Chapter Four
Richard Bashir walked with Talbot into the Ferengi bar and glanced around. The crowd
had grown considerably since lunch, and most of it was concentrated around one section
of the bar. Bashir couldn't see what was so interesting, but was grateful as it left several
tables open.
"Let's go upstairs," he suggested to Talbot. "That way, we'll see Commander Hawk when
he joins us."
Talbot grinned faintly. "Even if we didn't see him, I'm sure he would have no problem
finding us."
"Ah, the advantages of a Betazoid," Bashir replied, leading Talbot up the stairs.
They found a table near the edge of the second floor and immediately placed their drink
orders with an overanxious Ferengi waiter. Talbot glanced down below.
"Say, isn't that your son down there?" she asked.
Bashir followed her gaze to the center of the crowd. Julian was, indeed, below him,
sitting in between the Trill he'd met earlier that day and the Cardassian. Another man
was busy trying to show the Bajoran first officer how to throw a dart, much to the
crowd's amusement.
"I suppose it is," Bashir replied, watching the scene below. His eyes narrowed when he
saw Julian lean over and tell the Cardassian something. "Although I thought I had taught
him better than to associate with such riffraff as that Cardassian down there."
"Oh, the tailor?" Talbot asked. "He seemed nice enough. For a Cardassian."
Bashir sniffed. "I suppose."
The two officers continued their surveillance as Bashir took his place in front of the
dartboard. Bets were called in the air, some reaching their ears. Upon hearing a bet of
twenty strips of latinum for a bulls-eye mark, Talbot shot Bashir a startled look.
"I didn't realize your son was so good at darts," she commented.
Bashir didn't respond, eyes intent on Julian. As if by some unseen force, Julian tensed,
the sparkle falling from his eyes. Slowly, his head turned in Bashir's direction until his
gaze locked with his father's. After a few mere seconds, Julian turned back to the board
to line up his shot.
Bashir's eyes roamed the crowd. No one, evidently, had noticed Julian's brief lack in
concentration.
No one, that is, except for the Cardassian.
Garak's bright blue eyes were focused firmly on Bashir, startling the ambassador. All
pretense seemed to have dropped from his face, leaving behind a cold intensity that sent
shivers down Bashir's spine. Bashir managed to muster together a glare for the tailor
before returning to his drink.
Talbot had been oblivious to the entire exchange, choosing to watch Julian hit the bulls-
eye in the center the first time, and slightly off center the second. She shook her head and
looked up at Bashir.
"Maybe I should have placed a bet," she stated.
"Gambling can only get you into trouble," Bashir replied stiffly. "I thought I had taught
Julian that, but it seems he decided to go his own way."
Talbot's expression was one of discomfort, but she forged on into the conversation
anyway. "I'm sure harmless bets are all right, Ambassador. Besides; Julian's just playing
a game. It's everyone else who are doing the betting."
"Details," Bashir muttered. Looking at Talbot, he stood. "Excuse me."
Talbot sighed as Bashir moved off, and sagged in her seat. A familiar voice behind her
made her jump, startled.
"Is it safe yet?"
Talbot smiled wearily at Hawk as he sat down beside his captain. "You heard?"
Hawk returned her grin and tapped his forehead. "Hard not to. The man is broadcasting
so loudly that my shields are taking more of a beating than unusual. He wasn't this bad
on the way here."
"It must have something to do with his son," Talbot commented. "But I don't understand.
From what I've heard, Dr. Bashir is an accomplished doctor. There must be more to the
story than everyone is letting on."
Hawk frowned. "All I know is what slips past my shields. From what I understand,
Ambassador Bashir's feelings are not very generous. I hope this matter resolves itself
fairly soon, because he's beginning to give me a headache."
Talbot shot Hawk a concerned look. "This is only the first day; it was bound to cause
some stress. Maybe things will be better tomorrow."
"I hope so," Hawk replied.
