AUTHOR'S NOTE: As always, thank you for reading and for your interest in this story.

I've noticed that I've picked up a few more followers in the last week, and several more people have favourited the story. Thank you! Thank you also to those of you who reviewed the last chapter. I was a little worried because of the change in pace, but you have gone a long way to reassure me. This one, like the last, is also a little lacking in action, but things will pick up again quite soon.

-=o=-

Chapter Ten

Sisko's gaze flitted between Joseph and Julian. A flood of emotions chased across Joseph's face: disbelief; horror; fear; uncertainty... All the while, Julian stood straight. He was trying to keep his expression calm, but Sisko could see the tension around his eyes and mouth, and he knew that Julian was waiting for Joseph to condemn him.

Joseph's reactions reached acceptance before settling on wry amusement. Finally, he chuckled, and said, "My boy really does bring home the most fascinating people!"

Some of the tension bled out of Julian's posture, but that merely left him looking lost. Sisko suppressed a sigh, and said, "Come and sit down."

"I don't want to intrude."

Sisko's eyebrows rose, disturbed by the contrast between what he considered to be Julian's normal and current behaviours. Today's Julian was quiet and subdued, nothing like the talkative, brash man Sisko had first met almost five years before.

Back in the early days of their acquaintance, Julian had gate-crashed at least one meal invitation that Sisko had extended to Jadzia. Sisko also remembered multiple occasions when Julian had bounced into Ops, full of misplaced enthusiasm, desperate to regale everyone with some tale or other.

Sisko had been aware that, over the years, Julian's social interactions had become more measured and mature, and he'd thought that had been a good thing.

Then, after his return from the Dominion prison, Julian's behaviours had changed again. He'd been tentative and unsure. Sisko hadn't been overly concerned, though. Given what he'd been through, Sisko would have been surprised if Julian hadn't had problems readjusting to life on the station. Sisko had been confident that Julian would recover over time. However, Julian hadn't had time to readjust before he'd been outed as genetically enhanced.

Sisko hadn't registered how withdrawn Julian was becoming until Jadzia had brought Julian's behaviour to his attention.

So, when had Julian stopped pushing himself into the middle of other people's social interactions? When had he learned to worry about intruding? Was it an indication of social maturity or of something more malign? Had Julian's withdrawal from society already been fully developed before he'd left Deep Space Nine, or had it been compounded by his experiences since he'd arrived on Earth?

Sisko didn't know. He hadn't paid enough attention back on the station. Tonight had been the first time in months that he'd spent any length of time in Julian's company, and it had left him feeling shocked and guilty, because Julian's behaviour revealed just how much he'd changed without Sisko noticing.

Sisko said, "You're not intruding. Why would you think that?"

"Because I'm better now. I appreciate you bringing me here last night, but this is your family home. I shouldn't be here."

Sisko and Joseph exchanged glances, and Sisko realised that this was part of what Joseph had meant about Julian not knowing what being part of the family meant. Being invited to stay in the household included being a part of what went on and feeling as though you belonged. It was about more than being an unpaid kitchen hand.

This time, Sisko didn't bother to suppress his sigh. "You wouldn't be here if we didn't want you to stay. Now, come and sit down."

Julian did as he was told, but Sisko could tell that he was still unsure. Julian perched on the edge of the bench, looking as though he might bolt at any moment.

"Coffee?" Sisko asked and, as he stood up, he caught a flicker of emotion cross Julian's face. He wondered why such a simple question could have prompted it and why it made Julian blink.

Julian cleared his throat, and said, "Thank you."

"How do you like it?"

"Um... White, extra sweet." He sounded like he might be guessing.

Sisko realised that he'd never seen Julian drink coffee and that he usually ordered Tarkalean tea. "I could make something else, if you'd prefer?"

"No, sir. Coffee's fine. Thank you."

Moments later, Sisko put a mug down, along with sweeteners and a spoon.

