Chapter Twenty-nine

Julian tossed and turned, his sleep coming in fitful snatches while his conscious and unconscious minds cycled through probabilities, possibilities, questions, and nightmares.

His conversation with Sisko and Lilienfeld had dangled a tantalising thread of hope in front of him. If the disciplinary panel had voted only seven to five in favour of taking his licence, did that mean that a victory at his appeal wasn't out of reach?

Also, now he knew Delon wasn't the paragon of the medical community that Julian had supposed... What did that mean for the appeal? Surely he and Dinmont could use that to their advantage somehow, but how?

As a distant clock chimed three, Julian found himself lying awake, staring at the ceiling and making deals with the universe.

He wanted to be a doctor. He silently promised the cosmos that he would accept censure, if only he could be allowed to practice medicine again. He found himself trying to bargain about the level of censure he would tolerate, although, deep down, he knew that he was desperate enough to accept almost anything that the MSB could throw at him. He would even bear an extended period of suspension, just so long as it meant that he would be allowed to practice in the end.

Julian closed his eyes and, as he began to float somewhere closer to sleep, his mind began to dwell on Delon and what he had done. Unprofessional...criminal...

What exactly had Delon done? What were the specifics of the crimes he'd committed? What did it mean, in the grand scheme of things? And, what role, if any, had Fischer played?

And Jack... Back when they had first met, Jack had told Julian that how he had ended up at the Institute was a secret. Why? How much did Jack know about what had happened to him? Could Jack tell Julian anything useful? Even if Jack could, would he?

Julian's wonderings turned into the wild imaginings that came with dreams. His dreams turned to nightmares, and then he woke up again.

Across the room, Sisko's slow breathing, punctuated by the occasional purring snore, told Julian that the captain was asleep. The far-off clock sounded the three-quarter hour and the cycle started over again.

Finally, night eased into day and, feeling exhausted, Julian got up. Then, as soon as it was socially acceptable to, Julian called Loews and asked if he could visit the Institute.

-=o=-

"Julian! It's good to see you up and about again!"

Julian smiled at Loews as he hitched the bag he'd brought with him more securely over his shoulder and stepped down from the transporter pad. "It's good to be up and about! I know I have you to thank for that. If not for you and Dr Matteus—"

Loews smiled back at him and tried to wave his gratitude away. "You thanked me already, back in the hospital."

"I know, but—"

"But nothing," said Loews, shaking her head. She gestured down at herself and said, "I'd give you a hug, but as you can see..." The long overcoat and wide-brimmed hat that Loews was wearing were dripping water all over the floor.

At that moment, and as if to emphasize her words, the wind screamed loudly around the transporter shed, and the rain hammered against the windows, making a noise that sounded as though grit was being blasted against the glass. Julian needed no prompting to put on the waterproofs that Loews offered him.

As Loews and Julian walked up towards the Institute, shoulders hunched and heads bowed against the weather, they swapped information.

"The MSB has been in touch," Julian said, raising his voice to be heard over the storm. "I've got a date for my appeal." Water dripped from the hood of his coat and down his face. Futilely, he tried to wipe the moisture away with his wet hands.

"Oh?" said Loews.

"Next week."

"That doesn't give you much time to prepare, does it?"

"Not really, no," said Julian. "I was sent the formal notification while I was in the coma. I think whoever sent it hoped that I wouldn't notice it, or that I'd miss the date, or something."

"Aren't you being a bit cynical?" asked Loews.

Julian shook his head. "I think I'm being realistic." A remote corner of Julian's mind marvelled that he didn't hesitate as they negotiated the forcefield. He found that familiarity had almost entirely worn away his previous fears about coming to the Institute. "The MSB didn't play fair last time, so I doubt it will this. Fortunately for me, both Dinmont and Professor Hessayon had already started thinking about ideas for the appeal, and I'm hoping that—"

"—Jack's story might be the key to discrediting Delon?"

"Yes. At the very least, I'm hoping it may help. Do you think that's possible?"

Loews didn't answer directly and, owing to all her layers of clothing, Julian couldn't tell whether or not she shrugged or shook her head. However, when she spoke, her words were less than encouraging. "I had another look at Jack's records after you called. They're just as I remembered. There's nothing in them about how he came to be here."

"Pity," said Julian, disappointed.

"Unless Jack tells you something, himself, I'm not sure that you're going to find anything out."

"Then," said Julian, "the next question is, can Jack tell us anything, himself?"

"Yes."

Julian reluctantly voiced a concern. "I'm not sure that he will tell us anything, even if he can. He's been quite clear that he considers how he came here to be a secret."

"When did he tell you that?" asked Loews.

"The first time I visited."

"Oh." Loews took a breath and said, "I have to warn you, I tried to talk to them earlier, when I told them that you were coming. I didn't get very far. Like I said once before, they talk to you more than they do to me. They...don't let me in."

"I've noticed," Julian admitted.

"I hope that you'll have more luck than me."

Julian hoped so, too.

-=o=-

"You're all better!" Patrick's face moulded itself into a wide, happy grin, and he launched himself at Julian.

The force of the impact made Julian stagger, and it took a few stumbling steps for him to regain his balance, by which time Patrick had his arms clamped tightly around him in a clingy, ecstatic embrace.

