Title: Lord of the Squirrels
Author: Charlene charlene.vickers@gmail.com
Series: DS9
Rating: PG-13
Codes: B/O'B, others: CD a gogo
Part:	1/7
Summary: Julian helps Miles after Keiko's untimely death.
Disclaimer: Paramount owns Star Trek: I don't. Curb your shock.
Archive: trekiverse.org, my LJ, please ask otherwise
Notes: Part 1 begins ca. 16 months after WYLB. Canadian spellings.
Dedication: to Dilly, for reminding me that I had written (and lost) a 
story like this eight years ago, although this turned out to be very 
different. And to Jen for betaing and telling me she hated me because 
she liked it.

******

Julian fidgeted with the screen on the chair back in front of him for a 
second before turning his gaze to the stars passing by the shuttle 
viewport. It had been years since he had been disabused of the belief 
that the universe was fair; why, then, was he bowled over by the utter 
unfairness of this?

"Ironic, isn't it?" Kira said as she settled into her seat. "She 
survived a war only..." 

She wasn't normally one to cry, not after all that she had seen, but he 
supposed some things were just too much to bear. He silently gathered 
her in his arms, let her get it out of her system. She eventually 
pulled away and looked up at him sheepishly. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't-"

"Don't apologize," he interrupted. "I'm a doctor. Being cried on comes 
with the territory."

As the shuttle moved through the darkness of space on its way to Earth, 
Julian said a silent, heartfelt prayer to any gods or Prophets 
listening for the soul of Keiko O'Brien.

******

He walked up to the door of the old bungalow, the handle of his small 
carryall slung over his shoulder. A Japanese man who appeared to be in 
his early fifties answered the door, the light in the tiny front 
hallway bouncing off his balding head.

"Dr. Bashir? Please come in. I'm Hirako Akiyama, Keiko's cousin. Miles 
said you might be coming by early."

"How do you do," he said as he took the outstretched hand. "Is he in?" 

"He's in the living room. He won't talk to any of us, at least not to 
any extent. He just sits there. Maybe if you could..." He shrugged. "I 
should get back to the kitchen. We have 200 people to feed after the 
wake tonight." He gave Julian a tight smile and retreated to the back 
of the house.

Julian pushed through the door to the living room with some trepidation  
only to find an older man perched on a low stool, his shoulders hunched 
over, his eyes on the white casket resting in front of the main window. 
"Pardon me," he said, embarrassed to interrupt the man's reverie, 
"would you know where-"

Miles looked up.

Julian silently crouched down in front of him and rested a palm on his 
shoulder. 

"I knew you'd come," Miles said in a gravelly voice as their eyes met.

"How could I not? How-" but no, he didn't have a doubt about how his 
friend was. "Kira's at the hotel. She'll be at the temple tonight. How 
are the children?"

He barely shrugged. "Devastated. They're with Hira's wife. Did Ezri 
come?" 

"She couldn't get away from Cardassia, but she sends her love. So does 
everyone else." He shifted his weight slightly. "I received a message 
from Worf before I left. He couldn't get a subspace channel to Earth, 
so he asked me to tell you that he'd sit Ak'voh tonight in Keiko's 
honour if he had the chance. Apparently he's in Breen territory; he 
didn't say where."

"Worf's a good man."

"That he is." Julian fetched another stool from the corner of the room, 
placed it beside the casket, and sat with Miles for a few minutes.

Suddenly Miles looked up at him. "Would you? Look at her?" His eyes 
flickered to the coffin.

"Of course. Do you want to stay?" He nodded, barely; Julian shut off 
the stasis field and opened the casket.

He knew Miles didn't expect a full examination, and after seeing the 
extent of the angioedema he didn't need one to determine the likely 
cause of death. He palpated the laryngeal space, knowing what he'd 
find. 

"The M.E. said it was an allergic reaction," Miles said in a low 
monotone as he reached over Julian and gently moistened her swollen 
lips from a glass of water kept at the side of the coffin. "We'd tried 
something new for dinner the night before, some type of Bolian seafood. 
The M.E. said she must've had leftovers for lunch..."

"That's a typical presentation," he replied. "Anaphylaxis generally 
doesn't occur on the first-" Shut up Julian, he told himself. "Who 
found her?"

Miles sucked in his lips and averted his gaze. "Yoshi was with 'er. He, 
uh, smacked buttons on the comm unit 'til someone answered. An 
operator, I think. Thank God she had the brains to listen to him but - 
even so, by the time the medics beamed in it was too late." He looked 
up into Julian's eyes. "I hope he doesn't remember."

"He probably won't." He dug a glass vial out of his bag, unstopped it, 
shook a tiny spray of red flowers into his palm, and placed the spray 
in the coffin. "Vilariossa blossoms, from Bajor."

"I recognize 'em," Miles said. "She discovered the cure for that 
blight." 

"I'm so very sorry." What a totally inadequate phrase that was, Julian 
thought as he reached up and softly closed the coffin lid, switching 
the stasis field back on before retaking his seat.

******

"Why do they want money packets?" Kira whispered to him as they passed 
through the temple doors and placed the small condolence envelopes in 
the wooden box by the entryway.

Julian surveyed the crowd. "It's traditional. Miles said the money's 
earmarked for the Betazed war orphans' fund."

"At least it's going to a worthy cause," she replied as she looked 
around. "Look, there's Jake. He's got a girl with him; I can't see her 
though, she's facing the other way. And there are those doctors from 
the Enterprise."

"Counsellor Troi and Dr. Crusher," he whispered back as he caught their 
gazes. Troi returned his nod, but Crusher's look could have frozen 
neon. The physician whispered furiously into Troi's ear; she gave 
Crusher an incredulous look, then turned back to him, her eyes as wide 
as saucers.

Kira frowned at him. "Do you think they're talking about us?" 

"Probably me. This is hardly the place, though."

A young Cardassian man in a glinn's uniform entered the anteroom. "Why 
is he-" Kira whispered furiously, before her brow cleared. "That's 
right: Keiko went to Cardassia, didn't she?"

He nodded. "She probably saved a million lives that winter. I'm not 
surprised the Embassy sent someone."

She was still frowning to herself. "I don't remember her stopping at 
the station..."

"You were on leave when she reached Deep Space 9 on her way there," he 
replied as he nodded to Commander Data, who was across the room talking 
to someone Julian didn't recognize, "and if I recall correctly the 
First Minister and you were on Higar when she visited on the way back. 
Although she only stopped for a few hours that time; just long enough 
to have a drink with Ez and me."

"Damn." She frowned. "I wish I had known I'd never-" She swallowed 
convulsively.

A bell chimed three times; he and Kira followed the crowd into the main 
chapel, where the casket lay at the head of the room under a sign that 
read, "Keiko Ishikawa O'Brien February 6, 2337 - March 15, 2377" in 
Standard and (he assumed) classical Japanese.

Miles had told him while they had been sitting vigil earlier that the 
coffin would be transported to the temple just before the wake and 
remain there overnight until after the funeral the following afternoon. 
Following the cremation, her father would take her ashes to Japan for 
interment at the family gravesite. Julian had got the feeling from 
Miles's expression that the plethora of ceremonies wasn't entirely to 
his liking.

He took a seat beside Kira in the second row of the main room, two rows 
behind Miles, the children, and the rest of the family. 

"Was your father's funeral like this?" Kira whispered. 

"No. Dad just had a short gravesite service. Given the circumstances, 
Mum didn't really want a big fuss," he said. 

A priest entered the room and began the sutra, reading it from an old, 
tattered paper book while Mr. and Mrs. Ishikawa rose, separately, and 
made the first offerings of incense. The other family members followed 
them in turn, each offering incense three times to an urn located in 
front of the casket. After fifteen minutes of listening to the priest 
drone on in Japanese, Julian, feeling restless, began to dart 
surreptitious glances around the room. Troi and Crusher were sitting on 
either side of an older man wearing Captain's pips: Jean-Luc Picard, if 
he remembered correctly. Jake seemed even taller than- and he took 
another look at the girl sitting beside him. It was his cousin Muna 
Khadry, of all people. Apparently his mother had finally accepted Ezri 
and found another young man to entangle in her matchmaking schemes.

The priest suddenly closed the book and bowed; the family rose and 
silently left the chamber, followed by the other mourners. 

As they passed out the front door, they bowed in respect to the 
Ishikawas, then both shook hands with Miles.

"Thanks for coming, Nerys, Julian," he said. "Listen...the kids and I 
are spending the night at my brother's, but we'll be at home tomorrow 
morning before the funeral..." His eyes asked the question for him.

"What time do you want us there?" Kira asked.

"Any time after 0900."

"We'll see you then," Julian said.

As they walked towards the public transit station, Kira pulled a map 
out of her bag. "I promised I'd stop by the Embassy tonight if I had a 
chance. I think the D train goes right by it."

"Negotiations still going badly?" Julian asked.

She rolled her eyes. "The infighting among the various political 
factions is making me tear my hair out." She looked back at the temple. 
"You know, I didn't realize Earth even had a religion. From what 
Captain Sisko told me, I thought religion had been outlawed centuries 
ago."

They reached California Street and jumped aboard a waiting hover-train, 
grabbing handholds as the train lurched off. "Not quite outlawed," he 
said. "The problem is that Earth doesn't have *a* religion. It has 
hundreds, most of which claim to be the one true faith and are in 
complete opposition to all the others. Ancient Earth suffered through 
hundreds, perhaps thousands, of wars based on religion alone. We've had 
to learn to keep our religious beliefs private as a matter of self-
preservation."

"Really?" She chuckled. "We used to say, 'Five Bajora, six political 
parties'. Seems you could say 'five Humans, six religions'."

He returned her smile without much enthusiasm. He was still thinking 
about how elaborate Keiko's wake had been compared to Jadzia's simple 
yet heartfelt memorial. And then there was the funeral tomorrow...he 
wondered if half the people at that evening's ceremony knew Keiko in 
real life.

******

"Thanks for helping me move the love seat back."

Julian swallowed a mouthful of whiskey. "No problem. Why'd you choose 
red furniture anyway?"

Miles shrugged. "Keiko thought it went with the walls. She likes - 
liked red." His lips thinned. "Also it doesn't show the cat fur as much 
as the black did."

The pair were sitting on the back porch so as not to bother Keiko's 
elderly parents, who had enacted a short truce at the funeral in order 
to sit together over their daughter's urn that evening. Julian's gaze 
swept over the trees in the back yard, finally resting on the setting 
crescent moon. It was the third time he had been to their house since 
he and Kira arrived yesterday from Bajor, and still he kept expecting 
to bump into Keiko. Despite all the visitors and all the turmoil, the 
house was empty without her.

"So what's Ezri doing on Cardassia?" Miles asked as he took the bottle 
back and tipped it to his mouth.

He shrugged. "Garak asked her to go. They've got him running the Health 
Ministry, of all things. She's advising the Children's Department on 
counselling orphans."

"Figures. The planet's never had to deal with that many orphans before. 
If they had, they'd have treated 'em better in the past."

"Probably." Julian tried to keep up his end of the conversation, 
knowing that his friend needed to distract himself for the moment. "All 
I know is that Garak will do anything to ensure Cardassia survives, 
even if he has to throw out a few 'cultural relics'. Ez should be back 
on the station in a month or so, depending on when she can get a seat 
on a transport."

"Relics," he snorted. "'s that what he calls 'em?"

"Mm."

Miles took another drink. "Y'know, all the time Keiko was on Cardassia, 
I kept wonderin' if I'd ever see her again. She'd write every day, tell 
me 'n the kids about what she'd seen, the children going hungry and the 
adults dyin' of things that you'd probably be able to cure with a 
hypo..." He stopped, stared into space for a moment, then covered his 
face with a hand, apparently willing himself not to cry. "Dammit...it's 
not right," he finally said. "It's just not right."

Julian reached out and grasped his shoulder, saying nothing. What could 
help?

Miles retrieved the cork from his trouser pocket and stoppered the 
bottle. "You probably want to get some sleep. Y'look shattered. I'll 
call for an airtaxi." They both pushed themselves up.

"Are you sure?" he asked. "Is anyone going to be here with you and the 
kids? Our shuttle doesn't leave till 1000..."

He gestured with his head towards the back door. "Keiko's da's staying 
'til Wednesday. He's takin' her home..." He closed his eyes again. 

Julian moved his hand back to Miles's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. 
"It was a nice funeral. If you want us to come by again before we 
leave-"

"She didn't want all this-" he interrupted with a wave, "-this 
folderol. The monks, the incense, the urn. Two ceremonies. She wanted a 
plain memorial service and scattering. They took it out of my hands." 

"She didn't have written instructions?"

He shook his head. "Guess she assumed that if she survived the Dominion 
War she'd survive..." He shut his eyes again and began to turn away, 
but Julian grabbed him and drew him into a bear hug. 

"The funeral's not important, Miles," he murmured into his friend's 
shoulder. "Her life was. She was their only child. They don't know what 
to do any more than-"

"Any more than I do, I know. I suppose I could've stopped 'em, but 
you're right, she's their only child." He pulled away and reached for 
the door, then suddenly turned back. "I never even asked how your 
mother was getting on. God, Julian, I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize; you've got other things on your mind." He dug a slip 
of paper out of his left trouser pocket. "Her comm code. Mum wants you 
to call her in a month or so; she says you'll need to talk to someone 
then, when everyone else's gotten back to their normal lives."

"I don't want to intrude...it's only been what, five months?"

"Five and a half. She wants you to intrude. She's worried about you, 
and she knows something of what you're going through." 

"I suppose she does at that." Miles grasped the paper in his hand. 
"Tell her I'll call her. I'll get you that taxi."

******

Part 2 of 7. Disclaimer in Part 1.

Nine months went by before Julian returned to Earth. He visited his 
mother first to break the news and stopped by to see Jake at Cambridge; 
after hearing what the two of them had to say, he immediately contacted 
Miles, made reservations at a hotel in the neighbourhood, and grabbed 
the next shuttle to San Francisco. 

As he walked up the sidewalk towards the house, he noticed the leaves 
piled up in the corners of the overgrown lawn, the wooden rake propped 
against the peeling fence, the broken tricycle in the flowerbed. Before 
he could press the chime, the door opened.

"Miles."

"Julian. Sight for sore eyes you are."

He dropped his bag to the floor and returned Miles's hug. "I came right 
from the shuttle terminal."

His friend eventually let go of him. "Hang up your coat and come on 
back to the kitchen. Yoshi's in the backyard. I'm keeping an eye on 
him."

Jake had been right, he thought as he followed Miles into the cluttered 
back kitchen: he was in trouble. "How are the kids doing?"

The other man shrugged. "As well as can be expected. They seem fine, 
but...Molly's over at her friend Tasha's. Sit down, I'll wet the tea. 
Darjeeling good?"

"Thank you, that'd be fine." He cleared a pile of padds from the seat 
of a chair and dropped into it.

"How long do you have until you go back?" Miles asked as he rummaged 
around the untidy cupboard and finally pulled out a purple tin.

"Forever," Julian replied. "I resigned from Starfleet two weeks ago."

Miles gave him a look, then returned to his tea-making. "I'm not 
surprised after your last message. Made any plans?"

"Not yet. I thought I'd take some time off, think about what I want to 
do and where." He took in the mounds of dirty laundry in the corner and 
the hodgepodge of tools scattered over the table. "Hadn't really made 
any decisions yet."

"How's Ezri taking it?"

"She's not. She's gone to Cardassia." He snorted. "She's moved in with 
Garak."

Miles's head snapped around. "WHAT?"

"I can't wrap my mind around it either," Julian said. "I should have 
seen it, though. First it was that training seminar. Three weeks after 
she came back to the station, he asked her to return; he said the 
Veterans' Ministry had requested her assistance with drafting 
qualifications for counsellors."

"I remember you saying."

"A month after she returned from that he called again, asking for her 
help with some committee. She left; the subspace comms became audio 
messages after a few weeks, then text, then she stopped sending them 
entirely. The day after I resigned she called and said she wanted to 
'redefine our relationship'.

Miles snorted. "You know what that means."

"Exactly," he replied. "Three days later when I was packing up to 
return to Earth I received an urgent message from Worf asking if I knew 
that she was living in Garak's house. I called her on subspace, made an 
idiot of myself in front of both of them." He choked out a bitter 
laugh. "Sometimes I am so damned oblivious."

Miles carried the teapot and cups to the table and sat down across from 
Julian. "How serious were you?"

"Bought the ring just before she left the second time..."

"Hell." 

"...but I hadn't given it to her yet. I kept hoping that one day I'd 
love Ezri as much as I loved Dax, but we never got to that point. Now 
I'm wondering if I was in love with her because I wanted to be in love. 
Still, being cuckolded by Elim Garak was not one of my major goals in 
life," he said as he picked up the teapot and poured for both of them. 
"I think he was lonely for the attention of a naive, fawning idealist 
who could carry on a good conversation, and I suppose there aren't any 
naive-"

He looked up and noticed that Miles was staring at him, his teacup 
suspended halfway to his mouth. "You and Garak - you weren't ever..." 
his friend managed to blurt out.