Dealing with the coffee gave Julian something to do with his hands, and he fussed and stirred and twiddled for much longer than was strictly necessary. For whatever reason, Julian was still nervous. Stressed.

Sisko remembered what Loews had said about his hormone levels. He opened his mouth to say something, but Joseph beat him to it. Joseph put a hand on Julian's forearm and said, "Relax, son. You're among friends."

Julian turned big eyes on Joseph, and his mouth opened a fraction in astonishment. "Thank you," he whispered. Then, Sisko was relieved to see, he sat back more comfortably in his seat.

Something told Sisko that he shouldn't launch straight into quizzing Julian about his day or about the time he'd spent on Earth before that. If he did, Julian would most likely feel that he'd been ambushed. Sisko needed to work around to the topics gradually. So he talked to and laughed with Joseph about the restaurant, the menu, about his sister, and about shared acquaintances.

From time to time, he glanced at Julian, who took occasional sips from his mug, all the while trying to look as though he wasn't listening avidly. Once or twice, Sisko caught something in Julian's eyes, something desperate, or maybe just desperately sad. Each time it happened, Julian blinked the naked emotions away. But Sisko had seen the looks on the younger man's face, and he wondered.

-=o=-

Eventually, Julian looked relaxed enough that Sisko decided it would be all right ask about his time on Earth.

Julian shrugged. "There's not much to say, really. Starfleet Medical ordered lots of tests, and I've had to talk to a psychiatrist."

"Oh?"

"Dr Loews," said Julian. He thought for a moment, then he said, "She was with you yesterday? At Starfleet Medical?"

"Yes. And we brought you here."

Julian nodded, absorbing the information. Then he said, "Did you know, she has four genetically enhanced patients? She said I could meet them, if I like."

"And would you? Like to, I mean," said Sisko.

Julian toyed with his mug for a moment, then he said, "I have to admit...I'm curious. I've never met anyone who..."

Who, what? thought Sisko. Was like him? Had gone through the same thing as him? But when Sisko spoke, it wasn't to ask about Loews's patients; it was to ask more about Julian's time on Earth. "How have people been treating you? Besides the holosuite, I mean."

"Most people have been polite. The demonstrators haven't, obviously. But you and Dr Loews are the only people since I've been here who have invited me to sit down and have a drink with them."

Sisko stared at him, appalled, as some of the things Loews had said to him began to make more sense and he understood Julian's earlier reaction. Finally, when Julian began to fidget uncomfortably, Sisko shifted topics and asked, "What happened in the holosuite?"

Julian looked lost again. "I'm not really sure."

"What do you mean, you're not sure?" asked Sisko.

"I remember what happened up to a certain point. After that, things are...hazy. And I'm missing time."

"Missing time?"

"Normally—normally for me, I mean—I can keep track of time very precisely, down to the minute. I couldn't, not in the holosuite. I can't even tell you how long I was in there. Captain...J-Joseph... You have to understand, for me to experience...holes...in my recollection of what happened is...disconcerting, to say the least."

"Why?"

"It feels like how things were before," Julian whispered, looking down at his hands.

"How so?" asked Sisko.

"My memory, before I was...changed. It wasn't good." He sighed. "I wasn't much good at a lot of things. I remember not understanding things. And I remember...confusion. A lot of confusion. I don't remember detail. In fact, I don't really remember very much at all. This feels similar." Julian rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, and he stretched to ease some of his tension. "I hate the not knowing, the...void...that's in my head."

"Can you tell us what you do remember?"

Julian nodded slowly. "I'll try." He paused for a moment, then he said, "I got a message, which I thought was from Dr Tsonga. But when I got to Medical, it was people from Security who were waiting for me. There was a woman—a Commander Roughsedge—and two men. They're the only ones I remember clearly, but there were more later. They escorted me to a turbolift, then..." He frowned. "Commander Roughsedge injected me with a hypospray. When I woke up, I was in the holosuite."

"So, who was responsible for the scenario? Medical or Security?"

