AUTHOR'S NOTE: I hope it isn't redundant of me to keep thanking everyone who's reading, reviewing, following and favouriting this. I really do appreciate your interest and support.

-=o=-

Chapter Eleven

Julian was fascinated by the ease with which Joseph interacted with strangers and regular customers alike, and he quickly found himself making a game out of trying to identify which were which.

For example, the man and woman currently sitting at table five were new customers, although, if their conversation was anything to go by, they wouldn't be staying long enough to have dessert. Nor would they be coming back again, at least not with each other. On the other hand, Jonas and Felicia, at table three, were definitely regulars. In the short time since Julian had arrived in New Orleans, they had already visited the restaurant twice before.

Julian didn't mean to listen in on the conversations; he knew eavesdropping was rude. But, sometimes, he found it hard not to hear things. So far this evening, Julian had done his best not to hear the couple at table five accuse each other of lying, infidelity, of not listening to another, and of only staying together for the sake of the goldfish. Apparently, this evening's last-ditch attempt at romance was failing miserably. Meanwhile, Jonas and Felicia had discussed the difference between cayenne and paprika, gumbo versus jambalaya, the Changeling threat, politics and the upcoming war.

Initially, Julian had assumed that Jonas and Felicia were also a couple, but he'd soon changed his mind. They didn't talk like a couple. Although they obviously knew each other well, they didn't know the ins and outs of each other's lives and opinions that two people who had lived together for a long time might. In fact, they reminded him a little of himself and Garak, and how they enjoyed spending time together, engaging in the thrust and parry of debate. Of course, the conversations Jonas and Felicia had were more straightforward than any he had with Garak. Unlike Garak, neither of them disagreed simply for pleasure or principle. Jonas and Felicia agreed when their opinions matched and happily agreed to disagree when they didn't. In short, they enjoyed talking and setting the world to rights, and they liked each other's company.

Julian caught another sentence of their shifting conversation, one word leaping out at him and lodging uncomfortably in his consciousness: Augment. He put his head down and concentrated harder than he needed to on his current task of plating up salads. His mouth thinned into a straight line and his shoulders tensed.

He wasn't listening to the conversation. He wasn't. However, he couldn't help but hear, no matter how hard he tried not to.

"Hey, Grant," said Jonas, catching the waiter's attention as he went past. "What do you think?"

"About what?" asked Grant.

"About the Augment. Do you think he should be allowed to stay in Starfleet?"

"Why not?" answered Grant stiffly. "If he wants to."

Julian glanced up in time to see Grant lean in between Jonas and Felicia's heads and hear him say intensely, "Despite whatever you may have heard or read, he's a decent guy. Now, leave him be. Otherwise I might have to persuade Nathan to be extra generous with the cayenne."

Jonas and Felicia frowned, then turned to stare at Grant, struggling to find the sense in what Grant had just said. Then realisation struck. Together they looked towards the kitchen and caught Julian's eye before Julian ducked his head in embarrassment. They turned back to Grant and, in unison, said, "Him?"

"Yes, him," said Grant quietly. "And, just so you know, I bet he heard every word of our little exchange."

"Cool," said Jonas. He sounded pleasantly surprised, and possibly even a little impressed. Julian looked up again, startled.

Felicia and Jonas beamed at him and waved, and Julian found himself tentatively waving back.

-=o=-

After that, Julian felt more relaxed than he'd done in a long time. His problems hadn't vanished overnight, and he was realistic enough to know that they wouldn't go away any time soon.

Sisko and Loews had both asked around, wanting to find out what Roughsedge had been trying to do in the holosuite and, more importantly, whether she was likely to try to do something similar again. Nobody they had talked to seemed to know anything, or, if they did, they weren't saying. Yet, even allowing for all the question marks hanging over the incident and the tribunal that lay ahead, Julian's problems no longer felt quite so insurmountable, somehow being alleviated by the people around him. Only now that he was surrounded by people who didn't care what Julian was did he realise how great a toll meeting old and new acquaintances had been taking on him.