"For a short time, back when I was a naive, fawning idealist. It wasn't 
one of my best decisions - Miles, if your face gets any redder your 
head's going to explode."

He closed his mouth. "It's just - you and that - he was in the-"

"That's the problem I had, which is why I can't understand how she got 
herself into this. She shouldn't be that naive." He sipped at his tea 
as he watched Yoshi through the door. "I know how charming he can be, 
but still I never thought Dax could fall for it. Ezri, certainly, but 
not Dax."

"She's young," Miles said. "She'll see through him eventually and come 
back."

"Not to me, she won't," he said decisively, turning his gaze back to 
his friend's face. "But despite appearances I'm not here to burden you 
with my romantic sorrows. I've spoken to Jake and my mother and they're 
both worried about you."

He blinked. "Jake?"

"You know, tall guy, bushy eyebrows?"

"I know who you mean," Miles replied. "I never thought the kid'd be 
worryin' over me."

"Well, he is. We all are. The first thing Kira did after I told her I 
was resigning and returning to Earth was order me to visit you," he 
said with a sympathetic smile. "She cares about you and the children, 
Miles, and so does Jake, and so does my mother. And so do I."

Miles reddened again, looked down, studied his tea. "I've, um..." he 
stammered. Julian could see the strain in his face, the lines that 
hadn't been there even nine months earlier. "I didn't realize it would 
be this hard," he finally said with a heaving sigh.

Julian reached out and laid a hand on his forearm. "It's not easy for 
you to ask for help, is it?"

"Well..."

"It's not easy for anyone, but Miles," he said, squeezing his arm, 
"you're not in this alone. I'm here, your father and brothers and their 
families are here, Keiko's cousins are here, my mother's here. Kira's - 
well, she's not here, but she's only a moment away via subspace if you 
need someone to talk to. You have other friends."

"Not as many as you'd think," he replied, his lips a thin line. "A lot 
of 'em have just disappeared. Sometimes I wonder if they only tolerated 
me 'cause I was Keiko's husband."

"It's more likely that they don't know what to say to you. Or perhaps 
they're worried they'll remind you of Keiko, or that you'll remind them 
that their own partners aren't immortal," Julian said. "Listen. Why 
don't I take the three of you out for dinner tonight. How much weight 
have you lost anyway?"

He squirmed a bit. "Well...I'm no cook. I make sure the kids eat, but -
I'm not usually that hungry."

Julian shook his head. "My mother said she'd have my head if I didn't 
fatten you up," he said as he sneaked a look at the wall chrono. "Just 
let me check in at the hotel-"

"Hotel?" Miles cried indignantly, his brows furrowing. "You are not 
staying at any hotel. We've got the spare room, might as well put it to 
good use, for God's sake." He got up.

"Are you-"

"Watch Yoshi for a minute." He shook his head and went to the front 
hallway for Julian's bag. "Hotel. Bloody..."

******

After two full days of refreshing and folding clothes, sorting padds, 
putting away tools, hand-washing antique crockery and cutlery, fiddling 
with the cleaning system, and picking up after two children (one a very 
exuberant four-year-old) as well as an overworked Starfleet instructor, 
Julian spent the morning of the third day zonked out on the sofa with 
his feet up watching tri-vids with Yoshi. When the chrono reminded him 
that his all-too-short morning break was over, he reluctantly forced 
himself to get off his arse and replicate lunch for the two of them 
before he tackled the yard.

It was a nice old place, Julian thought; just the kind of home he 
imagined Miles would choose for his family. Knowing her preference for 
modern architecture, though, he wondered if Keiko had appreciated the 
character of the post-Sanctuary home with its wooden flooring, tiled 
roof, hinged doors, and quaint plasti-vinyl siding. Miles had told him 
that within a week of her return from Cardassia she had ordered new 
kitchen appliances, but otherwise they had left the house the way it 
was when they bought it. He wondered if anybody would ever use the 
almost-new cooktop and oven again.

He was more worried about his friend than about the house, though. He 
had hoped at first that Miles would feel less guilty about the state of 
his home once it was in better shape, but it soon became apparent that 
his problems were more than just a house gone out of control. It seemed 
that although Miles knew intellectually that Keiko was gone, 
emotionally he wasn't yet prepared to accept her death. The day after 
he arrived Molly had taken him aside and told him tearfully that she 
had never heard her father cry, not even once, and neither had any of 
her uncles or aunts or even his secretary. He tried to assure her that 
Miles was likely only shielding Yoshi and her from his grief, but 
inwardly he suspected his friend was playing his usual stunt of holding 
everything in until he exploded. Molly had also told him that she had 
found her mother's clothing one morning when the auto-vacuum got stuck 
in her father's bedroom. Keiko's sweaters and underwear were still in 
their chest of drawers, folded as if she had just placed them there, 
and her clothes were still hanging in the closet. Not a good sign, in 
Julian's opinion: Miles was fooling himself on some level into thinking 
she'd come back.

He returned his thoughts to the state of the yard. Although the 
automower's manual said that it would be able to handle the knee-high 
grass, Julian didn't think it would be able to plough through all the 
leaves and other trash that had piled up over the last nine months. He 
would've likely been done moving the junk from the backyard to the 
concrete pad at the side of the house an hour ago had Yoshi not been so 
ready to help him, but it was fun having such an enthusiastic 
assistant. 

They had just begun cleaning up the front yard. Julian picked up a 
chunk of siding from under the old lilac tree in the corner of the 
front yard when he felt a tug on his jacket. 

"What do we do now?"

He looked down at the eager boy. "Same as in the back. Nothing too big, 
though. And remember what I said: if it looks greasy or has a sharp 
edge or point, don't touch it. All right?" 

"Okay!" Yoshi ran off.

Julian chuckled as he moved the chunk of siding to the pad. He was on 
his ninth load when Yoshi came up to him again, something in his hands.

"He's sleeping."

And indeed the squirrel Yoshi had found was sleeping and likely had 
been for some days, at least if the smell was any indication.

He put the tricycle down and knelt down in front of the boy. "No, 
buddy, he's not sleeping. He's dead."

The tiny face crumpled. "I didn't kill him. Can you wake him up again?"

"I know you didn't." He took the squirrel from Yoshi and set it down on 
the ground. "And no, I can't bring him back to life. Sometimes animals 
get too sick or too old to live, and there's nothing we can do about 
it. It's nature's way."

"Like with Mommy."

"That's right." He thought for a minute. "Sometimes even doctors can't 
save people, or bring them back to life. And usually it's nobody's 
fault. Like with your mum."

"I tried to wake her up. She fell down." The boy's tears fell freely.

"I know, Yoyo." He put his arms around Yoshi, letting him cry against 
his shoulder. 

Yoshi finally drew away, wiping his eyes on the sleeve of his jacket. 
"Do we hafta create him?" he asked, looking back down at the squirrel.

Julian bit his lower lip. "Sometimes we cremate bodies, and sometimes 
we bury them," he managed to say. "He's so small that it's probably 
best we bury him. Do you think he'd be happy in the front yard?"

Yoshi nodded; Julian took his hand and they went in search of a small 
box and a trowel. Ten minutes later the animal was entombed in Miles's 
front flowerbed, about two metres to the left of the front door.

Julian stood and took a step back when Yoshi asked, "Aren't we going to 
say a prayer for him?"

Gods help me, Julian thought. "All right. Um...O Lord of the Squirrels, 
please accept this, your...child, into your eternal embrace. May he 
have acorns and nuts until the end of time. Amen."

"Amen," Yoshi repeated.

"Amen," an amused brogue echoed behind them.

"Da!" 

"Uh-uh, there, young man," Miles said, quickly grabbing Yoshi's wrists 
before he could touch his uniform with his mucky hands. "Go wash up 
first."

The three of them went into the house. "And sanitize too," Miles called 
after Yoshi as he disappeared into the bathroom. "Lord of the 
Squirrels?" he said to Julian after the door closed, chuckling under 
his breath. "Where the hell'd you get that from?"

He shrugged as he washed and sanitized his hands in the kitchen sink. 
"Haven't a clue. It was quite the dignified service, I'll have you 
know."

"I'm sure," Miles said with another chuckle. "By the way, Hirako called 
today. He wants me to bring the kids over for supper. Melissa hasn't 
seen 'em in weeks, and, well..."

"Go on. I'll be fine," he said. "In fact, I was planning to meet up 
with an old classmate from the Academy tonight. He called this morning. 
I haven't seen him in - must be five years." 

Yoshi barrelled up the hallway towards his father. "What's for dinner, 
Da? I'm hungry!" 

Miles knelt down and gave his son a hug. "We're going to Uncle Hirako's 
and Aunt Melissa's, that's what's for dinner."

"Yay!"

"Now go get changed into something clean." He ruffled Yoshi's hair and 
the boy ran off. "So who's this friend?" he said to Julian.
 
"Harbinder Singh. He's the assistant medical officer on the Lexington. 
He was, well...you know what they call the last student in his class at 
medical school?"

"Doctor?" 

"Exactly. Great guy and apparently a damned good doctor, but I spent 
hours helping him academically." He looked up at the chrono. "In fact, 
I should hop in the shower if I want to be ready by 1700."

"You'd better grab it before Molly gets home."

Julian snickered. "How do you stand living in a home with a 12-year-old 
girl and one bathroom?" he asked as he pulled a towel out of the linen 
closet. "God, man, I'd thought you'd have put in a second one by now."

"I was planning to, before..." He shrugged. "Never got 'round to it."

"Oh, I, um...I'm sorry. I didn't mean to remind you..."

Miles waved away the apology. "No, I - to be honest I don't really have 
to be reminded. I don't forget." He looked back down the hallway. 
"Molly's the one that needs her own. There used to be one in her room; 
the old owner had the fixtures taken out, said two rooms was too much 
work cleaning. I suppose I could reinstall 'em," he mused.

"You know, that's not a bad idea," Julian said. "It could even be her 
birthday present."

"Birthday?"

"It's coming up next month, isn't it?"

Miles's brow furrowed as he walked over to the comm panel and brought 
up a calendar. "God, it's December already. I'd have forgotten. And the 
first one at that, since..." He shook his head, frowning to himself.

"I only remember because the first birthday party you had for her on 
the station is etched in my mind," Julian quickly added in an attempt 
to cover Miles's embarrassment. "I told Keiko I'd never forgive her for 
what she...God, Miles, I'm sorry. Again." He looked up and noticed that 
instead of being lost in sadness, his friend was smirking. "You 
remember?"

"I remember this holier-than-thou arrogant bastard of a doctor assuring 
me that of course he was fully competent to be left in charge of seven 
small children, and ten minutes later comming me crying, 'Help!'"

They both laughed. "I should be back by 2400," Julian said over his 
shoulder as he walked down the hallway. He stopped before he reached 
the bathroom door and looked back with concern. "Miles...you did 
remember Christmas, didn't you?" 

Miles gave him another look, then groaned. "Hell..."

******

Julian woke up the next morning still feeling a bit worse for wear 
despite the antitox shot he had given himself the night before. After 
showering and shaving, he pulled on a cable-knit sweater and a pair of 
jeans and plodded into the kitchen. He needed comfort food and by God 
he was going to get it.

"Delvan fluff pastries for one."

//Item is unknown.//

"Damn."

//Item is unknown.//

He scowled at the replicator, then went into the living room to use the 
terminal. "Chester," he groaned, "get down."

The big grey-and-white tom all but sneered at him as he lay ensconced 
in the office chair in front of Miles's terminal. 

"Come on, let's go."

Chester yawned.

Julian finally gave up and picked up the animal, allowing him to nestle 
in his lap. "Computer, search for replicator codes for Delvan fluff 
pastries."

//Specify replicator make and model.//

"Use the make and model of the replicator in the kitchen."

//Replicator not found.//

He rolled his eyes as he dumped the cat on the floor and went to check 
the machine. "It's a Lorenz Replimaster Deluxe," he said as he returned 
to the living room, picked Chester up again off the chair and sat down, 
wondering how a cat could gain ten kilos in fifteen seconds.

//Make and model found. Accessing database.//

He waited. Chester curled into his lap and started to knead his left 
forearm.

//Codes downloaded.//

"Transfer them into the replicator in the kitchen."

//Replicator not found.//

He remembered just in time that a loud bout of swearing wouldn't likely 
be appreciated by anyone else in the house at 0558. "Computer," he said 
in a harsher tone than was probably necessary, "list the appliances in 
the kitchen."

//One Superheat cooktop. One Superheat oven. One Matchbox hot water 
dispenser. One Lorenz Replimaster Deluxe. One Robson stasis-//

"Enough. Transfer replicator codes to Lorenz Replimaster Deluxe."

//Specify replicator codes to be transferred.//

He would have thonked his head on the desk if Chester hadn't been in 
the way. "The codes for Delvan fluff pastries," he hissed through his 
teeth.

//Transferring codes. Transfer complete.//

"Finally, breakfast," he said to Chester. 

At the word the cat's ears perked up; he ran into the kitchen and 
danced for Julian in front of the replicator, meowing plaintively. 

"You..." he said as he followed him into the kitchen, frowning in mock 
severity. "All right. Feline nutritional supplement no. 14." 

"He bothering you?"

"Not at all," Julian said to a rumpled and yawning Miles as he 
retrieved the bowl from the replicator. "I'm just getting his 
breakfast. Funny, he wasn't that hungry yesterday."

"You fed him yesterday?" Miles asked. "I fed him when I got up."

"He was singing to the replicator at 0730. I assumed you'd left 
without..." He looked down at Chester, who looked so angelic at the 
moment that he might as well have been sporting a halo. "You sneaky 
little bastard, getting a meal out of both of us?" He petted the cat 
and placed the bowl on the floor.

Miles moved past him and ordered a cup of black coffee. "So how was 
your date last night?"

"It wasn't a date. It was just two old friends getting together for a 
chat over a few beers. Harb's wife would probably de-ball him if she 
thought he was on a date." He chuckled. "She might do it anyway. They 
just found out she's pregnant with number five."

"Five." Miles peered out the back window at the lowering clouds. 
"That's a big family for a starship."

"It's a big family anywhere."

"I remember," Miles said, staring off into the greyness, "must have 
been just after we returned to Earth - Keiko started talking about 
having another child. I thought, hell, three..."

Julian let his friend talk about Keiko and their thwarted plans for a 
larger family uninterrupted. He would have bet latinum that Miles's 
friends and family had changed the topic every time he tried to talk 
about her to them. That might have made them more comfortable, but it 
probably didn't help Miles. 

"...suppose things would have been rougher now with a baby, but - I 
suppose I wish we'd gone through with it." He pressed his lips 
together, his coffee forgotten. "Maybe I want more of her, or maybe I'm 
just selfish."

"In what way?" he asked as he ordered his hard-won pastries and a cup 
of raktajino from the replicator and sat down at the table.

"Dunno. Doesn't seem fair to bring a child into the world and then 
leave him motherless. 'S not easy growing up without a mother. I worry 
about 'em." He gestured towards the side hallway. "I don't know if I 
can raise 'em myself."

"Sisko did it," Julian pointed out after sipping at his coffee. "Jake 
was younger than Molly when his mother died, and he's turned out fine." 

"It's not Molly I'm so worried for. Yoshi, um...he seems to think that 
eating killed his ma. Can't even have seafood in the house now, neither 
of 'em will touch it, and, well, you've seen him at dinner."

Julian swallowed a bite of pastry. "He talked to me yesterday about her 
death. I know you'd hoped he'd forget it, and maybe he will eventually, 
but right now it's bothering him a lot. After all, she *did* die from 
eating something. He's too young to understand what an allergy is, and 
even if he were there's an enormous emotional scar there." He looked up 
at Miles. "You said in your last letter that you were thinking of 
getting him into counselling."

"I was. Problem is, the counsellors are mostly all still on Betazed 
and, well..."

"Cardassia."

He nodded apologetically. "He's been on a waiting list for a couple of 
months now. Maybe I'm overreacting, but I don't want him to end up with 
a complex." He stared out the window again. "Somebody asked me out 
yesterday. Her name's Margaret Delvecchio. She teaches physics at the 
Academy."

So that's where all this is coming from, Julian thought. "Did you say 
yes?"

He shook his head. "Haven't given my answer either way." 

Julian noticed Miles had the faintly psychotic look he always got when 
he was conflicted by a moral quandary. "You're not sure it's time?" he 
asked.

"I'm absolutely sure it's not time, but...Da's been asking me why I 
haven't found a 'nice young lady' yet." He made air quotes with his 
fingers as he spoke. "He says it'd be better for the kids if I found 
someone as soon as possible."