=/\=
The next three days passed by in a fairly quiet manner for both Bashirs. It was no secret
to Julian's friends that the doctor was outright avoiding associating with his father the
entire time, and that Bashir was doing likewise. The strain of the ambassador's presence
was clearly present on Julian's face, but Julian waved off any concern with a forced smile
and a platitude. Only a few more days left, and things would return to normal.
If Sisko was aware of the tensions running high between the two men, he did an
admirable job of hiding it. He continued to meet with Bashir as much as protocol
dictated, wisely steering any and all conversations away from personal affairs. For
awhile, it seemed as though everyone would come out of the situation unscathed.
Julian sighed as he marked off another date on his memo padd. Just two more days and
his father would finally be off the station and out of his life. It couldn't get there soon
enough.
He knew his friends, though supportive, were still confused by his behavior. Hell,
O'Brien had asked him outright why he didn't simply speak with his father; try to mend
the damage that twenty-eight years of life had caused. Julian had only shrugged, not
wanting to answer the innocent question.
The truth of the matter was that Julian had tried. Many times, throughout his young life,
he had attempted to talk to Bashir, to point out his inconsistent behavior by using simple
logic. The problem with that was that logic just didn't apply. You couldn't use rational
behavior to explain irrational actions. Julian had learned that the hard way.
The only person who had not tried to sympathize with Julian, or tell him that Bashir
would come around, had been Garak. Garak had just listened with attentive ears any time
Julian spoke, but never once did he utter reassurances. Perhaps his own experience with
Tain had taught Garak that what Julian needed most now was to be treated . . . normally.
And Julian needed to feel normal, desperately.
Julian glanced over at his nurse. "Jabarra, I'm leaving now. See you tomorrow, bright
and early."
Jabarra smiled at Julian. "As always, Doctor."
Julian returned the smile and strode out of the Infirmary. The Promenade was fairly
crowded, as it had been the past few days as the crew of the Persephone enjoyed some
time away from their ship. Julian maneuvered his was around an arguing couple and
ducked into Quark's.
O'Brien was sitting at a small table, nursing a drink. Julian walked up to him. "Hey,
Chief, what's the good news?"
O'Brien snorted. "The good news is that my shift is over for the day."
Julian gave the waiter his drink order, then returned his attention back to O'Brien. "That
bad, huh?"
"That's putting it mildly," O'Brien said. "Three consoles went down in Ops. At the same
time! And those damn voles are still crawling around, chewing through all my hard
work. I spent the better half of the day chasing them down through Jeffries tubes."
Julian winced. "Well, there's always tomorrow."
O'Brien sipped his drink. "I'm telling you, Julian. One of these days, I'm going to get
those damn Cardie rats, if it's the last thing I do."
Julian chuckled and accepted his drink as it was brought to him. "Well, then, I guess
you're too tired for a round of darts."
"What the hell," O'Brien stated. "Getting beaten by you would be the perfect end to such
a perfect day."
"Now that's the spirit." Julian grabbed his glass, stood, and turned. At the same instant,
the person behind him had decided to do the same, and the two ran into each other.
Julian's drink spilled all over the tunic of the man in front of him.
"Oh, God, I'm so sorry," Julian began. "My mistake."
"Damn right, your mistake!"
Julian froze at the sound of the voice. He had been looking down for napkins, but his
entire body had become rigid. Slowly, his eyes traveled up the tunic of the man in front
of him, fearful of who it was.
*It can't be him* Julian thought to himself. *It just can't be.*
Richard Bashir's face was a mask of anger as he glowered at his son. Behind him stood
Commander Sisko, looking as though he wanted to intervene but unsure how to do so.
Hawk and Talbot were also present, their bodies tensed as if prepared to step in should
the situation get out of hand.
"I-I'm s-sorry, sir," Julian stammered, unable to stop himself.
"Sorry?" Bashir echoed. "That's the problem with you, Julian. You're always 'sorry'.
I've never met a 'sorrier' individual in my life!"
Julian's face flushed with humiliation, his eyes lowered to his shoes. Sisko felt
compelled to defend his doctor. "Look, it was just an accident-," he began.