Julian couldn't understand why Sisko's customers, residents and staff were so different from other people, or why they were so blasé about him, but he chose not to ask, settling instead for being unquestioningly grateful. It wasn't just them, either. Julian met Nathan's wife, Shanna, and their four-year-old daughter, Patti. Shanna was cautiously shy of him for all of five minutes, but then forgot to worry. Patti had no qualms about him whatsoever, demanding to be lifted and cuddled, and she was quite happy to cling to him...at least until her childish attention span exhausted itself, and she demanded to be put down so she could run off and explore something new.

Thus, Julian found himself being drawn into the everyday life of the restaurant, and he revelled in it.

Life in New Orleans was different from Deep Space Nine. There were more humans and fewer members of other species. The population should have felt less diverse than he was used to. However, the humans came in all shapes, sizes, colours and ages, and Julian realised just how narrow a segment of humanity Starfleet included.

Julian talked and helped and learned, and he mused that, if more humans were like the ones he met at Sisko's, his life would turn out just fine.

-=o=-

The Directions Conference was scheduled to take place in one of the historic buildings of the La Défense area of Paris. From his past acquaintance with the city, Julian remembered that La Défense had been developed in the latter part of the twentieth century. Even after several hundred years, its architecture, which had been daringly modern when new, still contrasted sharply with the neighbourhoods closer to the Seine.

When Julian and Dinmont materialised in La Place De La Défense, Julian paused to look at his surroundings. He caught a glimpse of the Arc de Triomphe away in the distance, and memories of weekend visits to Paris came flooding back. He shrugged the memories away. Paris was just a place; he needed to concentrate on the reasons for the meeting to come, not its venue.

"This way," said Dinmont, pointing at a skyscraper. "The conference is in that building. Thirty-third floor. Come on." She led, and Julian followed.

They walked into the building's atrium, signed themselves in, and then headed to the elevator. As they travelled upwards, Julian surreptitiously wiped the palms of his hands against his uniform. Nothing would be decided at this meeting, but that didn't quell the butterflies in his stomach, which got more active with every floor they passed. He tried, without much success, to calm himself. If he felt this nervous today, he hated to think how he was going to feel at the tribunal, itself.

The elevator opened onto a generous and sparsely furnished space. There were a couple of sofas that looked as though they were there for decoration rather than use, three large potted plants and, at the far end of the room, a reception desk, which was currently unattended.

"Follow me," said Dinmont.

Julian glanced at her. She was obviously very familiar with the territory.

The thick carpet muffled their footsteps as they crossed the room, turned a corner, then walked down a corridor.

At the end of the corridor was a set of double doors made out of antique wood. Dinmont knocked and, without waiting for a reply, turned one of the brass door handles. She led the way inside.

"Ah. Here they are at last," said a familiar voice.

Pierre Delon.

Delon's implication was clear: Julian and Dinmont were late. Julian knew, however, that they were two whole minutes early. Delon's comment was either ill-informed, which Julian thought unlikely, or had been designed to unsettle them.

Julian hadn't seen Delon since he'd split up with Palis, and he decided that the intervening years had not been kind to the other man. Delon had less hair than Julian remembered, and what remained had greyed. Delon's face was creased and his lips were paler and less well defined than before. Only his green eyes were as piercing and intense as they had ever been.

Delon looked at Julian with a cold animosity, and Julian wondered what, exactly, Delon saw when he looked at him. Then Julian remembered wondering something similar the first time Palis had taken him home with her.

Back when they'd first met, Julian had been intimidated by both Delon's reputation and his manner. Delon had been brusque, and Julian had been convinced that Delon had taken an instant dislike to him. However, Palis had laughed his doubts and insecurities away. "Papa's like that with everyone," she'd said. "It's nothing personal. If he really hated you, you'd know."

After their first meeting, their relationship had changed and, as difficult as it was to believe now, there had been a time when Delon had been more like a father to Julian than his own.

Richard Bashir had heaped conflicting expectations upon his son, while apparently believing that Julian's enhancements meant that Julian could do anything and fail at nothing. Richard Bashir was a dreamer who saw the world as he thought it should be, not as it was. He didn't understand that sometimes—most times—people had to work to get what they wanted, that life wasn't easy, and that the universe didn't always provide.

