Disclaimer: Star Trek and all characters from it are the property of Paramount and Viacom. No infringement is intended. This is strictly an amateur work for the enjoyment of the fans and no money has been made. So don't sue me. I'm too poor anyway!
Rating: PG
Note: This was originally published in the fanzine "Salutatorian 2" several years ago.
This story is set approximately 6 months prior to "Emissary"
Jules: A Prologue
By
NorthernStar
His final exams were due in ten days but Julian wasn't studying for them. There seemed little point in going over what he already knew backwards, forwards and inside out. Besides which, Palis needed him. On the same day as his finals, she was about to play Ariel in The Tempest and the part had been written especially for her.
Or at lest that was what the director had said.
When she'd been offered the part, Palis had laughed, assuming that this was yet another of the jokes her wacky friends played on her. She was a dancer, a prima ballerina, not an actress. But Callum, the director, had inspired her as his plays inspired people. Creating in her head a vision of Shakespeare's fantasy that was both beautiful and cruel. She hadn't said no.
And now less than two weeks away from the opening night, she had finally come down to earth. She wasn't just having second thoughts. She wasn't just having a panic attack. Palis was going insane.
"You're going to hyperventilate if you don't calm down."
Palis paced the room for the hundredth time, her breathing quick and shallow. "Julian!!"
Julian Bashir laid back on his bed and smiled. "You know, you're cute when you're hysterical."
He wasn't really unsympathetic and she knew it. That was why she loved him. But he did have a very bad habit of never taking her seriously. Or knowing when to keep silent. Tact was something she hoped to teach him.
"Julian, please!"
He crossed the room to her and gathered her in his arms. She accepted this small comfort a moment before launching off on another circuit of his dorm room. He sighed, watching her glide away from him as if she didn't have feet. Even uptight and nervous there was no escaping the gracefulness about her. Palis was beautiful, with porcelain skin and long raven hair that fell to her waist and the greenest eyes he'd ever seen. But it had never been her physical beauty that had attracted him. It was the depth with which she touched him. The sense he'd discovered the other half of his soul.
He knew her better than she knew herself.
And he knew she was going to be wonderful on that stage.
And because he knew it, she knew it too.
She always knew everything he did. Everything about him. Everything except one terrible, terrible detail. The black cloud that hung over their relationship, the one Palis never knew existed.
She slumped down on the bed, exhausted. Worry creased her lovely face. Now she had learnt the script, learnt the steps, learnt the routines, she'd had time to grow afraid.
"What if…what if I've made a mistake?"
"You haven't." He insisted, "trust me." He gently kissed the anxiety from her brow. "Trust yourself."
******
As he watched her run effortlessly through her dance routines the following day, Julian tried to push aside the sensation that things were running away from him. Of course they'd discussed the future. He was so close to graduation he was almost panicking himself. Not a moment had passed at the Academy when he didn't think that this was the day someone would discover the truth. Now the ordeal was almost over, not being found out was something of an anti-climax.
"Wonderful! Superb!" The director breathed, repeating himself over and over, as Palis said her lines with quiet poise. His ecstatic words were a background to the thoughts rolling around in Julian's head.
He'd never told her. Had been too afraid too, but if they were to have any kind of a future together he would have to tell her the truth. Her reaction would be much like his. Shock, disbelief of what she'd heard, and then, anger. In the two years, they'd been together they'd never had a serious disagreement. He'd never made her truly anger, never made her cry.
The truth would do all that and more.
He prided himself on their closeness. Recognised this as one of the most precious things about their relationship. He could guess her thoughts. And it hurt to realise that he didn't know how she'd take the news.
Eleven years ago, his parents had told him why they'd taken him to that hospital as a child. A trip he remembered in a vague way. A small trauma of sickness and dizziness. A chunk of his childhood that was there but rarely dwelled on. He could still recall how they told him, as if it had happened this morning instead of over a decade ago. He doubted he'd ever forget. Or that the pain of that knowledge would ever lessen, just become more liveable as the years passed, as indeed it had, and would continue to. Telling Palis would bring it all up again, he wasn't sure he had the courage. But he knew had to, he couldn't begin a life with Palis that was built on secrets on deceit. She deserved better.