"Did you bring us presents?" asked Patrick. "You said that, next time you came, you'd bring us presents, and that you'd wrap them up."

Julian chuckled as he carefully disentangled himself. "Yes, I brought presents."

"Lovely," cooed Lauren. She sauntered over to plant a full-lipped kiss on his cheek. She stroked his arm, lingering for a fraction too long for the gesture to have been entirely innocent.

Jack bounced on the balls of his feet, his right elbow cradled in his left hand, and the knuckles of his right hand tapping restlessly against his chin. "Where are they, then? Where are the presents?" he said.

Julian pulled a stack of packages out of his bag, the wrappings doing little to disguise the shapes of PADDs and data chips.

Patrick leapt on the pile in a gleeful frenzy. Lauren and Jack were barely more restrained, and even Sarina picked something up. Slowly, she turned it over in her hands, and then she put it down again and wondered off.

In a matter of minutes, the wrappings had been reduced to a pile of shredded paper. Jack hogged and sorted through the PADDs on which Julian had saved a wide range of books. "Read it...read it...read it," chanted Jack as he worked his way through the pile, carelessly throwing the PADDs aside as he went. Then he exclaimed, "Oh! This is new! I don't know this one. This is good. Yes, yes, this is good!"

Julian peered across to see what had secured Jack's approval and saw that it was a copy of the Cardassian classic, The Never-ending Sacrifice. He hoped that Jack enjoyed it more than he had.

Meanwhile, Patrick and Lauren sorted through the data chips while Julian explained what they contained. "I thought you might like to visit some of the best museums that the Federation has to offer. I know that a holoprogramme isn't the same as actually being there, but—"

Lauren put a long-nailed forefinger on his lips to shut him up. "Shush, you sweet man. These are wonderful. Thank you."

Patrick nodded his fervent gratitude and beamed happily.

Finally, Patrick, Jack and Lauren finished sorting through their bounty, and they set the gifts aside.

Patrick said, "We watched the trial. It was very exciting. Although the part where you were shot wasn't very nice."

Julian grimaced. "I can't say that I particularly enjoyed that part, myself."

"Did it hurt very much?"

"Yes," said Julian curtly. "At least, until I passed out. Dr Loews, here, saved my life."

"Did you?" said Patrick, his eyes wide saucers of wonder as he turned to look at Loews. "Did you really save his life?"

"Uh..." Loews was tongue-tied and Julian could tell that she'd been taken by surprise at suddenly being included in the conversation. "Well—"

"Yes," said Julian, cutting through whatever self-deprecating qualification Loews had been about to make.

Simply and sincerely, Patrick said, "Thank you for saving our friend."

"Yes, yes, that was good of you," said Jack, although he sounded more dismissive than appreciative.

Lauren turned her sultry eyes onto Loews and looked at her appraisingly, as though Lauren was reassessing the doctor, or maybe seeing her properly for the first time.

Something made Julian look at Patrick, and he could see in Patrick's expression a similar shift in his regard for Loews.

Julian felt a change in the room's atmosphere, and he realised that, by saving his life, Loews had earned the tolerance of the mutants. They mightn't yet want to welcome her into their little group, but they would no longer actively shut her out.

Somehow, understanding that made it much easier for him to bring up the real reason for his visit.

"I came here today because I need to talk to you, Jack," said Julian.

Jack crossed his arms across his chest and said, "Dr Loews mentioned something about you wanting me to help you."

"Jack will help you, if he can," said Patrick, nodding emphatically.

Julian didn't share Patrick's confidence, but he was distracted from saying so by Lauren, who asked, "How can he help you? He's stuck in here, like the rest of us. So, what can he do?"

"You all helped me before," Julian pointed out. "When you suggested a new way for me to think about things, and when you told me to think positively."

Lauren smiled at him, and Patrick clapped his hands, happy to have been of service.

"It's me he wants to help him, now," said Jack aggressively. "Not us. It's not the same, no, no. Not the same at all." He spun around, leaned forward and stared unblinkingly into Julian's eyes. "What do you want me to do?"

"Didn't Dr Loews tell you?" asked Julian.

Jack tilted his chin upwards and he said, "She tried to, but we didn't want to talk to her, so we wouldn't listen. We waited for you to come. Yes, yes. We waited. Much more efficient that way. We didn't want to deal with a go-between."

"Should we have listened to her?" asked Patrick, his brow creased into a deep frown. "Would it have helped?"

Probably it wouldn't have made any real difference, Julian thought, although it would at least have been polite.

Before Julian had a chance to cobble together an answer, Jack, Patrick and Lauren turned expectantly towards Loews, and they finally allowed her to give them the explanation they'd refused to listen to previously.

When Loews was done, Jack chewed nervously on the first joint of his right index finger and stared into the middle distance, his eyes flashing with an emotion that Julian couldn't quite read. Then he said, "Going to France... That was nosey." He spun around and thrust his face close to Patrick's. "You shouldn't have said anything!"

Patrick cowered back as he protested weakly, "I'm sorry, Jack. I'm sorry." He wrung his hands, and tears pooled in the corners of his eyes before dribbling down his pudgy cheeks. "I was just trying to help. I didn't mean any harm!"