Delon, by contrast, knew the value of hard work, but he also knew that the support of others could smooth one's path through life. He had encouraged Julian to work hard, had taken an interest in his studies, placements and electives, and had even gone so far as to offer him a job for when he graduated. Delon had told Julian that Julian reminded him of himself as a young man: driven, ambitious, hard-working... Delon had said that he approved of his daughter's choice of boyfriend. He had wanted to mentor and mould the younger man, help him achieve his full potential, and help him avoid the pitfalls that sometimes awaited the novice doctor. Delon had promised to help Julian avoid the missteps he, himself, had made.

Palis had once tried to joke that Delon acted more as a father to Julian than he did to her, his own daughter. But she hadn't managed to sound amused when she'd said it. Instead, she'd sounded faintly bitter, and Julian had felt guilty. He hadn't wanted to usurp Delon's affections, no matter how much he appreciated them. Delon and Palis had filled holes in his being in ways that he could not have put into words. They'd been close. Sometimes Julian had wondered whether it was Palis he was in love with, or the whole family.

But, in the end, Julian had turned his back on Palis, Delon and everything that Delon had offered. He'd broken Palis's heart and, from the look on Delon's face, he could see that the passage of years had done nothing to lessen Delon's anger or his sense of betrayal. Plus, now added to that were the recent revelations and...

"If he really hated you, you'd know."

The words echoed down the years and, seeing the way Delon's eyes glinted, Julian did know. He felt his palms moisten and his mouth dry with nerves. His pulse and respiration rate quickened, and he tried again to use the necessary biofeedback mechanisms to calm himself down.

"I believe you'll find that they're right on time." The words, spoken by a tall man who was probably somewhere in his mid-thirties, drew Julian's attention out of the past and back to the present, and Julian belatedly noticed that there were two more people in the room with them.

The tall man looked at Julian with detached disinterest and introduced himself as Caspar Lynch. He was, he explained, the Medical Standards Board's secretary, and his role was to chair the Directions Conference, taking those present through the preparations and procedures for the tribunal. Lynch then introduced the others, apparently for Julian's benefit rather than anyone else's, as they all seemed to know each other already.

Piers Hunter was the Investigating Officer who had recommended that Julian had a case to answer. Hunter would be Dinmont's counterpart at the tribunal. Finally, he introduced Delon. Julian didn't need the introduction, and he wondered whether Lynch was simply observing formalities or whether he was unaware of their shared history.

Introductions out of the way, Lynch invited everyone to make themselves comfortable around a large table and, once everyone was settled, he called the meeting to order.

"The tribunal is scheduled for next Tuesday, and will be held in the city hall in San Francisco," said Lynch. "The hearing will take place in front of a panel of twelve medical practitioners, chaired by Monsieur Delon. The names and biographies of the panel members are detailed here." He paused, and passed around a stack of PADDs.

Julian cast his eyes down the list. Most of the names were unfamiliar to him, although he recognised a couple as authors of journal articles he'd read and one—Henri Roget—leapt out at him. Henri Roget had won the Carrington Award the same year that Julian had been nominated.

"The hearing will follow the usual format," Lynch continued. "Monsieur Delon, as chair of the panel, will start the proceedings by making opening remarks and introducing the rest of the panel as well as the defendant, the defendant's representative, and the MSB's representative." He gestured towards Delon, Julian, Dinmont and Hunter as he spoke.

Heads nodded around the table.

"I take it," he said, directing the question at Julian, " you are aware that the hearing will take place in public?"

"Yes," said Julian, and he swallowed at the thought of it.

"Good... Moving on... Once the introductions are completed, the chair will read out the charges against you." Again, Lynch gestured towards Julian. "After that, Mr Hunter will present the complainant's case on behalf of the MSB. Ms Dinmont will be allowed to cross-examine any witnesses he presents."

Delon and Hunter both looked bored, undoubtedly having heard Lynch's spiel countless times in the past. They whispered to each other, fidgeted, stared at the ceiling, picked at their fingernails, and generally did all they could to be distracting without actually disrupting the meeting. Mind games, Julian thought, and he did his best not to be rattled by them.

"Next, Ms Dinmont will present evidence in Bashir's defence. Hunter will be allowed to cross-examine any of her witnesses. Finally, both parties, starting with the complainant, will make closing remarks, and the panel will recess to consider its decision. Once the panel has agreed on a course of action, the chair will convey that decision to the defendant in public. Any questions?"

When there were none, Lynch moved on to asking what evidence Hunter proposed to present at the tribunal.

