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Summary: On his fourteenth birthday, Jules (Julian) Bashir discovers the truth of his past, from his mothers point of view.
Note: Megan wrote a beautiful little story called Pain of Truth about how Julian Bashir was born, and I thought it would be interesting to see the day from his mothers side.
Want to read more of my stuff? Go to http://geocities.datacellar.net/RainForest/Andes/3071/arch1.html
Disclaimer. Trek belongs to Paramount, but I'm just borrowing it.
She stood by the window watching the rain. Jules had always liked rain. Perhaps he'd been dragged around so much that it was a novelty to him. But since moving back to England he'd often stood watching the nearly daily storms.
Now he was lost in the wet, solid muck. She'd screamed at him as he ran out in the dark cold night, but there had been too many lies to stop him.
Richard was still angry, yelling at her about breakfast. She hadn't been in the mood. Any other morning she'd have rushed to have it ready but this one.
Food didn't matter much this morning. Richard might have wanted to eat but she didn't think she could swallow a single bite.
She watched the rain. If she stood long enough, he'd be at the
door, wet and cold and home.
It was his birthday. Her tall, brilliant son was turning fourteen. She'd made his favorite breakfast as a treat.
He hadn't had time to make enough friends for a party. Richard couldn't keep a job long enough to live in one place for very long. He seldom had many anyway.
The fresh baked scones were on the table waiting for him. The fresh, hot tea was next to it and the moba jam in its jar. But as usual Richard had to ruin things.
He had started the conversation. She would have rather waited until Jules was at school but once the words were out it was already begun.
"He's so brilliant they'll start to ask questions," she said.
"Smart ones are lucky. Nobody will suspect," said Richard with a trace of bitterness. He already knew that even in paradise those born to fail were doomed to drift where the wind blew them.
"He's fourteen years old, Richard. Don't you think it's time we told him?" she asked.
Jules had to know. He must always be careful, to be smart but not get so much notice. He must understand that nobody should ever look into his past too closely.
"No, Amsha. He can't know. Not yet."
Then the conversation came to a sudden, awkward end. Jules was dressed and downstairs for his breakfast.
"Tell me what?" he asked.
She knew he would notice the nervous and awkward moment. She understood he'd think about it all day and wonder. Or, perhaps it being his birthday they'd be lucky and he'd believe another lie.
She smiled. "I wanted to tell you what we got for your birthday, but your father wants to wait until after school."
He wasn't buying it. She could tell he had heard more than Richard's last comment.
"But," he said.
She interrupted him. "Now Jules, it's getting late. You'd better hurry up or you won't have time for breakfast and I made your favorite."
The ploy worked. Richard retreated to the study. Jules hurriedly devoured his breakfast.
She didn't let either see the panic that she hid inside her.
Richard kept to himself most of the morning. He'd left for work late and she had the house to herself for a little while. She wanted to finish the morning's conversation but Richard wasn't in the mood anymore.
But she wanted something special for Jules birthday. He wanted to be a doctor. She'd ask the clerk for suggestions since she hadn't any ideas herself.
Jules was tall and smart and confident. He kept to himself too much, but he'd lost too many friends already. She didn't make them either. What was the use, when they would leave in so short a time.
Jules had every chance to succeed. She hoped the secret would
not destroy him before he could learn how to hide it.
Richard met her at the station. He'd calmed down, storming about work instead. She guessed they would not be staying for long here either.
Maybe that was for the best. If Jules didn't stay too long maybe nobody would get around to asking any awkward questions.
But he was already home when they arrived. She'd found a small, antique doctor's bag at a specialty store as a gift. She hoped he'd forget about the conversation he'd over heard when he opened it.
"Jules, Your father and I are home. We have a surprise for you," she called out.
But she dropped the package on the floor when she saw her son.
He stood before them, his face hot with tears and a hand full of paperwork in his hand. He'd been in Richard's study. He'd kept a few things from the past, hidden among reams of other records. She had asked him to destroy them after a move where some of their things were lost. She thought they had been.
But she guessed that Jules had found them anyway.
Nervously, trying to pretend nothing was wrong, she asked, "What's the matter?"
Jules held up the paperwork. "How could you?"
He knew. He'd found the papers that defined the son she'd borne. The boy who couldn't tell one animal from another and wouldn't even be allowed to fail as his father had was gone, but the boy who stood before them had been made from him.
She could tell Richard was growing angry already. It had been his idea. He'd taken Jules to Adigeon Prime alone. He'd sold everything they had to buy the false records that had hidden the secret.
"Calm down, sweetheart," she said.
But Jules didn't ever hear her. "How could you do this to me? How could you make me into a freak like Khan Singh?"
"Don't say that," she said without thinking. The supermen who had brought so much grief were monsters, but her son wasn't.
Richard interrupted. "We saved you, you ungrateful brat!"
Jules was crying, but anger was replacing shock now. "No one asked you!" he shouted back.
Richard stared at the son he'd had made to his own specifications. "You couldn't tell a bloody cat from a house!"
Jules was confused and angry and grieving and ready to run. "You could have given me time."