"How can you say that?" demanded Jack, his voice rising to something that was almost a shout.

Jack seemed even edgier than normal, and his anger was bubbling dangerously close to the surface. Julian could hear it in the volume and tightness of Jack's voice, and he could see it in Jack's narrowed eyes, his sharp, jerky movements, and in the way Patrick carefully kept his distance.

"You pried, Patrick! Yes, yes, you pried. I told you, I've told you all, my past is a secret, yes, yes. My secret, and Patrick took a bit of it and told."

Jack pirouetted and pointed furiously at Loews, "And then you tried to find out my secret!"

Jack planted both feet firmly on the ground and jutted his chest out. He crossed his arms and thrust his chin forwards pugnaciously. The arrogant resistance of Jack's stance was emphasised by the fact that, for once, he was trying to hold himself perfectly still. His whole body vibrated with the effort.

"I'm sorry, Jack," said Loews placatingly. "I didn't mean any harm. Neither of us did. I wanted to help Julian. Actually, I want to help both of you but, unless you talk to us, I won't know whether I can."

"You can't help me," wailed Jack. "No, no, you can't. Nobody can help me."

Gently, Loews said, "What makes you say that?"

"Because nobody helped before. Because you can't change anything."

"What can't I change?"

Jack looked at Lauren, Patrick and Sarina, and there was a raw, bleak, pleading uncertainty in his expression.

Some kind of silent communication must have passed between the four of them because, when Lauren spoke, she clearly spoke for them all. "We'd like a few minutes alone. You can wait outside, and we'll call you back when we've decided whether or not Jack will talk to you."

Loews stood up to leave but Julian remained seated. Lauren said, "You, too, Julian."

Julian realised that, while he might have things in common with the mutants and they even considered him a friend, he still wasn't one of them. He had to admit, at least to himself, that his exclusion from the conversation stung.

Julian and Loews loitered in the corridor, Julian moving far enough away that he wouldn't be tempted to try to eavesdrop through the closed door. After a couple of paltry attempts at small talk, they settled for leaning against the wall in silence.

After barely six minutes, which felt much longer, Patrick poked his head around the door and said, "You can come in again now."

Julian squirmed to ease the tension out of his neck, shoulders and back as he and Loews followed Patrick. Something about the way the door closed behind them had an ominous finality about it.

The mutants glanced at each other and, again, Lauren spoke for them all. "We've decided. Jack will talk to you." She looked at Loews. "He'll talk to you as well as to Julian because you want to help our friend."

Jack straddled a chair, sitting on it the wrong way round, and he resumed the nervous chewing of his knuckle. Lauren sat on her divan, knees to chest, her arms wrapped loosely around her long legs. Patrick remained on his feet, hovering nervously, and Sarina, who might or might not have been paying attention, stood off to one side.

Loews and Julian found themselves chairs and sat down.

They began to talk and, for perhaps the first time ever, the mutants let Loews into their conversation with neither resentment nor irritation. Julian could sense the invisible barriers between the mutants and Loews thinning.

Julian looked at Jack and said, "You've told us that how you came to be here was a secret. What I don't understand is, why? What did Delon and your parents do to deserve that kind of loyalty from you?"

Jack lifted his chin in angry defiance. "I didn't do it for them! I did it for me! They dumped me here. They didn't want me! So I decided not to want them either. I stopped telling the truth. I grew sick of saying the same thing over and over and over because nothing I said was ever going to make any difference, and then I realised that none of it mattered anyway!"

"Of course it mattered," said Loews gently. "They were your family."

"Family doesn't matter," snapped Jack.

"None of us has family," explained Patrick. He waved his arm in an extravagant gesture to take in Jack, Lauren and Sarina. "None of us needs family. Not when we have each other."

Lauren nodded. "We're better and closer than family."

Loews shook her head, disagreeing. "Family does matter. And, in your case, Jack, it matters because they hurt you. Something should have been done back then to show that what they had done was wrong and that you mattered. You were—are—important, and we need to do something now to try to put things right."

Julian said, "Until recently, I believed that I didn't need any family in my life. But I don't believe that any longer."

"Your parents didn't turn their backs on you," said Lauren. "Your parents were able to keep you. It's not the same for you as for us."

"No, it's not," admitted Julian. "But learning about my family, all the relatives I never knew about, even the ones that don't want anything to do with me... That's helped me to feel more...human."

"Why would you want to feel human? You're a mutant!" argued Jack.

"Why can't I be both?" asked Julian.

"Because you can't!" said Jack, his voice almost a scream. "You have to choose. We have supported your wish to live among them, even though that's hard for us to understand. Yes, yes, it's very hard to understand. But for you to want to be one of them, too—!" Jack crossed his arms and turned his back on Julian.

"Jack's right," said Patrick. "Are you one of them or one of us?"

Jack said, his back still towards Julian, "They made us different. They created us, and then they rejected us. Why would you want to be one of them?"

"Because—" Put like that, why did Julian want to be human?