"It's always 'just an accident', isn't it, Julian?" Bashir raged, oblivious to the crowd of
onlookers. "God almighty, sometimes I wonder how you could possibly be related to
me!"
"Now that's enough," Sisko cut in, more forcefully this time.
"It's all right, Commander," Julian spoke up, hoping to stop the scene before his father
really got going. "It was my mistake. I'll pay for the drink; Quark can put it on my tab.
If you'll all excuse me, I have some things that need attending to." With that, the young
man all but fled from the bar.
O'Brien, with a glance to Sisko, immediately gave chase. At a meaningful look to Talbot,
Hawk followed. Sisko spun Bashir around and glared at the older man.
"That was completely uncalled for," he exclaimed, barely controlling the anger he was
feeling. "There was absolutely no need for that display! It was just a simple accident!
Could have happened to anyone!"
"That's just it, Commander," Bashir replied in a voice that evoked superiority. "It doesn't
happen to 'anyone'. It always happens to Julian. Why, the boy just can't seem to do
anything right, always tripping over his own feet and embarrassing me. You have a son,
Commander. Surely you understand what I'm talking about."
Sisko was as close to losing his temper as he had been in a very long time. "I do have a
son, and I 'understand' that I would never have treated him the way you just treated
Julian. No one deserves that, least of all your son!"
Bashir only shook his head pitifully, which served to enrage the commander further.
"You just don't get it, do you? I guess you'll see it my way someday."
Sisko took a deep breath, trying to quell the anger inside of him. "If I do, Ambassador,
then may my own son forgive me."
He roughly shoved his way past the ambassador and went in search of his doctor. Talbot
could only stare at Bashir in shock.
Bashir smoothed the front of his tunic and, with his held imperiously high, he strode from
Quark's.
=/\=
Hawk followed the chief of operations through the Promenade and into the Infirmary.
Though he had not chosen to be a counselor, the young man's emotional turmoil was too
strong to ignore. He knew he was no more than a passing stranger to Julian, he hoped to
help him work through whatever it was his father had done.
O'Brien barely glanced at Hawk or the nursing staff as he walked straight up to the door
to Julian's office and knocked. "Julian? It's me. Can I come in?"
No answer.
"Look, Julian, I know you're in there," O'Brien continued. "I saw you go in a couple
seconds ago. Just let me in."
Still no answer.
O'Brien sighed. "Your father was wrong, Julian. He was wrong to say what he did. He
overreacted, and he took it out on you. It wasn't your fault."
Nothing.
O'Brien turned and looked around the Infirmary helplessly. As if on cue, Sisko entered
and walked up to them. The concern was evident in his eyes.
"He in there?" he asked, nodding at the door.
O'Brien nodded. "Yes, sir, but he's not answering."
"Maybe I should give it a try," Sisko suggested. He signaled the chime, then knocked.
"Doctor Bashir? Julian? Open your door."
Silence.
Hawk cleared his throat before Sisko could call out again. "Sir, if I may? Doctor Bashir
is in a very delicate state right now, and he feels he has to compose himself before he can
face anybody."
"So what do we do?" O'Brien asked. "Just leave him in there?"
Hawk shook his head. "Maybe I can try to get him to open up."
"You?" O'Brien echoed, incredulous. "He doesn't even know you."
"It's worth a shot, Chief," Sisko pointed out. He looked at Hawk. "Go ahead."
=/\=
Julian sat at his desk, staring blankly at the wall in front of him. He thought he had heard
O'Brien's voice, then Sisko's, asking him to open the door, but the memory was so faint
that he believed it to be his imagination. The majority of his mind was wrapped around
what had happened in Quark's.
He couldn't believe what had happened. And in front of his friends and colleagues.
Gods, what they must think of him! He had worked so hard to prove himself as a
competent and capable doctor, and now his father had destroyed all that in all of five
seconds. How could he face his patients now? Or his friends?
