as soon as the boy was asleep.

He shook his head and sighed. Even though he'd been a teacher for a few years now, his career had never confronted him with a situation like this. Goodness, he was rather a scientist than a teacher, let alone a counselor. So far he had successfully managed to keep his job and his private life apart. What had he been thinking by bringing the boy to his home? But then he had seemed so lost and helpless, it just had seemed like the natural thing to do...

Jules had been a student of his biology classes for the past two years. He was the one with the best marks, always top of his class. His curiosity sometimes brought him and his friends into trouble but he had never thought of Jules as a child with any serious problems. Granted, he couldn't be sure what exactly was happening at his student's homes but judging from his experience with the boy during the past two years, he would have never thought it possible that Jules would one day run away from home. He had always seemed so carefree, so lively and easygoing. He had friends. He excelled at so many things in school. He seemed like one of those model students. And he had some of the most loving and caring parents in the world. Well, certainly more loving and caring than those of most of his peers. He wondered what could have happened to make young Jules storm out of his home in a fashion like this?

The sound of footsteps in the corridor pulled his thoughts back to the present.

Jules was coming back from the bathroom. His disheveled black hair was still wet and a towel wound around his shoulders but at least he seemed to have warmed up enough for the color to return to his face. Amos had given him some of his own clothes. They were a bit baggy for the boy but at least they'd keep him warm.

For a moment, Jules seemed to hesitate at the door but with no way to run away now, he came reluctantly over, settling down on the couch opposite Amos with his legs tucked beneath him. He kept his eyes cast awkwardly downward and tried hard not to meet Amos' gaze, his fingers digging nervously into the fabric of his black trousers. He looked like he was silently bracing himself for the interrogation he obviously dreaded to come.

"Are you hungry?" Amos tried to ease his tension, pointing toward the replicator. "I was planning on having dinner anyway. Can I fix you something?"

The boy just shook his head. "No, thank you, sir," he mumbled.

Amos regarded him for a long moment, and finally drew himself up. He ordered some sandwiches, some milk and some cookies. The milk and cookies he placed in front of Jules. The boy's head went up in surprise but he didn't offer any remark. Almost grateful, his hands reached for the mug of hot milk, and he took a reluctant sip, clutching the mug with both hands like he was desperately searching for something to hold on to.

Amos couldn't help a smile. Then he became serious. "And, are you now going to tell me what happened? What were you doing all alone back at the school grounds?"

When the boy wouldn't answer, he tried again.

"Did you have an argument with your parents? Is that why you ran away?" Amos' voice was mild and sympathetic when he searched the boy's face for any hint as to what could have happened.

Jules just stared silently into his mug, though he palpably paled. He seemed so lost and fragile in that moment. Not like the confident young student Amos had always known him for. But scared. And intimidated. Like he was regretting ever having set foot into his teacher's apartment but was too beaten and drained to do more than silently suffer the consequences. Usually, his eyes were sparkling with mischief... now they were dull with anguish and fatigue.

Amos leaned forward, frowning. "Did they hurt you?"

The boy's answer was a reluctant shake of the head. "No..." he mumbled again barely audible under his breath. It seemed genuine enough an answer, though.

Amos breathed an inward sigh of relief. Then he watched him for a long moment. "Jules, whatever happened, you can tell me. I'm your teacher. I promise, I won't tell anybody if you don't want me to. Whatever the problem is, we'll find a solution, I promise."

Jules shook his head, his shoulders slumping even further. "You can't solve this one," he finally said in a broken voice, looking even more miserable than before.

"There's a solution to every problem. It's just about finding it," Amos tried to cheer him up. "So, just try me."

Jules' hands shook slightly. "There's nothing anyone can do," he said at length, his voice oddly controlled. Was that a short flicker of anger he saw in the boy's face?

Some indefinite feeling warned him that he was entering dangerous ground. "How can you be sure, if you don't try?"

Silence.

Running a hand through his hair at the boy's stubborn reticence, he sighed.

"Look Jules, you're still so young. You've barely turned fifteen – and your whole life is still ahead of you. You're top of your class and you have a promising future. There's still so much to learn and see for you. So much to experience. No matter what the problem is, we'll solve it. And tomorrow, it will all seem only half as bad. I promise."