For almost as long as he could remember, Julian had wanted to fit in, to find a niche for himself. But recently, the nature of the niche he'd been searching for had changed. No longer was Julian looking for somewhere to hide. Now he wanted a place where he could be accepted, even though the truth about his genetic status had become public knowledge. Maybe no such place existed, but he wasn't ready to give up searching so early in his quest.

"Because," Julian said, trying again, "I was born human and, even now, I'm more human than anything else, and so are all of you. I want to claim my birthright. I want to rewrite the species definition and claim back what is rightfully mine." Julian surprised himself, possibly even more than he surprised the others, with the vehemence of his words.

Sarina stared, Lauren sneered, Patrick scowled and Jack made a noise that, while it wasn't an actual word, nonetheless eloquently conveyed his derision. Then Jack turned to face him again and said disbelievingly, "Do you really think that humans—normal humans—will let you?"

"Maybe. Maybe not. But that doesn't stop me wanting it."

Softly, quietly, Lauren confessed, "It stops us."

Julian thought about what the mutants were saying and he compared it to the way they had previously encouraged him to fight. Which was the truest reflection of their beliefs? What did they really want for him, and for themselves?

Then Julian thought about how far and how easily he had withdrawn from society before Sisko, Joseph and the rest had pulled him back. The mutants only had each other. They had never had anybody to pull them out of their isolation...until, maybe, now.

Julian had wanted to fight for them as much as for himself. He'd assumed they'd want the same things that he did, but he'd never asked them, had he? And if they didn't want what he wanted, what right did he have to fight in their names? He found himself asking, "Do you really not want to be part of the human race? Or is it simply easier to say you don't, because it protects you against rejection, and saves you from getting hurt?"

The mutants stared at him. Then Jack said, "You know, you're not quite as stupid as I thought." The snide comment felt almost like a compliment.

Julian returned to the purpose of his visit. "Will you at least try to help me, Jack?"

"Oh, all right!" agreed Jack, although he seemed sulky and reluctant.

"I want to help, too," said Patrick, his face alight with enthusiasm. "I can tell you everything I know about Jack's arrival."

"I can tell you everything I know about it, too," said Jack, "which won't take long, because I know absolutely nothing. One day, I was there, with them. The next I was here." He clamped his mouth shut and scowled.

"You don't remember anything else?" said Julian, trying not to let his disappointment show.

"No. I was drugged."

"Do you know that for a fact, or are you guessing?" asked Julian.

"I'm not guessing," snapped Jack. "I'm proposing the most likely hypothesis, based on the empirical evidence."

Julian nodded, conceding the point. Then he said, "You said earlier that you stopped telling people the truth. You had told the truth before."

"Yes, yes, I told them. Yes, I did. I told them all."

"Then you stopped telling them. Why?"

"They didn't believe me. They told me that I was a liar!" Jack's long-held indignation and rage echoed across the decades.

"Who, Jack?" asked Loews. "Who told you that you were a liar?"

Jack didn't answer. Instead he continued ranting, spewing out a torrent of words along with a spray of spittle. "I told them that my name was Giradot. Jacques Giradot. They didn't believe me. Oh, no! They didn't believe me, and they said that I was wrong, that I was lying. Yes, yes, they did. The doctors did, and the nurses. They told me I was a liar, over and over again. I was five years old, but I was enhanced, I was already cleverer than any of them, but they insisted that I didn't even know my own name!" Now arrogance mingled with Jack's anger.

"It's peculiar," said Loews, her calm interruption jarring with Jack's emotions. "Jack's claim that he was Jacques Giradot isn't in his records. At the very least, it should have been mentioned."

"Maybe it's a conspiracy, like in a book!" Patrick's eyes lit up with excitement and he gleefully rubbed his hands together. "Maybe the records have been changed!"

"Maybe we could tell, if we saw the files," said Lauren.

Loews looked dubious. "I don't know..." She muttered something about data protection and privacy.

"But they're my files!" shouted Jack. "I have the right to see them."

Loews shook her head. "Legally, I'm not sure that you do. You're..."

She trailed off, but Julian guessed the rest. Jack was legally incompetent, and the law prevented him from requesting access to his records. Julian swallowed as much of his indignation and frustration as he could, and said tightly, "Who is his Advocate?"

"Well..."

"Is it the Institute's director? Or do you have any say? You looked at Jack's records earlier..."

"I... The director, technically, but..."

"Do you have any discretion in these matters?" asked Julian.

"I... Well, probably not. But—"

"I want to see my records. Yes, yes, I do," demanded Jack. "I want everyone in this room to see my records. Yes, yes. I do."

From a professional standpoint, giving Jack and the others access to protected files was almost certainly wrong. Julian knew that. But, from a moral standpoint, he was convinced that it was the right thing to do. He watched as Loews fought with herself and reached the same conclusion.

"Dammit," she muttered. "You're terrible influences..."

"We won't tell," said Patrick, a beatific smile on his face. "If anyone asks, we'll just say we hacked into the system."

"We could, you know," said Lauren.

"Hacking into records would be child's play," agreed Jack. "Yes, yes. Child's play. A piece of cake."

