Forwarded by the ASC-VSO 
Posted: 30 Jan 2004 22:07:43 -0800  
In: alt.startrek.creative 
From: thesnowleopard@hotmail.com 
 

Title: Memories of Truth
Author: Valerie Shearer (nightbird47@hotmail.com)
Series: DS9
Webpage: http://www.geocities.com/RainForest/Andes/3071/arch1.html
Part: NEW 2/3
Rating: [PG]
Codes: B&Parents

Summary: On his fourteenth birthday, Jules (Julian) Bashir discovers
Disclaimer: Trek belongs to Paramount, but I'm just borrowing it.


MEMORIES OF TRUTH




Collapsed in his chair, Richard stared at the door that defined his
refuge.  His hand reached for the botton drawer, disturbing the dust,
but he didn't open it.

Outside, Jules was rushing out the door for school.  Amsha was still
fussing.

Jules couldn't wait to get to school.  Long ago, Richard hurried out
the door each day, eager to go.  Never the best student, his teachers
always pushed him to do better.

Mum encouraged him.  Father approved, with surprises when he did
really well, but she told him, even if he had to work hard at it, he
could do anything he wanted.

He believed her.  Wanting adventure and curious about what else was
out there, his first job was offworld working as a clerk for a small
mining company.

He had big dreams.  Dealing with off-world cultures would be a
challenge.  Maybe he'd learn how to be a negotiator for one of them.

When he knew what he wanted, he'd go back to school.  But whatever he
did, he knew it would be right.

He did the best he could at the job.  But all of the rest did better. 

It was the first job he ever lost when they fired him. 

Mum had lied. 

There were others, mostly inside the Federation.  He'd lost most of
those, too.  Even in paradise, Richard had bitterly learned, the
smartest and best had all the advantages.

Once, before Algernon Prime, Amsha had comforted her tearful son with
the same promise Mum had given him.

It was still a lie, especially for Jules. 

Now, Jules *could* do anything he wanted as long as nobody ever
discovered why.

The chairs made a thunk against the table as Amsha slid them back in
place.  She didn't push them so hard other mornings.

But she finally went to the bedrooms and he opened the drawer. 

Half-full of old mementos, there were a few things from the first job.
 Some of the others had been special, too, and he'd added a few things
to remember them by.  The drawer was full of memories piled one on top
of another.

He didn't look through it often, and packed it himself when they
moved.  He shoveled handfuls of things in a box at a time.  Having
failed again, he didn't need to remember all the others.

Then, a few years before, Amsha had packed the drawer.  She was neat,
fitting it tightly into the box.

She'd found Jules old school records lost along with all the other
memories.

The argument had been bitter, but he hadn't known they were there. 
He'd destroyed everything that might betray them after Algenon Prime. 
But the little packet of records had been burned.

The next job on Mnemora was going well.  He'd even gotten a letter of
recognition.  Everybody liked the place.  But Jules was so brilliant
the school wanted to send him to a special academy.  The boy was
excited about it, but they'd review all his records first.

While Richard had packed, he found a few things Amsha had missed lost
in other records.

Richard wanted to stay this time.  But to remind himself why they had
to go, why they *always* had to move on, he'd saved the things.  Lost
in the scattered mess in the drawer, he'd * remember* each time he sat
at his desk.

Now, Jules suspicious, the things had to be destroyed.  But first, he
had to find them.

The first handful was nothing but his own memories.  He'd have to sort
through everything to be sure it was all gone, too.

The second handful yielded an old report from Jules' teacher.  He held
it in his hand, remembering the small, stupid boy she'd borne.

Jules couldn't even do the simplest things other children could.  He
couldn't remember his letters or numbers, and didn't know one thing
from another.  "Student's estimated IQ is between 60 and 70. 
Recommendations are formation of an individual education plan,
including life skills instruction."

Jules' only chance was the doctors.  And if he was found out, the only
one he had was to be locked away as a freak so nobody would be
reminded of monsters.

Richard noticed the time.  He needed to get to work, even if he'd be
late.  There wasn't time to look for the rest.

It wouldn't *do* to be fired now, and give Jules more reason to
suspect.

And even if the teacher's words were damning, maybe Jules might *need*
to read them some day, to save him from himself.

There were more things to find, anyway. 

He dropped the teacher's report into the drawer, covering it with
handfuls of his own things.  He'd need a better hiding place later. 
But while Jules was busy with his presents this afternoon, he could
find the rest.

The drawer closed softly.  But there were fingerprints in the dust. 
Richard carefully wiped away both before he hurried off to dress and
face another long day of work.

*** 

"Mr. Bashir, why weren't the records transmitted *early*?  Was there
anything about my note that this was *urgent* that you didn't
understand?"

Richard was having a miserable day.  One of the other prima donnas had
forgotten to give him the note.  He was done, but it had been sent
late.  His superior, a glorified clerk who called himself a manager,
didn't explain why.

He never did.  Richard tried to ignore how much the man reminded him
of Jules.

"I must have lost the note," he said. 

"Get the rest of it done *now*.  And don't be late again." 