Unbidden, another memory from his childhood surfaced and played before his eyes like a
holovid.
//Eight-year-old Julian stood from his desk and went to the replicator for a glass of water.
Holding the glass firmly in two hands, he turned and started back for the desk when a
strong hand fell on his shoulder and spun him around.
Bashir's eyes were alit with anger as he tore the glass from Julian's grip. "You stupid
little piece of . . . I just came in from the kitchen. Do you know what I found?"
"N-No sir," Julian answered.
Bashir's hold on his son tightened painfully as he forced the boy into the next room. He
led Julian over to the counter, where a dishtowel lay, clearly out of place in the
immaculate room.
"What do you see?" Bashir demanded, shaking Julian.
"A t-t-towel," Julian replied.
"A towel that is clean?" Bashir prodded.
Suddenly, Julian knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that he was in big trouble. "I-I f-
forgot."
"You forgot," Bashir repeated, calm. This, more than the yelling, frightened Julian.
"How many times do I have to tell you? WHEN YOU USE A TOWEL, YOU DISPOSE
OF IT AND GET A NEW ONE! How hard is that to understand? Do you have a brain?"
"Y-Yes," Julian whimpered, two tears escaping from his eyes.
"Then use it, dammit!" Bashir shoved the child up against the counter. "Do what you're
told the first time, and this wouldn't have happened! I swear to God, Julian, you can't
seem to do anything right!"
Julian, trembling and crying silently, picked up the towel and went to do as he was told.
The doctor watched his younger self carry out the task from across the room, tears
staining his cheeks. He was so absorbed in the memory that the unfamiliar voice startled
him.
"I'm so sorry."
Julian jumped and turned to find a tall man standing behind him, watching him with
sorrow on his face. He looked familiar to the doctor, but Julian just couldn't place him.
"Who are you?"
The man raised his hands in a calming gesture. "Relax, Doctor. I'm Commander Hawk,
from the Persephone. I don't mean to intrude on what are obviously very private
thoughts, but your friends are worried about you."
"My friends?" Julian said, confused.
"The Chief and Commander Sisko," Hawk supplied. "You didn't answer them when they
called for you. We're standing outside your office door right now."
Julian was dimly aware that his memory was fading, leaving the two Starfleet officers
standing in a black void. "I . . . I don't think I can see them right now."
Hawk nodded. "I understand. I hope you don't mind my asking; I would never want to
intrude, but . . . was it always like that?"
Julian picked at an invisible thread on the front of his tunic. "Usually. My father was
never really impressed with me. It was all I could do just to survive."
"Did he ever . . . you know, strike you?" Hawk coaxed gently.
At this, Julian gave a humorless laugh. "Only until I was too big and could fight back.
After that, he just settled for the psychological warfare."
Hawk silently observed the young man before him, marveling that he had come so far
despite his upbringing. "Have you tried talking to a psychologist about this?"
"I tried at the Academy," Julian told him. "It worked pretty well, but it got back to my
father, and, well . . . there was hell to pay. Since then, I've just pushed it out of my mind.
I told everyone I wanted this post because I wanted to practice real frontier medicine, but
a part of me also wanted to put as much distance as possible between me and him. It's
worked so well so far."
"Hiding from it will not make it go away," Hawk told him. "As a doctor, you know that.
Talk to your friends about this. They're a good group, and they genuinely want to help
you. With time, I think you'll find that what you're feeling now will go away."
Julian studied Hawk's face intently. "I'll . . . I'll consider it. Thank you."
Hawk smiled. "I'll leave you to your friends, then. You're in capable hands, Doctor. I
will see you later. Maybe you could use some competition in that darts game."
Julian laughed a genuine laugh this time. "I look forward to it."
Gradually, Hawk's image faded into the darkness, and Julian found himself once again
back in his office. Shaking his head as if to clear it, he stood and went to open the door.
O'Brien and Sisko were waiting expectantly for him. "Julian, are you okay?" O'Brien
demanded.
Julian took a deep breath, then smiled. "You know, I think I am."