"That was wonderful, 'Lesse," her director yelled, "but listen to me, you have to…" The man's voice trailed away as Julian's father's voice echoed across his son's mind and across the years…
"Now you listen to me, Jules. You're going to medical school and that's final!"
The argument had flared as it always did, when Julian had declared his intention to be a tennis player for the hundredth time. A desire that would never be reconciled even after all these years.
And his own reply…"You can't stop me. I'm old enough to make my own decisions."
His father had laughed. "You're fifteen years old, Jules and while I'm your father, you'll do as I say."
"I wish you weren't my father!" he'd cried, more out of frustration than intention.
Richard Bashir had grabbed his son, his fingers digging painfully into the boy's arms. "You-!"
"Richard!" His mother had cried. Never, in 15 years had Richard raised a hand to his son, but Jules had never said anything like that before. She realised, in a sudden, brief intuition that this argument was different. This was the moment she had been dreading for nine years.
"You ungrateful…after everything we've done for you.
This is how you repay me?""You've never done anything for me." Jules yelled, feeling tears fill his eyes, knowing he was going to lose this argument as he had so many times before.
His mother had tried to calm them both, to avert disaster. "Jules, don't say that. Your father-"
"Why not? It's the truth!" He'd cried, "why won't you listen to me? I don't want to be a doctor…" He hesitated, unsure, knowing that wasn't really true. He did, but he didn't. And it wasn't just that wanted to play tennis more. "…not much anyway."
Richard had shaken his head. "A few years ago you wanted to be a doctor! How do you know you won't change your mind again? Medicine is a good, stable career. What will playing tennis ever get you?"
"I was
ten!" The face of that dying Invernian girl floated through his mind. "And I won't change my mind. I want to play tennis! I'm good! I can be the best!""The best…." His father muttered, "if you're ever 'the best' at anything it'll be because of me and your mother!"
"In spite of." He'd' yelled.
"If it hadn't been for us you'd have been stupid all your life!"
"Richard, please. He just wants to know, to understand why it's not possible for him." She reached out for her husband. "Don't make this harder than it already is."
"Amsha…" His father, too, had abruptly realised how far this was going. A sudden knowledge there was no way back.
Jules had looked at them, back and forth; sensing something deeper was going on.
"Jules, you can never play professionally." His mother had whispered.
"I will, I don't care what you say."
"It's not as easy as that. The sports council's…they test…" Amsha looked paler than he'd ever seen, her voice halting. "They test for…for genetic enhancements."
"I know that. So the players can't cheat. But I'd never do that. Or take drugs," his eyes were wide with confusion. "I promise."
If only it had been that simple. "It's a bit late for that." Richard had snorted; amused at the irony of gifting a son with the ability to do anything he wished and then discovering what he wanted would never be possible for him.
"Wh-what do you mean?"
"Jules…" his mother began, "I know we should have told you before. We shouldn't have let this gone on for so long…"
"Haven't you ever wondered why you went to that hospital? Don't you remember being stupid?"
"Richard…" Amsha warned, knowing her husband too well to hope he'd do this right. And not trusting herself either.
The boy he'd been had faltered at the memories, the ghost images of himself at first full of excitement at this trip off Earth. The smell of the little room they put him in; playing hide and seek with the aliens in the hospital; the long needles they'd pushed into the back on his neck, never hurting but always frightening, and the terrible nausea and terrifying dizziness they left. The little room spinning giddily while his father rocked him in his lap, hushing his tears, never making a sound when his little son was sick in his arms or when the treatments would make him wet himself.
And the brilliant light growing inside his mind, an energy that flowed through him; the happy ease at understanding, growing taller, faster, quicker, chasing his father around, laughing…his mother's face…
A hundred little memories and ones he'd never understood. "I remember, a little anyway."
"We risked everything for you." His father's eyes burned with anger. A fire that pierced right through his son. "Everything!"
Jules took a step back, terror forming in his eyes. "Wh-what did you do to me? Why do I…remember…" His frown deepened. When he thought hard enough, when he tried to think back, there was so many things he recalled. Like being around kids his own age and yet never quite interacting on their level. There was…detachment in his early memories. It was hard to remember images, but he could still feel the pain of disappointing his parents and hunting for forgiveness for this… this
something he'd done wrong and never knowing what is was. "Mother…?"Amsha looked at her husband. Richard squeezed her hand and nodded slightly. They'd long since agreed that when the time came, she would tell him. His mother turned back to him but she never once met his eyes.