Julian stared at Sisko, a frown etched between his brows. "I assumed that it was Tsonga's team, even though, before that, I'd been under the impression that they'd finished all their tests. Wasn't it?"

Sisko drummed his fingers against the table. "Dr Loews seemed pretty sure that Medical wasn't responsible."

Julian looked unhappy. Tentatively, he said, "It must have been Medical. Who else would want to test me that way?"

Who indeed? thought Sisko. Doubtfully, he said, "They were Security officers who were in the holosuite with you when we found you. And you, yourself, said Roughsedge told you that they'd been the ones who'd called you to Medical. That it hadn't been Tsonga."

"I...thought... I assumed...that they were role-playing." Julian's eyes were looking big and worried again. "You don't think so?" His obvious alarm grew as a thought crossed his mind. "You don't think they'll try something else, do you?"

"I don't know," said Sisko. Then, more to calm Julian than because he truly believed it, he said, "Perhaps you're right. Loews must have got things wrong."

Julian's posture relaxed, and he nodded. "It's not as though Tsonga and Loews have been working closely together. There's no reason why she should have known what Tsonga's team were up to."

Sisko nodded thoughtfully. He shelved the question and moved on. "What were they trying to do?"

"I don't know. All I know is that it didn't go according to plan."

"Oh?"

"They injected me with a psychotropic but it didn't take hold, and I could see through the scenario they'd created. I could tell that the details weren't right."

"In what way weren't they right?"

Julian outlined the inaccuracies he'd noticed. Then, self-consciously, he said, "I didn't put all that description in my original report because I knew that level of detail wouldn't be considered...normal."

"Maybe you should be grateful that you didn't," said Sisko. "If you had, maybe they'd have got the details right, and you would never have known the difference."

"That's true. But they wouldn't have needed to give me more kenfitamol, and perhaps I'd have a better idea about what they were up to."

"Perhaps," agreed Sisko. He paused for a few seconds, then he said, "When we found you, the doctors had to treat you for an overdose." He looked carefully at Julian, wondering whether Julian knew or had guessed just how close a shave he'd had.

Julian nodded. "I told Commander Roughsedge that she couldn't give me any more kenfitamol, but she wouldn't listen. I tried to stop them." His voice was tight, and he was clenching his hands around the mug. His eyes were wide with remembered horror.

Softly, Sisko said, "Them? What did they do?"

Julian struggled to keep his voice under control, to sound calm. "She...the others...she ordered them to hold me still, and...I tried to stop them, but I couldn't. There were too many of them, and I was already weakened by the drug. They...they...h-held me down and..." Julian's words tapered off into a whisper. "I didn't know if I'd wake up again." Then, more strongly, he said, "I don't remember much after that—just occasional flashes, impressions that don't make much sense. Then you...Dr Loews...hospital. And...being sick?"

Sisko nodded.

"The first thing I remember clearly was waking up here, last night." Julian looked at Sisko and said, "I saw you, and I smelled the rain, and I knew that you'd saved me."

Sisko felt embarrassed at the naked gratitude and awe in Julian's tone and expression. He shrugged his own and Julian's emotions away, and said, "You also needed treatment for various injuries: bruises; cuts; fractured ribs... Do you remember anything about those?"

Julian shook his head slowly. "Not...clearly. I think, maybe... But, no. My memories are jumbled. That must be the drug. There were faces I recognised from the past and yellow people, and..." He shook his head again, and said, "I must have got it wrong."

"Got what wrong?"

But Julian just shook his head and didn't say anything.

Tentatively, Sisko said, "And...I saw your scars."

"Scars, Captain?"

"Here. And here," said Sisko, pointing to the corresponding areas on his own body. Dr Loews said they were recent, but they hadn't been treated properly."

Julian nodded slowly, wordlessly.

"Were they from the prison camp...or from Deep Space Nine?"

Julian shot a horrified glance in Sisko's direction. "Deep Space Nine? Things never got that bad on the station!"

"So...the Dominion, then."