Richard Bashir walked with Talbot into the Ferengi bar and glanced around. The crowd
had grown considerably since lunch, and most of it was concentrated around one section
of the bar. Bashir couldn't see what was so interesting, but was grateful as it left several
tables open.
"Let's go upstairs," he suggested to Talbot. "That way, we'll see Commander Hawk when
he joins us."
Talbot grinned faintly. "Even if we didn't see him, I'm sure he would have no problem
finding us."
"Ah, the advantages of a Betazoid," Bashir replied, leading Talbot up the stairs.
They found a table near the edge of the second floor and immediately placed their drink
orders with an overanxious Ferengi waiter. Talbot glanced down below.
"Say, isn't that your son down there?" she asked.
Bashir followed her gaze to the center of the crowd. Julian was, indeed, below him,
sitting in between the Trill he'd met earlier that day and the Cardassian. Another man
was busy trying to show the Bajoran first officer how to throw a dart, much to the
crowd's amusement.
"I suppose it is," Bashir replied, watching the scene below. His eyes narrowed when he
saw Julian lean over and tell the Cardassian something. "Although I thought I had taught
him better than to associate with such riffraff as that Cardassian down there."
"Oh, the tailor?" Talbot asked. "He seemed nice enough. For a Cardassian."
Bashir sniffed. "I suppose."
The two officers continued their surveillance as Bashir took his place in front of the
dartboard. Bets were called in the air, some reaching their ears. Upon hearing a bet of
twenty strips of latinum for a bulls-eye mark, Talbot shot Bashir a startled look.
"I didn't realize your son was so good at darts," she commented.
Bashir didn't respond, eyes intent on Julian. As if by some unseen force, Julian tensed,
the sparkle falling from his eyes. Slowly, his head turned in Bashir's direction until his
gaze locked with his father's. After a few mere seconds, Julian turned back to the board
to line up his shot.
Bashir's eyes roamed the crowd. No one, evidently, had noticed Julian's brief lack in
concentration.
No one, that is, except for the Cardassian.
Garak's bright blue eyes were focused firmly on Bashir, startling the ambassador. All
pretense seemed to have dropped from his face, leaving behind a cold intensity that sent
shivers down Bashir's spine. Bashir managed to muster together a glare for the tailor
before returning to his drink.
Talbot had been oblivious to the entire exchange, choosing to watch Julian hit the bulls-
eye in the center the first time, and slightly off center the second. She shook her head and
looked up at Bashir.
"Maybe I should have placed a bet," she stated.
"Gambling can only get you into trouble," Bashir replied stiffly. "I thought I had taught
Julian that, but it seems he decided to go his own way."
Talbot's expression was one of discomfort, but she forged on into the conversation
anyway. "I'm sure harmless bets are all right, Ambassador. Besides; Julian's just playing
a game. It's everyone else who are doing the betting."
"Details," Bashir muttered. Looking at Talbot, he stood. "Excuse me."
Talbot sighed as Bashir moved off, and sagged in her seat. A familiar voice behind her
made her jump, startled.
"Is it safe yet?"
Talbot smiled wearily at Hawk as he sat down beside his captain. "You heard?"
Hawk returned her grin and tapped his forehead. "Hard not to. The man is broadcasting
so loudly that my shields are taking more of a beating than unusual. He wasn't this bad
on the way here."
"It must have something to do with his son," Talbot commented. "But I don't understand.
From what I've heard, Dr. Bashir is an accomplished doctor. There must be more to the
story than everyone is letting on."
Hawk frowned. "All I know is what slips past my shields. From what I understand,
Ambassador Bashir's feelings are not very generous. I hope this matter resolves itself
fairly soon, because he's beginning to give me a headache."
Talbot shot Hawk a concerned look. "This is only the first day; it was bound to cause
some stress. Maybe things will be better tomorrow."
"I hope so," Hawk replied.