They'd noticed his 'difficulties' she'd told him, even before he'd started school. He was 'slow,' that was the phrase she'd used. Slow and very quiet. Never spoke more than ten words at a time, even to her. Not because he couldn't, she'd smiled, but just because he didn't. They'd taken him to a child psychiatrist who'd told them he was just 'shy' and instructed them in how to build up their son's confidence. Not that it worked. Then his father had heard of a clinic, on Adidgeon Prime, which 'cured' children like Jules and at first they'd both been horrified by the thought.
"Not horrified enough, obviously!" He'd cried.
"Just listen!" She snapped, her face creased with tension.
And he'd listened, in quiet shock as his mother calmly laid it all out. They'd hoped school would bring him out of himself, but he'd floundered even more. Unable to keep up with the other kids, no matter how hard he tried. And them they'd decided. They sold everything of value they had for those treatments, she said, as if he should be grateful. With every word, he felt a coldness creep through him. Ice against his heart. He couldn't even breathe until she finished. And when she had, he just stared at her, like an animal stricken by approaching lights. He couldn't hear her concern over the roaring in his ears, felt nothing but the stream of tears on his face.
"No," he'd whispered through trembling lips. "NO!"
"Jules…." His mother had reached out to him but he pulled back.
"Don't ever touch me again!" And he'd run from the house, his parent's angry cries echoing in his head until choking on his sobs, he'd tumbled to the ground. He lay in the dust, his chest heaving as he fought for breath. It couldn't be true. It couldn't. He was Jules Bashir. Not Jules the Mutant. Jules the genetically enhanced. It was a lie; a filthy evil fabrication made up by a father who wanted him to do what to do as he was told. It
had to be.And there was a lie, but it wasn't the one he'd believed then. It was him. He was the lie. Nothing he'd ever believed about himself was true. Why couldn't he have been a better son, why couldn't he have been the smart kid his father had wanted?
And his mother. She had never looked him in the eyes. It was almost as if she'd been telling the floor and not him. Had she been that ashamed of him?
His feelings had changed since then, but they were just as tangled, just as raw. He'd pushed a distance between him and his parents; a rift he knew would never close. He wasn't who he thought he was, he didn't have the parents he thought he had. Not ones who were proud of his achievements but rather of their own. Maybe a month or so after, time hadn't mattered, not then, he'd stared at his reflection in the mirror and seen a stranger staring back. He'd smiled at this new face. "Julian…" he'd murmured.
He was suddenly aware of arms around his waist and a draft in his ear. "Earth to Julian!" Hello!"
He blinked. Palis grinned and blew in his ear again. "I am sooo glad you've been enjoying this. I'd hate to think you were bored!"
"Watching you? Never!" But she wasn't convinced.
"Go!" She breathed, "go study, go play tennis, anything, I'll see you later."
"I'm OK. I said I'd be here for you and-""
"You have exams, remember?" She frowned, "I know I was acting crazy earlier but I'm fine now."
He sighed. He knew she wouldn't take no for an answer.
******
That stupid skeleton song was rolling around in his head. He'd caught himself humming it several times. He wasn't even aware he'd been doing it. "The knee bones connected to the…thigh bone, and the thighbone's connected to the…" They used to sing it all the time at the student parties, and because everyone was blind drunk, no-one could remember all the verses. The seniors had even made up their own version one Hogmony but it wasn't repeatable. Why that song was now rattling around inside his head, he didn't know, but it was making it almost impossible to study. Julian pushed the notes PADD aside.
Its not like you don't know this stuff.
He thought as his gaze drifted over to the commission's PADD he'd been given. If he passed, as there was little doubt, with full honours, he could ask for any of those commissions and it would be his.Deep Space Nine.