Hunter smiled like a man who enjoyed his job far too much, and, with the grace of a panther stalking its prey, he handed out PADDs to everyone. "My submission is here." There was a lull in the conversation while Lynch, Dinmont, Delon and Julian all scanned Hunter's document.

Julian read through the report in seconds, although, through force of habit, he kept his eyes glued to the PADD for longer than that. He absorbed the import of what he'd read while he waited for the others to catch up with him.

Hunter's submission started with a paragraph stating that, by the admission of both Julian and his parents, Julian Bashir was an Augmented human. This was further evidenced by the findings of the doctors at Starfleet Medical, who had documented that Julian's mental and physical abilities exceeded human norms. It then continued with a review of medical orthodoxy relating to the genetically enhanced and a summary of the laws that should have applied and that Julian had broken.

The legal position, Hunter asserted, was clear. The law prevented all genetically enhanced beings from accessing higher education, from joining the professions, including medicine, and from joining Starfleet. Without the deal struck by Rear Admiral Bennett, the offences Julian had committed could have earned him a custodial sentence and, as such, they warranted disciplinary action on the part of the MSB. The submission ended by concluding that there were clear grounds for disciplinary action, including the removal of Julian's name from the register of medical practitioners.

Hunter's evidence was clear, succinct, irrefutable and damning, and Julian was taken aback when Dinmont dropped her PADD disdainfully on the table, frowned, and said, "Is that it?"

"What more do you want?" asked Hunter. "The case against your client is cut and dried. I see no reason to waste time on petty details."

"I'm sure we'd all be delighted if you could keep your arguments equally succinct," said Delon.

Lynch frowned. "Ms Dinmont may take as long as is required to put forward Bashir's case. Protocol and process demands nothing less, and I will frown on any attempts to undermine the defendant's rights."

Julian saw Dinmont flick a grateful glance in Lynch's direction. She took a steadying breath, and then she said, "As you will see, I wish to be more...thorough...than my colleague."

Hunter bristled. "I've been thorough," he snarled. "There simply isn't the need to waste time on additional detail. The evidence is quite clear." He scowled as he looked around the table. "Bashir is guilty of all the charges. End of story."

Stiffly, Dinmont said, "An acknowledgement of guilt does not preclude the defence from arguing a case on the grounds of mitigating circumstances."

"Waste of time," muttered Delon quietly enough that Julian wondered whether anyone else had heard.

"Hah!" spat Hunter. "Mitigation? That's another way of saying you are going to make excuses, but wrong is wrong, however you look at it."

"That's enough," said Lynch primly. "Save your grandstanding and arguments for the tribunal. Ms Dinmont is quite correct; she has the right to base her arguments on mitigating circumstances rather than on a claim of innocence."

Hunter scowled. "You and your processes! We'd save a lot of time if you'd simply let us cut to the chase instead of miring us in all your details!"

Lynch pursed his lips. "Being thorough saves time in the long run; it reduces the number of cases that get to appeal."

"Gentlemen," said Delon, raising his hands. "As interesting as this all is, you are digressing, and I, for one, have other places to be. So if you would please keep to the point...?"

Lynch nodded in Dinmont's direction. "Do you have your list of evidence?"

"I do," said Dinmont, and it was her turn to hand PADDs around.

Julian listened to Dinmont at the same time as he looked at the dossier of information she'd managed to pull together and the list of evidence she proposed to present. In addition to suggesting that Julian and Sisko appear in person, she had gathered written statements from Miles O'Brien, Jadzia Dax, Major Kira, the Bajoran Government, and Julian's medical staff, including Nurses Jabara and Bandee, and Dr Girani. Julian hoped his surprise didn't show. He was touched that all these people were prepared to come forward and support him. Dinmont had also attached an annotated bibliography of his journal articles and conference papers.

How had she managed it? Then he realised that Sisko must have had something to do with it; it was just the latest in a long line of things that Julian had to thank him for.

The Conference wound up soon after that, and barely five minutes later, Julian found himself back in the elevator with Dinmont.

Safely behind its closed doors, Dinmont started muttering as they descended. "Smug...overconfident...arrogant..."

Julian wondered whether she was talking about Delon or Hunter.

He felt depressed. Why were they going through this charade? Why was he fighting, when he knew that he was in the wrong? Did he really hold out any kind of hope that they might win, or was he doing this just to keep his promise to O'Brien? He'd calculated the odds, and he didn't like them.