Julian nodded, privately cursing Michael O'Brien for putting that kind 
of pressure on his son. "It's your decision, not his. If you're not 
comfortable..."

"But what if he's right? What if I'm depriving my kids of a mother?" 

"Miles, you're not-"

"Good morning, Daddy, Julian," Molly said as she ran into the kitchen.

Miles immediately changed from a troubled man to a happy, doting 
father. "Good morning, young lady."

She rummaged through the cupboard nearest the hallway until she found 
one of her quinoa bars, then turned to her father. "You're not planning 
on having sausages and mashed potatoes for breakfast *again*, are you?" 

He eyed the replicator guiltily. "Well..."

"Daddy, that stuff's full of fat and empty calories. Julian, make him 
eat something healthy!" she nagged as she ran back down the hallway to 
grab the bathroom.

"Aye, sir," Julian said with a salute at her retreating figure. "On the 
double." As the door slammed behind her, he said conspiratorially to 
Miles, "She's not a fan of bangers and mash, then? Wonder where she 
gets that from."

Miles grinned as he turned to the replicator. "Likes to boss me around. 
Wonder where she gets *that* from." 

******

"Push me higher!" Yoshi cried as he swung into the air. 

Julian and the children had arrived at the park about fifteen minutes 
earlier. It was a rare winter morning in San Francisco: crisp, cool, 
and perfectly clear. Yoshi had immediately run off, intent (as any red-
blooded four-year-old boy would be) on climbing one of the giant poplar 
trees bordering the play area, but Julian had intercepted him and they 
had gone over to the swing set instead. Molly had taken a seat on the 
benches near the teeter-totter with her new book, Emma by Jane Austen.

His main reason for taking them out that morning was to give Miles some 
privacy. Last night Julian had finally convinced him that he should at 
least put Keiko's clothing away. After a long conversation in which he 
had acknowledged that he was having trouble accepting her death, Miles 
had agreed that he'd pack up everything Molly didn't want and store it 
all in the garage. The jewellery he would keep in case Molly or Yoshi 
wanted any of it one day, but the rest would be recycled - eventually. 
Julian considered it a small but solid victory.

"You stopped pushing!" Yoshi called out.

He sent the child soaring again. "Sorry!"

A little girl suddenly ran up to one of the swings. Her father started 
her off, then stepped back as she used the swing to propel herself 
higher and higher.

"Your son looks a lot like you," the man said.

Julian chuckled. "Thank you, but he's not my son. I'm spending some 
time with the family and I'm looking after the kids for the day. Julian 
Bashir." He held out his hand.

"Martin Lee. So do you work around here?"

"No," he replied. "I just resigned from Starfleet last month. I was 
posted out near Bajor."

His face closed down into a dismissive sneer. "Fucking cunt..."

"Pardon me?" Julian said, shocked.

"You heard me. I know what Starfleet did out there. Did you have fun 
blowing up kids? Did you put a notch in your phaser every time you-"

He was about to explode in anger when a woman who had come up behind 
them interrupted. "How dare you speak like that to somebody who saved 
your family's lives!" she said, her heavily lined face colouring. Yoshi 
jumped off the swing and ran to get Molly while the girl on the swing 
began to cry.

The man swivelled to face her. "Listen, lady, if you want to believe 
the propaganda-"

"Don't you lady me, you ungrateful man. If it hadn't been for people 
like him," she said, pointing at Julian, "you and your daughter would 
be in a concentration camp. If you were alive."

"Believe what you want," he hissed as he grabbed his sobbing daughter 
and walked away, muttering under his breath. "...stupid bitch..."

A boy a bit taller than Yoshi poked his head out from where he had been 
hiding behind the woman. "Abuelita, why did he say those things?" 

"Because he's a mean man who wanted to hurt us, Quique." She knelt down 
and cradled the nervous boy in her arms. "I can't believe people like 
that exist," she said to Julian behind her shoulder. "No understanding 
at all. They think Starfleet instigated the war so they could pressure 
the Federation into increasing their budget."

Julian shook his head. "I had no idea." His heart was still racing.

Molly and Yoshi reached them. "Julian, what happened?" Molly asked. 
"That guy looked really angry. Are you all right?"

The woman spoke directly to Molly as she rose to her feet. "Don't worry 
about him, dear. He's of no importance whatsoever." She turned to 
Julian. "Forgive me. I'm Yesenia Gonzales. My husband and I live just 
across the road on Cora Street."

"Julian Bashir." He took her outstretched hand, then looked down at the 
two boys who were eyeing each other. "Why don't you guys go play in the 
sandbox?"

"Okay!" They ran off. 

Julian arrived home with the children an hour later to find Miles 
sitting on the living room sofa staring out the front window.

"Da!" Yoshi called out. "See the neat rock I found!"

"Now where did that come from?" Miles asked as he gave his son a kiss.

As Yoshi bubbled on about his morning at the park and Molly went off to 
the bathroom to rearrange her hair yet again, Julian could tell (even 
from the doorway to the living room) that Miles was having what he 
called a 'rude day'. He removed his coat and boots and dropped into the 
love seat.

"What was this about the 'mean man'?" Miles finally asked after sending 
Yoshi off to wash up.

He shrugged. "Some guy yelled at me because I mentioned I'd been in 
Starfleet and stationed near Bajor. He had some choice words for me; 
scared Yoshi and his own girl half to death. I might have come to blows 
with him if this older woman hadn't shown up out of nowhere with her 
grandson and given him hell. She told me later that her grandson's 
parents had been killed while serving with the Seventh Fleet."

Miles winced. "Poor kid." 

"Yoshi and the boy played for over an hour. We had a hell of a time 
keeping them out of..." He stopped when he noticed that Miles was 
staring down at the coffee table. "What is it?"

"I took your advice and started cleaning out Keiko's stuff." He 
gestured towards a packet of papers sitting on the table. "Found those 
in the last drawer. Love letters."

"I didn't know you were the type," Julian said with a grin.

Miles turned away. "I'm not."

Julian swallowed his smile. "Have you read them? Are you sure-"

"I read the first page - well, a few lines of the first page. 'My 
precious beloved lotus blossom.'" He harrumphed. "What kind of bilge is 
that?"

"Do you want me to look at them?" he asked. "They could be perfectly 
innocent."

Miles said nothing; Julian reached out and picked up the top sheet, 
read the first few lines, then squinted up at his friend. "This letter 
is dated July 18, 2362. Did you even know Keiko in 2362?"

"Well, no. I was still on the Rutledge, and she was on Ruvaria Prime, I 
think..." His green eyes were glistening with unshed tears. "But why'd 
she keep 'em? Wasn't I enough? Did she want this...this Hal?" He 
gestured to the letters.

"There might be a perfectly logical reason why she held on to them," he 
said, trying to sound sympathetic. "Let me give them a closer look and 
see what I can find, all right?" 

Miles nodded, saying nothing. 

He took the letters to Miles's desk and spent twenty minutes going 
through them before switching on the terminal and searching Starfleet 
records for someone with the nickname "Hal" who had been stationed with 
Keiko in 2362. "Found him," he finally said.

"Who."

"His name was Henry Chow. He died in late July of 2362, just after he 
wrote that letter. Rock slide, according to the records."

Miles looked up. "I recognize the name. He was the head of security at 
Ruvaria Prime. They dated for a couple of years. Forgot he'd died." His 
expression was inscrutable. "I, um...yeah, I can see why..." He dropped 
his head into his hands.

Julian shooed Chester off the sofa and sat beside Miles. "What is it?"

"I doubted her. I - how could I-" and he broke down into heaving sobs. 

"It's all right," Julian said as Miles collapsed on his shoulder. "Let 
it out." 

A sudden motion at the edge of his vision made him look up; Molly was 
standing in the hallway peering around the corner at her father.

******

Part 3 of 7. Disclaimer in Part 1.

He dragged out another storage box from under the stairwell and wiped 
the dust off the label. "Here it is. You know, if you had told me 
earlier that you owned an artificial tree-"

"Shut up, Julian." 

He rolled his eyes. "-I could have found it this morning and we could 
have both got to sleep at a decent time. I assumed you were going to 
bring a natural tree home. Where do you want it?"

Miles looked up from his workbench where he was valiantly attempting to 
put together a child's hovercycle. "Best place is in the far corner, 
across from the bookcase."

"Where did she put the ornaments?" he asked as he brushed grime off yet 
another container label. "I'm not seeing them."

"There aren't any."

"So this is it, then." He pushed himself up. "Why no ornaments? Is it a 
Japanese tradition, or..."

"We just never got around to it," Miles said with a shrug. "We didn't 
see much use in Christmas 'til we came home; with all the Bajoran 
festivals it didn't seem necessary. Last year was our first Christmas."

Julian hoisted the box to his shoulder and carried it to the stairs, 
sidestepping a hodgepodge of parts piled up by the bench. "Need some 
help with that?" he asked.

Miles gave him a baleful stare. "I'm an engineer, for Christ's sake. 
Get away, you'll jinx me and I'll end up attachin' the port air vent to 
the dashboard."

"Okay, okay." He continued up the stairs and through the kitchen with 
the tree. As he passed by the comm panel, he noticed a blinking light. 
He put the box down, wiping the dust off his hands, and accessed the 
message centre. Ten seconds later he ran back to the top of the stairs.

"Miles," he called out, "Keiko's aunt Jinko has been trying to get in 
touch with you for the past half hour. Keiko's mother's in the 
hospital. She's suffered a stroke."

"Oh God." He dropped the part he had been working on and vaulted up the 
stairs and past Julian to the comm panel. "Jinko," he said after his 
call had gone through, "It's Miles. I just got your message ... no, I 
was in the basement puttin' together Yoshi's Christmas present ... 
When? ... Have they said ... so probably in the next 48 hours. Damn. 
I'll wake 'em up and we'll get there as soon as we can ... don't know 
about that." He stepped away from the panel and spoke to Julian. "Could 
you check if there's a shuttle to Japan tonight?" At his nod, Miles 
returned to the comm panel. "No, they've gone to bed. It's almost 
midnight here ... no, it sounds like we had better get there right 
away..."

Julian brought up the trans-Pacific shuttle schedule on the terminal in 
the living room. "3:15 AM to Osaka all right?" he called back.

"Perfect. Book us tickets if you can." Miles turned back to the comm 
panel. "About as good as you can expect, I suppose ... yeah, but it 
might be a few weeks still. Not that many counsellors around ... Fine, 
fine. No, he's still here. Thank God."

Julian smiled faintly. Miles would never admit to him in so many words 
that he appreciated his help, but it was nice to know anyway.

Ninety minutes later they were all packed and ready to go. "I'm sorry 
to leave you with this," Miles said to him as he bundled Molly and 
Yoshi out the door to the waiting hover-taxi. "We probably won't be 
back until at least after the seven-day ceremony. Oh damn, Molly's 
birthday." He thought for a second. "Call Sean and see if he knows 
someone who can install those fixtures in her room. He knows everyone. 
And don't forget the tile."

He nodded. "I'll make sure it gets done. Don't worry."

Miles grasped his shoulder, then left.

******

"I always said that you were too good for her, but no..."

Julian gave the comm screen a fond grin. "Mum, even if Ezri did leave 
me, that doesn't make her evil incarnate."

"I'm still not sending her a wedding gift. The nerve she has, sending 
me an invitation." Amsha shook her head in affronted disbelief. "But 
forget her. How is Miles?"

"You and Jake were right," he said. "He is depressed. From what he 
says, he's concerned more about the children than himself, but I think 
he's worried about being lonely too. And now this with his mother-in-
law - I'm not sure how he's going to handle it."

"I'm sure he'll do fine. He has many people willing to help him: you, 
his brother, his father..."

Julian snorted. "His father's useless. He's pressing him to find a new 
wife. He keeps telling Miles that he's letting down his children by not 
dating."

Her mouth dropped open. "Already? It hasn't even been a year. If he 
wished to date, that would be different, but making him feel guilty 
about it..." She scowled, then gave him a sudden smile. "I forgot to 
tell you; cousin Sufa and her family are visiting from Luna tomorrow."

The hair at the back of Julian's neck pricked up. He knew that tone of 
voice. 

"Sufa has two stepchildren," she continued. "The boy is 25 and the girl 
is 23. They're both lovely young people, both very modest. I'm sure 
they'd be thrilled to meet you."

He arched an eyebrow at her. "Don't you think I'm a bit old for either 
of them?"

"Julian," she said with a look of infinite patience, "you make it sound 
as if I'm arranging a marriage for you. Just come and meet them. 
They're lovely people."

"I wish I could," he lied, "but I'm stuck here until Miles gets back. I 
can't exactly expect him to transport in just to supervise a builder, 
especially after I promised him I'd be here."

"That's right, I'd forgotten. If you're sure he needs you there..."

"I am. Miles wants to make sure everything goes smoothly with the 
installation." He suddenly grinned. "Do you have any idea how much time 
a teenaged girl can spend on her hair in the morning?"

She laughed. "Oh, I remember. Father would get so angry at Ruksha and 
me - oh, I have another comm. That's probably Sufa. Have a good 
evening, dear. Perhaps I can introduce the three of you another time."

"Goodbye, mother." The screen went dark; Julian went back into the 
kitchen to fix himself another cup of raktajino. Funny, he thought, how 
well he got along with his mother now that his father was gone. 

Mother was right, of course. Ezri did have a lot of nerve to send the 
two of them wedding invitations, especially since it had only been five 
weeks since she had officially broken up with him. He wondered, though, 
how long the two of them had been seeing each other; probably since she 
arrived in Cardassia for the third time, he reflected, if not earlier 
than that. That would make it five months at the very least. 

He brought his raktajino back into the living room and stretched out on 
the overstuffed sofa. His mother's attempts to find him a spouse were 
touching, but what did he have to offer anyone? He was out of work, 
living in his best friend's house (and living off his best friend for 
the time being), and had just been dumped for the new Vice-President of 
the Cardassian Imperial Council. He couldn't give anyone a child, at 
least not safely. He barely knew how to function in civilian life.

He examined his reflection in the living room window: maybe he should 
grow a beard...

******

"What the hell is that thing on your face?"

"Very well, Miles, and how are you?" he asked with a grin as he stepped 
aside to let them in. "Welcome back. How was Japan?"

"Cold," Molly replied. "Grandpa wouldn't go to the funeral or the 
seven-day."

Miles sighed. "Honey, say hello to Julian before you start in." Miles 
dropped his bag, balancing a sleeping Yoshi as he peeled off his 
raincoat.

She rolled her eyes dramatically and said, "Hello, Julian," before 
turning back to her father in a black sulk. "I just wanted Grandpa and 
Grandma together one last time. Was that too much to ask?" she whined 
as she dropped her sodden jacket to the floor.

"Molly, your grandparents were divorced 25 years ago," Miles explained 
patiently, and apparently (given the look on his face) not for the 
first time. "They could barely tolerate being in the same room while 
they were both alive."

Her face was turning as red as Miles's did when he became flustered. 
"You just don't understand, Daddy. She's gone and they should have been 
together!" She stomped off to her room in tears.

"Enjoy the new bathroom!" Julian called to her as the bedroom door 
slammed. He turned back to Miles, who was picking Molly's coat off the 
floor. "What was that all about?"

"Damned if I know. She's been like that all day. Makes me wish the 
house had auto-doors." Yoshi opened his eyes, squirmed a bit against 
Miles's shoulder, then fell asleep again. "Everything go all right?" he 
asked.

"No problems whatsoever. Sean knows his builders." He picked up their 
bags and followed Miles down the hallway. "Didn't even take them a full 
day, tile and all."

After Yoshi was safely put to bed and the luggage placed in the 
appropriate bedrooms, the two of them went into the living room. "I 
appreciate your looking after the place," Miles said. "Anything happen 
while we were gone? And why in the name of Brian Boru did you grow a 
beard?"

"Hey! Chester likes it!"

"Chester's probably happy to have something around that's scruffier 
than he is."

Julian lowered his brows in a mock frown as he leaned against the back 
of the sofa. "To answer your first question, it was very quiet. I 
applied for a few jobs. My mum called every night - well, morning for 
her." He smiled. "Nine years as the CMO of a major Starfleet facility 
but apparently I can't be trusted to run a house for ten days."

"She probably took one look at you and-"

"OH MY GOD! AIEEE!"

The scream brought both men running down the hallway and into Molly's 
bedroom.

"I'M BLEEDING!"

"Molly!" Miles shouted through the door as he struggled with the 
bathroom lock. "Did you fall? Did something break?" He glared over at 
Julian. "Dammit man, get your med kit!"

"Daddy, NO!" the girl shouted back. "Don't come in here!"

Julian suddenly realized what was likely happening. "Molly, did you 
injure yourself or is it something else?"

"Oh, God..." She started to cry. "Just go away, both of you..."

"Honey, if you won't-" Miles started.