It was the instant he glimpsed Jules' face that he knew he had made a terrible mistake. The boy's eyes rapidly filled with tears, as if Amos' words had literally hit the mark. Jules hurried to wipe at them with the sleeves of his too big sweater, though instantly they were followed by new ones. It was like Amos' words had once and for all dashed his last resolve to pull himself together. Averting his gaze, he pulled up his knees, wrapped his arms around them and buried his crying face between his arms.

Amos instantly stood and came around to sit down next to the sobbing boy, gently placing one strong arm around his trembling shoulders.

"Jules, tell me what happened," he pleaded with the boy, his worry slowly being replaced by dismay. He'd never seen the boy like this. Never this... vulnerable.

"I can't," Jules sobbed, and it sounded as if he would give anything for it not to be so. It sounded as if he was carrying the weight of a whole world on his too young shoulders. As if he desperately wanted to call out for someone to help him but couldn't because he was afraid that it would only make things worse.

Gently stroking his back to calm the boy, Amos drew in a deep breath, utterly unsure what to do. What on Earth had happened? Why was the boy so shaken? "Okay," he finally said after a few more awkward, indecisive moments. "I'll call your parents, Jules." If the boy wouldn't tell him, there was no other way to find out the truth. And something about this whole situation was utterly unsettling. When he rose, however, Jules suddenly grabbed his sleeve.

"No! They didn't do anything to me. We had an argument and I ran away. But they didn't do anything to me. Please don't call them. We just had some argument. And..." Jules sputtered out, unable to hide the horror in his eyes at Amos' words. Like he was frantically trying to salvage what was left to salvage. "I swear, they didn't..." the boy sobbed, uncontrolled and in tears.

"It's okay, Jules. Easy now. Everything's okay," Amos said, again hunkering down in front of the distraught boy, taking both of his hands in his to get his attention. When their eyes met, he tried to put as much confidence into his words as possible. "Sssh, everything is okay. I won't call your parents. I'm just worried about you. But I won't do anything you don't want me to do. Do you understand? You're safe. No one is going to hurt you here."

Through his tear-filled gaze, the boy managed a nod. He was desperately trying to stifle the sobs that were still working their way up his throat.

"Okay," Amos said, squeezing his hands in comfort. "Whatever happened, you don't have to tell me. You'll stay here and have a rest. We can watch some holovids if you like. And whenever you feel ready, I'm here to listen. What do you say?"

Jules regarded him warily. But then he nodded, sniffling.

Amos offered a warm smile, soothingly patting the boy's back. It was the best thing that came to his mind. Give him some time, let him calm down first. At least he could have an eye on the boy. Whatever the argument with his family had been about, Jules obviously was too overwrought to think about it clearly now. At least he could offer him a place to feel safe and protected.

With a sigh, he went to collect some holovids he had stored on the cupboard. Selecting one of them at random, he came back to the living-room, inserted it into the holoplayer and got them some cookies for the evening. Pretending that everything was fine even though one of his students was sitting crying at his home, refusing to tell him the reason for his distress was in and of itself quite unsettling but what alternative did he have? Contacting security so that they could come, gather the boy up to carry him back home to make things only worse? If he had been in Jules' shoes it would have been the last thing he wanted so it was out of the question. Perhaps, if he gave him some time, Jules would begin to trust him far enough to give at least a hint as to what had happened.

When he activated the player, Jules curled up tightly in one corner of the couch, obviously too exhausted to care much about his miserable sight, no matter if Amos was his teacher or not. Even though he almost gratefully accepted the blanket Amos offered him, he never spoke, just kept watching the holovid with dull eyes, leaving no doubt that he was actually miles away.

They spent most of the evening sitting silently next to each other, until Amos noticed the boy's even and regular breath. Wrapped into the thick blanket like into a protecting cocoon, he had finally fallen asleep, his head resting exhaustedly against one of the cushions. With a sad smile, Amos drew the blanket tighter around the boy's sleeping form before he switched off the holoplayer and set about bringing their used dishes back to the replicator and cleaning up for the night.