=/\=
The next three days passed by in a fairly quiet manner for both Bashirs. It was no secret
to Julian's friends that the doctor was outright avoiding associating with his father the
entire time, and that Bashir was doing likewise. The strain of the ambassador's presence
was clearly present on Julian's face, but Julian waved off any concern with a forced smile
and a platitude. Only a few more days left, and things would return to normal.
If Sisko was aware of the tensions running high between the two men, he did an
admirable job of hiding it. He continued to meet with Bashir as much as protocol
dictated, wisely steering any and all conversations away from personal affairs. For
awhile, it seemed as though everyone would come out of the situation unscathed.
Julian sighed as he marked off another date on his memo padd. Just two more days and
his father would finally be off the station and out of his life. It couldn't get there soon
enough.
He knew his friends, though supportive, were still confused by his behavior. Hell,
O'Brien had asked him outright why he didn't simply speak with his father; try to mend
the damage that twenty-eight years of life had caused. Julian had only shrugged, not
wanting to answer the innocent question.
The truth of the matter was that Julian had tried. Many times, throughout his young life,
he had attempted to talk to Bashir, to point out his inconsistent behavior by using simple
logic. The problem with that was that logic just didn't apply. You couldn't use rational
behavior to explain irrational actions. Julian had learned that the hard way.
The only person who had not tried to sympathize with Julian, or tell him that Bashir
would come around, had been Garak. Garak had just listened with attentive ears any time
Julian spoke, but never once did he utter reassurances. Perhaps his own experience with
Tain had taught Garak that what Julian needed most now was to be treated . . . normally.
And Julian needed to feel normal, desperately.
Julian glanced over at his nurse. "Jabarra, I'm leaving now. See you tomorrow, bright
and early."
Jabarra smiled at Julian. "As always, Doctor."
Julian returned the smile and strode out of the Infirmary. The Promenade was fairly
crowded, as it had been the past few days as the crew of the Persephone enjoyed some
time away from their ship. Julian maneuvered his was around an arguing couple and
ducked into Quark's.
O'Brien was sitting at a small table, nursing a drink. Julian walked up to him. "Hey,
Chief, what's the good news?"
O'Brien snorted. "The good news is that my shift is over for the day."
Julian gave the waiter his drink order, then returned his attention back to O'Brien. "That
bad, huh?"
"That's putting it mildly," O'Brien said. "Three consoles went down in Ops. At the same
time! And those damn voles are still crawling around, chewing through all my hard
work. I spent the better half of the day chasing them down through Jeffries tubes."
Julian winced. "Well, there's always tomorrow."
O'Brien sipped his drink. "I'm telling you, Julian. One of these days, I'm going to get
those damn Cardie rats, if it's the last thing I do."
Julian chuckled and accepted his drink as it was brought to him. "Well, then, I guess
you're too tired for a round of darts."
"What the hell," O'Brien stated. "Getting beaten by you would be the perfect end to such
a perfect day."
"Now that's the spirit." Julian grabbed his glass, stood, and turned. At the same instant,
the person behind him had decided to do the same, and the two ran into each other.
Julian's drink spilled all over the tunic of the man in front of him.
"Oh, God, I'm so sorry," Julian began. "My mistake."
"Damn right, your mistake!"
Julian froze at the sound of the voice. He had been looking down for napkins, but his
entire body had become rigid. Slowly, his eyes traveled up the tunic of the man in front
of him, fearful of who it was.
*It can't be him* Julian thought to himself. *It just can't be.*
Richard Bashir's face was a mask of anger as he glowered at his son. Behind him stood
Commander Sisko, looking as though he wanted to intervene but unsure how to do so.
Hawk and Talbot were also present, their bodies tensed as if prepared to step in should
the situation get out of hand.
"I-I'm s-sorry, sir," Julian stammered, unable to stop himself.
"Sorry?" Bashir echoed. "That's the problem with you, Julian. You're always 'sorry'.
I've never met a 'sorrier' individual in my life!"
Julian's face flushed with humiliation, his eyes lowered to his shoes. Sisko felt
compelled to defend his doctor. "Look, it was just an accident-," he began.