"Would you like your Aunt Melissa or Aunt Suki to come over?" Julian 
interrupted, but by then Molly was sobbing too hard to reply. He turned 
to Miles. "I think you'd better give one of them a call."

Miles stared at him for a second, then suddenly turned beet red. "Oh 
for-" he huffed as he went back down the hallway to the comm panel and 
punched in a code. "Suki. Fine, fine..." 

Julian turned to hide his smile and went to get his med kit.

"...well, not totally fine, it's Molly....No, it's - she's locked 
herself in her bathroom, and ... I think it's a woman thing ... Yeah, 
exactly. Exactly. We just got back from Japan a few minutes ago ... she 
was in a pissy mood all day. I should have figured it out ... Hell, I 
don't know. It's her birthday and everything, too. Could you ... 
thanks, I owe you. See you in ten." He clicked the panel off, then 
frowned at Julian as he exited the spare room with his kit. "I thought 
they learned about this stuff in school."

"They do," Julian replied over the muffled sobs coming from the other 
end of the house. "But there's an enormous difference between reading 
about it and the actual event. Good of your sister-in-law to come out 
at this time of night."

Miles harrumphed as he looked back down the hallway. "Surprised she 
hasn't woken up the boy."

Eight minutes later the front bell chimed. Julian picked up the hypo 
and the cup of tea he had prepared and followed his friend into the 
front hallway.

"I got here as quickly as I could," Miles's sister-in-law said as the 
door closed behind her. Julian remembered her vaguely from Keiko's 
funeral. "Where is she?"

"Still in her bedroom, in the bathroom. Door's locked." Miles nodded 
towards the side hallway. "She's a touch embarrassed, I guess."

Suki O'Brien scowled at her brother-in-law as she removed her dripping 
raincoat and boots and pushed a strand of damp iron-grey hair back 
behind one ear. "She's humiliated, terrified, and shocked. And probably 
in pain." Her steely gaze softened a touch when she noticed Julian. 
"I'm sorry, I know you were at the service but I don't recall-"

"Julian Bashir, a friend of Miles and Keiko's," he replied with a 
placating smile, holding up the hypo and the tea. "2 ccs of relatidine 
and a cup of chamomile tea, if you'd think they'd help." 

"Yes, they definitely would. Are you a physician?"

Miles cut in. "Julian was the CMO at Deep Space Nine. He suggested I 
call you."

She glared at Miles again, shouldered her purse, took the hypo and the 
cup from Julian, then went off down the hallway, muttering to herself. 
"...least somebody has some sense around..."

"So that's your sister-in-law," Julian said. "She seems like a very 
organized woman."

"Harridan," Miles mouthed. Out loud he said, "She's the head nurse at 
the Academy Hospital. Sean met her when he spent a year on sabbatical 
in Fiji." He gestured to the terminal, the familiar crease starting to 
form between his eyes. "You said you were looking for work. D'you find 
anything?"

"I applied for a few positions," he said. "Mainly part-time. One at 
SFSU, one at a clinic over in the new district, another at a clinic 
near the Academy."

"You're staying in San Francisco? Thought you'd like to be near your 
mother."

"Mum's not sure if she's going to stay in Southampton or move somewhere 
else. Back to Karachi, perhaps out here. I don't want to commit to 
something in Britain if nobody I know lives there."

Miles's brow knit. "You don't have any friends at home?"

"Not really. We moved around a lot, and on top of that I was far too 
competitive to make friends. I didn't click with anyone until I moved 
to the station, and virtually everyone I met there is either in space, 
on Bajor, or here in this house." He looked towards the hallway 
entrance. "She'll probably be half an hour, if not longer. Tea?"

"Maybe coffee, if you don't mind. I should get caught up on my work. 
The new semester starts Monday."

As Julian puttered in the kitchen contemplating a possible date with a 
razor, he thought about how difficult it must be for Miles to have to 
raise a daughter alone. On an impulse he ducked his head around the 
corner; his friend was still on the sofa, staring out (or at) the front 
window, his reflection a portrait of infinite sadness.

******

He read the message again. Stupid Starfleet bureaucratic screwups, he 
thought, as he drifted into the living room and flopped onto the love 
seat.

"What is it?" Miles said from his seat in front of the terminal.

"The message I got from Mount Zion yesterday afternoon about the 
application I put in - I just read it. They said my credentials didn't 
check out. They can't find any record that I'm licensed to practise 
medicine." He rubbed the bridge of his nose.

Miles's jaw dropped. "What the...but...you were the...."

"I'm guessing it's a clerical error. It does explain why SFSU didn't 
call me back for a second interview." He heard typing and looked back 
again at Miles. "What are you doing?"

"Checking who made the mistake so I can rip 'em a new-" His face 
suddenly went ghostly pale. "They, um...it's not an error."

"What?"

Miles was momentarily lost for words. "It's...it's the Federation 
Medical Association," he finally got out. "They revoked your licence."

"WHAT?!?" Julian ran over to the terminal and read the details over 
Miles's shoulder. "That can't be. It was part of my father's plea 
bargain. They can't just..." He began to pace back and forth across the 
living room. "DAMMIT! I cannot believe this! How can they - when did it 
happen? Goddammit, Miles, they didn't even notify me!"

Miles brought up another screen. "Looks like mid-December," he said, 
his voice tinged with disbelief. "'Bout a week after you got here."

"They never even..." He strode into the front hallway and grabbed his 
coat, Miles in his wake. "I'll set those bastards straight. Who the 
HELL do they think they're-"

"Now hold on!" Miles interrupted as he grabbed Julian's shoulders 
before he could pull on his coat. "First of all, it's 0730 on a 
Saturday morning; the office is closed. Second, you need to calm down."

His eyes blazed. "Calm down."

"Yes. The way you're on they'll say you're gone in the head." He guided 
Julian back into the living room. "Third, you need a lawyer to handle 
this. Going down there yourself isn't going to help anything."

"But-" Julian gave the front door the most disgusted look he could 
muster. "You're right. I just-"

"Daddy, Julian, what's wrong?"

He looked up and saw Molly standing in the hallway in her pyjamas, 
blinking her eyes at the sunlight streaming through the front window.

"It's nothing, honey," Miles said, letting go of his shoulder. 
"Julian's just had some surprising news."

"I'm sorry I woke you, Molly." He turned back to Miles. "I'm going for 
a walk. Trust me," he said as he donned his jacket and headed for the 
door, "I won't do anything stupid." 

He headed west on Leland Avenue to the park, turned north on Delta 
Street, and soon found himself mindlessly wandering up and down the 
streets and avenues of Visitacion Valley, returning to the playground 
after about an hour. As he took a seat on one of the benches and 
watched the squirrels chasing each other through the poplar trees and 
around the Sanctuary monument in the far corner, he wondered if his 
father's sins would ever be laid to rest.

He loved being a doctor, and if he did say so himself he was a good 
one. And if it was true that he had become frustrated with 'frontier 
medicine' - which was more often than not watching people die and not 
being able to do a damned thing about it - medicine itself was the 
greatest love of his life. It was immensely satisfying to be able to 
figure out the riddle of a disease or an injury, apply the necessary 
treatment, and see the patient become well. It was almost as satisfying 
to know that something you did or said prevented a patient from 
becoming sick or injured in the first place. He hated pain, disease, 
injury, suffering. It was an honour, a privilege to be able to help 
people out of those states, or even to make their passing as 
comfortable as possible when recovery was out of the question. 

Medicine wasn't just his profession or his calling, either; it was his 
life. He had spent the last 20 years either planning to study medicine, 
studying it, or practising it. Certainly he had been involved in a few 
relationships and friendships and followed the odd hobby, but medicine 
had been the centre of his existence. Now a decision made by some 
anonymous pencil-pushing bureaucrat carried the very real possibility 
of his losing everything. 

Damn them, he thought. Goddamn them all to hell.

******

"Is there anything I can help you with?" 

"No, I'm just browsing," he said as he put a leather-bound volume back 
on the shelf. "I'll let you know if I can't find anything."

The old man nodded, then toddled back to his stool behind the counter.

Julian pulled out another book, this one bound in cardboard, and 
scanned the back cover blurb. He had grown to love the experience of 
reading actual books from holidays spent at his grandmother's book-
filled house in Whitechapel, and after he moved to San Francisco to 
attend the Academy he had spent hours in this same shop. From what he 
could see, little had changed other than the identity of the 
proprietor. Back then, the shop had been run by an elderly lady who 
used to press cookies onto her homesick, hungry student clientele. The 
years are flying by, he mused, as he replaced the book and pulled out a 
hardback: the man at the front desk could very well be her son.

He opened the book and scanned the first page. His grandmother had 
given him a copy of Fly to Judgment when he was 14; although Chang Sun-
Mai's juvenile fiction was a bit young for him now, he wondered if 
Molly would appreciate it or if she'd think a book by an early 23rd 
century writer incurably dull. Sometimes it seemed as if ancient 
writers such as Austen and Hardisty were easier for young people to 
relate to than more modern authors. Only one way to know, he thought, 
tucking the book under his arm with the three others he had already 
chosen for himself.

Speaking of Austen...he remembered Miles mentioning that he hadn't been 
able to find a copy of Mansfield Park in the format Molly's proprietary 
reader required. He doubled back to the As; the bookstore had three 
copies of Mansfield Park, and one was in reasonably good shape. He 
added it to the growing pile, along with a couple of Geeta Ananda 
adventure stories for Yoshi.

He then wandered into the intergalactic section. There weren't any 
Cardassian books - most were still only available in electronic format 
- but in the Vulcan section he found a new book by T'Prahn and two he 
hadn't read before by Sokor. In non-fiction he picked out a how-to book 
on choosing a lawyer and two reprints of old medical textbooks. 

The old man at the front desk took the books from him, tallied up the 
bill using a pencil and paper (at least that hadn't changed, Julian 
mused), and ran his chit through the register. "Find everything you 
wanted?" he asked.

"Yes, thank you," he replied. "This place hasn't changed in 20 years, 
has it?"

The man smiled. "Not much. Have a good day."

The sky was threatening but the pavement was still dry as he carried 
his purchases to the hover-train station. As he waited for the F train 
that would take him south to Miles's neighbourhood, he took in the 
skyline. Bookstores weren't all that he had missed while living on Deep 
Space Nine; there was also daylight, the twinkle of stars through an 
atmosphere, the heat of the day, the tang of salt-laden fresh air, even 
the wind off the Pacific. Or, as today, off the bay.

By the time he reached the house the sky was darkening. "How'd the 
meeting go?" Miles asked from the living room as he removed his boots 
and coat. 

"Noncommittal is probably the best word." He picked up his purchases 
and carried them into the living room. "Admiral T'Min wasn't terribly 
sympathetic. I have a feeling I should have started with JAG instead. 
They can't be happy that the FMA's unilaterally ignoring their court 
order. I called them after my meeting with the Admiral; I couldn't get 
in today, but I'm going down tomorrow morning to see a Commander 
Mekhlev."

"Your aunt Ruksha commed you," Miles said. "She said she messaged you a 
list of lawyers, said she'd had good luck with 'em. What's in the 
bags?"

"I stopped by at a used book store on the way home, and I picked up 
some paper books. In fact," he said as he rummaged through the smaller 
bag, "they had Mansfield Park." He passed the book to Miles.

"You found it," he said, obviously impressed. "She'll be pleased. They 
weren't planning on releasing it-"

Molly suddenly ran into the room. "Hi Daddy Hi Julian what are we 
having for dinner what's that OMIGOD Daddy thank you!" She took the 
book with a happy jump.

He grinned at her. "Don't thank me, thank that lot over there. 
Apparently somebody found a used bookstore. I'm surprised he's not 
still-"

"Julian! Thank you I'll pay you back so what are we having for dinner 
Daddy Sheila invited me over afterwards to study can I go please omigod 
my hair is a mess!" She ran down the hallway to her room.

"Just be back by nine," Miles called after her. "And call me when 
you're ready to come home. I'll come get you." He turned back to 
Julian. "How do they understand each other?"

"I still don't know how *you* understand her," he laughed. He looked 
down at the blueprints on the coffee table. "Thinking of renovating?"

"I was considering replacing the door between here and the hallway with 
an archway." He frowned. "I don't much like having a hinged door 
there."

"You could replace it with an auto-door."

Miles made a face. "Yeah, but that means I'll have one auto-door and 
nine hinged doors. Ten, including the door to Molly's bathroom. There's 
really no reason for there to be a door at all. And this room needs 
painting, so I might as well do it now and then get this and the 
hallway both done at once."

Julian studied the blueprints. "You know, if you wanted, you could take 
out the wall between the living room and the hallway and replace the 
kitchen doorways with one wide archway. It'd make the room look 
larger."

"It's not a load-bearing wall..." he said. "Room's small enough as it 
is; it would open things up. Still not sure what colour I want."

"I keep forgetting how old the house is," Julian said. "You can't even 
change the colour automatically. What are the walls made of, anyway?"

"Some kind of paper-covered plaster with about 80 coats of paint on 
top; common enough in houses this age. Were you and Sisko in this 
district?"

"No, we were up in Soma; this was District 3." He looked around, eager 
to change the topic. "So what colour are you thinking of?" 

Miles gave him a sharp look, then shrugged. "I don't know. Green, 
maybe. Something not too bright." He rose to his feet. "Come on, we can 
talk about it over dinner. I'm sure Molly has an opinion."

Julian laughed as he pushed himself up. "Or five."

******

He lifted the socks out of the bottom drawer - and put them back. 
Again.

What was he going to tell Miles?

He had been living with the O'Briens for two and a half months, pulling 
his own weight with the household chores if not in any other way, but 
more and more he was beginning to feel as if he was imposing on his 
friend. Miles had encouraged him to stay until he sorted out the 
problem with the Federation Medical Association, but that could take 
months if not years, and Julian knew that having a house guest for that 
period of time couldn't be easy for any of them.

What bothered him most was that - he supposed the problem was that he 
didn't know what was bothering him most. Miles was out on a date that 
evening, his first since Keiko's death; he knew he should be happy that 
his friend was finally beginning to recover, but there was something 
about it he didn't like. Somehow Miles having a date made him feel like 
he was intruding on the man's private life. He knew it was time to go; 
he just didn't know how to explain it to him. So instead he stood in 
front of his chest of drawers futilely moving his possessions around 
from drawer to drawer. 

He picked up his socks again and was about to move them to his suitcase 
when the front door suddenly slammed shut. It was 2108 according to his 
bedroom chrono, far too early for Miles to be home. He ran towards the 
front of the house, dumping his socks on the kitchen counter, concerned 
that somebody had broken in or- 

It was Miles. "What are you doing home?" 

"Damn fool idea of yours..." Miles huffed as he pushed by him.

Julian followed him, his brow knit in confusion. "What damn fool idea 
of mine?"

"To go out with that woman." He glared at Julian, who by that time was 
standing in the doorway to his bedroom. "You said it was a good idea."

"I said no such thing." He turned back towards the kitchen.

"Where are you going?" he demanded.

He stopped and looked over his shoulder. "I was giving you some privacy 
to change. By the way, Molly's just gone to bed." 

Miles rolled his eyes as he removed his suit jacket and hung it in the 
closet. "If it weren't for you, I wouldn't be wearing this..." and he 
held his arms out, "-this thing right now."

Julian went back to the kitchen. "It's a fine suit," he called back to 
Miles, keeping his voice as low as he could. "Green looks good on you. 
But I didn't say it was a good idea to go out with Heidi; don't pin 
that on me. I said it was a good idea for you to get out of the house 
by yourself once in a while."

"All I know is that if you hadn't nagged me..."

"Miles, shut up." He opened the top far cupboard. "Jameson's or 
Bushmill's?" 

"Jameson's." Miles walked into the kitchen a couple of minutes later in 
a brown Academy sweatshirt and jeans and dropped into one of the 
chairs. "What a fiasco."

Julian retrieved two glasses from the middle cupboard and poured each 
of them a healthy shot. "Okay," he said, sitting across from Miles, 
"what happened?"

"She tried to kiss me. On the mouth." He screwed up his face.

He hid his grin behind his glass. Getting Miles to talk about feelings 
was like getting the Isle of Wight to scoot over a few metres to let 
the Titanic pass. "Yes, that's usually what happens on a date. You 
didn't like it?"

"Well-" Miles slugged down a shot of whiskey and stewed. Finally he 
blurted out, "I liked it. And I didn't like that I liked it. It felt 
like I was cheating. Just, well..." His gaze meandered over Julian's 
face as he spoke. "I'll bet you ten credits Da calls me tomorrow and 
asks if I got lucky."

At that comment Julian broke up. "You know, I'm going to introduce your 
father to my mother one day."

"God." He chuckled. "If it weren't for Aoife..."

"How is your stepmother doing?"

He shrugged. "Same as usual. Still doesn't think much of me." He 
suddenly looked over at the counter. "What're you doing with your 
socks?" he asked.

