Twenty Two

"Try it again, Doctor."

For God's sake, we've been doing these exercises for over an hour! My throat feels like sandpaper.

Julian sighed and took a moment to compose himself, secretly grateful that he still couldn't launch into outbursts that he would later regret. Last thing I need is to upset the people trying to ensure my smooth return to normalcy.

"You forget I'm from Betazed, Doctor Bashir," Donna folded her hands in her lap, giving him a smirk. "I know exactly how much you hate me right now."

Julian's eyes instantly widened. Bugger. I forgot about that.

How did I forget that?!

He found himself involuntarily blushing and decided in that moment that a certain section of the carpet would be a good place to stare.

"It's alright, Doctor. I've had plenty of patients think far worse things about me," Donna laughed politely. "I do think you've earned a break for now. If it suits you, I'd like to return this afternoon to continue this session."

Julian gratefully reached for the glass of water, nodding as he chugged the gloriously-cool liquid. "Thanks, Donna."

To his surprise, Donna gave him another smile. "That's the greatest number of sounds I've heard you produce in one go. You're improving, Doctor."

"Jadzia…has…helped." Julian barely suppressed the urge to cringe at his pathetic attempt of a sentence, but decided it would help to reassure Donna that he wasn't a completely lost cause.

Finishing her second cup cup of Tarkealian tea for the morning, Donna gave him an approving nod. "I'm very impressed, Doctor. Shall we resume this session at fifteen hundred hours?"

Julian went to nod, only for Donna to raise an interrupting hand. "I'd like to hear more of your voice, please. I think you're well past the 'answering with gestures' phase."

He fought to keep his impending barge of negative thoughts under control for a few moments longer and focused on providing an acceptable response. "See…you…later…then."

The Betazoid rose from her seat, returning her empty mugs to Julian's replicator. "Rest well, Doctor."

He maintained the polite facade until she had disappeared through to the corridor outside his quarters, and allowed his fatigued zygomaticus and masseter to collapse into a scowl. How many more weeks of this rubbish have I got left?

He knew that the majority of his frustration was drawn from the fact that he should be advancing his recovery quicker than he currently was; he'd been doing round-the-clock speech therapy and physio exercises for the last nine days, yet he was still unable to properly enunciate a whole word, or walk any further than the distance from his bed to the fresher.

If there was any point in my life where these genetic enhancements would actually be valued, now is the time.

Part of him tried to give himself some credit. His legs had regained enough strength that he'd been able to stop using the hover chair three days ago, though he'd still been given a stick to carry in case he needed to steady himself.

Nobody had to know that he'd immediately buried the damned thing in the bottom drawer of his dresser, never to see the light of day again.

Well, at least until he could discreetly return it to the infirmary.

The doorbell to his quarters chimed, interrupting his stream of thoughts. He heaved his aching body off of the couch and made his way to the door; he and Jadzia had worked out days ago that it was easier to physically open his quarters than trying to get the computer to understand his attempts at speech.

If you think about it, our technology really isn't as accessible and accomodating as I thought it was- Oh!

To his surprise, Sisko was waiting patiently in the corridor, giving nothing away with his neutral expression. A padd was tucked under his arm, its content hidden beneath the sleeve of his uniform. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything, Doctor."

Julian shook his head immediately, giving his best 'please-don't-worry' expression. He extended his arm out and stepped back into his quarters, allowing his commanding officer to enter.

"I apologise for barging in on your recovery, Doctor," Sisko continued, folding his arms behind him as he paced the living area, "but unfortunately, Starfleet Intelligence have decided they won't wait any longer."

When Julian gave him a confused look, Sisko held out the padd to him. "They want a full report from you. I'm told it must be on my desk by 0900 tomorrow at the latest."

Julian's heart sunk, and he didn't bother trying to hide the grim expression that came across his face. He stared despondently the padd, skimming through the memo from Starfleet Intelligence. One paragraph in particular made his blood boil: We understand your concerns and have reviewed your request for this to be delayed, however the report must be submitted in order for Doctor Bashir to continue serving under your command. We feel we have been lenient enough-

Lenient, my ass!

He dropped the padd on his couch in disgust, pacing away from Sisko and rubbing his face furiously. It took a few moments before the sudden fury that erupted within him to calm. Secretly, he was grateful that his distasteful comments toward Starfleet couldn't be voiced yet.

"Doctor?" Sisko broke the tense silence.

Julian turned to retrieve the discarded padd, typing so furiously that his fingertips were slamming into the screen. Are they threatening my commission over this?! None of it was my fault!

"I know it's not, Doctor, but Starfleet sees it differently," Sisko explained calmly. "From their point of view, one of my officers has been the victim of a apparent terrorist attack. I haven't given them any details, because even I don't know any details. All I've provided is what Garak has told me, and even he doesn't know the full story, so of course Starfleet are asking what the hell is going on!"

Sisko gently took the padd from Julian, scrolling and tapping until he found what he was looking for. "'The assailant began unleashing some kind of chemical gas which he explicitly stated was not fatal to human beings, except for Doctor Bashir. He had designed it specifically for this purpose'. Can you explain to me what makes you special enough that Mister Palis decided that creating a bioweapon was justified?"

Oh shit.

A cold sweat came over his body.

"Doctor, I can't help you unless you tell me what happened. Why did he engineer this? Was this an isolated incident, or was he planning to use it on others?!"

Julian decided he would try to deflect the question. Does Starfleet think I'm a terrorist?

"No they don't, Julian. Answer my question," Sisko reiterated. His expression softened as he motioned for the doctor to sit next to him. "What's really going on here?"

Julian's trembling fingers hovered over the padd.

I can't tell him the truth. I can't.

But it doesn't mean I can't tell him most of it…

It took him some time to construct an answer that he prayed Sisko would believe, even though most of it was exactly what Martin had told him anyway. He just decided to omit the quip about how his genetic enhancements had been found out, and that the weapon was only ever meant for him.

He fought desperately with his sympathetic nervous system, trying to suppress his adrenaline while the commander read his notes. It was impossible to tell if Sisko genuinely believed him, but the matter was left there for the moment. After declaring that he would get Starfleet to buy him more time to recover before submitting anything 'truly' official, Sisko made a suspiciously-swift exit from Julian's quarters, leaving the doctor alone with his growing paranoia.

I just lied to my superior officer.

He wiped away the sweat that had finally broken through on his forehead.

I need a freaking drink.