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At the ping coming from the Captain’s door, Julian shook himself. He couldn't stall outside the door any longer – not that he was hiding from his fate by pacing outside Sisko’s door for a little too long, just… pushing it off for a few more seconds. After the last few days, Julian thought he deserved that, right?
“Come in, Doctor,” Sisko nodded at him as he entered, in his vague way that didn’t give much away. “We were just talking about you. Admiral, allow me to introduce Doctor Julian Bashir. Doctor, this is Rear Admiral Bennett, Judge Advocate General.”
Julian had been in Sisko’s office countless times, and it had always felt warm, even in the midst of the coldness of battle. But with the holo-comm of the admiral and his parents on one side of the room, and Sikso and Kira on the other, the room felt a little claustrophobic now. Everyone had turned to look at him as he entered with expressions that ranged from pure expectancy – like a held breath – to anxiety and disappointment.
“Admiral,” he acknowledged.
“Doctor.”
Julian did not like the lack of explanation that hung across the air, already taught in the room. He needed clear communication, especially after he had already been coming up with possible outcomes of this conversation in the hallway for the last ten minutes.
“May I ask what’s going on?”
He was playing a little coy: Julian there was only one thing this conversation could be about, and he had known it was coming before the Captain had sent him a request to join him in his office. But, as Garak would tell him, feigning ignorance was a good way to get more information out of someone without letting anyone know your own position. And, as Julian would counter, it was also a good way to stall for time.
“Your parents came to me this morning. They explained the situation about your genetic background. I contacted Admiral Bennett a short time ago.”
The Admiral turned to him, the older man holding the vaguely important aura that all figures past Captain exuded in Julian’s mind. “We just came to an agreement that will allow you to retain your medical license.”
Not his Starfleet commission, he noticed.
“I’m going to prison,” his father said. He had been avoiding looking at his parents until now, and he didn’t like the look in their eyes.
That wasn’t quite what he expected. “What?”
Before his father could respond, though, the Admiral jumped in. Julian was glad; he didn’t have to figure where he stood with his father’s punishment, to make a stance on conceding to the part of himself that wanted to see him sent away or to make a half-hearted defense of his father. “Starfleet policy is pretty strict on genetic modifications, and we can’t bend the rule for one good physician. It’s a matter of principle. If we were to let you retain your commission, who else would we have to let into Starfleet? For every Julian Bashir that can be created, there's a Khan Singh waiting in the wings. I’m sure you understand.”
Julian understood well. He had run this scenario in his head too many nights in the Academy.
He slowly unpinned his combadge from the black front of his uniform and slid it onto Sisko’s desk.
His father pitched in, “It was my suggestion. Two years. Minimum security in Aotearoa. I plead guilty and,” – the man made a gesture to Sisko and Kira standing uncomfortably at the other side of the room – “your senior officers were pretty adamant it wouldn’t be right to punish you for this.”
Still avoiding his father’s eyes, Julian shifted his gaze towards Sisko and Kira. Kira offered him a soft crinkle of her eyes. He was actually impressed by his father’s ability to admit fault – maybe the threat of something happening to his golden boy finally got to him.
The Admiral turned again to Julian’s father, “I expect you to report to my office at Starfleet Headquarters once you arrive on Earth. Bennet out.”
His holoprojection flickered out. Suddenly, the room felt a lot smaller.
Sisko quietly dismissed Julian’s parents, sending a security officer to escort the Bashirs back to their guest quarters. Julian glanced at them as they passed out of the room: his mother gave him a warm smile and passing pat on the shoulder and his father just nodded at him with a half-smile-half-grimace. He would have to say goodbye to them later tonight as they boarded their shuttle back to Earth. Lovely.
Once they both left, Sisko and Kira, who had otherwise been watching the Admiral’s message with professional distance, turned to Julian. Sisko took a seat, and gestured for the other two to do the same. They were sitting three chairs at a rectangular table, not quite all across from each other like an interrogation. The lack of the blue glow from the Admiral’s holo emitter had made the room seem warmer.
“The Captain called me in here once the Admiral made his decision,” Kira said, a tinge of something between bitterness and tiredness coloring her voice.
Sisko nodded, picking up Julian’s combadge and twisting it in his fingers. “It may not be in my power to go against a superior officer, but the Bajoran militia has taken a few non-Bajoran members. Rom. Odo. Kurn. I wanted to see what the Major would say.”
“And Julian, I’ll be the first to admit I wasn’t sure what to think of you when you arrived at our station at first. But I’ll also be first to admit that the station would be for the worse without you heading the medical staff here. Especially if that loss was from some Federation red tape,” Kira said. “The choice is yours. But if you want to take the offer, report to my office at 0900 tomorrow for a new uniform and briefing instructions. Half your staff is Bajoran anyway; you can just lead them with a different insignia. Maybe you’ll get a chance to practice real frontier medicine from a different angle.”
Julian took in a breath, looking between his two superior officers.
“The Bajoran government has no rules against augments,” Sisko offered. “I think they had a few other priorities in the last few years.”