The next day they had breakfast together. It was Amos' day off and, as he was sure that after the events of the night before Jules would never willingly agree to go to school, he'd let him sleep and set the breakfast for the two of them. When he went upstairs to check on the boy, Jules was already awake.

It was over breakfast that he finally spoke for the first time since the night before. He was nibbling at some toast, his eyes dull and unfocused. Even though he was still reluctant and hesitant in his actions, he looked a lot more composed than on the evening before.

"Sir," he finally spoke in a very quiet voice. "Do you think anyone can be punished for something he didn't do?" He was not looking up from his plate.

Amos paused. Arching one brow he said: "I don't think so. Why do you ask?"

Jules shook his head. "I mean, can anyone be punished for something that others did?"

Amos regarded him for a long moment, not sure what the boy was getting at. "It wouldn't be fair, would it?"

For a long time, Jules kept staring at his plate, obviously struggling with himself. Then he suddenly said in a barely audible whisper:

"I'm... genetically enhanced."

The few words hung in the air like thunder.

For a long moment neither of them spoke. At first, the words sounded so utterly out of place that Amos thought he might have heard wrong. But a look into the boy's face was all it took to tell him that Jules was serious. Of all things he had imagined, it was about the last thing he had expected to hear, and for a long moment he was so taken off guard that he was literally speechless.

"My parents had it done to me when I was younger," Jules continued in a strangely flat and emotionless voice, so contrary to his distraught behavior the night before. "I can hardly remember it. I never knew the truth. Not until yesterday. They kept it a secret for all these years. But I found the documents in my mother's files."

He was still staring numbly at the untouched food on his plate. Surprisingly, there were no tears in his eyes when he spoke. Just a profound anguish. As if he was desperately wishing to turn back time. As if he regretted ever having found out the truth, afraid of what it meant for him, afraid of the things he'd discovered.

"They told me that I have to keep it secret. Because if anyone found out, we would get into trouble. They told me that I would get into trouble." Jules paused awkwardly, his fingers digging anxiously into the fabric of his trousers. "Because it is... illegal."

The mere notion of the word obviously had a terrifying effect on the teenage boy, for he almost choked on the last word.

"I might still be fifteen. I might be best in class. And I might have the promising future like you said. But it's all worthless because," he swallowed hard but finally forced himself to go on, "...because... I'm a criminal."

"Hey, hey, hey, wait!" Amos suddenly held up both hands, having recovered far enough from his initial shock to interrupt the boy's unexpected confession for the first time. It all came so suddenly that he had a hard time to catch up with the boy. But this was definitely going into the wrong direction. "What makes you think you're a criminal? You're a fifteen year old boy, Jules. The best student I have. You're a child. Not some murdering, stealing individual and certainly no criminal." Amos locked his eyes with Jules', trying to stop him from getting carried away by his mounting fear. The profound hurt and distress he saw in the boy's hazel eyes almost took his breath.

Genetically enhanced. Goodness, he had been prepared for much, but surely not this. Could it be? How were chances that Jules was telling the truth?

Amos clasped both hands together, intently leaning forward. "Jules, listen. Even if you, as you say, underwent genetic engineering, even if it is true, that doesn't make you a criminal. Do you hear me? You are not a criminal."

"But it's still illegal," Jules continued in an unsteady voice, as if he had already played it all through in his mind and was terrified about the conclusion he had reached."They'll expel me from school. And I'll lose all my friends. And then I'll have to go to prison."

"Jules, you don't have to go to prison!" Amos held, determined. "Don't precipitate things. No one will expel you from school. And you certainly won't have to go to prison."

There was horror in the boy's eyes. "But if the truth comes out..."

"Jules, look at me," Amos gently urged, sensing the boy's slowly rising panic. "Let's start at the beginning. You just told me that you're... genetically enhanced. Do you know what that means? Do you know what the term refers to?"