Just the sound of it conjured up images of the frontier. As a child he devoured all the pioneer novels he could lay his hands on. Now that time had placed a distance between himself and his feelings, he could laugh at his old desire to be a tennis player. He might've succeeded in winning at Wimbledon, but there really wasn't all that much call for a tennis phenom on the frontier. He intended to ask for the commission the moment he learned he'd passed ahead of the others. Palis would be upset, he knew. She had her heart set on them returning to Paris where they'd met, a respectfully married couple. Her father, Anton, had already offered him a post in his medical centre. Palis had her own apartments there, as well as a dance studio. In twenty-five years of life, she'd only been off Earth twice, for a period of six months. Julian, his father having a passion for changing jobs every five or six months or so, had spent more time off the planet than on it.
But Palis was different. She would never leave. Her life was here. Her career was here. Why would she want to traipse half way across the quadrant to a battered Cardassian space station where there wasn't a great demand for ballerinas but a great demand for doctors who specialised in multi-species medicine? Just the rebuilding of the Bajoran social system would provide esteem to any career. The opportunities where were endless. But he was beginning to realise; it was one or the other. He loved Palis too much to ask her to come with him. Knowing she'd say yes, knowing she'd never be happy.
But did he love her enough to stay…?
******
He would never be sure why he picked that day. It wasn't a good time, for either of them. But something had been set in motion the moment he'd told him about her parents. Their marriage hadn't been a happy one, full of petty deceits and even pettier arguments. Palis had grown up surrounded by their endless battles, living as a human sounding board for her parent's problems. I don't want that for us. She'd said. Since then, he couldn't get his past out of his head. He had to tell her.
So when Palis had returned form the theatre, still dressed in her simple pastel coloured dance outfit, he told her there was something they needed to talk about.
"I know this isn't a good time…" he began, "it never will be."
She put down the tea she'd ordered from the replicator, gazing at him with amusement. She came forward and circled her arms around him. "It's a good time for something…"
"I have to tell you… it's about…about me…"
She pouted and nibbled his ear. "Ohh, you sound so serious."
"This is serious."
"So's this!" She said, kissing his lips.
He gently untangled himself, "Palis!"
She pressed her face into his neck, "Ju-lee-aan…" she mimicked his accent, seductively.
He put his arms around her, more so he wouldn't have to look into her eyes while he told her than anything else. She cuddled up close, as she always did when he held her, Palis sighed, knowing his mind was elsewhere and trying not to let it bother her.
"So what's this terribly serious thing you want to tell me?"
He pressed his face into her hair. "I thought of a hundred ways to say this. I even practised a few."
She broke away suddenly, a flicker of fear and anger in her eyes. "There's someone else?"
"No!" He shook his head; "it's nothing like that, I swear. There's only you. There'll always be only you."
"Then what?" Her voice trembled slightly, but her lips twisted with her customary humour. "As if anyone else would put up with you, Doctor."
Despite himself, he smiled at the tease. "Say that too often, you'll jinx me! I'll never qualify."
"What me? A jinx?" Her eyes danced with mischief and any moment now she was going to start tickling him. It was now or never. "I…"his nerve was failing fast. He should just get it out. "I was genetically enhanced when I was six." It came out as one long word but at least it was out.
She went still, not even breathing, "What?"
"When I was a child," he said tonelessly, "my parents had me genetically enhanced."
Palis went rigid and collapsed back on the bed, howling with helpless laughter. What ever he'd imagined he hadn't foreseen this. That the idea would be so absurd to her that she'd assume it was a joke. For one heart-stopping moment, he wanted to laugh along with her, pretend it was just a stupid prank. Ha, Ha, fooled you! But he'd come this far and he'd never have the courage to say this again. He waited out her giggles, knowing that any insistence that he was telling the truth would be met with even greater disbelief and profession's that her couldn't con her.
Gradually, his stoic face brought her round. She sat up, staring at him with wide eyes. "Julian..?" She sounded unsure; still half convinced this was a silly gag.
"It's not a joke."
Her laugh this time was less assured. "You almost had me that time!"
"Palis, please don't make this any harder than it already is. My parents couldn't live with a stupid kid so they had me 'fixed.'" Something in his voice, or face, told her to believe him. Or maybe she could sense the pain that he'd had to live with an all these years.
"But…but you can't be…it's illegal."
"I know."
"Do you know what would happen if anyone found out?"