Kira had been smiling at him as she explained the choice, making jabs at the Federation in her reasoning; she didn’t think he wouldn’t say yes to the offer.
And wouldn’t he? It wasn’t like he had really much of an option: join the Bajoran militia, stay on DS9 and get to keep practicing medicine – or leave all of his friends and go… somewhere?
What would he even do? He wasn’t close with any family on Earth, and his time in the Academy was too focused on keeping perfect grades and secrets close to his chest that Julian didn’t develop any close friends. Nobody he could crash on the couch of in case of violating base Federation law.
“I’ll think about it, Major,” he gave her a small smile, lips still pressed hard together. “Thank you both. For everything.”
“Like I said, Julian: 0900 in my office. I cleared my morning for you.”
—
Julian spent the rest of the afternoon in Quarks. He didn’t want to return to his quarters yet – he didn’t want to explain his feelings about the last half hour to Garak right now. (Not that his partner would mind a little casual obfuscation, but Julian didn’t think he could sell any lies right now.)
His parent’s shuttle left in two hours. Julian had to say goodbye to them when they left. He didn’t want to, but when was anything with them really about what he wanted – plus, it would be the last time he had to see them in person in a while, maybe years.
So: he was wasting two hours in Quarks.
Julian’s choice was obvious, right? Starfleet was ready to kick him to the nearest wormhole, and the Major had offered him an out. An out that had the same quarters filled with dying plants and a grumpy Cardassian, and a tarkalean tea waiting for him every morning. It was like something out of an old Earth novel that Garak would complain is unrealistic.
He wasn’t conflicted about what to do, if he was being honest with himself. He knew he was going to be in Kira’s office tomorrow at 0900.
It was just – Julian didn’t know what this change meant for himself.
Kira and Sisko had both seemed pretty quick to jump to his defense, but how did that translate to the rest of the senior staff for the next week, month, year? They must all know now – and how would they think of him now? The Starfleet Medical wonder boy, a cheat? Who didn’t even get punished for his own crimes, had to get his father locked up instead? One one level, Julian knew that
And what if his friends were all as forgiving as Kira and Sisko, as uncaring as Garak had been when he heard the truth? Where did that place him now? He was beyond grateful to work with the Bajoran militia, to keep practicing medicine on Deep Space Nine – but he’d be doing it from the other side of the co-run station. What if Starfleet didn’t think an ex-Starfleet, Bajoran officer was enough to head the medical department on the station and sent someone to replace him? Would he be distanced from his Federation friends on the station, keep different work hours and be invited to different Senior Staff meetings? Kira and Odo managed to be in both worlds, but they had always been a part of Bajor, or the station, and he was some interloper, only having been living here for a few years. Like Kira mentioned, he had come for frontier medicine – in the years on the station, how much did he really understand of Bajoran customs, beliefs? He hadn’t really immersed himself in the place he was any more than he had in San Francisco at the Academy. And now he was to join their militia, to be a part of their government – yes, Kira invited him, expected him to accept, but did he have the right?
Maybe he just needed to pick up some holo novels about Bajor next week.
When the hour was running low, Julian returned the glass he was nursing to Quark and headed down to Airlock four.
His parents were waiting outside the door. He should have walked them there, he supposed. Julian’s parents’ faces lit up when they saw him approach. It was a bitter kind of happiness, on both ends. His mother reached out first, grabbing Julian’s hand and pulling it towards her.
“Goodbye, Julian,” she said. At least their trip had some good to it – she was using his name now.
“Goodbye, mother.”
His father stepped forward as Julian’s mother let go of his hand. He didn’t touch Julian, both hands hanging onto his bag. “I guess I’ll see you in a couple of years.”
Julian swallowed. His feelings were complicated, but family was still central to his life growing up. He couldn’t fully abandon it. That felt like abandoning all his ancestors, all their lives and struggles, not just his parents and their actions. He’d just abandon them a little.
“I’m sure they have visiting hours at your facility. Maybe I could–”
“That would be most welcome,” his father’s voice was, well, welcoming. He was being welcoming and warm to Julian, in private for one of the first times this visit.
“Father.” Meaning it, Julian said, “thank you.”
He watched them go through the airlock and settle down on their ship. Julian headed straight back to his quarters silently. He planned to tell his parents about Kira’s offer later. It wasn’t like he was intentionally leaving them out of the loop, just… including them later. Maybe over holo-comm. It felt too new right now, too many feelings between them. It just wasn’t the right time, them leaving the station right now, returning to Earth to go to prison. Plus, he hadn’t even officially accepted Kira’s offer yet. They’d have plenty of time to talk later.
Julian would convince Garak to share a replicated dinner in bed and spend the night talking and cuddling. Maybe watching the new episode of the holo series they were following. (The Cardassian did not approve of eating in the same place they slept, but he tolerated the habit when his human needed a so-called “pick-me-up night.”)
—
At exactly 1100 the next morning, Julian entered Garak’s tailor shop.