"The Jem'Hadar."

Sisko had read Julian's report. He'd known that Julian had been attacked, beaten and tortured. But having seen the scars... Somehow that made what Julian had gone through real in a way that it hadn't been before. "You said you were recovered!" He hadn't meant to accuse Julian of anything, but he knew that was how his words sounded, shock making them sharper than he'd intended.

Julian grimaced. "I am recovered. Physically, there's nothing wrong. It's just..."

"Just...?"

"We didn't have proper medical equipment. The Vorta patched me up after the Jem'Hadar had their...fun...but they didn't care about appearances. If the wounds had been sealed more carefully at the time, they wouldn't have scarred. But they weren't, and I need to schedule a cosmetic procedure with a surgeon to remove the scars. But what with one thing and another..."

"You haven't got round to it," said Sisko, finishing the sentence for him.

-=o=-

Sisko ran out of questions. Either that, or he realised that Julian was running out of energy to answer them. The three men drained the last dregs of their coffees. Julian rose to gather the mugs up, but Joseph forestalled him with a firm hand on his forearm.

Joseph carried the used coffee things into the kitchen, leaving Julian and Sisko alone. Finally, Julian had a chance to ask the question that had been bothering him all day.

"Why didn't you warn him?"

"Warn him?" asked Sisko. "What about?"

"About me."

"About...oh! Because…because it doesn't matter."

Julian's lips tightened. "Try again."

"It shouldn't matter," said Sisko.

"And yet it does."

Sisko nodded slowly. "All right, then. I didn't tell him because I wanted him to get to know you first. It makes a difference."

"Does it?"

"Yes. It...changes one's perspective. You're an individual, not a stereotype."

Julian wasn't sure what to think about that. On the one hand, he appreciated Sisko's half-spoken compliment. On the other... Sisko's actions smacked of subterfuge and were too close to Julian's own actions over the years. He'd thought, once he'd been outed, he would be done with hiding. Apparently he'd been wrong. He wasn't sure how he felt about the captain aiding and abetting him. Julian knew that Sisko meant well, but he wasn't sure that what Sisko had done was helpful.

Where was the line between keeping quiet, wilfully assuming people already knew the truth, and keeping information from someone who deserved to know?

Who deserved to know? When? And why?

Strangers? Friends? Friends of friends? Sexual partners? Colleagues?

The father of your captain, who allowed you to stay in his house?

The deal only demanded that he reveal himself to close, senior colleagues, but that same deal had exposed him to anyone who had the faintest interest in current affairs or who had access to a Federation database.

Not openly discussing his genetic status with strangers skirted dangerously close to breaking the spirit, if not the letter, of the laws surrounding enhancement. True, Julian had broken the law for years. The difference now was, since he'd been found out, he was under closer scrutiny. He'd been almost forgiven for his past actions, but his future ones were a different matter entirely, and he was still trying to figure out exactly what that meant.

Sisko said, "Something's bothering you."

"I...I don't know." What was done was done. The same circumstances were most unlikely to arise again; Sisko had only one family, after all. "No," said Julian. "Everything's fine."

-=o=-

"Where is he?" asked Joseph, when he came back out of the kitchen.

"He's gone upstairs," said Sisko. "He said he was tired."

"I'd have thought he'd have at least said goodnight."

"I think the conversation took more out of him than he'd like to admit." Sisko smiled unhappily. "I learned the hard way on the station that his instinct is to keep things to himself. By his standards, he was quite forthcoming just now, and I don't think it was easy for him."

Joseph raised his eyebrows. "That was forthcoming?"

"H'm," agreed Sisko.

"Then how come I've still got so many questions?"

Sisko's lips approximated a wry smile. "I think he also wanted to give us some space to...talk."

"About him, you mean?"

"Yes."

"Oh."

They lapsed into a thoughtful silence. After a while, Joseph broke it by saying, "When you said he'd been having a rough time..."