Julian wanted to laugh at the expression on Loews's face. He wondered why, if they could get into their files, the mutants hadn't done it before. Then again, maybe they had. He remembered something Lauren had said on his first visit: "They couldn't keep us in here. Not if we really wanted to leave." If they could escape, what else could they do? And, how much of what they could do had they actually done?

Loews called up the files and the mutants gathered around the screen, scrutinising Jack's medical records. They seemed to be far less interested in what the records said than in the way the files held the data together, and that reinforced Julian's suspicions that this possibly wasn't the first time the mutants had accessed them.

Lauren looked up and said, "If anything was deleted, it was done very carefully. There are no obvious gaps or discontinuities."

Julian sucked on his lower lip. Loews was right: if Jack had said something, there should have been a record, and he couldn't help but be suspicious that there wasn't.

Loews must have been thinking along the same lines because, out of the blue, she said, "We could try checking the duty logs."

"Duty logs?" asked Lauren.

Loews explained. "At the end of each shift, the duty officer leaves a note about any key events that have happened. The notes tend to be brief, only a few sentences long, and informal. They're designed to help whoever takes over." Loews called the logs up. "Maybe it's a long shot, but there might be something in the logs. If someone tampered with Jack's records, they might have overlooked these, especially if that person wasn't familiar with the Institute's operating procedures."

Patrick said approvingly, "That's very imaginative."

Loews said, "Elizabeth Lilienfeld's investigative techniques may have rubbed off on me a little."

"Look!" cried Jack excitedly. "I've found something!'

Words flashed across the screen.

...child admitted as Jack Doe...complications resulting from genetic enhancement...

Patrick and Lauren pressed against Jack's back as they clustered around the computer terminal. Julian and Loews leaned in close behind them, craning their necks to see around the mutants' heads and shoulders.

Loews soon stepped away because Jack and the others made no allowances for her slower reading speed and she couldn't follow the scroll of the text on the monitor. Julian sympathised; even he was struggling to keep up.

...authorised a preliminary investigation to see whether the child could be who he says he is...

So, thought Julian, someone had checked Jack's story out.

...Jacques Giradot died...copy of death certificate filed...

The conclusions that the investigators had drawn had been wrong, but at least someone had listened to Jack and tried to find out the truth. Jack hadn't been ignored. Wasn't that better than there not having been any kind of check at all?

...suspect that Jack's obsession with the Giradot child stems from...knew the child?

...No records relating to a child matching Jack's description... No match in missing persons files...

The screen continued to scroll, and at each new revelation the mutants exclaimed excitedly.

... The investigators carried out DNA tests, but they came back negative. There is no genetic link between Jack and the Giradots...

That must have been the final nail in the coffin of Jack's story, Julian thought, even as he said, "Well, there wouldn't have been, would there?"

"What?" said Loews, who had lost the thread of the revelations.

Julian explained. "When the investigators compared Jack's DNA with that of his parents, they concluded that there was no familial relationship. My DNA was altered so much that I'm no longer legally my parents' child, and I'm guessing that the same is true for Jack. Normal paternity tests don't work on us."

"Of course the tests would have come back negative," murmured Loews. "But I don't suppose that the investigators would have known that."

"Or, if they did, they conveniently forgot to mention it," suggested Julian. "Maybe they were in on it." He shook his head and said ruefully, "I'm beginning to see conspiracies everywhere."

...break-in...nothing taken...

"There's something else here, too," said Julian to Loews. "The logs mention that someone broke in about three weeks after Jack arrived. Nothing was taken, and the police said it was probably just someone making mischief. Kids on a dare, perhaps, but—"

"But this is a high security facility," said Loews. "Kids wouldn't—couldn't—break in on a whim."

Julian nodded. "I'm guessing the break-in was when Jack's records were altered."

"So...someone came in from outside...somebody who knew that Jack had told the truth," said Lauren, turning her attention away from the computer. She put a hand lightly on Jack's upper arm, one of very few gestures Julian had seen her make that was entirely platonic. She'd made the gesture to comfort, not to flirt. "Someone believed you, Jack. Someone, somewhere, knew that you were telling the truth."

Jack nodded and, for once, he had nothing to say.

Patrick began to cry, and Julian was suddenly struck by the wild idea that Patrick was crying Jack's tears for him. "They didn't ignore you, Jack," blubbered Patrick. "They looked into your story."

"And then they didn't believe me, because someone made sure that they wouldn't," said Jack. "Oh, yes, that is so much better!" But Julian noticed that his words lacked much of their usual agitation. Jack sounded stunned rather than angry and, for a moment, Julian felt as though he was looking at a stranger.

The logs seemed to have given up all their secrets, and, one by one, Patrick, Lauren and Jack stepped away from the terminal, leaving Julian alone. He slowed the rate of the scroll to something he found more comfortable. He wasn't sure what he was looking for any more, but he couldn't bring himself to stop reading quite yet.

Jack raised a question that nobody else had thought of, or, if they had, they hadn't dared to voice. Bitter, cynical Jack, who looked for the worst in everybody, said, "They should have just killed me. Yes, yes. That would have been much easier. Yes, it would have. Why go to all this extra trouble when it would have been simpler to murder me?" Jack's normal patterns of speech were reasserting themselves along with his restless mannerisms as he got over his shock.

