Chapter Three
Sisko, Kira, and Odo watched the three officers retreat back to the Persephone with
forced politeness. The instant they turned the corner, Sisko and Kira sagged and traded
exasperated looks.
"I guess I can see where Doctor Bashir gets his one-track mind," Sisko commented as
they began to trek back to the turbolift.
"Yeah, but not his attitude," Kira agreed. "And I thought Julian was annoying. At least
he tried to be polite."
Sisko glanced at Odo. "You've been awfully quiet this afternoon, Constable. Anything
you'd like to share?"
"Not at this time," Odo replied. "I do have an observation to make, though. I thought it
was peculiar how Doctor Bashir acted when the ambassador was in the same room."
"I noticed that, too," Kira said. "I don't know too many Terrans, but I've seen you with
Jake, Commander. I've also seen the Chief with his daughter. I can't believe that
Ambassador Bashir was behaving in an acceptable manner with Julian."
"I know what you're getting at, Major," Sisko commented. "All parents, regardless of
their heritage- Terran, Bajoran, Klingon- all of them raise their children in the only
manner they know how. Different parenting styles suit different parents and children.
We cannot judge Ambassador Bashir's parenting skills without knowing the whole
situation. Besides; we may be concerned for nothing. Julian Bashir has come this far and
done quite well for himself. The ambassador must have done something right."
Kira and Odo reflected on Sisko's words as they boarded the turbolift. Silently, Sisko
recounted his impromptu speech and wondered why Bashir's actions were still bothering
him.
=/\=
//The holovid signaled insistently, demanding to be answered. Nine-year-old Julian raced
through the house at top speed, hoping to answer the call before it woke his father. It was
barely 0800 hours, but it was also Bashir's day off. If he was awakened . . .
"Hello?" Julian asked, out of breath.
"Hi, Jules," Julian's cousin, David, greeted. "I was calling to ask you if you wanted to
come over and hang out. Mom said she'd pick you up."
A woman with long, curly brown hair and hazel eyes sat down beside David and grinned.
"What do you say, Jules?" she asked. "I'll even throw breakfast into the deal."
Julian grinned widely. "Sure, Aunt Mary."
A deep voice behind Julian caused the boy to stiffen in his seat. "Sorry, Mary. Julian has
things to do with me today."
Mary's face fell. "Oh, okay, Richard. Some other time, okay, Jules?"
Before Julian could answer, Bashir reached out and severed the communication. He
towered over his son, his eyes still hazy from sleep.
Julian tried to salvage what was left of the situation. "Uh . . . s-sorry, Dad . . . I-I tried to
answer it as f-f-fast as I could . . ."
Bashir's hand shot out and closed around Julian's throat. Lifting the boy out of his seat,
he slammed Julian against the wall. He moved his face closer until it was inches from
Julian's.
"You called my sister on a Saturday morning to go to her house?" he hissed angrily.
"You woke her up on her one day off during the week?"
"N-No, sir," Julian stammered, terrified. "S-She called here-."
"Don't lie to me!" Bashir roared. "You're grounded to your room for the next month.
Maybe then you'll learn some courtesy for other people!"
With a final squeeze, Bashir tossed Julian to the floor and stalked off. Julian clutched at
his throat, gasping for breath. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he shuddered.//
Julian jerked himself out of the stupor he had fallen into at his desk and rubbed his face.
To his surprise, his hands came away wet. Sighing heavily, Julian scrubbed at his eyes
and willed himself to calm the trembles that had started.
Why did his father have to stop here, at the station? DS9 was one of the last places that
Julian felt safe. Now, however, with his father there with him, all he could think about
was his childhood.
The Infirmary doors slid open, causing Julian to rise and grab a tricorder out of habit. He
approached the front entrance to see who had entered when the sight of his father stopped
him cold.
Bashir was studying Julian's form with a careful eye. He was showing much more
interest in his son than he had earlier that day.
"You've grown," Bashir stated blandly.
Julian was alert, ready for whatever Bashir had to say to him. His own response was just
as cool. "That tends to happen after five years."
Bashir's eyes narrowed, sending a chill down Julian's spine. "There's no need for that
tone, Julian. I am still your father."
"A father I haven't needed since I was a small boy," Julian pointed out, allowing some of
the hurt he was feeling to show through.