"Bit of an understatement, wasn't it?" said Sisko. "You haven't been following the news lately, have you?"

Joseph shook his head. "Too depressing. Besides, I can always trust you and Jake to tell me the important stuff."

Even knowing what he'd known, Sisko had still been shocked by what Julian had told them. No wonder Joseph, who'd had no previous information to work with, looked shaken. "Well, if you had been following the news, you'd have already heard a lot about Julian."

"Why? What happened?"

Sisko summarised events from Julian's return from the Gamma Quadrant, through Dr Zimmerman's finding out about Julian's genetic background, to the present, filling in at least some of the gaps in Joseph's knowledge. Sisko emphasised Bennett's deal, the FNS news release and Julian's summons back to Earth. He told Joseph about the vandalism on the station and the demonstrators in San Francisco, and he mentioned a few things that he suspected. "That's why I wanted him to tell us what's been happening. Even now, I'm not sure that I trust him to have told us everything."

Then Sisko and Joseph sat in silent companionship, and thought about the young man upstairs.

-=o=-

Julian had a restless night, his sleep peppered with nightmares of the past and present, intermingled with more surreal images. He woke up, coated in a thin sheen of cooling perspiration, his dreams slipping into the depths of his subconscious, leaving him feeling tired and restlessly uneasy.

He dragged himself out of bed and did his best to wash away the vestiges of the night. He dressed carefully, making sure that his face was smooth, his hair was neat, his clothes were pristine, and that his boots shone. There was no need to alert anyone that anything was amiss. Then he went downstairs.

Halfway down the final flight, he heard his name, and he stopped abruptly. He knew he shouldn't eavesdrop, but somehow he couldn't stop himself.

"What do you think of Julian?" Joseph asked.

"He's all right," answered Nathan. "He picks things up quickly, and he works hard. But—"

"But?" asked Joseph.

"I dunno. He's a little...standoffish."

"How so?" said Joseph, sounding puzzled.

"Well...for example, he didn't eat with the rest of us."

"What do you mean?"

"You know, when we eat after the lunchtime crowd is gone."

Julian imagined Joseph nodding.

"We all sat down as usual. All of us, except Julian. He took his food into the alley out back."

"Ah," said Joseph. Then, after a long pause, he said thoughtfully, "Did you ask him to join you?"

"No. We just assumed he would."

"Next time, ask him. You might be surprised."

Julian began to move again. He took his time and made more noise than usual, wanting to give Joseph and Nathan warning of his approach and to give them time to wrap up their conversation before he arrived.

-=o=-

The morning sun streamed through the windows of Dinmont's office. Later on, the sun would rise higher, and the room would be cast in cool shadow. For now, though, Sisko had to blink against the brightness.

"Thank you for coming, Captain Sisko." Dinmont shook his hand. "I appreciate you finding the time."

"Your message implied a degree of urgency."

"Well...yes." But she didn't get straight down to business. Instead, she asked, "Coffee?"

"Please," said Sisko. "Black. No sweetener."

Dinmont nodded and ordered Sisko's drink, along with one for herself, from a small, portable replicator, which had been positioned on top of a credenza.

Her dog annoyed Sisko as it snuffled around his ankles, and he wondered why it was that owners of small dogs were so often inclined to let them get away with liberties that larger dogs were seldom allowed. He assumed it had something to do with the small-is-invariably-cute-and-adorable mentality, although, in his view, all it usually meant was an awful lot of annoyance got concentrated into a tiny package.

The dog was now poking its nose up his trouser leg. He tried to nudge it away from his right ankle with his left foot.

"Did you know," asked Dinmont, making small talk as the replicator slowly filled her requests, apparently oblivious to his discomfort, "that this office is in what used to be a Sanctuary District?"

"As a matter of fact, I did," said Sisko.

"I've become quite a student of that time period since I moved in here. It's fascinating, and I'd like to think that Gabriel Bell's ideals inspire me to do my best work."