The boy nodded. "It's about a postnatal correction of an individual's DNA. It's about genetic engineering. They rearrange your DNA. They improve your physical and mental abilities," he awkwardly said, the mere notion of someone tampering with the DNA of a living being obviously sending a cold shiver down his spine. But it was more than that. Genetic engineering. The words obviously held some dark and forbidden meaning for the boy. Like something he'd heard stories of, but which was mainly known to him because it was branded and banned within the Federation. They had most likely discussed it in school. They had learned about the Eugenic Wars, so naturally they must have learned about genetic engineering as well.

Amos quickly nodded. "Genetic engineering in and on itself is nothing bad. In fact, it is something very helpful in science. The possibility of genetic engineering once marked a milestone in research." He raised one brow. "It is only due to history and the wrong use of that knowledge that people have become afraid of it. But from a plain scientific point of view, it's nothing to fear, nor to hide. In the right hands, genetic engineering can do wonders. It's a gift. And if people weren't limited by their own fear, they'd put that gift to a better use."

Jules bit his lower lip, looking even more sick than before.

Amos shook his head and frowned. "But why... I mean, how did you find out?" he probed cautiously, careful not to upset or frighten the boy any more. "Are you really sure that's what your parents said?"

Jules' gaze dropped to the floor, his eyes shimmering. "It was... an accident. A silly game we play at school," he finally said, ruefully.

"It's about finding out if you're really the child of your parents. Someone came up with the idea what would happen if we found out that we were adopted, or the child of someone else actually. It was all about finding some birth certificate to make sure you weren't really adopted or so. It was just a game. But everyone played it," the boy said hastily, as if to justify his actions. "So I searched my mother's personal files. I knew where she kept them. The important ones that weren't stored in the database anyway."

"And that is where you found out?" Amos frowned.

The boy nodded weakly, half expecting Amos to scold him for sneaking around and poking his nose in things that didn't concern him. "She'd kept the reports of the doctor who'd treated me. About what exactly had been... done to me. About how my abilities and skills had been altered. She must have been afraid to put it somewhere into the database. It was only a rough outline with almost no further explanations. But I recognized names and places," Jules said bluntly, as if he was still seeing those documents in front of his mind's eye. "And that's when I remembered the time when I was younger and spent some time in a hospital on Adigeon Prime. My father once said that I was sick and that it was why I had to go there. But it was a lie. They never told me why we really went there. It was all for the treatment."

"What did your parents say when you found out? Did you tell them?"

Jules shifted uneasily in his chair. A dark shadow crossed his pale face, guilt and hurt fighting for dominance in his eyes. "My mother got so angry with me when she found out. At first she denied it all, but then she just began crying and she kept apologizing over and over. And I didn't know what to do. I was so afraid of my father coming home in the evening to find my mother and me like this. At first he thought that we just had an argument but then my mother told him that I found out and..." Jules' shoulders were trembling, when the scenery replayed before his mind's eye. "He told me to sit down with him. And then he told me everything. All the things they'd kept hidden from me about the treatment and why they did it. But all I wanted was for him to deny it. I just wanted him to tell me that everything was nothing more than my foolish imagination. I wanted him to get angry with me for having gone through my mother's files. I... I just wanted him to tell me that everything was okay. I was so sick when he explained in detail what had been done to me when I was at that hospital."

Amos regarded the boy for a long moment, still finding it difficult to accept the truth Jules was so suddenly confiding in him. But in a frightening way, it made all sense. He'd never given it a second thought, but when he thought back on all the past years now, there hadn't been a single time Jules had done badly at school. Of course they had been talking among the staff and every now and then someone would come up with what an extraordinary student Jules Bashir was. But that was it. No one would have ever thought of questioning the fact that Jules was just one of those kids who were extremely intelligent and good at learning. No one had ever suspected that there might be more to the boy's talents than met the eye.

Amos knew that his next words were decisive. "Jules, I want you to listen: Even if you once underwent genetic engineering, there is nothing for you to fear. It doesn't mean that you're a criminal nor that you have to feel embarrassed or ashamed of it in any way." Amos voice grew gentle. "No matter what changes your genetic code once underwent, you're still a boy. A normal fifteen year old teenager. You laugh when you're happy. And you cry when you're sad. Sometimes you're unsure. And sometimes you're even scared. You're a normal human being, with normal feelings. You have a normal life. Just as anybody else."