Bashir let out a humorless chuckle and shook his head. "I knew you were going to be
like this. After all this time, and you still behave like a child. Isn't it time you grew up?"
Julian's eyes flashed in anger. "Me grow up? I'm not the one who turned his back on his
only child!"
"There you go again," Bashir said. "Making it out to be all my fault. The martyr act is
getting a little old, Julian."
"I agree," Julian said icily. "So why don't you stop using it?"
Bashir stepped forward, causing Julian to involuntarily take a step back. "Listen to me,
you ungrateful little bastard. After everything I have done for you, you still persist in
treating me like a pariah. Don't forget; you are not too old for me to teach you your
manners."
Julian raised a hand to his communicator. "You touch me, and I'll call security."
Bashir moved closer. "You won't do it. No matter how much you pretend, you're still the
same pussyfooted little coward you were when you were a boy. Go ahead. Call."
Julian didn't move.
Bashir darted forward with a speed that surprised the young doctor. He grabbed Julian
roughly by the arm and shook him. "Call them. I dare you."
"Excuse me. Are we interrupting something?"
Bashir snorted in Julian's face and gave him a light shove back against a console. Julian
caught himself on it and glared at his father, mustering all of his anger into it.
Miles O'Brien moved into the room to Julian's side, his steadying arm helping the doctor
to straighten. Garak merely folded his hands in front of him and watched the ambassador
with interest.
Bashir met Julian's eyes, unaffected by what he found there. "I'll be around, Julian.
Hopefully your manners will have improved by then."
With a superior look to O'Brien and Garak, Bashir exited the Infirmary.
O'Brien turned to Julian with a concerned look on his face. "Are you all right, Julian?
Who was that?"
"I'm fine," Julian replied stiffly.
"Am I correct in assuming that the man who just left was none other than Ambassador
Bashir?" Garak asked.
"Your father?" O'Brien exclaimed in disbelief, not waiting for Julian to respond. "Why
would your father do that?"
Julian gave Garak an annoyed look. "What are you two doing here, anyway? Isn't it
almost time for our duty shifts to end?"
"That's why I'm here," O'Brien replied. "I wanted to see if we were still on for darts this
evening. 1800 hours, right?"
"Right," Julian confirmed. "That explains Miles, but you, Garak? You hardly ever stop
by the Infirmary."
"I saw a strange man in a Starfleet uniform come in here and wanted to see if it was
indeed your father," Garak told him. "I suppose introductions will have to wait until
another day."
Julian smiled bitterly. "If you want to meet him, then by all means. I just wouldn't
recommend mentioning that you're my friend. He's liable to toss you out the nearest
airlock if you do. Father never really approved of any of my friends."
"Looks like that wasn't all he didn't approve of," O'Brien muttered. At Julian's pained
look, he instantly regretted the words. "Oh, Julian, I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by
it."
Julian waved the apology aside. "Forget it. Look, I'm going to go to my quarters for a
bit. I'll see you in about an hour, Miles. Garak; lunch tomorrow?"
Garak bowed in response.
Julian nodded to both of his friends, then escaped their curious looks. Left alone in the
Infirmary, O'Brien glanced at Garak.
"What do you suppose that was all about?" he asked.
Garak only shrugged.
=/\=
"He did what?" Dax cried.
O'Brien hushed her and glanced at Kira's shocked face. "Look, I'm not sure of the whole
story. All I know is what I saw."
"I can't believe it," Kira stated. "I mean, Ambassador Bashir will never win any awards
for courtesy, but he wouldn't do that to his own son."
"Ask Garak if you don't believe me," O'Brien told her. "He was there with me. Saw the
whole thing. And Julian acts like it's the most normal thing in the world. I'm telling you,
I'm a little worried."
"Agreed, but what can we do?" Dax asked. "Neither father nor son are talking about it,
so we have no proof other than that one incident."
O'Brien opened his mouth to reply, but Kira hushed him silent as the object of their
discussion headed their way. Julian offered them a tired smile.
"Well, Chief, are you ready for that rematch you promised me?" he asked.
O'Brien stood. "Tonight's the night, Julian. You are going down."
Julian's grin lost some of its weariness. "Whatever you say, Miles." He turned to Dax
and Kira. "Are you here to watch the chief clean my clock?"