Sisko wished he could tell her that "Gabriel Bell" could not have changed the path of history without help, and that the best way she could honour Bell's legacy was to help Julian Bashir. However, their trip to the past was classified, and he couldn't say anything.

"Actually," said Dinmont thoughtfully, "you look a lot like him. Was he an ancestor?"

"No," said Sisko, feeling uncomfortable.

The replicator finally sputtered to a halt. Dinmont passed a cup and saucer to Sisko. He took them and sniffed. The coffee smelled surprisingly good. Thus encouraged, he took a sip and he found himself nodding appreciatively. Whoever had programmed the replicator had done an excellent job.

Dinmont put her own cup and saucer on her desk and sat down. Then she looked across at Sisko and said, "The Bashir case is...tricky."

"How so?"

Dinmont sighed. "The Investigating Officer's report is damning. Irrefutable. How am I supposed to defend someone who knowingly broke the law to obtain a medical licence and who practises medicine illegally?"

Sisko inhaled deeply. He tried—and failed—to tamp down his irritation. "Dr Bashir has been nothing but a credit to his profession. Surely that has to count for something."

For the first time, a hint of a smile touched Dinmont's face. "I can see why he suggested you as a character referee. You're more pro than I'd hoped."

Sisko's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

"He seemed doubtful about suggesting you."

Sisko's eyebrows rose. "I can't imagine why. He's very good at his job. And I can think of a lot of other people who'd tell you the same thing."

"Really? Who else besides you?"

"Any number of people, I should imagine. Dr Bashir is well regarded on Deep Space Nine, so any of the station's senior staff would help. Plus, he's gained a reputation on Bajor for his philanthropic work with the war orphans there."

Dinmont raised her eyebrows.

"You seem surprised."

"Dr Bashir only came up with two names: yours and...a Miles O'Brien?"

Sisko nodded. "Bashir and O'Brien are friends."

"But... You seem to think lots of people would support him. He seemed doubtful even about the two names he came up with."

"Ah. I see. You need to bear in mind that Julian has...issues. He knows he's a good doctor, and I can tell you that he's a good man. But he's had it drummed into him, both by our culture and by recent events, that he's worth less than the rest of us. I think that colours his judgment." Sisko paused, then he said, "Tell me, what did you think before you met him?"

"I thought he'd be...bigger."

"Bigger?"

"Not taller, necessarily, but more...solid. More like you, actually. And I thought he'd be confident, arrogant even, and powerful. I thought he'd be the kind of person who'd dominate a room, just by being in it. To be honest, the very thought of him intimidated me. Scared me, too."

"And after?"

"Daffers liked him. And I trust her judgement."

Sisko and Dinmont eyed one another as they both drank from their cups, their movements mirroring each other. Then Dinmont returned to the conversation. "I was relieved to find that you're here, on Earth."

"Oh?"

"Like I said, the case is tricky. It's going to be hard to defend. Your being available to give evidence in person is about the only thing going in our favour."

"How so?"

"Evidence given in person is always more powerful than anything written. At least with face-to-face testimonies you know the panel will be forced to hear them. Who knows whether the panel members even bother to read the written material they're given? We can request that the written testimonies are read out at the hearing, but the chair may not allow it."

"And that's an issue because most of the evidence being given on Julian's behalf will be written?" suggested Sisko.

"Yes," nodded Dinmont. "He's been off-planet for too long for there to be anyone local to speak up for him. I thought some of his professors might, but they seem to want to keep their distance. The most I could get was a copy of Bashir's academic transcripts and the reports that Tsonga and Loews wrote."

"Don't they help?"

"Loews's report might. She says she agrees with your Counsellor Telnorri's assessment: Bashir doesn't have any psychological issues that should concern Starfleet. But Tsonga's report is pretty damning. It concentrates on how Bashir's Augmentation manifests itself and emphasises all the ways he deviates from human norms."

Sisko frowned. "It's not a crime to be different."

"Except that," sighed Dinmont, "in his case it is."