"I know."
"But Starfleet…they don't allow…"
"I know."
"'I know.' Is that all you can say!" Palis shouted, her pale face growing even paler. She looked like she wanted to vomit. The wonderful, beautiful life she envisioned falling in ruins around her. "Why didn't you tell me before?" She was angry now.
"I wanted to." Julian looked away, avoiding her eyes. "And now…please don't make me regret it."
She stared at him, wondering if hearing him tell her he was leaving her for someone else would hurt as much. And trying not to feel so much…disgust. Hearing her own inner voice telling her it wasn't the big a deal. "Regret…." She breathed, "You…"
"It doesn't have to change anything."
"Doesn't it?"
"No!"
"What do you mean 'no! How can you calmly sit there and tell me you're some kind of…of freak like that monster Khan Singh." The moment it was out of her mouth she regretted it. Would have done anything to have taken it back. "I'm…I'm sorry…I just…" She tried to touch him but he pulled away, hiding his face from her so she wouldn't see the pain she'd caused him. "I have to go." She whispered.
"Palis!" He grabbed her arm to physically stop her from leaving. "I have to know. You have to tell me what you're thinking."
"I...I…I think it's horrible!" She cried, "it's so…it's unnatural!"
He felt tears sting his eyes and he let his hand fall away from her arm.
"How could you keep this from me!"
He understood her anger, her fear. Two hundred years after Khan, and people still feared him and his kind. The Nazi Holocaust, Auschwitz, the Eugenics Wars…people still remembered with a feeling of horror. A history of ethnic cleansing, of the removal of the 'inferior' that stretched back millennia into human history. It was guilt by association, he knew, but it didn't stop him feeling dirty. Feeling different in a way that was neither special nor real.
There was a long silence; he couldn't answer her question.
"I love you." It was the only thing he could think of to say, the only thing that might matter.
"I…I…" For the first time since they'd met, the words 'I love you too' froze on her lips, refused to be spoken.
"I'm not Khan."
She seemed calm now, quiet. "But you could be." Her eyes searched his face for a sign of the man she'd fallen in love with. "You have it inside of you, don't you?"
"You know me better than that."
"I thought I did." She whispered. "I have to go to rehearsals." She spoke so quiet he almost didn't hear.
He didn't stop her as she parted, closing the door softly behind her, leaving him alone in his room. This nightmare would never end. Because he knew.
He was the nightmare.
******
Palis pushed the aural inhibitors in her ears and activated them, blocking out every single sound. She was, in effect, deaf. She was still dressed in her dance gear. She couldn't face her colleagues at the theatre and had come here to the private dance studio her father owned to think and just be alone. He'd given it to her as an eighteenth birthday present, and she'd spent all of her free time there before she'd met Julian. Since then, she'd only been back a few times. It was the perfect hiding place, Julian would never think of transporting all the way to Paris, the city of her birth, to look for her.
Palis switched on the music and began to dance. Although the music played at a volume so loud it was beyond the tolerance of human ears, she couldn't hear the beat. Anyone without protection would suffer burst eardrums, even brain damage. It was a dangerous practice for a ballerina. But it was worth the risk for Palis; the walls vibrated with the force of the sound and the music seemed to flow through her body. She could feel the music; she was part of the music.
Nothing mattered on the dance floor. Nothing but the music.
She had said some terrible things and thought even worse. Why hadn't she been able to take him into her arms and tell him that it made no difference to her feeling for him? And it didn't, she knew that. But she'd been so scared. All those stories she'd heard, all those lives' snuffed out in so disgustingly an evil way by the super humans like Khan Singh, a man who was placed in history next to the likes of Genghis Khan, Adolf Hitler, Pol Pot, Stalin…
But Julian was none of them; he could never harm another. He just… he just wasn't like that. She had once teased him that the initial S in the middle of his name didn't stand for Subatoi, but 'sensitive, sympathetic, sentimental…' 'Stupid', he'd added, and then looked sad. Now she knew why.