Dax smiled at the doctor. "You're that confident?"
O'Brien chuckled and steered Julian over to the dartboard, where Quark was already
waiting for them with their darts. Amidst the flurry of betting, Julian gestured for
O'Brien to take the first warm-up shots.
As the game wore on, Julian felt the tension in his shoulder gradually seep away. This
was what he needed, he decided. To forget about today and focus completely on the
now. With any luck, he would be able to relax enough to chase away any unpleasant
dreams that night.
The first game went to Julian, so the doctor prepared to throw the first shot of the second
game. As he was lining up his dart, O'Brien cleared his throat.
"So what's the story with you and your dad?" he asked.
Julian released the dart just as the question was asked. Startled by the nature of the
inquiry, his first shot went wild, the dart embedding in the outside border of the board.
Julian turned to glare at the operations chief.
"If you're trying to throw off my game, it won't work," he said pointedly.
His second shot landed dead center of the target. Julian retrieved his darts and stepped
aside so O'Brien could shoot.
"It's a simple question, Julian," O'Brien said as he let one dart fly. "I'm just curious, is
all. You never talked about your family before."
"I talk all the time, as you are so fond of pointing out to me," Julian replied, watching
O'Brien's second dart land on the board.
"Sure, but not about your family," O'Brien said as they traded places. "I mean, you talk
all about medical stuff, and books, and music, art, sports you've played-."
"I get the picture," Julian assured him.
"But I don't ever recall hearing about your father," O'Brien continued, as if Julian had
never spoken. "So, simply put, what's the story?"
Julian paused in his first shot, his arm sagging as he sighed. Barely concealed pain
clouded his eyes. With a sudden surge of anger, he threw the dart at the target, where it
pierced the outer edge of the bulls-eye. With the other dart clenched firmly in one hand,
Julian turned to O'Brien's shocked face.
"I haven't talked about him because there's nothing to talk about," he responded sharply.
"You talk about your family because you did stuff together, and lived as an actual family
should. So, 'simply put,' there is no story."
O'Brien's mouth moved soundlessly for several moments before any words came out.
"Julian . . ."
With barely a glance at the board, Julian hurled the second dart at it and stalked out of
Quark's as quickly as possible. O'Brien's eyes followed him, then turned to the board,
where Julian's second shot had struck the target dead center.
=/\=
Julian stormed into the darkened Infirmary, not quite sure why he was there. He didn't
feel like sitting, so instead, he paced restlessly around the room.
As his temper began to subside, shame crept into his face. Had he really yelled at his
friend over such a simple question? And in front of the entire bar?
But it hadn't been a simple question. That was the problem. How did you explain to
someone with no common frame of reference that your father hadn't even wanted you in
the first place?
"Quite the show you put on at Quark's, Doctor. Care to explain?"
Julian scowled at Garak, who stood in the doorway to the Infirmary. "Not particularly,
Garak. And I'm not very good company right now, so if you don't mind-."
"Not at all, my dear doctor," Garak cut him off as he stepped into the room. "I seem to
recall a time where you kept me company in one of my darker moments. The least I
could do is return the favor. Or lend an ear, perhaps?"
Julian sighed. "It isn't something that I can easily talk about, Garak."
Garak shrugged. "Things of this nature rarely are."
Julian narrowed his eyes at the Cardassian. "And what nature would that be?"
Garak seated himself in the nearest available chair and folded his hands onto his lap.
"You tell me. After all, you are the one who knows more about it than me."
Julian let out a breath and shook his head. "Don't worry about it, Garak. It's nothing. I
think I should go apologize to the chief."
"That's decent of you, Julian, but I would rather have the explanation."
Julian's head snapped around to find O'Brien, Dax, and Kira entering the Infirmary. He
threw his hands up into the air.
"Is there anyone on the station who isn't interested in my personal life?" he asked,
exasperated.
"If it isn't such a big deal, then why don't you just tell us?" Dax reasoned gently.
Julian sighed. "I can't. It isn't something that can be explained. In fact, it isn't something
that makes a whole lot of sense."
"Then just start with what you know, and work from there," Kira stated. "Whatever it is,
you obviously need to get it off your chest."
Julian's eyes studied Kira's face, then flickered over Dax, O'Brien, and Garak. Looking
down at his feet, he ran a hand through his hair. "It's stupid, really. You'll think I'm
crazy."