Julian sighed. Now was not the time...or maybe it was. "I'm, um, 
thinking of finding my own place. I was packing."

"WHAT?" Miles glared at him. "Why in flaming hell would you be doing 
that?"

"Because you must be getting royally sick and tired of me. Houseguests 
and fish start to smell after three days, Miles; I've been here almost 
three months. It's just..." He swallowed the last of his whiskey and 
got up to grab the bottle. "I know you say I'm not imposing on you, 
but-"

"But nothing," his friend replied sourly. "You're *not* imposing. I 
just wish you'd stop goin' on about it. Where the hell would you go 
anyway?"

"I could move in with my mother."

Miles regarded him coolly under lowered brows.

"All right," he said as he sat down again, "maybe not. But I could get 
my own place."

"And since you're single and unemployed, you'd get a tiny box half the 
size of your old quarters on the station with an old broken-down 
replicator and a heating unit. You'd be lucky if you had your own 
bathroom." He frowned, rolling the whiskey around his glass. "Plainly 
put, I don't want you to go. I've gotten used to you, ya bugger. And so 
have the kids."

"If you're sure..."

"Yes I'm sure. Think I'd lie to you?" He finished his drink and pushed 
his chair back. "I'm going downstairs to work on that cycle. It'd be 
nice to have it done while Yoshi can still fit in it. You have plans?"

"Not anything earth-shattering," he said. "Mum's supposed to call me at 
2230. I told you I'm going to her birthday party, didn't I?" 

"That you did," Miles said, giving Julian's shoulder a pat as he walked 
by him on the way to the basement. "But that's 10:30 PM. You're a 
civilian now."

"Aye, sir." 

The comm panel rang about an hour later; Julian activated the receiver 
and smiled at his mother's face. "Good morning, mum."

"How are you, dear?" she replied. "I've been worried sick. Have you 
been able to straighten everything out?"

"I'm afraid not, and it looks like it'll take a while," he said. "I've 
retained one of the lawyers aunt Ruksha suggested, but the FMA hasn't 
replied to his letter. I suspect we'll have to take them to court even 
to get an answer."

She shook her head in dismay. "After all your hard work and your 
military service. It's just so unfair and-" Her eyes blazed. "Short-
sighted narrow-minded fools."

"Mum, it's not like we didn't expect something like this to happen one 
day."

"You may have expected it, but I never did. Especially after what your 
father did for you. If I had only noticed..."

He gave her a sympathetic smile. "Mother, I don't blame you. Depression 
is difficult to diagnose, and when you live with someone it's not easy 
to recognize that they've changed, especially when the change is as 
subtle as it was with Father. You shouldn't blame yourself either; it 
was his choice."

"I still do. I believe I always will, to some extent." She shrugged. 
"But how is everyone there?"

"Miles had a date tonight. It wasn't a complete success, but he's 
starting to come alive again. He more relaxed, he's back telling jokes 
again..." Julian grinned as he thought about his reaction to Heidi's 
kiss. "And the kids are doing well. Kirayoshi's in counselling now. 
Molly's growing into a young woman, although I don't think Miles is 
handling it quite as well as she is." He looked up and noticed his 
mother's brow was furrowed. "What?"

"Oh, nothing," she said with a quick smile. "Is he there? Miles!" she 
shouted, rising to her toes as if she were trying to look behind 
Julian. "Miles!"

"Mum," he said, holding up a hand. "He's in the basement. Even if he 
wasn't, the way the comm panel's set up he couldn't hear you anyway."

"Oh." She frowned. "Ruksha has one of those too. It's disconcerting 
when you can only hear one side of the conversation. Go get him; I want 
to ask him something."

"Yes, mother." He trotted to the top of the basement stairs. "Miles," 
he called out, "my mum wants to speak with you."

"About what?" he asked as he put down what looked like part of the 
exhaust system.

Julian shrugged. "She didn't say."

He retreated to his room as Miles took a seat in front of the comm 
panel. A few minutes later, Miles knocked on his door. "She wants to 
say goodbye."

He put down his book and returned to the panel. His mother seemed a bit 
distracted, he thought, or maybe confused. "Is everything all right, 
mum?"

She smiled abruptly. "Just fine, dear. I just wanted to say good night 
and good luck."

"Good night. See you on Thursday." The screen went black. 

"What'd she want you for?" he asked Miles, who was leaning against the 
counter, staring out the back window.

He shrugged, his lips a thin line. "Nothing much. I'm going to go off 
to bed. Good night." 

"Night."

As he rinsed out the glasses and put them away, he wondered what he had 
missed.

******

Part 4 of 7. Disclaimer in Part 1.

"So how was the party?"

"Not bad, except for Uncle Naseem," Julian said as he lined up his 
shot. He was in the unusual circumstance of being over 80 points behind 
Miles; another treble twenty would bring him closer...

...and he swore under his breath when the dart hit the five.

"That would be 240 for you, 162 for me," Miles all but crowed. "Two 
treble twenties, a treble twelve, and a double three and victory is 
mine."

"I still think it's ridiculous that I have to stand so far back," 
Julian replied as he pulled the darts out of the board, then handed 
them off. "Six metres is a bit much. Everybody in the bar is staring at 
me."

Miles rolled his eyes. "Drink yer lager." He took his place behind the 
oche and threw. "Hell."

"The board's over there, old chap."

"Shut up, Julian." Miles aimed and threw a double sixteen, then a 
double nine. "What did Uncle Naseem do?" he asked. 

"Brought his girlfriend du jour to the party. Shirella Aziz." He took 
the darts from Miles and walked back to his line, studying the board 
before throwing his first dart for an outer bull. "Nineteen years old, 
not the brightest person I've ever met..." He threw again, this time 
for a treble eighteen. "...and I think more interested in Uncle 
Naseem's wallet than in anything else of his." He threw the third dart 
for a twenty. "Plus she made a pass at me." He retrieved the darts from 
the board. 

"What?" Miles glared at him as he finished his beer. "Your uncle's 
girlfriend came on to you?"

"Outside the fresher room. Made me feel damned uncomfortable, I'll tell 
you that."

Miles took the darts, then stepped up to the oche and threw a sixteen, 
followed by a treble twenty and a one. "And if you say anything to him, 
she turns it around on you. That's 35 for me, if I count correctly, and 
141 for you. Concede?"

"Give it up." Julian took the darts and retreated to his line again. "I 
did tell mum about it the next morning, if only because I was still 
irritated." He threw a double twenty, a treble twenty, and an eighteen. 
"That's 23. Concede?" he asked archly.

"Very funny." Miles pulled the darts out of the board himself, then 
returned to his line. He threw a six and a nine. "Double ten for the 
win..." he said, before aiming and throwing a single ten. "Damn. So 
what'd she look like?"

"Nothing outstanding," he said after a moment's thought. "In fact, I 
barely remember. I was pretty angry though." A crush of rugby players 
suddenly entered the bar. "Let's get a table before the place fills up. 
I'll grab the darts."

Miles spotted an empty table in the far corner and gestured for Julian 
to follow him. 

"How's the shoulder?" Julian asked after they took their seats and 
Miles signalled for another round.

"Could be worse. Didn't take 'em a minute to pop it back in, though."

"That's not the best sign," he said as the waiter dropped off two mugs. 
"The easier it pops in, the easier it'll pop out again - unless you 
have that remodelling procedure the surgeon suggested."

"I know. Don't need to nag me, I've been through it before."

Julian sipped at his beer. "Still hurts?"

"Well...not enough to keep me home tonight, but..."

"Why did you try to do the renovations by yourself anyway? I was coming 
back the next day."

"I was thinking..."

"There's your problem right there."

Miles lowered his brows. "Very funny. As I was saying, I was thinking 
that when Keiko passed on I didn't have a wake. Not a real one, at 
least. Guy standing around natterin' on in Japanese isn't my idea of a 
proper wake. So I thought I'd have one on the anniversary. But I wanted 
to get the place repainted, which meant that I had to take that wall 
down. Bloody thing weighed a ton."

Julian nodded. The builders had done a fine job once Sean had called 
them; he only wished he'd been there to stop Miles before he ended up 
in Emergency. "I like the colour. What did you do with the bonsai?"

"Gave 'em to Molly." He grabbed a handful of peanuts and popped one 
into his mouth. "Well, the two that were still alive. Never really 
liked 'em myself, and you can't see 'em against the green. They were 
too much work for me, anyway. There was this statue I saw in the market 
the other day..."

As they chatted about the renovations and Miles's plans for the wake, 
Julian got the distinct impression that his friend wasn't quite as 
broken up about the anniversary as he had assumed he'd be. Maybe it was 
time for him to try dating again...but then again, it had only been two 
weeks since his first disastrous effort. But if he was willing to move 
the bonsai (and Keiko's artwork, he had noticed) out of the living 
room, maybe he'd had a change of heart. The bar they were in would be a 
good place to take someone; not too crowded on weeknights, quiet, 
attractive, understated decor. 

"...or crab meat?"

"Hm?" 

"At the wake. Hira and Melissa don't eat red meat."

He frowned. "Are you sure you want seafood there?"

"Oh hell. Good point." He frowned into his nearly empty mug. "God, the 
kids would never have forgiven me. How could I forget?"

Because you're moving on, Julian thought. Aloud he said, "Don't worry 
about it. I could get my mum's replicator recipes for hummus and 
tabouli if you like. They're both vegetarian."

"I thought your mother was from Pakistan," Miles said.

"She is," he said, "but Dad preferred Lebanese food. I suppose I could 
ask her for a vegetable samosa recipe as well."

"Mm. D'she set you up with anyone while you were there?"

He chuckled. "No. I don't know if she was afraid to after the Shirella 
incident-"

"Dedicated matchmaker like that isn't going to give up for something 
that minor," Miles pointed out.

"Perhaps," he said, "but four days and not a mention of any step-
cousins, neighbours' children, distant relatives - it actually got me a 
bit worried about her. Usually it takes her less than fifteen minutes."

"She probably had her mind on something else. Turning 65'll do that." 
He finished his peanuts. "Forgot to tell you, I spoke with Worf. I 
invited him - well, him and Martok. The two of 'em are participating in 
the treaty signing so they'll be in town. I haven't invited anyone else 
yet other than the family." He looked up at the chrono over the bar. 
"We should get going; Molly'll want to be getting to bed soon."

They paid their bill and left. "I don't remember it normally being this 
cold in March in San Francisco," Julian muttered as he thrust his fists 
into the pockets of his jacket.

"They're saying it's a La Nina year. We'll be lucky if spring arrives 
at all." He suddenly grinned. "I'll have to stock up on prune juice if 
the two of them are coming."

He deepened his voice. "Well, it is a true warrior's drink."

Miles laughed. "That's the worst impression of Worf I've ever heard. 
Listen, I was going to ask you; do you think I should ask her old 
shipmates from the Enterprise? They're hell over at the other end of 
Federation territory right now, but it'd be polite to ask."

"They were your shipmates too. Why not?"

They spent the next few blocks hashing out the details of invitations, 
menu, what liquors Miles would serve (and how much) and whether or not 
he should rent a piano.

"The problem is," Miles was saying as they crossed the old railroad 
tracks, "that if we get a piano we'll have to find somewhere to put it. 
And to be honest I'm not all that fond of piano music, traditional or 
not."

"Do you play?" Julian asked.

"Well, yeah, most musicians do. Although..." And he looked away, deep 
in thought.

"Where are we going to put Chester? Klingons are allergic to cats," 
Julian said as they turned the corner onto Schlage Lane.

"You're right." He frowned again. "We could just keep him in the 
basement and set the cleaner on high that morning."

"And hope the kids don't let him out."

"I'll have a talk with 'em." Miles opened the gate. "And I wouldn't be 
too worried about your ma if I were you."

******

"Worf. Chancellor." Miles stepped aside and let the two Klingons into 
the front hallway. "Come in."

Martok cast his gaze around the living room as if he couldn't believe 
that even humans could live in such a decadent manner. He finally 
spotted Julian. "Doctor." He thumped his shoulder in harsh affection. 
"This is a long way from Internment Camp 371, is it not?"

"It certainly is, Chancellor," he said with a fixed grin as he 
considered the likely damage to his arm.

"I'm glad both of you could make it," Miles said. "Come on in." The 
four of them joined the crowd. None of Keiko's former crewmembers from 
the Enterprise had been able to attend (with the exception of Reg 
Barclay, who was busy describing some hyperspace communication device 
he was working on to Jake Sisko and Nog), but her father and cousins 
were there, as was Miles's family and, quite unexpectedly, Kira, who 
was assisting the First Minister in negotiations with the Federation. 
Sean and Suki's daughter Patricia had obviously never seen a Klingon 
warrior in real life before; she stared at Worf and Martok as if they 
had just sprung fully-formed from the head of Zeus.

"Uncle Worf!" Molly ran up to him, but caught herself before giving him 
a hug; instead, she grasped his arm. "Thanks for coming." 

"It is an honour to be here," he replied sincerely.

Miles stepped into the centre of the room. "If I could have everybody's 
attention," he said. "Mr. Ishikawa, Chancellor, Colonel," he said, 
nodding to his father-in-law, Martok, and Kira, "everyone. Thanks for 
coming out today. It's been a year, and I just - I asked you all here 
because I wanted to say thank you, to all of you. Hito, thank you for 
your support and understanding over the past year. Chancellor Martok, 
Worf: thank you for sitting Ak'voh on the night of Keiko's wake. It 
means more to me than I can say. Nerys, thank you for your advice and 
your encouragement. Da, Aoife, Sean, Suki, Padraig, Hirako, Melissa: 
thank you for your support, your help," and with that he nodded to 
Suki, "and your love. And Julian: thank you for savin' me."

He blushed.

Miles continued. "As for the rest of you, thank you for everything 
you've done. I'd probably be gone in the head by now if it weren't for 
the lot of ye." He paused for a moment. "When Keiko passed on, we 
decided on Buddhist ceremonies since that's what most people from Japan 
choose for themselves, and Keiko hadn't left any written instructions. 
One thing I regretted was not havin' a proper Irish wake. So we're 
havin' one tonight." He gestured towards the buffet and bar set up at 
the far end of the room. "Grab a drink and a bite to eat; make 
yourselves at home. And again, thanks."

An hour and a half later, Julian found himself deep in a conversation 
with Padraig and Hirako about Keiko's botanical work on Bajor. He 
hadn't realized how proud her family had been of her accomplishments, 
especially those on war-torn planets such as Ruvaria and Bajor. Miles 
never really talked about it; then again, Miles never talked about his 
own work either.

He refilled his glass and joined Kira and Worf near the front window.

"Chief O'Brien treats his father-in-law with great respect," Worf was 
saying to Kira with evident approval. "Mr. Ishikawa was a soldier, was 
he not?"

"For a few years, I think," she replied. "I know he retired after he 
lost his hand, but I'm not sure what he does now."

"He's a kannushi," Julian said. "He leads the prayers at a Shinto 
shrine."

"I thought Keiko's funeral was at a Buddhist temple," Kira said.

"It was. Many Japanese worship at Shinto shrines and choose to have 
their funerals at Buddhist temples." He shrugged his shoulders. 
"Neither religion is strictly theistic, so apparently many Japanese 
belong to both."

She stared at him, her jaw dropping. "Earth has religions without 
gods?" 

Worf snorted faintly. "Earth has religions without worship, Colonel. I 
do not understand it myself." He turned back to Julian. "The Chief said 
that the Federation Medical Association has been less than co-operative 
since your father's death."

"They pulled my license," Julian replied. "I've hired a lawyer, but I 
haven't heard anything back from him yet. It's still early going, 
though."

"But you do intend to contest the ruling?"

"The man who stood up to Gul Dukat three times?" Kira snorted. "He's 
not going to let some gang of stylus-pushing bureaucrats walk all over 
him. And if he tries, Miles'll make him fight it."

Worf raised an eyebrow at Kira. "I did not realize..." His voice 
trailed off as he turned back to Julian. "Forgive me."

"Is Alexander still posted to the Ya'Vang?" Julian asked, puzzled by 
Worf's comment and thinking it best to change the subject.

"He is." The Klingon beamed with pride. "He participated in the final 
battle against the Breen. His blade tasted the blood of eight 
warriors."

Molly suddenly spoke up from behind Julian. "Eight Breen warriors? How 
did he do that?"

As Worf described the details of the battle to the enthralled girl, 
Julian gave Kira a conspiratorial grin as they stepped aside. "If Miles 
doesn't look out she's going to want her own bat'leth."

Kira looked back at her. "She's growing up so quickly. How is he 
handling it?"

He took a moment to study Miles, who was drawing sweeping lines in the 
air while describing something in great detail to Nog. "He's not taking 
her adolescence well, but I suppose it can't be helped. Human puberty 
can be abrupt, especially for girls." He couldn't prevent the faint 
smile that spread over his face as Miles almost accidentally hit his 
brother Sean in the back of the head.