But, maybe, just maybe, he didn't have all the facts. Maybe he didn't have all the information he needed to make an accurate prediction. He hoped he didn't, because, if his calculations were accurate, his days as a licensed physician were numbered.

He interrupted Dinmont's muttering. "Tell me," he said. "And, please be honest. Do you think that there's any chance of our winning?"

Dinmont fell silent, looked at him, and bought herself some time by brushing a couple of errant strands of hair from her face. Then she began nodding. "Hunter and Delon are overconfident. We can use that against them."

He hoped that she was right.

-=o=-

Julian returned to New Orleans to find that there was a crisis in the restaurant. John had unexpectedly handed in his notice with immediate effect, Tina had called in sick, and Joseph hadn't been able to get hold of anyone to cover. As a result, the restaurant was short-staffed, and on one of the busiest nights of the week.

"I'll help," said Julian.

"You sure?" asked Joseph doubtfully. "It'll mean being front of house all night."

Joseph's words gave Julian a moment's pause. Julian understood what Joseph was getting at. He'd have to deal with strangers, and, as Joseph had learned more about Julian's situation, Joseph had come to realise that strangers weren't always kind. But Julian nodded and said, "It'll be all right. Besides, it's the least I can do, after everything you've done for me."

Joseph considered Julian carefully enough to make him feel uncomfortable. Then he said, "I'm not keeping a tally. You do know that, don't you?"

Julian nodded again, although he wasn't entirely sure that he did. "I want to help," he said.

"All right. The replicator will supply you with a shirt in your size, along with an apron."

Julian returned a few minutes later, having donned dark trousers, a white cotton apron, and one of the brown patterned shirts that Joseph's waiting staff wore. Joseph gave him a quick once over and said, "You'll do."

Despite his, and Joseph's, concerns, Julian didn't encounter any problems. In fact, he found waiting on tables to be mildly soothing. The activity calmed his mind, and the only people who paid him much attention were Jonas and Felicia, who greeted him warmly and asked what he'd done to earn such rapid promotion. Otherwise, Julian was surprised at how easily people's gazes slid over the waiting staff, almost as if they weren't there at all. He found being ignored a pleasant change from being shouted or stared at.

When Sisko came home, he sized up the situation, quickly washed up, and then went to help in the kitchen.

At the end of the evening, after Joseph had closed the doors on his last customer, he, Julian, Nathan and Sisko collapsed at the table nearest the serving hatch. Julian planted his elbows on the table, then rested his chin in his hands. He looked at Sisko, smiled wearily, and said, "I've developed a huge respect for Quark's staff this evening. God knows how they keep up their pace all day long!"

"You did very well," said Joseph. "If all else fails, you can always have a job here."

Julian shot him a glance, unsure whether he was joking or not.

Joseph lifted his hands in a mute apology. "I'm sorry. I know your situation isn't a laughing matter. But, all kidding aside, you'll always be welcome here."

"Well," said Nathan. "I'm pooped, and I need to get home. Shanna will be wondering where I am. I'll see you all tomorrow."

A chorus of goodbyes followed him to the door.

Sisko looked at Julian and said, "How did it go, today? I haven't had a chance to ask."

Julian thought about Lynch, and his pedantic attention to detail, of Hunter, whose job it was to go for the kill, and Delon. Julian had put names and faces to roles, and he'd learned more about how the tribunal would be conducted, but little had happened that he couldn't have predicted. In fact, the most surprising thing had been the witnesses that Dinmont had found. "Dinmont has managed to put together an impressive dossier in my defence. I think I have you to thank for that?" Julian looked at Sisko, his face a question.

"How so?" asked Sisko, his eyebrows rising.

"How else could she have convinced Jadzia and the major and the rest to give statements on my behalf?"

Sisko smiled warmly. "All I did was suggest a few names. None of them needed convincing, as you put it. They were all happy to help."

"Oh," said Julian, taken aback. He absorbed that piece of information, and he knew he'd come back to it later. Meanwhile, he said, "Other than that, things went pretty much as expected, I think. The date of the tribunal has been set, and they ran through all the procedures." He shrugged again. "And Monsieur Delon was there, and he really doesn't like me."