The world whirled round her as she danced, but for once it wasn't working. Nothing had ever resisted the exclusion of her dancing. Not even her parents divorce. Or her beloved uncles death. Dance cleansed her sorrow. It was her salvation. Always had been, for as long as she could remember. Tears welled in her eyes, fell down her cheeks. Pain constricted her chest, making it impossible to breathe. Why had she said those things? She hadn't meant any of it. But she'd been so stressed out with the play and the endless rehearsals that every little thing was blown way out of proportion and it had been so easy to take out some of that frustration on him. It wasn't fair, but people did it. Would that happen to Julian in a few years? What if he lost his temper and used his enhanced strength on her? Wasn't that why the laws on genetic engineering were there? To stop those horrible inhumane monsters form ever being created?
Was Julian a monster? Palis slammed off the music. She'd always known the answer.
******
He lay on his bed, listening to the rain pelt against the window. Soothing. Comforting. A part of him wanted to find Palis, to explain, to apologise, to say good-bye if nessicary. But the other part simmered in anger at her lack of understanding and that part never wanted to see her again. Freak, she'd called him. Monster. Unnatural. Words she could never take back. Words that would haunt him to the grave.
He loved Palis, more than he could express. She was alive and loose and happy and real and all the other wonderful things he admired in women. She'd fallen for him the moment she'd clapped eyes on him, he'd fallen for her when she'd first bested him at tennis. Five months of intensive tennis lessons, she'd said, and all because of him.
A quick tap broke the peace. He knew who it was instantly. Palis never used the comm. Her habit of knocking had always made him smile, it was so like her but now her little quirk drove a knife through his heart. He opened the door, trying to prepare himself for the sight of her and failing miserably. "Palis…" he murmured.
Her face was wet, but he couldn't tell if that was because of the rain or if it was tears. She just stood there, shaking with cold and fear and distress. "I'm sorry," she wept, "I love you. I can't lose you."
She was in his arms in a moment, her wet clothes soaking his own but he didn't let go. She sobbed into his neck, clinging to him for precious life as he stroked her hair and told her he loved her.
"I'm sorry I said those things…I…I was just scared."
"I know." He held her even tighter, "I guess…I guess I am too." He relaxed into her embrace, finally admitting to himself his own fears. "What if that happens to me?"
Palis let him go and placed a hand on his cheek. Ice cold fingers against his skin. "I won't let it…I promise."
******
His exams had gone perfectly. As if it was in any doubt, Palis has laughed as she kissed him after, her voice high from too much excitement and too little sleep. Now it was her turn. He settled into his box seat for the opening night, conscious of the hoards of reviewers around him. If they wrote so much as one tiny minuscule slight, he would hunt down and kill the lot, just after he'd talked Palis down from the ledge. Tower Bridge, she'd giggled, or maybe Beachy Head.
After she'd stopped crying, after they'd both stopped crying, and after he'd dried her off and given her one of his shirts to wear, they'd talked. Until dawn had let the room with a faint crimson glow and Julian had fallen asleep in her arms. She watched him sleep for many moments; his face as pure as a child's, until slumber had claimed her too.
Over the next few days they'd talked a lot. About their future together, about his parents, her parents and about the definitive flavour of ice cream. Talking more than they ever had in two years together. The only thing they decided on was that neither of them like vanilla.
In the end, Julian thought, it would all come down to six words. Freak. Monster. Unnatural….and Deep Space Nine. Something had changed in their relationship and it would probably take many years before he would admit to himself what that was, or even that there was a change. An innocence lost, never to be regained.
The lights dimmed around him and a far off music played. He glanced at the programme in his hand. 'Palis Delon' it screamed in huge letter. He'd teased her unmercilessly that her name was bigger than all the others, as if she was the only one in the play.
Perfection. Wasn't that what he had with Palis? Freak… the word whispered to him…monster. You don't throw away perfection. She was the only woman he'd ever loved. She was the only woman he wanted to love. Was it fair if he asked her to come with him?
A gasp rippled through the crowd as Palis entered, spinning across the stage as if she really was a creature of fantasy. Beautiful. Prefect. But for the first time his soul remained strangely unmoved by her grace. Familiarity with dance, he wondered, or something deeper? Could three words spoken in the heat of the moment so undermine everything they had together? You don't give up perfection. But deep in his heart he was already saying good bye.
THE END.
© T S "NORTHERN STAR" FENN.