The boy finally lifted his gaze, a look of utter despair on his face. "But it's illegal," he held. Moisture was again beginning to form in the corner of his eyes at the thought. It must be what was terrifying him the most. It's illegal. Jules had always been a remarkable student, always keeping to the rules, always trying to keep up to the adults' high expectations. Having to learn that you've crossed a line without ever having wanted to, without ever having actually done anything wrong, had surely come as a unexpected and painful blow.

Jules winced. "If they ever find out..."

Amos shook his head. "They won't. No one is going to question you about things that might have once happened in your past. It hasn't been of any relevance until now, and it won't be of any relevance in the future. Nothing will change: The only difference is that now you know the truth." He clasped his hands, resting them on the table. "From a scientific point of view you're DNA was simply rearranged during the process. But there was nothing added that hadn't been there in the first place. Your DNA alone will never give you away. Don't worry. I'm a scientist, I have to know," Amos tried to offer his most reassuring smile.

Jules looked barely convinced. "But... it would be a lie..."

Amos held up one hand. "Just because you're not talking about something doesn't make you a liar, Jules. There are so many things people don't want to talk about. Does that make them liars?"

The boy gave him a honestly puzzled look.

"Jules, whatever genetic treatment you once underwent, don't forget one important thing: You're still Jules. Whatever had been done to you when you were a child, it's thanks to that that you're now the person you are. The Jules Bashir I'm talking to right now would have never been here, hadn't it been for your parents' decision. It doesn't matter if it was illegal. It's not even important if it was good or bad. The only thing that matters is that you're now sitting here as the person you are. You didn't do anything wrong, Jules. And you don't have to be afraid that someone will punish you just for being yourself."

Amos gently squeezed his hands. "You're good at school. You have many friends. And that is everything that counts. There are other students who are good at school. There are other students who excel at sports. You're good at maths? Well, there are other students who are good at it as well. You're just like them. There's nothing to be afraid of. You're just a good student. Perhaps a little bit better than the rest, but that's all."

A faint flicker of hope crossed the boy's flushed face. Amos' unexpected gentle words had obviously taken him off guard. "Then... you don't... think it's bad?" he probed under his breath, still too afraid that Amos could tell him in the end what he feared so much.

But instead, Amos laughed warmly. "Well, it certainly is quite some news but... no, I don't think it's bad. In fact, it's quite the contrary."

Jules seemed to relax a little, as if a heavy weight had suddenly dropped from his shoulders. For a long moment, he sat at the breakfast table, too embarrassed to say anything further. But finally he lifted his gaze to meet Amos' squarely for the first time. Amos winced at the childlike innocence he saw in the boy's eyes. "But... I don't know what to do now."

Amos smiled. "You don't need to do anything. Just be yourself. That's all you have to do."

Jules seemed to consider his words for a long moment. Then a flicker of sudden anxiety came across his face, as if he had just remembered something very important. "You won't... tell them... will you?"

Taking a sip of his already lukewarm coffee, Amos decidedly shook his head. "I won't, Jules. I'm your teacher. If you can't tell me, who can you? Your secret is safe with me." Then he added in a more serious voice: "It's a powerful secret you have though, Jules. Even if you might see it as a burden now, there is so much you can do with it. Don't be afraid to accept who you are, and what you're capable of. Put your talents to a good use. There is so much good you can do with it."

Noticing the again uncertain look on the boy's face, he shook his head and smiled. "But I think I don't really need to tell you. Just keep being yourself."

For a long moment they kept sitting silently next to each other, Jules clutching the mug of barely touched hot chocolate, obviously mulling Amos' words over. Until he suddenly spoke again.

"Julian," the boy whispered hesitantly under his breath.

Amos gave him a puzzled look, not sure he could follow.

"Julian... It's my... real given name," the boy said slightly embarrassed as if he was sharing another of his secrets.

Amos smiled amiably, patting the boy's back. "Okay... Julian. What about some more toast and some more hot chocolate. And later, whenever you feel ready, I'll bring you back home?"

Shyly, the boy returned the smile for the first time. Then he nodded, obviously grateful. "Thank you, sir."