After giving him new uniforms and an abbreviated briefing on Bajoran militia procedures – she had signed him up for a full orientation later in the month, but decided his experience let him slide with just a short briefing for now – Kira had let Julian go for the rest of the day, telling him to report to the infirmary at 0800 the next day as usual. Julian thought the Major was taking pity on him, seeing the obvious awkwardness in his manners to her. The two had always been friendly, but never close as a simple product of their work lives not overlapping much. He’d probably be getting closer with her now, reporting directly to the Major instead of Sisko.
The shop was empty of customers for now, just filled with a few mannequins in the middle of the floor and a shelf of colorful fabric bolts on the back wall. The mannequins were clothed in a range of fashions that were mostly tailoring towards Bajoran tastes, as well as one off-the-shoulder blue number that was suspiciously Julian-shaped.
Garak was sitting at his work table in the back, cutting out some crimson paneling, flimsy pattern pieces pinned to his fabric. Julian thought the fabric was for a new holosuite outfit Jadzia had commissioned. She had excitedly showed him the reference photo last week over lunch. That felt like ages ago. Garak was humming softly as he worked, looking up as Julian came in.
“How did it go, my dear?”
They had talked it all over last night. Three times over.
“Good, I think,” Julian shrugged. He perched himself on the edge of Garak’s work table, legs dangling off. Seeing Garak’s unvoiced question, he continued, “Doctor Girani is heading sickbay today. The Major gave me the rest of the day off.”
“How kind of her,” Garak said. He snuck a hand behind his good doctor’s arm and grabbed the folded uniform set, holding it out in front of him, tsking ruefully at the new outfit. “Presumably so I could take the shoulders and waist in on this before you start work tomorrow. Beige and purple, really? You know, I think I’m already missing that Starfleet teal.”
Julian rolled his eyes. This felt normal, they felt normal. Kira had definitely not given him the day off for that reason – her reaction when the two started seeing each other was enough to prove that. “Focusing on the important things?”
“Of course,” he feigned indignation. “As a doctor, you want your patients to know you’re healthy and fit. It instills confidence in your ability to keep them in the same condition.”
“It is a truly awful color combination,” Julian conceded. Garak knew it was saying something for Julian to admit that.
Garak put down the uniform on the table next to him, re-folded perfectly. Looking into Julian’s eyes earnestly – or as earnestly as the Cardassian could muster – he said, “How was it, really?”
Julian sighed, pausing before answering, “I don’t know. It was almost too… normal. I’m not close with Kira, but we’re already friends. It’s not even like I had gotten reassigned to another Federation station. Not much has changed, and I feel like something has to . Like tomorrow when I go into the infirmary the other shoe is going to finally drop.”
“Really, doctor, do you want there to be a huge problem?”
“I don’t want anything to happen,” Julian sighed, leaning his head back in frustration. “I just feel like something is going to happen. I lost my Starfleet commission, but it’s like barely anything changed.”
Garak paused. “When you first told me about your genetic enhancements, do you remember what I said to you, doctor?”
“I distinctly remember you finding my ability to keep such a secret concealed for years to be hot, and told me to keep something else secret for our wedding day so that we could each reveal our hidden truths in some great Cardassian tradition of coupling. Or something like that.”
Garak sighed, tiredly. Sometimes his human was a lot of work to take care of. He took a pin from the pattern piece he had finished cutting out and put it back into the cushion tied to his tail pointedly.
“No, the other thing. I see that this is a big issue for Starfleet. But that doesn’t mean it’s a big issue for you. Whether you want to believe it or not, you have a lot of people on this station who have gotten tired of you enough to care about you. As I’ve been trying to tell you, Starfleet isn’t everything. The Federation is a mess of naive scientists who let their idealism get in the way of actually strengthening their goals.”
Still perched haphazardly on the worktable, Julian gave the older man a quizzical face at that line. Interrupting him at a pause, he snorted, “Oh, because the Central Command never loses itself in the details?”
“If you were reading between the lines, dear doctor, my point centered on the fact that this is a change, but maybe it isn’t a bad thing. Maybe everything will change tomorrow, maybe it never will. I was terrified of change when I stayed on the station, but there’s been some good that came of it,” Garak took Julian’s hand softly, and the doctor could tell he was somewhat plainly. “Maybe we can both work for our governments, apart from them, on this station. Maybe we will decide not to return to them, but just live here, working with the Bajorans for the rest of our lives.”
Julian nodded, holding Garak’s hand in his. He was right. Julian didn’t know what of the last sentences Garak really meant, but it didn’t matter. The tailor knew that it would make him feel better, and he was right in that. Julian was never good with change, and not knowing how that change would happen – or if it even would – made it worse. The first time he had ripped Kukalaka’s stitching, it was a tear-filled afternoon before he figured out that he could use the sewing kit to make the bear look essentially the same as before.
Tomorrow he’d report to the infirmary, wearing a newly-tailored beige and purple uniform, and he’d deal with the day when it came. With another outcast to return home to.