Julian blinked. Jack had made a bleak, but valid, point. Then his eyes opened wide as he thought of something. He communed with the computer, calling up Jack's medical file and comparing it with the duty logs.

"Oh, my God..." whispered Julian, as he found another piece of the puzzle.

"What?" demanded everyone—except Sarina—in a chorus of discordant, clamouring voices.

"Look at this..." Julian pointed a finger at the screen, where he'd placed Jack's admission records and death certificate next to each other. He glanced at Jack and said, "According to your records, you were admitted to the Institute two weeks and five days before Jacques Giradot died!"

Manufacturing tissues or growing a clone... Either way, that was a lot of effort to go to. So was burying organic material. Why hadn't it been cremated? Wouldn't that have been a neater way to destroy the evidence? Unless...

Unless that was the whole point. There was a body. Evidence existed. A standard investigation would have matched the DNA of the material in the grave to the profile contained in Jacques Giradot's medical records. No standard investigation would have looked for gene sequence degradation...

Julian put his racing thoughts into words. "In those two weeks and five days, Jack had been telling everyone that he was Jacques Giradot, and someone was curious enough to start asking questions. They had to clone tissues and forge a death certificate, because that was the only way to convince anyone that Jack wasn't telling the truth!"

Jack had been so hurt by being branded a liar and by his family's rejection that he'd buried the truth deep inside himself, protecting himself against being hurt any more. He had kept the secret, not to protect his family but to protect himself...and the cover up had held for almost thirty years. Had it not been for Julian being outed and the chain of events that had followed, it would be holding still.

What if Julian had never been outed? What if there hadn't been a deal, and if Julian had run away and left the Federation? What if Julian had chosen never to visit the Institute? What if the mutants had never seen the video footage, and Patrick had never recognised Delon?

So many ifs... So many connections that might so easily have never been made...

-=o=-

Joseph glanced up as Julian walked through the back door, did a double take, and exclaimed, "You look exhausted!"

"I am, a bit," Julian admitted.

Joseph herded him into the restaurant. "Sit down, and I'll get you something to drink."

Julian nodded and smiled gratefully as he collapsed onto the banquette opposite Sisko, who was already nursing a mug of his own.

Sisko looked at Julian carefully. "Are you all right?"

Julian nodded. "I will be. I just overdid things a little. It's been a long day."

"We thought you'd be back ages ago. What kept you?" asked Sisko.

"Oh..." said Julian. "Nothing in particular. Everything took longer than I thought it would. That's all."

Joseph put a mug down in front of Julian and said, "You're only just out of hospital. You should be taking things easy."

Julian nodded, although he wasn't sure that he agreed. With his appeal looming, he couldn't help but feel that time was against him, and he thought that preparing as best he could for the hearing was more important than avoiding a small amount of physical discomfort.

When Julian began to perk up a little, Sisko and Joseph pressed him for more details about how his visit had gone.

"It was good to see everyone," said Julian, "and I found out a lot. However, I'm not sure how much it helps."

"How do you mean?" asked Sisko.

"I had a lot of questions before I went to the Institute, but what I found out didn't really answer any of them, and I've come back with a bunch of new ones. But, I learned a lot about Jack and about what happened to him."

"Like what?" asked Joseph.

Julian tried to keep his version of Jack's story as short as possible but, even so, it took some time to tell.

By the time Julian was done, Joseph was looking appalled. Joseph shook his head and said, "That poor kid."

Julian nodded. "Nobody bothered to tell Jack that they'd looked into his story. He assumed that everyone had ignored him because he was only five years old, or because he was enhanced, or both. He kept quiet because he couldn't see any point in telling a truth that nobody believed and that made him angry, particularly whenever anyone told him that he was lying. Eventually, he decided to tell everyone who asked that his background was a secret."

"Does he remember Delon at all?" asked Sisko.

"Yes, but I don't think that helps us much. Jack said that Delon used to visit the Giradot house fairly often, but we already knew that the two families knew each other. However, we can link Jack to the Giradots, which is something that the original investigation never managed to do. Standard paternity tests don't match Jack to his parents, but we can match Jack to whatever is in that grave. And, since the Giradots claimed that the grave was their son's, Jack and the Giradots also have to be connected. Of course, thirty years ago, nobody thought to match Jack with the grave's contents. They only ever checked his DNA against that of his parents."

"And you found nothing to link any of it to Fischer, I suppose?" said Sisko.

"Nothing."

"Pity." Sisko thought for a moment, then he said, "As your friends couldn't shed any light on Fischer, I guess we'll just have to find some other way of finding out what part—if any—he's played in this. And I think I have an idea."

-=o=-

The following afternoon, after a reasonable night's sleep, a lot of thought and a long conversation with the professor, Julian took Hessayon with him to meet Dandie Dinmont.

Daffers remembered Julian, and made a beeline towards him, jumping up and demanding fuss. Julian smiled fondly and obliged the dog while he introduced Hessayon to Dinmont.

"Professor Hessayon is a lawyer," Julian explained. "He represented me in court, and he has a few ideas for the appeal."

Dinmont nodded and said, "Let's hear them, then."

Hessayon eyed her replicator and the mug on her desk, and said, "Any chance of a coffee before we get down to business?"