"It's always 'just an accident', isn't it, Julian?" Bashir raged, oblivious to the crowd of
onlookers. "God almighty, sometimes I wonder how you could possibly be related to
me!"
"Now that's enough," Sisko cut in, more forcefully this time.
"It's all right, Commander," Julian spoke up, hoping to stop the scene before his father
really got going. "It was my mistake. I'll pay for the drink; Quark can put it on my tab.
If you'll all excuse me, I have some things that need attending to." With that, the young
man all but fled from the bar.
O'Brien, with a glance to Sisko, immediately gave chase. At a meaningful look to Talbot,
Hawk followed. Sisko spun Bashir around and glared at the older man.
"That was completely uncalled for," he exclaimed, barely controlling the anger he was
feeling. "There was absolutely no need for that display! It was just a simple accident!
Could have happened to anyone!"
"That's just it, Commander," Bashir replied in a voice that evoked superiority. "It doesn't
happen to 'anyone'. It always happens to Julian. Why, the boy just can't seem to do
anything right, always tripping over his own feet and embarrassing me. You have a son,
Commander. Surely you understand what I'm talking about."
Sisko was as close to losing his temper as he had been in a very long time. "I do have a
son, and I 'understand' that I would never have treated him the way you just treated
Julian. No one deserves that, least of all your son!"
Bashir only shook his head pitifully, which served to enrage the commander further.
"You just don't get it, do you? I guess you'll see it my way someday."
Sisko took a deep breath, trying to quell the anger inside of him. "If I do, Ambassador,
then may my own son forgive me."
He roughly shoved his way past the ambassador and went in search of his doctor. Talbot
could only stare at Bashir in shock.
Bashir smoothed the front of his tunic and, with his held imperiously high, he strode from
Quark's.
=/\=
Hawk followed the chief of operations through the Promenade and into the Infirmary.
Though he had not chosen to be a counselor, the young man's emotional turmoil was too
strong to ignore. He knew he was no more than a passing stranger to Julian, he hoped to
help him work through whatever it was his father had done.
O'Brien barely glanced at Hawk or the nursing staff as he walked straight up to the door
to Julian's office and knocked. "Julian? It's me. Can I come in?"
No answer.
"Look, Julian, I know you're in there," O'Brien continued. "I saw you go in a couple
seconds ago. Just let me in."
Still no answer.
O'Brien sighed. "Your father was wrong, Julian. He was wrong to say what he did. He
overreacted, and he took it out on you. It wasn't your fault."
Nothing.
O'Brien turned and looked around the Infirmary helplessly. As if on cue, Sisko entered
and walked up to them. The concern was evident in his eyes.
"He in there?" he asked, nodding at the door.
O'Brien nodded. "Yes, sir, but he's not answering."
"Maybe I should give it a try," Sisko suggested. He signaled the chime, then knocked.
"Doctor Bashir? Julian? Open your door."
Silence.
Hawk cleared his throat before Sisko could call out again. "Sir, if I may? Doctor Bashir
is in a very delicate state right now, and he feels he has to compose himself before he can
face anybody."
"So what do we do?" O'Brien asked. "Just leave him in there?"
Hawk shook his head. "Maybe I can try to get him to open up."
"You?" O'Brien echoed, incredulous. "He doesn't even know you."
"It's worth a shot, Chief," Sisko pointed out. He looked at Hawk. "Go ahead."
=/\=
Julian sat at his desk, staring blankly at the wall in front of him. He thought he had heard
O'Brien's voice, then Sisko's, asking him to open the door, but the memory was so faint
that he believed it to be his imagination. The majority of his mind was wrapped around
what had happened in Quark's.
He couldn't believe what had happened. And in front of his friends and colleagues.
Gods, what they must think of him! He had worked so hard to prove himself as a
competent and capable doctor, and now his father had destroyed all that in all of five
seconds. How could he face his patients now? Or his friends?
Unbidden, another memory from his childhood surfaced and played before his eyes like a
holovid.