"I'm glad he's got you here."

"I'm not that much help," he said, turning back to Kira. "I don't know 
anything about children, and especially-"

"Julian!" Yoshi whispered as he plucked at his sleeve. "I gotta go and 
somebody's in there. They've been in there for*ever*."

"Why don't you use Molly's bathroom?" he asked as he crouched down.

"She won't let me." Yoshi gave his sister a dirty look. "She says she 
doesn't want me snooping in her private things."

"I'm sure she won't mind this time. Just don't touch any of her stuff, 
all right?"

"Okay, but if I get in trouble..."

"You just leave that to me." He ruffled the boy's hair and stood up as 
he ran off.

He stood only to find Kira giving him an appraising look. "Don't know 
anything about children..." she said sardonically.

"Well, in a lot of ways I can relate to him," he said. "He's had to 
make a huge adjustment at a very early age. You know more about losing 
a parent than I do, but still." He glanced over at Molly and lowered 
his voice. "I should let her know about Kirayoshi's predicament before 
she drops a tri-cobalt bomb on him. Teenaged girls tend to have 
tempers."

She arched an eyebrow. "I'm beginning to feel lucky to be Bajoran. I 
can't imagine what my dad would have done if I'd developed a bad 
temper."

Julian pulled in his lips and nodded sagely.

"She does look five years older than she did last year," she continued. 
"No wonder he's disturbed. Does she have a boyfriend yet?"

He stared at her. "Don't even joke about that. There'd be a Miles-sized 
hole in the roof if she brought a boy home."

She laughed. "I bet you're not looking forward to that day."

"Well, I probably won't-" 

They both looked up as Miles once again moved to the centre of the room 
and began to speak, this time while carrying his cello. "I'd like to 
thank you all for coming tonight. However, as many of you know, an 
Irish wake isn't considered traditional without music. We thought about 
gettin' a piano, but-" and he gestured to the room, "we weren't sure if 
we could fit one in amongst the lot of ye."

Everyone laughed politely as Nog quickly brought him a kitchen chair.

"So I thought I'd play somethin' for you all to remind you of Keiko. 
This was one of her favourites." 

As the first notes of Sivar Hoxan's Concerto No. 3 for solo cello 
filled the room, Julian looked around at the guests. Some, such as Reg 
Barclay, seemed uncomfortable with the music (although the piece was 
very emotional, perhaps too much so for a man such as Barclay). Others, 
including Chancellor Martok, appeared to be moved almost to tears. He 
noticed that Nog had gone back into the kitchen; he suspected the tones 
of the cello didn't sound as dulcet to a Ferengi as they did to members 
of other species. 

He had heard Miles practising the piece numerous times over the past 
two weeks, but still found himself listening intently. Miles O'Brien 
really was a renaissance man, he thought: a professional-calibre 
musician, a soldier, an engineer, a teacher. Sometimes he felt in awe 
of him, and sometimes...he pushed that inappropriate thought away.

The guests applauded as the last note died away. Miles stood and nodded 
his head in acknowledgment. "We'd like to thank you all for being our 
guests tonight," he said. "It's been a joy to have you here."

Julian carefully placed the cello in its case and carried it back to 
Miles's room as the family took leave of each of the departing guests. 
By the time he returned the children had gone to their rooms and only 
Kira and Miles remained in the living room. "How much longer are you on 
Earth?" Miles was saying.

"Just until tomorrow morning. We're expected on Vulcan next. I wish I 
could spend some more time with Yoshi, but duty calls."

"Understood. Have a good trip, and say hello to the First Minister for 
us," Miles said. 

She gave him a hug. "As for you," she said as she turned to Julian, 
"don't worry so much. I'm sure everything will turn out well in the 
long run. Just you wait."

"I hope you're right," he replied without much conviction.

She shook her head as she squeezed his arm. "Of course I'm right, you 
idiot. Good night."

******

"Hand-painted lettering," Miles mused at the sign on the door. "I knew 
lawyers were old-fashioned, but this is a bit much."

"Let's hope he's as good as aunt Ruksha said he was." They entered a 
small room holding three or four chairs, a selection of padds on a 
glass table, and a late-model auto-receptionist. "Julian Bashir for Mr. 
Krunyk," he told the robot.

Two minutes later, the lawyer came out to greet them. "Dr. Bashir. 
Duncan Krunyk. It's good to finally meet in person." 

They shook hands. "Call me Julian. This is Professor Miles O'Brien of 
Starfleet Academy; I think I mentioned him."

"Any news, Mr. Krunyk?" Miles asked.

"Duncan. Please, come in." He ushered them into an office crowded with 
padds and old-fashioned paper books and indicated two trim leather 
chairs. "I'm sorry it took so long to get you some answers," he said as 
they took their seats around the well-worn oak desk. "Sometimes getting 
information out of the FMA is like pulling teeth from a hen."

"You've been able to find out what's happened, though," Julian said.

"I have. As I told you during our comm conference, the FMA didn't 
answer either of my letters, so I took the liberty of calling an old 
friend of mine who does legal work for the Association. Three days 
later I received a response from the Office of the President. Their 
official position is that because your father died before his probation 
period was over, he didn't fulfill the terms of his plea agreement, and 
therefore that agreement is null and void. I know," he said, holding up 
a hand to forestall Julian's angry reply, "and I agree, it's highly 
irregular at best, and in most circumstances they wouldn't have been 
able to get away with it even internally. Death releases all 
obligations. But in this case your father's cause of death has given 
them an out, so to speak. If Richard Bashir had died of natural causes 
they wouldn't have had a leg to stand on, but under the circumstances 
they can claim his failure was voluntary."

Miles glared at him. "You mean because his father killed himself Julian 
can't practise medicine? That's the biggest crock of..."

"As I said, it's highly irregular and I have no doubt that the 
revocation would be quashed in a court of law. However..." He sighed 
and looked somewhere to Julian's right.

"I'm not going to like this, am I?" Julian asked.

He turned his gaze back to Julian. "You'll notice earlier that I said 
'official' position. After I received the letter, I spoke with my 
friend. He told me sub rosa that the FMA's unofficial position, and 
this is one held by the majority of the Board, is that they will do 
whatever they can to prevent you from practising medicine in the 
Federation for the foreseeable future, and preferably for the rest of 
your life."

"I--" Julian sat stock still, his mouth working but nothing coming out.

"What the FUCK!" Miles shouted. "I mean - excuse my language, I 
shouldn't have, but..."

"No need; I've heard worse in this room, and usually for far less 
reason." The lawyer's eyes suddenly narrowed. "Dr. Bashir, are you all 
right?"

"I - I had no idea..." he choked out. He felt as if he couldn't 
breathe, as if the life had been sucked out from him.

He heard Miles say, "D'you have a replicator around here?" 

"In the reception area."

Thirty seconds later Miles was pressing a glass of water into Julian's 
hands. "Here. I couldn't get anything stronger out of it."

He took a sip, swallowed, and told himself to breathe. "Thank you."

"What I want to know is why," Miles said.

"It's partly jurisdictional pride, I'd have to say, and partly concern 
about this becoming a precedent." Krunyk steepled his hands. "The FMA 
feels that Starfleet's Judge Advocate General overstepped its 
boundaries in presenting the plea agreement to Richard Bashir. They 
deeply resented Starfleet imposing conditions on what they see as their 
sole prerogative - the licensing of physicians. What's more, they're 
concerned that the precedent of Dr. Bashir successfully practising 
medicine sends out the wrong signal to parents contemplating illegal 
genetic enhancements to their children."

"Even though there's an Institute full of us 'freaks' out there to show 
the real story?"

"Julian..."

Krunyk shook his head. "The Institute contains fewer than 100 patients. 
Do you really think that such an advanced medical facility as the 
Kadwarti Foundation for Genetic Research and Innovation could exist 
with such a small clientele?"

Julian blinked. "I didn't think of that."

"Being on the front lines for almost ten years, you probably had more 
important things to consider."

"So what you're saying," Miles interjected, "is that they're worried 
that if Julian does good other parents'll want to take their kids to 
Adigeon Prime or some such place."

He nodded. "Basically. The FMA couldn't act until now because until Mr. 
Bashir died by his own hand they had no justification for their 
actions, and until Dr. Bashir resigned from Starfleet - well, let's 
just say that the relations between the FMA and Starfleet Medical are 
touchy at best."

"They didn't want to rock the boat with Medical," Julian said, "so they 
waited until I resigned." He grimaced. "So what can I do?"

"As I said," Krunyk began, "we can take them to court, and we'll likely 
win, but they'll appeal, and likely at every level. And even if we do 
end up winning at the Federation Supreme Court, you may and very likely 
will find yourself blacklisted. You could go into private practise, but 
you would not receive referrals. Even now I doubt you could find a job 
as a technician in the medical field on Earth."

Miles swore under his breath.

"Yes, Professor O'Brien, I agree, but that is the Board's position, and 
Dr. Bashir needs to know the full extent of their intentions." He 
turned back to Julian. "I'm certain you'd like to take some time to 
consider your options."

Julian stared out the tiny window behind the desk. "I, um...yes, that's 
a good idea. How long do I have?"

Krunyk flipped through Julian's file. "The decision was handed down on 
December 11th of last year. The statute of limitations runs out on," 
and he consulted the calendar on his desk, "December 10th of this year, 
since the 11th is a Saturday. It'll take a month or so to prepare the 
necessary petition and supporting documentation and file it, so no 
later than November 10th? That gives you just over seven months."

"I won't likely need that long, but thank you." He rose from his seat. 
"And thank you for all you've done."

"Dr. Bashir," he said as he walked them out to the reception area, "I 
know the FMA hasn't been at all grateful for your service in the war, 
but I want you to know that I am." He held out his hand to them. "You 
as well, Professor O'Brien. If this is the way the Federation treats 
its heroes, it doesn't give me much confidence in the future. I hope 
I'm wrong."

They both thanked him again and left the office.

On the way back to Miles's house Krunyk's words kept going over and 
over through his mind. He wanted to pinch himself, to wake up and find 
himself -

Where? Stuck back on Deep Space Nine with little to no chance of a 
promotion or reassignment, three hundred standard physicals a year, 
aliens stopping by just to drop dead on him, and a girlfriend who was 
cheating on him with his former boyfriend? He snorted faintly. He was 
happier with Miles and his family than he had ever been on-

Miles's voice interrupted his thoughts. "You are going to fight this, 
aren't you?" 

Julian watched a sailboat tack into the wind below them. "Damned right 
I am. I'm just not sure - I'm just so bloody oblivious," he said, 
turning to Miles. "I honestly thought it was all behind me."

"The enhancements?"

"The furore over them. I had no idea anybody outside Starfleet knew, 
other than my family and friends." He sighed. "What am I going to tell 
my mother?"

"The truth." The aircar veered as Miles took them around the financial 
district. "How's she doing anyway?"

"Good. She signed the lease on that flat I was telling you about."

"The one in Cape Town or the one in Vancouver?"

"The one in Cape Town. There's an entire generation of Khadrys in South 
Africa that she hasn't found spouses for yet."

"She's still bugging you about that?" he asked.

"No, but I'm expecting a new suggestion any day now. She doesn't seem 
to understand that I don't especially want to marry, not a human."

Miles's face fell. "Why not?"

"The enhancements, as usual," he said as he propped a foot up on the 
side rail. "My germ cells weren't enhanced, and there's a good 
possibility that my disability was hereditary. The relationships 
between various neuroaffective alleles aren't yet fully understood. I'm 
not prepared to take the chance of fathering a child..."

"Who'll be the way you were." Miles guided the aircar into his driveway 
and turned to Julian. "You know, you could marry someone who already 
has kids."

He rolled his eyes and snorted. "I can hear myself now at the singles 
bar: How do you do, I'm Julian Bashir, decertified physician, genetic 
freak, dumped for a Card-"

Miles frowned at him. "Shut up, Julian."

"Yes, Professor," he said with a roll of his eyes as he exited the 
aircar. 

******

Part 5 of 7. Disclaimer in Part 1.

He came in from another fruitless day of job hunting to find Miles 
fretting in the kitchen. He pulled one of the chairs around and sat on 
it backwards, resting his arms on the chair back.

"So how'd today go?" Miles asked as he dropped an unfamiliar-looking 
padd on the table and sat across from him.

He pulled a face. "Krunyk was right. They wouldn't even take my c.v. at 
SFGH. Apparently the head of the FMA board is one of the administrators 
for the local hospital district, and I was told rather bluntly that I 
was not wanted on the premises. Other than as a patient, I suppose; I 
doubt they'd want to break the Hippocratic Oath, even for a mutant."

"Julian..."

"I know," he said, waving a hand. "I'm just being morose. By the way, I 
got a letter from Krunyk. He's decided to take me on pro bono."

Miles's brows lifted. "For free?" he asked. "Didn't he say it could 
take half a dozen trials?"

"He did. Apparently he talked it over with his wife - she owns the 
practice - and they decided they couldn't charge one of the 'heroes of 
the Dominion War' for righting an injustice done to him." He smiled 
ruefully. "She's Betazoid, so maybe that's why; I don't know. I just - 
I didn't ask for any special consideration. I have the money; after 
all, I hardly touched my pay for almost four years, and with all the 
overtime, hazard pay, injury compensation...well, you know yourself."

"I do, but don't look a gift horse in the mouth," Miles said, his 
fingers running over the padd. "And don't start up about 'paying your 
own way' here again, either. You keep forgettin' energy's free on 
Earth. You don't cost me a credit. I pay the same property taxes 
whether you're here or not."

Julian frowned at him. "I still can't help but think I'm taking 
advantage of you and the kids-"

"Taking advantage," Miles snorted and shook his head. "You..." His gaze 
went down to the padd again.

"What?"

He picked up the padd and handed it to Julian. "You tell me."

He looked down at the title page displayed on the padd, then lifted his 
eyes, unable to prevent the corners of his mouth from quirking up. "'My 
Savage Lord Rogue'? Miles..."

He gestured at the padd again, his face as red as the living room sofa. 
"Keep reading."

As Julian scrolled through the novel and scanned a few selected 
passages, he found himself surprised by the quality of both the writing 
and the artwork interspersed throughout the story. "It seems pretty 
tame for a romance novel," he said, "at least if the first few pages 
are any indication. And it's well-written. Not to say that I'm a fan of 
the genre..."

"You've read 'em before?"

"Pelise's mother was an editor at one of the romance presses in Lyon. 
She had me read a few novels. Some of them were quite good; I was 
surprised." He looked up at his discomfited friend. "Why am I reading 
this, by the way?"

Miles sighed, then ran his fingers through his greying hair. "There was 
a crash in Molly's room. I went in there; Chester had knocked some 
things off her dresser," and he nodded at the padd. "That was one of 
'em. Her new reader."

Julian swallowed the laugh that was threatening to bubble up. Miles 
could be so ador- He shooed away that thought, covering his mouth with 
a fist as he considered the problem. "Didn't your parents ever find any 
of your, um, reading material when you were a teenager?" he finally 
said.

"Well, I..." He turned even redder than before as he shifted 
uncomfortably in his chair. "That was different." 

"In what way?"

"Well, it wasn't full of all that - it's so bloody unrealistic. For one 
thing, they didn't have kilts in medieval times, and," and he waved a 
hand, "a pirate in a kilt? On a horse? What kind of rubbish is that?"

"I don't know," Julian replied, feeling completely out of his depth. 
"You didn't read fantasy or historical fiction when you were younger?"

"Not with pictures like that." He scowled at the padd.

"Those pictures are a lot tamer than anything you or I looked at when 
we were Molly's age."

"Yeah, but..." 

Julian picked up the reader again and scrolled through to the end of 
the story. "This *is* rated suitable for teens." He looked up again at 
Miles. "Are you sure you're not really upset because Molly's growing 
up?"

He shifted in his seat again. "She's going to want to start talking 
about feelings soon. And then she's going to want to paint her bedroom 
pink. With unicorns." He harrumphed. "And then she'll complain that 
yellow doesn't go with pink, so that tile I just had installed - at 
some expense, I'll remind you-"

"I remember," Julian said, biting his lower lip. He had hit the nail 
right on the head.

"-will have to come down, and if I don't, God in heaven she'll - cry or 
something." Miles glared at him. "Don't just sit there smirking, man: 
you're a registered counsellor. You tell me what I'm supposed to do."

"Miles Edward O'Brien, if there is one person in this city who knows 
less about teenaged girls than you do, it's me," he said. "I was only 
trained to counsel adults. But if I were you, I'd reset the thing and 
put it back where you found it on the floor."

"What? Why would I do that?"

Julian rolled his eyes. "Because if you confront her about this, she'll 
assume you were snooping and she'll stop trusting you. That's what I 
did when my father chewed me out over a Marinder Gupta book I'd 
borrowed. If you reset the padd and put it back, she'll assume it reset 
itself when it fell. If she asks, you can tell her you thought Chester 
had been in there and she'll never suspect a thing." He handed the padd 
to Miles, who had risen from his chair. "This isn't exactly explicit 
pornography. If you're worried about it, talk to Yoshi's counsellor. 
I'm sure he'd be happy to help." 