Sisko stood up, put his face in his hands, and tried to rub away his frustration along with his tension. "All right," he said. "So what do you want me to do?"

-=o=-

Julian couldn't quite figure Joseph out. Joseph treated him no differently than he had before he'd learned the truth and, although Julian was grateful for that, he didn't understand it. Maybe Joseph didn't know any better; maybe he was just following Sisko's lead. But perhaps that didn't do Joseph justice. Maybe Sisko was the way he was because he'd had Joseph as a father.

But, wouldn't that imply that Julian would also have been influenced by his own father? If he had, he didn't know how. Or maybe that was another difference caused by the enhancements.

Julian's thoughts chased around in circles, then tangled themselves up like a piece of old string. Meanwhile, he resolved to keep his head down, to listen, to learn and to do everything he was asked.

Julian guessed that Joseph had found time to tell Nathan about him because, once or twice, he'd caught Nathan looking at him out of the corners of his eyes. At least Nathan was still talking to him, even if it was just about superficial stuff: the right way to prepare and cook mirlitons; the best way to dice onions; how to boil and peel beets...

Now it was time to sit down for their lunch, and Nathan was saying, "Julian? Why don't you join us?"

Julian looked at Nathan, torn. He wanted to, but he'd heard part of Nathan's conversation with Joseph. He didn't want a pity invitation. He didn't want to impose, if Nathan was only asking out of a sense of obligation to his employer.

"Yeah! Come on," called a couple of the waiters. "Anyone'd think you didn't like us, the way you've been avoiding us!"

"No, it's not—" said Julian, and he felt mortified.

Nathan took in the expression on Julian's face and said, "Grant's just funning with you. Now, come and sit down."

The waiters budged along the bench to make room, and Julian carried his plate over. Still he hesitated. "We don't bite," said Grant, impatiently. "What's wrong with you?"

Wrong.

Something stirred in the back of his mind.

Freak. Nip. Abomination.

It felt like a memory. There were voices and images, and yellow people were pressing in on him, shouting, taunting and attacking. Maybe it was the memory of a dream or his subconscious playing tricks; it had to be something like that, because he had no true memories of being hurt quite like this. Echoes of screams and almost unbearable pain pricked at the edges of his mind.

He suddenly felt sick. Oh. Of course. The drug. It must be the lingering aftereffects of the kenfitamol.

He pushed the images away, and he was back in the present, in Sisko's restaurant. He put his plate down, shook his head, and said, "I'm sorry," and he took off upstairs.

Behind him, he heard a voice say, "What the hell was that about?"

"You idiot! You scared him off!" said Nathan. "I'd better go after him."

Julian retreated into his room, his face flaming. He'd run away! He. Had. Run. Away. How cowardly! His reaction had been automatic and completely out of proportion to the circumstances.

Was this what he'd come to? Had the pressures of recent weeks reduced him to this? Timid. Shy. Suspicious.

Scared.

When had it become easier to flee from and avoid people, just in case they might turn on him?

He'd always known that people would react badly to his being enhanced, but when had he given up trying to meet them halfway? Had it been when he'd first heard that Dr Zimmerman know the truth, or was it what had happened afterwards on the station? Or had it been when Arthur Bratwell had slighted him, his avoidance of the protestors, or was it the quiet rejection of Dr Tsonga's team? Or had it been a combination of things, a gradual and insidious process?

Julian stared out of the window. Someone had left a light on in one of the attic rooms in the house opposite. One of its roof tiles was missing, and a couple of others were crooked. The guttering was dripping at a rate of one droplet every forty-three seconds.

"Julian?" Nathan's voice made him jump. "They didn't mean anything by it."

Julian didn't answer. He heard Nathan's footsteps as he crossed the room and felt him come to a stop by his side.

"What's your problem?" asked Nathan impatiently.

"I don't have a problem," Julian lied.

"Yes. You do." Nathan paused, then he said, "Why were you so bothered about sitting with us, anyway?"