//Eight-year-old Julian stood from his desk and went to the replicator for a glass of water.
Holding the glass firmly in two hands, he turned and started back for the desk when a
strong hand fell on his shoulder and spun him around.
Bashir's eyes were alit with anger as he tore the glass from Julian's grip. "You stupid
little piece of . . . I just came in from the kitchen. Do you know what I found?"
"N-No sir," Julian answered.
Bashir's hold on his son tightened painfully as he forced the boy into the next room. He
led Julian over to the counter, where a dishtowel lay, clearly out of place in the
immaculate room.
"What do you see?" Bashir demanded, shaking Julian.
"A t-t-towel," Julian replied.
"A towel that is clean?" Bashir prodded.
Suddenly, Julian knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that he was in big trouble. "I-I f-
forgot."
"You forgot," Bashir repeated, calm. This, more than the yelling, frightened Julian.
"How many times do I have to tell you? WHEN YOU USE A TOWEL, YOU DISPOSE
OF IT AND GET A NEW ONE! How hard is that to understand? Do you have a brain?"
"Y-Yes," Julian whimpered, two tears escaping from his eyes.
"Then use it, dammit!" Bashir shoved the child up against the counter. "Do what you're
told the first time, and this wouldn't have happened! I swear to God, Julian, you can't
seem to do anything right!"
Julian, trembling and crying silently, picked up the towel and went to do as he was told.
The doctor watched his younger self carry out the task from across the room, tears
staining his cheeks. He was so absorbed in the memory that the unfamiliar voice startled
him.
"I'm so sorry."
Julian jumped and turned to find a tall man standing behind him, watching him with
sorrow on his face. He looked familiar to the doctor, but Julian just couldn't place him.
"Who are you?"
The man raised his hands in a calming gesture. "Relax, Doctor. I'm Commander Hawk,
from the Persephone. I don't mean to intrude on what are obviously very private
thoughts, but your friends are worried about you."
"My friends?" Julian said, confused.
"The Chief and Commander Sisko," Hawk supplied. "You didn't answer them when they
called for you. We're standing outside your office door right now."
Julian was dimly aware that his memory was fading, leaving the two Starfleet officers
standing in a black void. "I . . . I don't think I can see them right now."
Hawk nodded. "I understand. I hope you don't mind my asking; I would never want to
intrude, but . . . was it always like that?"
Julian picked at an invisible thread on the front of his tunic. "Usually. My father was
never really impressed with me. It was all I could do just to survive."
"Did he ever . . . you know, strike you?" Hawk coaxed gently.
At this, Julian gave a humorless laugh. "Only until I was too big and could fight back.
After that, he just settled for the psychological warfare."
Hawk silently observed the young man before him, marveling that he had come so far
despite his upbringing. "Have you tried talking to a psychologist about this?"
"I tried at the Academy," Julian told him. "It worked pretty well, but it got back to my
father, and, well . . . there was hell to pay. Since then, I've just pushed it out of my mind.
I told everyone I wanted this post because I wanted to practice real frontier medicine, but
a part of me also wanted to put as much distance as possible between me and him. It's
worked so well so far."
"Hiding from it will not make it go away," Hawk told him. "As a doctor, you know that.
Talk to your friends about this. They're a good group, and they genuinely want to help
you. With time, I think you'll find that what you're feeling now will go away."
Julian studied Hawk's face intently. "I'll . . . I'll consider it. Thank you."
Hawk smiled. "I'll leave you to your friends, then. You're in capable hands, Doctor. I
will see you later. Maybe you could use some competition in that darts game."
Julian laughed a genuine laugh this time. "I look forward to it."
Gradually, Hawk's image faded into the darkness, and Julian found himself once again
back in his office. Shaking his head as if to clear it, he stood and went to open the door.
O'Brien and Sisko were waiting expectantly for him. "Julian, are you okay?" O'Brien
demanded.
Julian took a deep breath, then smiled. "You know, I think I am."