"You're right." He stared at the reader, shook his head, and carried it 
down the hallway to Molly's room. "Your da didn't let you read Marinder 
Gupta?" he asked as he returned to the kitchen. "I'd let Yoshi read his 
stuff. Hell, I'd encourage it."

"He didn't like me reading anything that hadn't been assigned by my 
teachers," he explained. "Which meant that the most innocuous science 
fiction was off limits, but 'Forever Amber' was fine."

"No offence, but sometimes I wonder what your ma saw in him. Guess we 
don't choose who we fall in love with." He frowned. "'Forever Amber'? 
What's that?"

He chuckled. "You'd have steam coming out of your ears if Molly had 
downloaded that. I think we counted seven abortions, fifteen births - 
all illegitimate - and at least a hundred 'indiscretions.'" He looked 
up at the chrono. "But if I'm not mistaken we have the squash court 
booked in thirty minutes, so 'Forever Amber' will have to wait. And no 
offence taken; sometimes I wonder the same thing."

They went to get their bags.

Later that evening after dinner he went out to the back porch and took 
a seat on the bench Miles's brother had dropped off a few weeks 
earlier. As he listened to the rain beat against the overhang, he 
thought about what Miles had said earlier that day. 'I guess we don't 
choose who we fall in love with.'

"How right you are, my friend," he muttered.

Thirteen months ago Julian was all but engaged to a beautiful young 
woman, held an exciting position practising medicine in one of the most 
action-filled sectors in the galaxy, and was known to millions as the 
Saint of the Orphanages and the brilliant researcher who had conquered 
Cardassian prionic encephalitis. Today he took up space in Miles's 
spare room and spent his afternoons playing on a jungle gym with a 
four-year-old. He should be shattered.

He had never been happier.

The truth of the matter was that for the first time in his life, he 
felt like a member of a close, loving family. Too bad, he reflected, 
that it was all a sham. He wasn't a member of Miles's family no matter 
how much he loved them, no matter how much- 

He turned his thoughts away from their dangerous destination. His 
friend was still grieving. He still considered himself a married man. 
It just wasn't right, to echo Miles's words after Keiko's death.

Good job, Jules, he scolded himself. You decided to fall in love with 
your best friend while you were on the rebound despite the fact that 
you are the last thing he needs. He snorted under his breath; the 
doctors at Adigeon Prime might have enhanced his neural pathways, but 
he couldn't blame them for enhancing his own stupidity. That was 
innate.

Miles was right: people didn't choose who they fell in love with, but 
they certainly could choose to keep it to themselves. It was really the 
best course of action under the circumstances.

******

He re-read what he had written, frowned to himself, and erased the last 
paragraph.

Usually he was out looking for work by this time of the morning; for 
the past week, though, he had spent his mornings at home completing the 
documentation required to file the petition. Krunyk had sent him a list 
of over 300 questions, and most required long, involved answers.

He brought up the next section, Employment History, and read the first 
question:

*Describe your most important act as a Starfleet physician, and explain 
why you consider it important.*

He knew he couldn't write about the cure he had devised for the 
morphogenic virus; that was almost certainly highly classified. So, for 
that matter, was almost everything he had done for Starfleet. Maybe the 
Blight...no, he decided; killing Sloan might actually have been his 
most important act. Then again, if it hadn't been for Miles, he likely 
would have died too. He owed that man so much...

He put the work history questions away until he could talk to someone 
at FleetMed or JAG and went on to the next section, Consequences of The 
Decision. 

*Describe your feelings when you learned the Federation Medical 
Association had revoked your license.*

Now *that* he could answer. 

**Anger, betrayal.** he typed. **Rage at the realisation that the FMA 
had used my father's suicide and broken my mother's heart simply to 
make a political point. Astonishment at their cruelty. I wanted to wipe 
the floor with their smug, self-satisfied fac-**

He stopped, then erased the last sentence. No need to descend into 
invective, he told himself.

The door suddenly chimed; he rose from his seat, wondering if Yoshi had 
been sent home early or-

A young pigtailed woman in a brown uniform stood on the front stoop; 
behind her, a tall, similarly-dressed man was removing a number of 
large, flat boxes from a white paneled van. "Is this the residence of 
Miles O'Brien?" she asked.

"Yes, he lives here," he said, scooping up Chester as he tried to make 
an escape. 

"We've got his delivery. Where would you like us to put it?" 

"What is it?" he asked. "He didn't tell me he had bought anything."
 
She studied the padd in her hand. "Chest of drawers... mattress... 
headboard... looks like bedroom things."

"Put them just in here, near the side window," he said after a moment's 
thought. "I don't know whose bedroom they're going into." He wondered 
which one of the kids was getting the upgrade.

He only just remembered not to tip as they transferred the boxes into 
the living room and left. You spent too much time on Bajor, he thought 
to himself, as he closed the door and let Chester go before returning 
to the terminal and his answers.

Three-quarters of an hour later, he stood, stretched, and walked to the 
kitchen. Yoshi would be home from kindergarten soon, and he should get 
lunch ready -

Good grief, he thought as he stopped stock still in front of the stasis 
unit: he was getting entirely too domestic. Time to get off his skinny 
arse and find a job, even if it wasn't in the medical field.

Julian pulled out a bunch of grapes from the unit, placed them in the 
bowl in the centre of the table, and replicated half a turkey and 
tomato sandwich and a small glass of milk. He was standing in front of 
the replicator trying to decide what he wanted himself when he heard 
the school transport pull up. 

"Hi, Uncle Julian!" Yoshi yelled as he burst through the front door and 
barrelled into the kitchen. "We went to the pool today!"

"You did?" he asked, kneeling down as Yoshi gave him a hug. "Did you 
have a good time?" 

He nodded. "I wanted to go on the diving board, but Mrs. Nguyen 
wouldn't let me. But I got to swim! I swimmed better than Shomari!"

"I bet you could. Now go wash your hands, lunch is ready."

Yoshi ran off to the bathroom; Julian turned back to the replicator and 
ordered himself spinach salad and tomato soup. A few minutes later they 
were both sitting at the table.

"...and he splashed water all over T'Para. She was mad." Yoshi popped 
the last grape into his mouth. "What are those boxes?" he asked after 
he finished his milk.

"I'm not sure," he said. "You'll have to ask your dad. But first it's 
time for your nap."

He frowned up at Julian even as his eyes began to close of their own 
volition. "Aw..."

"Kirayoshi..." 

"All right." He took off down the hallway; Julian recycled the plates 
and wiped off the table before returning to the terminal and reading 
the next question.

**How has this ruling affected your personal life?**

He thought for a moment, then began to type. **I've been forced to move 
in with a friend on a long-term basis instead of establishing my own 
residence. Although this is not a significant hardship,**

What was he supposed to write next? he asked himself. 'It's bollixed up 
my relationship with my best friend because I've fallen head over heels 
for him'? He doubted any court would be moved by that heartfelt plea.

**it has created difficulties,** he typed, **especially with respect to 
being able to apply for jobs outside the Greater San Francisco area. 
This has reduced my ability to find employment suitable to my age, 
experience, and education.**

**Has any other member of your family experienced difficulties due to 
the ruling?**

**The loss of my medical license was especially devastating to my 
mother,** he answered, **who is to this day very upset over the ruling. 
Although it appears that the FMA believes my parents did nothing to 
help me other than arranging for the genetic enhancement, the truth is 
that my mother-**

He looked up as the door chime rang again. What was it this time, he 
grumbled to himself as he opened the door. "Yes?"

A young uniformed Bajoran man carrying a thick satchel over one 
shoulder stood nervously on the stoop. "Is this the residence of Dr. 
Julian Bashir?" he asked.

"I'm Julian Bashir. How may I help you?"

He held out a padd. "Please sign for a delivery from the Bajoran 
Embassy."

Julian frowned as he pressed his thumb to the padd. "Do you know what 
it is?"

"No, sir. It came in the diplomatic pouch this morning." He 
unshouldered the satchel and handed it to Julian.

"Thank you. And say hello to Ambassador Mar for me."

"Yes, sir; I will. Good day."

He carried the bag into the living room and placed it on the coffee 
table. Probably something for the kids from Kira, he mused as he sat 
back down at the terminal; but why would she send it in the diplomatic 
pouch? And why to him? He looked back at the bag, frowned, and got up 
again. 

The satchel contained four book-size parcels and a paper envelope. 
Before opening the parcels, he unsealed the envelope and pulled out a 
letter printed on Bajoran paper letterhead.

"Dear Dr. Bashir," the letter read,

"Colonel Kira has advised me of the difficulties you are 
experiencing with the Federation Medical Association. It seems 
criminal to me that a man who has saved so many Bajoran lives 
and who has expended so much effort on behalf of the least 
fortunate citizens of our planet should be treated in such a 
cavalier manner by his own people. We on Bajor do not care 
about the legal niceties of genetic enhancements or therapies: 
we care about an individual's actions and intentions, and 
yours have been above reproach.

I have therefore requested that the Bajoran Doctors' Union 
register you as a member in good standing effective 
immediately, and they have done so with the greatest pleasure. 
Enclosed with this letter you will find a certificate from the 
BDU to that effect as well as copies of the Union's rules and 
regulations. The president of the BDU, Dr. Magaran Atini, 
advises me that its physicians are permitted to practice 
medicine in the Federation pursuant to the terms of a 
reciprocity agreement signed three Bajoran years ago. Although 
I know this will not completely resolve your problems with the 
FMA, I hope this is of some use to you. 

In addition, I have been advised by Ambassador Mar that there 
is currently no physician attached to the Embassy staff. As 
you can imagine, this has created some difficulties, 
especially since there are no physicians on Earth (other than 
yourself) with experience in Bajoran obstetrics, paediatrics, 
emergency medicine, and neurology. The ambassador has 
therefore asked me to extend the offer of a part-time position 
at the Embassy. If you accept, you would be in charge of all 
areas of medical care for embassy personnel and their 
families. Please contact Ambassador Mar for further details or 
to accept or decline the position.

Dr. Bashir, I thank you for your service on behalf of Bajor 
and the Bajoran people.

SHAKAAR EDON"

Julian stared at the letter for five full minutes before he had the 
strength to stand up. He finally went to the comm panel and contacted 
the Embassy.

Thirty minutes later, after speaking with Ambassador Mar and his charge 
d'affaires, he returned to the living room and sent a short text 
message to his lawyer. Although Shakaar had written that there was a 
reciprocity agreement in place, he wanted to make sure that if he took 
the position he'd be within the letter of the law.

He was still sitting in front of the terminal when Miles came home. 

"You're home early," he said hollowly.

"Afternoon classes were cancelled - there's a power outage. I took off 
before they could rope me in to fix it." 

"Yoshi's off taking a nap," he said. "I've just-"

Miles perched on the arm of the sofa. "What's up?"

"I received a diplomatic package from Bajor this afternoon. Kira told 
Shakaar about my fight with the FMA." He looked up at Miles. "The 
Bajoran Doctors' Union has just granted me a medical license."

Miles's mouth dropped open. "They...God in heaven. Does this mean-"

"I don't know," he replied, unable to keep the emotion out of his 
voice. "The ambassador offered me a part-time job working at the 
Embassy, but I don't know if I can legally take it. I messaged Krunyk 
about it about 15 minutes ago. It's just-" The terminal dinged; he 
opened the message. "It's from Krunyk. 'Pursuant to your message of 
this afternoon, I can confirm that the FMA has no power to prevent any 
physician licensed pursuant to the laws of a foreign government from 
practicing medicine on that government's soil. In other words, you are 
now able to practise medicine on Bajoran soil, including on embassy 
property. Moreover, as admitting privileges at SGH and Children's-'"

"Admitting privileges?"

He nodded as he continued. "-attach in this case to the position and 
not the individual holding the position, and since these privileges are 
automatically extended to all physicians employed by embassies, you 
will be able to admit patients under your care. However-" The words 
suddenly blurred.

"You all right?" Miles asked as Julian rushed out of the living room.

"I - I'll be back." He ran down the hallway and closed the bathroom 
door behind him.

As he leaned against the sink and attempted to compose himself, he 
reminded himself that this was only one battle in a very long war. It 
could be years before he was able to fully practice medicine on Earth; 
until then, though, he would take every win he could.

He forced himself to calm down and left the bathroom. As he entered the 
hallway he looked up, saw Miles at the kitchen end, and opened his 
mouth to say something.

But something in Miles's eyes held him mute. Compassion, understanding, 
or something else - he didn't know, but he did know that at that moment 
Miles truly saw him: not the Julian Bashir out for public display, but 
the man underneath all the layers of early subterfuge and recent 
scarring. Those eyes cut through and laid him bare.

Julian burst into tears. 

All the repressed anger and frustration, the terror he had felt every 
day in his belly that he would never practise medicine again, the 
impotent rage he had felt at what the ruling had done to his mother and 
even to Miles and his family all came out. "They'll let me...I can..." 
he managed to get out.

Miles pulled him into his arms, let him cry into his shoulder. "It's 
all right, shhh, it's all right."

He finally drew away, sniffling as he wiped his face. "I'm sorry. I 
don't know what got into me. I hate doing that." 

Miles let him go but left his hands on Julian's upper arms. "We all do. 
Listen, why don't we go out for dinner tonight. Just the two-"

"Da!" 

"Yoshi!" Miles rolled his eyes before turning to his son. "I thought 
you were sleeping."

"I heard Uncle Julian crying. Is he okay?"

Julian smiled at him. "I just received some good news. Sometimes people 
cry when they get good news."

"Why?"

"Well, because they do." He went into the living room, trying to 
control himself again. Why did Miles have to put his arms around him?

Behind him, he heard Miles tell his son, "Why don't you go play with 
your holoset for a while? I want to talk to Uncle Julian in private." 

"Are we going for supper? I heard you tell Uncle Julian we were going."

"Later on, at suppertime. It's only 3:30. Now go." He followed Julian 
into the living room. "What is it?" he asked in a low voice after 
Yoshi's door shut.

"Nothing, just in a bit of shock still, I suppose," he lied. "By the 
way, you had a delivery today. I wasn't sure if it was for Yoshi's 
birthday or not. He's seen the boxes, but if we get them downstairs 
he'll probably forget about them."

"Oh." He looked over at the crates. "Actually, they're for me. I, 
uh...you know how you update one thing in your house and suddenly 
everything else looks ratty?"

"So you decided to redecorate your bedroom?"

"Yeah. Well, not redecorate as much as get rid of the old furniture. 
It's not my style, and I don't feel comfortable with it any more. I'm 
going to take it over to Hira's - it was their grandmother's stuff and, 
well...it's not really my taste, if you know what I mean."

"I do," he said, nodding in agreement. "So where are we going tonight?"

"Don't know. Maybe that vegetarian place over on Geneva Avenue?" He 
looked back at Yoshi's door with a scowl. "I had something to say to 
you - I'd hoped we could have-"

The front door swung open. "Hi Dad hi Julian what's in the boxes back 
in a minute!" Molly ran through the living room in record time, heading 
for her bedroom.

"A hair must have been out of place," Julian snickered as a door 
slammed down the hallway.

"I should let 'er know we're going out." He grinned. "Y'know, I don't 
know any female, Human or otherwise, who spends more time on her 
appearance than that girl does."

As Miles left the living room to speak with Molly, Julian dropped onto 
the love seat and wrapped his arms around himself, running his hands 
over where Miles had held him.

You pathetic bastard, he told himself.

******

He was stretched out on the sofa, his head deep in the latest 
obstetrics text from Bajor, when he heard a thunk behind the love seat.

"Keep it down," he grumbled. "Some of us are trying to work." 

Feeling faintly silly for having chewed out a cat, he returned to his 
book. About ten minutes later he felt something wet brush the top of 
his foot. He looked down.

"YAAAAAAAUGH!" 

He jumped to his feet, shaking his right leg furiously in an attempt to 
dislodge the twitching, dying mouse Chester had just presented him 
with. You bastard, he thought, glaring at the animal, who looked almost 
as proud as Dukat and just about as self-satisfied as a Vorta.

"What's that all about?" Miles called from the other room.

"Nothing," he said as he walked into the kitchen. "Just make sure Yoshi 
stays out of the living room until I have a chance to clean everything 
up. Chester just killed a mouse." 

"He's out back. I'll intercept 'em if he comes in." He peered out from 
under the sink, where he was repairing the hot water dispenser. 
"Dropped it in your lap?"

"On my foot." He went to the bathroom and rinsed off his lower leg in 
the shower before returning to the living room with an old towel. "You 
are a very naughty kitty," he said to Chester as he gathered up the 
body and took it to the replicator.