*** 

He'd hurried the other *urgent* transmissions, a personal message from
Amsha giving him reason to be quick.

She'd gone shopping and wanted him to meet her at the station.  He
didn't want Jules to get home before they did.

But there was more to do before he could leave work.  He left late. 

She was calmly waiting, a large package in her hand.  "I left a note
for Jules that I was out shopping," she said.  "I found the perfect
gift, an old doctor's bag.  He'll treasure it."

Jules and his attitude, even the accent the boy was working on,
reminded him of work.  "Hope he doesn't plan on staying long.  This
rain is awful and the liars at work are worse."

He finished explaining, loud enough everyone could hear.  They stared,
but he ignored them.

Amsha wouldn't notice how nervous he was that way. 

Then they got home, and he wished he'd lost the job but found the
secret stash.

The room was empty, but Jules was back. 

"Jules, your father and I are home.  We have a surprise for you,"
Amsha called out.

But he'd already found it.  The door to the study opened.  She dropped
her package with a thump.

Jules was bawling, his face red.  Clenched in his hand were the school
records.

Amsha must have guessed.  She gave him one short *look*, then turned
to Jules.

"What's the matter?" she asked.  But this time she couldn't hide the
fear so well.

Jules wasn't listening.  The clenched reports held out towards his
parents, he almost sobbed, "How could you?"

Richard had saved the teacher's note, even believed he needed to.  How
could he have taken the chance?  Then there was the dust.  He'd
*shown* Jules where to look.

Amsha was staring at him, anger and disappointment in her eyes.  But
*she'd* let the boy come home alone.  If she'd hurried her shopping
Jules would never have seen the dusted drawer, or gone into the study
at all.

It was *her* fault Jules had discovered their secret. 

She was still trying to reach the little boy she'd found in the
morning.

"Calm down, sweetheart," she said. 

But Jules didn't hear her.  He glared at both of them.  "How could you
do this to me?  How could you make me into a freak like Khan Singh?"
he screamed at them.

Amsha said suddenly, as if offended, "Don't say that." 

But long before the doctors, Jules was already a freak.  Would he have
rather been an idiot, too?  How was being smart *worse*?

Richard interrupted the tirade.  "We saved you, you ungrateful brat!" 

But he retreated a little as Jules' anger replaced the shock of
finding out.

"No one asked you!" Jules screamed at him. 

Richard was wary, but knew this had to stop before Jules exploded.  He
couldn't have found the teacher's note.  Or maybe he didn't read it. 
How could he *want* to be the failure he'd been born?

"You couldn't tell a bloody cat from a house!" Richard yelled back. 

Jules was just as mad, but the hurt was there too.  "You could have
given me time," he half-sobbed.

Confident he'd contained the anger, Richard was ready to bully the boy
into submission.  "Time?  How long did you want me to live with the
shame of having an idiot for a son?"

It backfired.  Anger written in every step, Jules took slow,
deliberate strides towards his father.

Richard almost bolted.  But then Jules would know how much the rage in
his eyes scared him.

Jules stopped too close, starimg his father straight in the eyes.  He
threw the mangled records at Richard, and while father and son glared
at each other, what was left of the child who had been drifted to the
floor like the chill of a sudden fallen snow.

Jules was caught in an all-consuming rage, but his words were spit out
in deadly quiet.  "So, that's it.  You weren't concerned *about* me,
you were *ashamed* of me!"

Amsha tried to make peace again, gently taking Jules' arm. 

Richard heard the arrogance in the words, and saw the cold threat in
the eyes.  He'd been a useless idiot, but was this much of an
improvement?

*Mr. Bashir,* he remembered.  *Why weren't the records transmitted
*early*? *  Except now it was Jules standing above him.

*I must have lost the note.*  He'd lied because they wouldn't believe
him, because they made all the rules.  But not *this* time.

Fury drove away everything, even the fear of Jules' real strength, as
he glared back at the son he'd chosen.

Amsha's attempt to distract Jules was quickly over.  He shook her
loose and pushed her aside.  "Get away from me!  I hate you! I hate
both of you!"

Richard's hand was clenched into a fist, then turned to slap just as
hard.  Jules saw him and tried to get away.  Richard grabbed his arm.

Anger and frustration and guilt merged into strength.  Richard rubbed
his hand to stop the sting of the backhanded blow.

Jules lip was bleeding and his cheeks pale.  A red tinge defined where
Richard's hand had struck.

But all Richard could see was the brimming, uncontrolled fury he'd
unleashed.

"Leave me alone!" screamed Jules. 

There was a flash of a hand, then a shadow of an arm rushing towards
him.  Then, astonished, Richard slammed into the floor.

But Jules stood, just as stunned, suddenly aware of his full strenght
and speed.  He stared at his own hand, astonished and horrified.

Then, yanking it open so hard he nearly broke it, he ran out the door.

"Stay here, Jules," called Amsha.  "Don't run away."  But the boy was
already gone into the dark wet night.

***

--
Stephen Ratliff
ASC Stories Only Forwarding

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