"I'd say you're running the risk of that either way," O'Brien said, trying to inject some
levity into the conversation.
"Let us be the judge of whether or not this is stupid," Dax added softly.
Julian folded his arms. "You've been warned."
O'Brien and Kira exchanged confused looks, but Garak and Dax's eyes were completely
focused on their young friend.
"Basically, it boils down to the kind of man my father is," Julian explained. "Before I
came along, he was a renowned diplomat who everyone could count on in tough
situations. If there was any war about to break out, you could lay money that my father
would be right there, in the thick of things.
"All that changed when I was born," Julian continued. "He became a parent, and as such,
he had certain responsibilities. A father cannot traipse through space into dangerous
environments with an infant on board his ship. His career had to take a serious hit, and I
don't believe he ever forgave me for that."
"You can't be serious," O'Brien protested. "I mean, that can't possibly be your fault. You
didn't ask to be born."
Julian smiled bitterly. "Try explaining that to somebody whose entire world view is
severely distorted. I'm sure, in the beginning, it didn't start out that way. But as time
went on, the resentment started to build. Every now and again, it spilled out into my life
until the dam burst, and all I ever heard from him was how I had ruined his career, and
his life."
A shocked silence ensued. Julian deftly avoided his friends' eyes, unwilling to see the
pity or disbelief he knew would reside there.
"There's more to it than that," Garak observed after a minute.
Julian glanced up at Garak and was relieved to find nothing more than curiosity and
patience. "Just the parts that make up this story," he answered quietly. "Memories I'd
rather forget. That's all."
"Are you all right?" Dax asked.
Julian took a deep breath. "Actually, yes, I am. I feel better than I have in a long time."
He met every eye on him. "Thank you all."
"If you ever want to talk about some of those memories, you know where to find us,"
Dax offered.
O'Brien straightened. "Well, the night is still young. Julian, you up for another game of
darts? I promise to go easy on you this time."
Julian grinned his first full-fledged grin since the Persephone had docked. "Chief, if you
go any easier on me, I might fall asleep."
Kira laughed. "Come on, the next round of drinks are on me."
Sisko, Kira, and Odo watched the three officers retreat back to the Persephone with
forced politeness. The instant they turned the corner, Sisko and Kira sagged and traded
exasperated looks.
"I guess I can see where Doctor Bashir gets his one-track mind," Sisko commented as
they began to trek back to the turbolift.
"Yeah, but not his attitude," Kira agreed. "And I thought Julian was annoying. At least
he tried to be polite."
Sisko glanced at Odo. "You've been awfully quiet this afternoon, Constable. Anything
you'd like to share?"
"Not at this time," Odo replied. "I do have an observation to make, though. I thought it
was peculiar how Doctor Bashir acted when the ambassador was in the same room."
"I noticed that, too," Kira said. "I don't know too many Terrans, but I've seen you with
Jake, Commander. I've also seen the Chief with his daughter. I can't believe that
Ambassador Bashir was behaving in an acceptable manner with Julian."
"I know what you're getting at, Major," Sisko commented. "All parents, regardless of
their heritage- Terran, Bajoran, Klingon- all of them raise their children in the only
manner they know how. Different parenting styles suit different parents and children.
We cannot judge Ambassador Bashir's parenting skills without knowing the whole
situation. Besides; we may be concerned for nothing. Julian Bashir has come this far and
done quite well for himself. The ambassador must have done something right."
Kira and Odo reflected on Sisko's words as they boarded the turbolift. Silently, Sisko
recounted his impromptu speech and wondered why Bashir's actions were still bothering
him.
=/\=
//The holovid signaled insistently, demanding to be answered. Nine-year-old Julian raced
through the house at top speed, hoping to answer the call before it woke his father. It was
barely 0800 hours, but it was also Bashir's day off. If he was awakened . . .
"Hello?" Julian asked, out of breath.
"Hi, Jules," Julian's cousin, David, greeted. "I was calling to ask you if you wanted to
come over and hang out. Mom said she'd pick you up."
A woman with long, curly brown hair and hazel eyes sat down beside David and grinned.
"What do you say, Jules?" she asked. "I'll even throw breakfast into the deal."
Julian grinned widely. "Sure, Aunt Mary."