Richard glared at him, and she saw all the shame he carried at his own life spill out at his son. "Time? How long did you want me to live with the shame of having an idiot for a son?"
Jules was angry now, all other emotions banished. He stalked his father, throwing the papers in his face. "So that's it? You weren't concerned about me, you were ashamed of me!"
She knew that Richard would hit him. If she could stop Jules from daring him to she might get between them. She took her son's arm.
But there was no helping the situation now. Jules pushed her away and she stumbled back. Everything took on the distant look of a holodeck play.
"Get away from me! I hate you! I hate both of you!"
Jules started to run, knowing about his father already. But Richard grabbed him before he could get away. Abruptly he backhanded his son across the face. "That'll teach you to talk to your mother and me that way!"
Jules lip was bleeding and his face was pale from the blow. But he ignored all of it. Instead, he struck back, swinging his arm at his father. "Leave me alone!" he screamed as the blow hit.
Richard hit the floor, stunned at the sudden reversal of power. Jules stood for a moment, apparently shocked at the strength inside him.
"Stay hear, Jules!" she yelled, Richard still sitting on the floor. "Don't run away."
But he was strong and fast and despite the rain he disappeared
into the dark night.
Neither had slept. The morning sun had risen and Richard had called in sick at work. The rain had slacked off now and then, but never quit.
Jules hadn't come home yet.
"Those papers," she said, quietly, stunned and numb. "Those papers should have been destroyed."
"You're the one who wanted to tell him," sneered Richard. "You think he'd have been grateful if we'd spilled it out ourselves? You think he'd have smiled and said thank you?"
She knew he might have run, but they still owed him the truth. "He's so smart. You had to have a son so brilliant and so strong and so agile that everyone would notice. You couldn't have chosen to just make him *normal*."
"Smart people can do whatever they want," he said bitterly. "*Normal* people get looked at. You think we'd have been able to hide this if he'd been *normal*?"
"You think we can hide it now, with him so angry he's ready to pay you back?"
She was too angry to think carefully. Normally she'd never say that to Richard.
"What happens to *him* if he'd discovered?" Richard stomped up to her face, raising his hand.
"He gets locked away," she said. "But we do too. Maybe he's mad enough to let them."
"No," said Richard bitterly. "He's too smart to do that. He'll pay us back in his own way."
He was feeling his bruised jaw, and she watched as he moved away from her.
Maybe Jules would protect her, or perhaps he blamed her too.
"The idiot was probably your fault anyway," he said. "Who knows what you did when he was inside you to ruin him. All I did was fix it."
She had been cold and angry, but a rush of emotion swept it all away. Had she done the wrong thing? Had she gone the wrong place or taken the wrong medicine? Or had Richard been destined to father a child who would follow in his footsteps?
Tears spilled from her eyes and she wept for all the might have beens that were too late to change.
Richard stood behind her, still angry but having won again.
She heard the door open but didn't move. She couldn't face her son at the moment. Richard apparently couldn't either and retreated.
Jules was standing across from her, wet and cold and dripping. But he was calm now.
"Don't cry, Mum."
For a flash he wasn't the tall smart teenager who could destroy everyone around him. He was the little boy who'd come home from school with tears in his eyes wanting to be told it would be all right.
She looked up and stood, pushing the chair out of the way so hard it fell. She rushed to her son and embraced him. "Thank God you're home. I've been so worried about you." She pulled away a little, wet from his clothes. "Oh, Jules! You're soaking wet! You'd better get out of those wet clothes and clean yourself up."
Jules looked at her and she understood that the bond between them was bent but not broken. Someday she'd be able to tell him how much it hurt to tell little Jules he'd be fine when she knew he had no future. Some moment she'd be able to put into words the shock of the stranger Richard had come home with, but not now. She was still his mother, whoever he was.
He whispered, "Don't call me Jules. I don't like that name anymore. My name is Julian."
He hadn't been Jules for a long time. Only now was he making it official. But she was surprised at the coldness in his eyes when he said it.
She answered, "Of course, whatever you want."
Richard was glaring at him. "Let your mother fuss over you now because I'll get you later."
She tried to pull him close, but Julian pulled away and moved calmly towards his father. For the first time, he seemed to realize that he was taller than Richard. She watched in amazement and with a small bit of relief as he stared at his father.
But his eyes were cold, just as they had been when he told her about Julian.
Looking Richard straight in the eyes, he said, "No you won't Dad."
She saw the fear in Richard's eyes and knew that things had changed forever. Julian wouldn't tell anyone. He wanted to be a doctor and join Starfleet too much. He'd make sure he wasn't as perfect as he appeared to be. And Richard would never touch him again.
She didn't know if Richard would leave her alone.
But Julian Bashir had been born of the rain and mud and lies and a past that would forever shadow them.
Maybe he'd protect her.
Richard retreated to the study, closing the door, as the shower started to run. She stood in the cold brutal world that they had made and stepped carefully around the crumpled scraps of paper that were all that remained of a child she once had loved.
Bending down, she picked them up. She'd dispose of them but knew
that nothing could ever erase the ruin left behind.
Valerie,
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