Julian didn't answer immediately. Then he said softly, "Experience."

"Experience?" asked Nathan astonished.

Julian sighed, and decided that Nathan deserved at least a bit of the truth. "Before the captain brought me here, I was staying in San Francisco. While I was there, I had to get used to people avoiding me. They refused to sit with me, excluded me...even people I'd known before. The captain and his father...they've been...exceptional." He took a deep breath, then said more firmly, "If you and the others want me to join you, then I will. But, please, don't ask me just because Joseph wants you to."

"You know about that, huh."

"I overheard you talking to him."

"Then you must have also heard me say that we'd assumed you'd sit with us."

Julian nodded. "But that was before you knew the truth about me."

Nathan laughed. "Julian, I knew before Joseph! Unlike him, I follow the news!"

"You knew?" said Julian, perplexed.

"Yeah. So?"

"But you... Do the others...?"

Nathan shrugged. "Dunno. Maybe not. But it doesn't matter. They won't care."

Julian turned and looked carefully at Nathan's face. He could see no insincerity there. Tentatively, he said, "But... You've been staring at me on and off all morning. I thought—"

"That was because I'd found out you're enhanced?" Nathan shook his head, as though the thought had never crossed his mind. "I've only been looking at you because I've been trying to figure you out. When you didn't sit down with us yesterday, I figured that you thought you were too good for us. But it wasn't that at all, was it?"

"No." Julian turned to look out of the window again. The paint on the window frames of the house opposite was peeling. The geraniums in the window boxes needed deadheading. He turned and looked at Nathan again.

"Come on," said Nathan. "We'll tell 'em together. And then you'll sit down and have lunch with us."

-=o=-

"There's something you should know about me," said Julian a minute or two later. "Then you can tell me whether or not you want me to eat with you."

"What? Besides the fact that you're a little bit weird?" asked John. He said it with a smile, and Julian sensed that he meant it as a joke.

"Only a little bit?" asked Julian, his eyebrows rising. "Some people would have you believe that I'm a lot weird."

"And you?" asked Grant. "What do you think you are?"

That was a difficult question. Freak? Monster? Julian shrugged his automatic responses away and said, "I'm me. But you ought to know, I'm not quite...normal."

"No kidding," said John wryly.

Nathan said, "What he's trying to say is—"

Julian cut Nathan off with a shake of his head. "It's all right." He straightened his shoulders, stood tall, took a deep breath, and said, "I was genetically engineered as a child." He flicked a quick glance at John. "You don't get much weirder than that."

The collective response of the waiters was one of surprised silence. Then Tina, who hadn't spoken before, said, "My brother's got six fingers on both his hands. Now, that's weird!"

"My cousin has different coloured eyes," said Grant.

"We had a dog like that once," said John.

They didn't get it, Julian thought. "I'm not human."

"Who says?" asked Nathan, sounding surprised. "You look human to me."

"The law says," said Julian.

"Big whoop," said Nathan. "Who cares what the law says? It's what you say that counts. What do you say?"

Julian opened his mouth, but before he could find an answer, Grant said, "So...you're a Nip? Seriously?"

Julian didn't like the question, but he was relieved that Grant had finally grasped the full import of what he'd been trying to tell them. However, he couldn't detect anything negative in Grant's words, only curiosity and surprise. Self-consciously, he nodded.

"What's that like?"

"I can't answer that," said Julian. "That's like me asking you what it's like to be...normal. You're you. I'm me. The only difference is that I wasn't born this way."

"You're who those nutters in San Francisco have been protesting about?" asked John.

"Yes," said Julian. "I'll understand if—"

"Oh, for goodness sake! Sit down!" exclaimed Grant.

"Really?" asked Julian, finally allowing himself to feel hopeful.

"Really." Grant grabbed Julian's sleeve and pulled him towards the table. Julian stumbled, and more or less fell onto the bench. The others laughed good-naturedly.

"I'll warm up your plate for you," said Nathan, and carried it through to the kitchen.