A deep voice behind Julian caused the boy to stiffen in his seat. "Sorry, Mary. Julian has
things to do with me today."
Mary's face fell. "Oh, okay, Richard. Some other time, okay, Jules?"
Before Julian could answer, Bashir reached out and severed the communication. He
towered over his son, his eyes still hazy from sleep.
Julian tried to salvage what was left of the situation. "Uh . . . s-sorry, Dad . . . I-I tried to
answer it as f-f-fast as I could . . ."
Bashir's hand shot out and closed around Julian's throat. Lifting the boy out of his seat,
he slammed Julian against the wall. He moved his face closer until it was inches from
Julian's.
"You called my sister on a Saturday morning to go to her house?" he hissed angrily.
"You woke her up on her one day off during the week?"
"N-No, sir," Julian stammered, terrified. "S-She called here-."
"Don't lie to me!" Bashir roared. "You're grounded to your room for the next month.
Maybe then you'll learn some courtesy for other people!"
With a final squeeze, Bashir tossed Julian to the floor and stalked off. Julian clutched at
his throat, gasping for breath. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he shuddered.//
Julian jerked himself out of the stupor he had fallen into at his desk and rubbed his face.
To his surprise, his hands came away wet. Sighing heavily, Julian scrubbed at his eyes
and willed himself to calm the trembles that had started.
Why did his father have to stop here, at the station? DS9 was one of the last places that
Julian felt safe. Now, however, with his father there with him, all he could think about
was his childhood.
The Infirmary doors slid open, causing Julian to rise and grab a tricorder out of habit. He
approached the front entrance to see who had entered when the sight of his father stopped
him cold.
Bashir was studying Julian's form with a careful eye. He was showing much more
interest in his son than he had earlier that day.
"You've grown," Bashir stated blandly.
Julian was alert, ready for whatever Bashir had to say to him. His own response was just
as cool. "That tends to happen after five years."
Bashir's eyes narrowed, sending a chill down Julian's spine. "There's no need for that
tone, Julian. I am still your father."
"A father I haven't needed since I was a small boy," Julian pointed out, allowing some of
the hurt he was feeling to show through.
Bashir let out a humorless chuckle and shook his head. "I knew you were going to be
like this. After all this time, and you still behave like a child. Isn't it time you grew up?"
Julian's eyes flashed in anger. "Me grow up? I'm not the one who turned his back on his
only child!"
"There you go again," Bashir said. "Making it out to be all my fault. The martyr act is
getting a little old, Julian."
"I agree," Julian said icily. "So why don't you stop using it?"
Bashir stepped forward, causing Julian to involuntarily take a step back. "Listen to me,
you ungrateful little bastard. After everything I have done for you, you still persist in
treating me like a pariah. Don't forget; you are not too old for me to teach you your
manners."
Julian raised a hand to his communicator. "You touch me, and I'll call security."
Bashir moved closer. "You won't do it. No matter how much you pretend, you're still the
same pussyfooted little coward you were when you were a boy. Go ahead. Call."
Julian didn't move.
Bashir darted forward with a speed that surprised the young doctor. He grabbed Julian
roughly by the arm and shook him. "Call them. I dare you."
"Excuse me. Are we interrupting something?"
Bashir snorted in Julian's face and gave him a light shove back against a console. Julian
caught himself on it and glared at his father, mustering all of his anger into it.
Miles O'Brien moved into the room to Julian's side, his steadying arm helping the doctor
to straighten. Garak merely folded his hands in front of him and watched the ambassador
with interest.
Bashir met Julian's eyes, unaffected by what he found there. "I'll be around, Julian.
Hopefully your manners will have improved by then."
With a superior look to O'Brien and Garak, Bashir exited the Infirmary.
O'Brien turned to Julian with a concerned look on his face. "Are you all right, Julian?
Who was that?"
"I'm fine," Julian replied stiffly.
"Am I correct in assuming that the man who just left was none other than Ambassador
Bashir?" Garak asked.
"Your father?" O'Brien exclaimed in disbelief, not waiting for Julian to respond. "Why
would your father do that?"
Julian gave Garak an annoyed look. "What are you two doing here, anyway? Isn't it
almost time for our duty shifts to end?"
"That's why I'm here," O'Brien replied. "I wanted to see if we were still on for darts this
evening. 1800 hours, right?"