"Oh! Of course! How do you take it?"

"Black. One sugar."

Julian could tell that Hessayon was watching and waiting to see what she'd do next, and when she didn't offer Julian anything, he said pointedly, "Aren't you going to ask your client what he wants?" Julian didn't know whether to be amused, embarrassed, or grateful for Hessayon's intervention.

"Oh! Oh...yes. Right. Of course. Sorry." She stumbled over what she should call Julian, now he wasn't a doctor, and then she mangled his name.

He politely cut into her confusion and said, "Julian is fine. Coffee, white with two sugars. Thank you."

To his surprise, Dinmont suddenly smiled at him, and Julian found himself wondering whether Dinmont's failure to ever offer him any hospitality had been an oversight rather than a deliberate slight. He—or what he was—still seemed to throw her off balance.

When they were finally settled, Hessayon looked over the rim of his coffee cup at Dinmont, took a sip, swallowed, and then said, "How far have you got with your preparations for the appeal?"

"Well," said Dinmont, "it was obvious that Delon didn't follow procedures in the original hearing, or—if they were followed—they weren't applied equitably between the complainant and the defence. So I made a list of all the examples, and I sent it to Caspar Lynch. He came back to me and said all the points I'd raised were valid and were solid grounds for appeal."

"Good," said Hessayon.

"Lynch said he would have got back to me sooner, but he's been laid up for quite a while with some kind of gastrointestinal...infection type...thing. It sounds pretty disgusting; he said it felt like he'd been poisoned, and that, for a while, he was exploding from both ends."

Julian had heard—and seen—worse in the course of his practice, but Hessayon looked revolted.

"I also mentioned the conflict of interest, now that I know Julian and Delon have a shared history."

"And?" asked Hessayon.

"Lynch said that it was only relevant in so far as it might have prompted Delon to flout procedures. However, if we had been worried about it, then we should have raised our concerns long before now, either at the tribunal or, preferably, even earlier, at the Directions Conference."

"Pity," said Hessayon, so softly that Julian almost didn't hear him. He doubted that he was supposed to have done.

"Lynch also pointed out that there were twelve people on that panel, in addition to the chair, and the numbers should have helped to balance out any bias."

"He's got a point, I suppose," said Hessayon resignedly. Then he took a deep breath and said, "Well, we've got plenty of other ammunition to work with, so let's see what we can do, rather than dwelling on what we can't."

"Ammunition?" asked Dinmont.

"What you've put together is a good start," said Hessayon encouragingly. "And with the information we've got for you, it might well be enough. More than enough, actually."

Dinmont rested her forearms on her desk and leaned forward, all eager curiosity.

"The first thing we've unearthed is evidence to support the view that genetically enhanced people are not inherently evil, or any more prone to personality problems than anyone else. And Dr Karen Loews says she'd be more than happy to provide expert testimony to that effect. All the information is on here." Hessayon held a PADD out to Dinmont, who reached across the desk to take it.

"Then," continued Hessayon, "there's the little matter of Pierre Delon, himself."

"What about him?" said Dinmont. She looked at Hessayon, then at Julian, and then back at Hessayon again.

Hessayon looked at Julian and said, "Perhaps you'd better explain."

So Julian did. He told Dinmont about the Institute and the mutants, particularly Jack and Patrick. Then he explained about Lilienfeld's investigations and what she'd found out.

The explanation took a long time because of Dinmont's disbelief and numerous requests for clarification. At the end of it, her eyes were wide and her cheeks were flushed with a blend of amazement, horror, and inappropriate amusement. "Oh," she said, rubbing her hands together, "this is good! I've just one more question."

"Only one?" asked Hessayon, good-naturedly.

"One immediate question. If crimes have been committed, shouldn't we take this to the proper authorities?"

"The police, you mean?" asked Hessayon.

"Yes."

"Perhaps we should. And we will, eventually. However, the case is already about thirty years old. It's not going to get any colder. Julian and I talked it over, and we figured—"

"It was really the professor's idea," interjected Julian.

"—that, as the other side plays dirty, maybe we should, too."

Dinmont frowned. "And how do you suggest we do that?"

"If we get Delon out of the picture before the appeal, who knows who—what—we'll get instead? We think it may be better to go with the devil we already know and try to neutralise him at the hearing. Besides, we know that the crimes have been covered up once before and we want to make enough of a stink, as loudly and as publicly as possible, to make sure that the same thing can't happen again."

"It's not just a matter of getting my licence back any longer," interjected Julian. "I want to vindicate Jack, too."

Dinmont sucked on her lower lip for a moment. "Theatrics aside, do you think it'll work?"

"It's a gamble," admitted Hessayon. "But I believe the odds are in our favour. The opposition can't prepare for what it doesn't expect, and we're pretty certain that it won't be expecting this."

Julian nodded to indicate that he agreed with Hessayon. Then he said, "We know Delon has behaved unprofessionally on at least two occasions: thirty years ago and again, more recently, towards me. What we're not sure about is why. Was he working alone back then? And was he—as we suspect—coerced by Admiral Fischer into making sure I got struck off?"

"Coerced?" asked Dinmont, sounding sceptical.

Hessayon said, "We wouldn't put it past Admiral Fischer, but we don't know for sure."

"But we're trying to find out," said Julian.

"Either way," said Hessayon, "the Giradot case calls Delon's professional credibility into question, and we can use that on top of everything else we've got."

"And you," she said, looking straight at Julian. "Are you sure you want to do things this way?"

Julian nodded.

"Then," said Dinmont, "let's do it." She sucked on her lower lip for a moment, and then she looked at Hessayon and asked, "Do you want to take over the appeal?"

Hessayon shook his head. "Only if it becomes absolutely necessary. Advertising my involvement might put Delon on his guard, and that's the last thing we want. I think it would be in Julian's best interests to send out messages of 'business as usual'."

Dinmont could have been offended at the idea that she was being used to lull the opposition into a false sense of security. However, the skin around her eyes crinkled and her lips curved upwards as she enjoyed the idea of being part of a conspiracy.

-=o=-

Sisko waited in the shadows outside the building where Fischer had his office. The shade provided him with a pleasant haven from the afternoon sun, although the lazy insects that hovered around his face got on his nerves.

Sisko's patience was eventually rewarded when Ensign McCauley exited the complex. She was, he was relieved to see, alone.

Wanting to attract her attention, he called out, "Ensign! Ensign McCauley!" He emerged from his hiding place and jogged to catch up with her.

Startled, McCauley exclaimed, "Captain!" She ground to a halt and placed a hand over her heart. Then only slightly more calmly, she asked, "What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for you."

"I guessed that, but why?"

"Because I need your help, if you'll give it."

She turned wary eyes towards him. "My help?"

"Yes."

"What kind of help?" she said, as though she already had some inkling as to what he might be after.

"It's about Julian Bashir," he said.

She sighed. "I was afraid of that."

"You helped before," said Sisko.

"Yes, and I've been under suspicion ever since. They haven't been able to prove anything, but I'm sure Fischer and Roughsedge know I gave you that recording. I daren't do anything else for you. I'm sorry." She began to walk away from him, as though that would end the conversation.

Sisko doggedly matched her pace and said, "I see." Then he asked, "Do you like working for Admiral Fischer?"

McCauley didn't reply, but she stopped again and, after a long pause, she said, "What do you want me to do? Not that I'm promising anything."

"Have you been following the news?"

"Of course. The court case... Lilienfeld's piece in the FNS feed..."

"Then you know what Judge Momoh said about Fischer and Intelligence?"

"Yes," McCauley admitted.

"Do you think Admiral Fischer will 'clean house'?"

McCauley glanced nervously at him, and then said, "Honestly? No."

"Neither do I." They began walking again, more slowly this time. After a few paces, Sisko said, "Julian's appealing against the ruling of the Medical Standards Board. More than anything, he wants to be reinstated as a doctor."

"What has that got to do with me?"

"Did you know that Admiral Fischer is Pierre Delon's cousin?" At McCauley's blank look, Sisko said, "Delon is the chair of the MSB, and he chaired the tribunal panel that struck Julian off."

McCauley considered Sisko's words, then, carefully, she said, "I still don't see what that has to do with me." But, again, it sounded as though she might be beginning to suspect.

"I believe that Fischer...persuaded...Delon to strike Julian off. But I need something more than a hunch. I need proof. And I was hoping that you might be able to get it for me."

"Proof," said McCauley flatly. Then, with a noticeable lack of enthusiasm, she asked, "What kind of proof?"

"I don't know, exactly. Diary entries, perhaps? When and where did they meet? Private messages?"

"I—" McCauley paled. "What you're asking me... It's..."

"I realise that it's a lot to ask."

"A lot...?" McCauley's eyes goggled. "It's more than that! If I get caught, it'd destroy my career! I might even go to prison!"

Sisko said nothing, preferring to let McCauley figure things out for herself.

"The recording..." she said, as much to herself as to him. "That was a risk, but I knew—hoped—kidded myself—that they wouldn't be able to tie it back to me. Not for certain. But this...they'd know it was me. No-one else, besides Fischer himself, has permission to look at his appointment diary or his messages."

They walked on some more.

Then, finally, McCauley said, "I'd need...protection."

"How about a transfer?" asked Sisko.

"Where to?"

"It'd have to be to the USS Defiant and Deep Space Nine."

McCauley chuckled without humour. "How ironic. The safest place for me just might be on the front line in an upcoming war."

They walked on.

"I can't make you do it," said Sisko. "It has got to be your decision. But, just to let you know, I think you'd be doing a good thing."

McCauley looked at him and said, "That's the hell of it. So do I."

-=o=-

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

Thanks, as ever, to my faithful readers. Thanks, also, to those people who have come to the story in the last week and have decided to follow, favourite and review. You're all great!

I also want to say a particular thanks to SnickieFics, who asked a question in his / her review of chapter 27 and made me realise that perhaps I needed to address Jack's motivations in more detail. This chapter is pretty much the end result... (So, I do make tweaks and changes in light of comments, even though I claim to have the story drafted in full. Reviews do have an impact, though not usually as much as that one did!)

Next week: Julian's appeal hearing begins.