"Right," Julian confirmed. "That explains Miles, but you, Garak? You hardly ever stop
by the Infirmary."
"I saw a strange man in a Starfleet uniform come in here and wanted to see if it was
indeed your father," Garak told him. "I suppose introductions will have to wait until
another day."
Julian smiled bitterly. "If you want to meet him, then by all means. I just wouldn't
recommend mentioning that you're my friend. He's liable to toss you out the nearest
airlock if you do. Father never really approved of any of my friends."
"Looks like that wasn't all he didn't approve of," O'Brien muttered. At Julian's pained
look, he instantly regretted the words. "Oh, Julian, I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by
it."
Julian waved the apology aside. "Forget it. Look, I'm going to go to my quarters for a
bit. I'll see you in about an hour, Miles. Garak; lunch tomorrow?"
Garak bowed in response.
Julian nodded to both of his friends, then escaped their curious looks. Left alone in the
Infirmary, O'Brien glanced at Garak.
"What do you suppose that was all about?" he asked.
Garak only shrugged.
=/\=
"He did what?" Dax cried.
O'Brien hushed her and glanced at Kira's shocked face. "Look, I'm not sure of the whole
story. All I know is what I saw."
"I can't believe it," Kira stated. "I mean, Ambassador Bashir will never win any awards
for courtesy, but he wouldn't do that to his own son."
"Ask Garak if you don't believe me," O'Brien told her. "He was there with me. Saw the
whole thing. And Julian acts like it's the most normal thing in the world. I'm telling you,
I'm a little worried."
"Agreed, but what can we do?" Dax asked. "Neither father nor son are talking about it,
so we have no proof other than that one incident."
O'Brien opened his mouth to reply, but Kira hushed him silent as the object of their
discussion headed their way. Julian offered them a tired smile.
"Well, Chief, are you ready for that rematch you promised me?" he asked.
O'Brien stood. "Tonight's the night, Julian. You are going down."
Julian's grin lost some of its weariness. "Whatever you say, Miles." He turned to Dax
and Kira. "Are you here to watch the chief clean my clock?"
Dax smiled at the doctor. "You're that confident?"
O'Brien chuckled and steered Julian over to the dartboard, where Quark was already
waiting for them with their darts. Amidst the flurry of betting, Julian gestured for
O'Brien to take the first warm-up shots.
As the game wore on, Julian felt the tension in his shoulder gradually seep away. This
was what he needed, he decided. To forget about today and focus completely on the
now. With any luck, he would be able to relax enough to chase away any unpleasant
dreams that night.
The first game went to Julian, so the doctor prepared to throw the first shot of the second
game. As he was lining up his dart, O'Brien cleared his throat.
"So what's the story with you and your dad?" he asked.
Julian released the dart just as the question was asked. Startled by the nature of the
inquiry, his first shot went wild, the dart embedding in the outside border of the board.
Julian turned to glare at the operations chief.
"If you're trying to throw off my game, it won't work," he said pointedly.
His second shot landed dead center of the target. Julian retrieved his darts and stepped
aside so O'Brien could shoot.
"It's a simple question, Julian," O'Brien said as he let one dart fly. "I'm just curious, is
all. You never talked about your family before."
"I talk all the time, as you are so fond of pointing out to me," Julian replied, watching
O'Brien's second dart land on the board.
"Sure, but not about your family," O'Brien said as they traded places. "I mean, you talk
all about medical stuff, and books, and music, art, sports you've played-."
"I get the picture," Julian assured him.
"But I don't ever recall hearing about your father," O'Brien continued, as if Julian had
never spoken. "So, simply put, what's the story?"
Julian paused in his first shot, his arm sagging as he sighed. Barely concealed pain
clouded his eyes. With a sudden surge of anger, he threw the dart at the target, where it
pierced the outer edge of the bulls-eye. With the other dart clenched firmly in one hand,
Julian turned to O'Brien's shocked face.
"I haven't talked about him because there's nothing to talk about," he responded sharply.
"You talk about your family because you did stuff together, and lived as an actual family
should. So, 'simply put,' there is no story."
O'Brien's mouth moved soundlessly for several moments before any words came out.
"Julian . . ."
With barely a glance at the board, Julian hurled the second dart at it and stalked out of
Quark's as quickly as possible. O'Brien's eyes followed him, then turned to the board,
where Julian's second shot had struck the target dead center.
=/\=
Julian stormed into the darkened Infirmary, not quite sure why he was there. He didn't
feel like sitting, so instead, he paced restlessly around the room.
As his temper began to subside, shame crept into his face. Had he really yelled at his
friend over such a simple question? And in front of the entire bar?
But it hadn't been a simple question. That was the problem. How did you explain to
someone with no common frame of reference that your father hadn't even wanted you in
the first place?
"Quite the show you put on at Quark's, Doctor. Care to explain?"
Julian scowled at Garak, who stood in the doorway to the Infirmary. "Not particularly,
Garak. And I'm not very good company right now, so if you don't mind-."
"Not at all, my dear doctor," Garak cut him off as he stepped into the room. "I seem to
recall a time where you kept me company in one of my darker moments. The least I
could do is return the favor. Or lend an ear, perhaps?"
Julian sighed. "It isn't something that I can easily talk about, Garak."
Garak shrugged. "Things of this nature rarely are."
Julian narrowed his eyes at the Cardassian. "And what nature would that be?"
Garak seated himself in the nearest available chair and folded his hands onto his lap.
"You tell me. After all, you are the one who knows more about it than me."
Julian let out a breath and shook his head. "Don't worry about it, Garak. It's nothing. I
think I should go apologize to the chief."
"That's decent of you, Julian, but I would rather have the explanation."
Julian's head snapped around to find O'Brien, Dax, and Kira entering the Infirmary. He
threw his hands up into the air.
"Is there anyone on the station who isn't interested in my personal life?" he asked,
exasperated.
"If it isn't such a big deal, then why don't you just tell us?" Dax reasoned gently.
Julian sighed. "I can't. It isn't something that can be explained. In fact, it isn't something
that makes a whole lot of sense."
"Then just start with what you know, and work from there," Kira stated. "Whatever it is,
you obviously need to get it off your chest."
Julian's eyes studied Kira's face, then flickered over Dax, O'Brien, and Garak. Looking
down at his feet, he ran a hand through his hair. "It's stupid, really. You'll think I'm
crazy."
"I'd say you're running the risk of that either way," O'Brien said, trying to inject some
levity into the conversation.
"Let us be the judge of whether or not this is stupid," Dax added softly.
Julian folded his arms. "You've been warned."
O'Brien and Kira exchanged confused looks, but Garak and Dax's eyes were completely
focused on their young friend.
"Basically, it boils down to the kind of man my father is," Julian explained. "Before I
came along, he was a renowned diplomat who everyone could count on in tough
situations. If there was any war about to break out, you could lay money that my father
would be right there, in the thick of things.
"All that changed when I was born," Julian continued. "He became a parent, and as such,
he had certain responsibilities. A father cannot traipse through space into dangerous
environments with an infant on board his ship. His career had to take a serious hit, and I
don't believe he ever forgave me for that."
"You can't be serious," O'Brien protested. "I mean, that can't possibly be your fault. You
didn't ask to be born."
Julian smiled bitterly. "Try explaining that to somebody whose entire world view is
severely distorted. I'm sure, in the beginning, it didn't start out that way. But as time
went on, the resentment started to build. Every now and again, it spilled out into my life
until the dam burst, and all I ever heard from him was how I had ruined his career, and
his life."
A shocked silence ensued. Julian deftly avoided his friends' eyes, unwilling to see the
pity or disbelief he knew would reside there.
"There's more to it than that," Garak observed after a minute.
Julian glanced up at Garak and was relieved to find nothing more than curiosity and
patience. "Just the parts that make up this story," he answered quietly. "Memories I'd
rather forget. That's all."
"Are you all right?" Dax asked.
Julian took a deep breath. "Actually, yes, I am. I feel better than I have in a long time."
He met every eye on him. "Thank you all."
"If you ever want to talk about some of those memories, you know where to find us,"
Dax offered.
O'Brien straightened. "Well, the night is still young. Julian, you up for another game of
darts? I promise to go easy on you this time."
Julian grinned his first full-fledged grin since the Persephone had docked. "Chief, if you
go any easier on me, I might fall asleep."
Kira laughed. "Come on, the next round of drinks are on me."