But of course the replicator wasn't working. "Damn piece of..." he 
muttered, before he saw the cloth twitch. Rolling his eyes, he removed 
the towel and looked into it.

"What's wrong?"

"It's not dead yet. The replicator won't take it." 

"Better put it out of its misery, then," Miles said as he pulled 
himself to his feet. "Poor thing's probably in pain."

"I know." He hated the idea, but it was better than letting it suffer, 
and definitely better than putting Yoshi through the wringer again. He 
gently reached into the towel, grasped the mouse's neck, and pressed 
firmly until he felt the bones give, then placed the towel back in the 
replicator. It disappeared immediately. "I feel like a murderer," he 
said, faintly disgusted with himself. "Your cat's-"

"My cat is a cat and that's what cats do. And *that*," he said, 
pointing at the replicator with a tool, "is what par- what adults do. 
Sometimes you have to protect them from-"

The back door swung open. "Dad, can I have a - Uncle Julian, why's your 
pant leg rolled up?"

He looked at Miles, who shrugged; he then turned back to Yoshi. 
"Chester killed a mouse and put it on my foot when I was reading." The 
two men tensed; Julian wondered if the boy would break down in tears 
again.

"Cool!" Yoshi cried. "Did he eat it? Was it really gross, with lots of 
blood and-"

"That's quite enough, young man," Miles said. "Now go get changed. And 
tell your sister we're leaving in 15 minutes." As the boy ran away to 
his room, Miles gave Julian an impish grin. "And sometimes you just 
take all the fun away."

Julian laughed. "Apparently." He wandered off to the bathroom and 
washed his hands, then grabbed another towel and wiped his foot off 
again with a shudder. He swore he could still feel the mouse laying 
there wriggling.

He returned to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water. "When 
do you think you'll be home?"

"2130, 2200 probably. Sure you don't want to tag along? Suki said 
you're welcome. She likes *you*."

"I really do have to look over that book tonight," he said over his 
shoulder as he went back into the living room. "The first round of 
physicals starts tomorrow morning, and three of the embassy personnel- 
oh damn." He knelt and picked up his broken padd. 

"Mrrrr?"

He turned and gave Chester an icy stare. "This is all your fault, you 
know. Damn thing must have gone flying when you..." He got up and 
pulled out another padd from the desk drawer, dumping the old one in 
the recycling bin. "Computer, transfer 'Ambulatory Bajoran Obstetrics: 
Principles and Practice' to padd 35-G."

//Transferring.//

He sat down on Miles's office chair and waited. 

//Transfer complete.//

Now to figure out where he had been when he was so rudely interrupted, 
he grouched to himself as he took the padd and his glass of water back 
to the sofa. Miles and the children said goodbye; he waved at them 
behind his back and soon was engrossed in the text. 

Two hours later, he was re-reading the section on placenta previa when 
the comm panel dinged. He groaned, pushed Chester off his lap, and 
stretched before walking to the panel. Probably his mother again, 
asking-

It was Miles.

"Julian? Hold on, I'm going to beam you..."

"What?" he said, as the hallway dematerialized and a small civilian 
transporter room took its place. "What the hell's this all about?"

"Yoshi's been injured. He's in surgery," Miles called over his shoulder 
as he rushed out of the room. Julian followed him through the corridor 
to a waiting area. "Suki's talking to the doctors."

"What hospital are we at?" he asked, still a little befuddled.

"Children's," Miles said as he turned to face Julian. "He sneaked away 
from us after dinner and - well, you know those trees at the back of 
Sean's property?"

"He didn't." He fought to control the black lump of terror forming in 
his belly. "Was he conscious when you got to him?"

Miles ran his hand over the back of a chair. "Yes. Landed on his arse, 
thank God, but..."

"That's a very good sign. How high up was he?"

"About six or seven metres, I think. I don't know. He was only out of 
the kitchen for a few minutes. I just - I should have been paying 
attention." He squeezed his eyes shut. "I could've lost him."

"But you didn't," he pointed out. "And you can't watch a child every 
second of the day; he's been told a hundred times not to climb trees."

"Stubborn little..." He sighed. "Suppose I can't blame him for that. 
He's an O'Brien; he comes by it naturally."

Julian smiled; just then Suki came into the waiting room. "Have you 
heard anything?" he asked her.

"They've just taken him to Recovery," she replied. "He had fractures to 
the sacrum, the body of the right ischium, and the neck of the right 
femur. They've repaired the fractures and the nerve damage. However..."

Both men looked up. "What is it?" Miles asked.

She looked carefully at Julian when she spoke. "While he was in the OR, 
they performed a full microvascular scan."

Julian nodded to cover the concern he felt at the look in Suki's eyes 
and the tone in her voice. "That's standard procedure for a fall from a 
height," he said to Miles, keeping his voice even. "Do you want me to 
talk to the surgeon? I'm sure-"

Almost immediately the door opened and a tall dark-haired woman 
entered. "Professor O'Brien?" she asked.

"I'm Miles O'Brien."

"Katharine Ferris. I'm a vascular surgeon at Children's; Dr. Hamish, 
the surgeon who repaired Kirayoshi's fractures, asked me to speak to 
you. May I take a seat?"

Julian's stomach clenched again. Surgeons didn't normally ask to sit 
unless they wanted the parent to be seated for some reason.

"Of course," Miles replied, gesturing towards him. "Julian Bashir. He's 
the head doctor at the Bajoran Embassy. And this is Suki O'Brien, my 
sister-in-law. Head nurse at the Academy Hospital." They all shook 
hands and took seats around the low coffee table.

"I've met Mrs. O'Brien. Dr. Bashir." She turned back to Miles. 
"Kirayoshi is resting comfortably; you'll be able to see him soon. 
However, I wanted to discuss with you the results of a scan we 
performed while he was in the operating room."

"Suki said. A microvascular scan?"

"Yes," Ferris replied. "We conducted a full body scan - it's standard 
procedure in any kind of traumatic injury. In this case, however, the 
scan identified a serious pre-existing condition. The medical term for 
it is paediatric focal arterial dystonia."

Julian stiffened in his chair. Arterial dystonia...why hadn't he picked 
it up in any of his scans? If something happened to Yoshi because of 
his neglect...

"What is that?" Miles asked.

"It means that we've found areas of weakness in the muscular walls of 
your son's cranial arteries. In time, those areas could balloon out 
into what are known as berry aneurysms if not properly treated. None of 
these areas is showing any aneurysm development yet, but the potential 
is there."

Miles pressed his lips together, glanced briefly at Julian, then turned 
his gaze back to the surgeon. "Is there anything we can do?" he asked, 
his voice hollow. Julian put a hand on his shoulder in sympathy.

"Absolutely, but the indicated treatment depends on the cause. PFAD can 
be the result of a genetic defect, either as an inherited trait or a de 
novo mutation. There's also a possibility that it developed due to 
conditions in utero. We'll need to take genetic samples from him and 
also from the two of you." Her gaze wavered between Miles and Julian.

Julian frowned. "The two of..."

"Actually," Miles cut in, "Yoshi is my son with my late wife. Julian 
isn't a blood relative."

Julian removed his hand from Miles's shoulder. His friend didn't need 
to be embarrassed by his lack of control on top of everything else.

"Did your wife die from a vascular problem?" Dr. Ferris asked.

"No; she, um, died of an allergic reaction." He frowned at her.

"Oh. Okay." She consulted the padd in her hand.

Julian and Suki's eyes met for a fraction of a second. Some bedside 
manner this surgeon has, he thought.

She looked up. "I'd still like to screen your DNA. If it is an 
inherited condition, it's likely to be a recessive trait, and if that's 
so the indicated treatment is to replace one copy of the defective gene 
in each cell with a normal copy. We can use one of yours."

Julian pursed his lips. "You mean gene therapy?" 

She nodded. "I know it's controversial, but if this is caused by a 
defective gene, therapy is the best choice." She turned to Miles. "I 
can assure you it won't change him into a monster or a freak."

They all glared at her. "I should hope not," Miles said.

"Forgive me," she said. "It's just that many parents confuse gene 
therapy with genetic enhancement treatment. This is completely 
unrelated, so you have nothing to worry about."

Julian quickly changed the topic, ignoring Miles's darkening face. 
"Could this be related to the fact that he was carried by a Bajoran 
surrogate?" he asked.

She stopped, her brow wrinkling. "To be honest I'm not sufficiently 
familiar with Bajoran physiology to know whether that's a risk factor 
or not. If it is a consequence of the foetal environment, treatment 
will be somewhat more complicated since gene therapy won't correct the 
problem. We'd have to regenerate the arteries one by one."

"There's one thing I still don't understand," Suki said. "Yoshi has 
received numerous scans in his lifetime. Should this not have shown up 
earlier?"

"Not necessarily," she explained. "The new generation of vascular 
imagers can detect much smaller variances in arterial wall thickness 
and tone than the older models could. And of course our radiologists 
are more experienced with matters like this than your average Starfleet 
surgeon."

Miles suddenly stood. "Thank you, doctor. We'll take your 
recommendations under consideration."

She looked at him, puzzled. "Well, we should perform the DNA screen as 
soon as possible. Are you..."

"Thank you," he repeated. And stared at her.

"All right," she finally said. "Advise me when you want to begin the 
testing procedures." She stood, offered her hand to Miles (who 
pointedly ignored it) and left.

It was Suki who spoke first once the door closed. "Bitch."

"I do not want that woman touching my child," Miles said, his face a 
granite slab. 

An incredulous Julian stared at him, shocked. "Come on, let's not worry 
about that. Yoshi's our priority now. If she's the best hope for a 
positive outcome, we use her. It doesn't mean we have to like her."

Miles shook his head. "I do not want that woman touching my child. 
We'll find someone else; there must be a hundred vascular surgeons in 
this city." He turned to Julian. "You've got admitting privileges at 
Children's now. Couldn't you treat him?"

"I don't have the right to treat non-Bajorans yet; not even ones whose 
surrogate mothers were Bajoran. I'd be happy to speak to the admitting 
physician, but he needs to be under the care of-"

A nurse popped his head through the door, a comforting smile on her 
face. "Mr. O'Brien? Your son is awake. He's asking for you."

"Thank you." He rose and followed the nurse to a room on the 13th 
floor, Julian and Suki in tow.

Yoshi tried to raise his head from the pillow but was too weak. 
"Daddy..."

Miles bent over his son. "Hey, Yoyo. How're you feeling?"

"Really tired," he said. A tear suddenly streaked down his cheek. "I'm 
sorry. Are you mad?"

"No." He gently stroked Yoshi's hair. "I'm just so glad-" He turned his 
head away; Suki touched Julian's elbow and they slipped into the 
hallway.

"Molly will stay with us tonight," she told him once the door had 
closed behind them. "Sean's already taken her back to pick up her books 
and clothes for tomorrow. I think he said something about feeding your 
cat?"

"Chester." He looked back at the nursing station. "I should speak to 
the admitting physician - Dr. Hamish, was it?" He sighed and turned 
back to Suki. "I know Dr. Ferris put her foot in her mouth over Keiko's 
death, but I don't think that's reason enough to dismiss her out of 
hand. But it is Miles's decision. If her remarks bothered him that much 
I'll see if Dr. Hamish can recommend someone else."

Suki looked momentarily confused. "I don't think that's what Miles was 
upset about...well, perhaps you should speak to Dr. Hamish. Miles tells 
me you're an expert on all things Bajoran, and if this is a product of 
the foetal environment they'll want to consult with you unless they 
feel it's a conflict of interest."

"Or unless they just don't want to talk to me."

"I highly doubt that." She buttoned up her coat. "I have an early shift 
tomorrow morning; I should return home. Tell Miles that Molly is in 
good hands."

He watched her leave, wondering briefly what Miles had said about him 
to his family. They all seemed to accept him unreservedly, warts, 
altered genes, and all. Enough of that, he told himself, as he went to 
find Dr. Hamish.

******

Part 6 of 7. Disclaimer in Part 1.

Julian had just stepped out of the shower when he heard Miles's voice 
through the bathroom door. 

"No, Da ... I'm sure she's a very nice girl but I'm not interested ... 
well, if you have to know, yes, there is someone ... yeah, I do. Very 
much."

He wrapped his towel around him, ignoring the sick feeling in the pit 
of his stomach as he moved to the door and listened.

"No, not exactly. I haven't even said anything yet, but ... yeah, I 
know, I could get my arse handed to me on a platter ... well, yeah, 
yeah it is ... see, I knew you wouldn't like it ... I'm 49 years old, 
Da. I think I know myself ... well, that's the way it's going to be, 
unless I get rejected or..." He huffed. "That's your right ... Listen, 
I don't ... fine. Bye."

He had prepared for this, he thought as he finished drying himself and 
pulled on his clothes. He had expected Miles to get on with his life 
and find someone eventually, and he had known that when that day 
arrived he had best find a new place to stay no matter what Miles said. 
He just hadn't known how much it would hurt. 

Still, he was more concerned about Miles than about himself. Where had 
he met this woman? He hadn't been out of the house alone at night since 
that date two months ago. And why was his father so angry? Did he feel 
that Miles had chosen someone who wouldn't be a good mother to the 
kids? He thought for a moment about the situation. Miles had told his 
father he hadn't said anything to her yet; for all he knew, she might 
reject him, especially if they hadn't been on a formal date yet.

And at the very instant the thought crossed his mind, he cursed himself 
silently for being so selfish. Miles deserved to be happy; if this 
woman could do that, he'd be the first to encourage the relationship. 

And he had thought the Wedding of the Century would be enough torture 
for one day.

He opened the door, plastering an appropriate expression on his face, 
and looked down the hallway. "Good morning. How's Yoshi?"

"He's not awake yet." He looked behind Julian down the hallway. "Are 
you sure he's fine to go on a visit? It's only been a week since the 
first treatment."

"As long as he keeps out of the trees he should be fine. Remember what 
Dr. Ling said; moderate exercise between treatments is recommended." He 
padded into the kitchen and ordered a cup of tea from the replicator. 
"In fact, he'll probably be better off there because he won't be 
tempted to make a pest of himself with the girls."

Miles chuckled. "You're probably right. I remember annoyin' the hell 
out of Padraig when I was about six. Leinster was playing Dieux de 
Stade in the Cup final, and he had a bunch of his mates over to watch. 
Me and my mate Donnacha took our clothes off and ran around posin' like 
French rugby types. Worse, every time the holo was on Charbonneau, we'd 
start gigglin' like girls and cryin', 'Ooh, Manuel!'"

Julian leant back against the stasis unit and laughed in spite of 
himself. "I can just see two little Irish lads wiggling around their 
bare arses-"

"Their shining white bare arses."

"-God Miles, I'd have killed you myself." He took a seat at the table, 
raising his arms to let Chester up into his lap. "I'm surprised Padraig 
didn't hold you upside down outside a window and drop you."

"He did worse," Miles said with a grin. "He told Ma. I couldn't sit 
down for a week. You know, dumb as it sounds, when I first got to know 
you-"

"After you stopped hating me?" Julian asked.

"-well, yeah...but anyway, I envied you for bein' an only child."

Julian snorted a laugh. "I'm still a little envious of you for having 
brothers. Although I'm not sure if I envy Sean or Padraig after hearing 
what a brat you were."

"Daddy was a brat, Julian?" Molly asked as she sped past Miles into the 
kitchen. "Coffee with milk."

"Coffee?" Miles cried. "What're you drinking *coffee* for?"

"Come on, Daddy," she said, frowning at him, "everybody drinks it. I'm 
not a baby any more." She took the cup from the replicator and sipped 
at it.

"I never said you were." He crossed his arms and frowned back at her 
half-heartedly.  "I still don't like you drinkin' that stuff at your 
age. It'll stunt your growth."

She glared at her father. "That's an old wives' tale. And anyway," she 
said with a blush, "I'm taller than most of the boys in my class."

"Boys?" Miles's eyes grew wide and his jaw dropped. "Since when have 
you been payin' attention to-"

But she was already running back to her bedroom. "Can't talk have to 
get ready for the wedding!"

Julian swallowed a sip of tea, resisting the urge to laugh. "You'd 
think she was actually attending the wedding and not just watching it 
on tri-vid."

"God, isn't that the case," Miles muttered over his shoulder as he 
retrieved his sausage and eggs from the replicator. "We're in for it 
this afternoon."

"You mean you are. I'm off to the bookstore."

"Like hell you are." He took a seat across from Julian. "You're staying 
right here and enduring this with me. It'll be therapeutic." He 
gestured with a forkful of potato towards the living room. "You, me, 
and the lot of 'em."

Julian smirked at him. "You just want backup. You're afraid of a bunch 
of thirteen-year-old girls; I can tell by the look in your eyes."

"I am not afraid..."

"Mm-hmm." He made a clucking sound, then hissed as Chester dug a claw 
into his thigh. "Careful there, old fellow," he said, giving the cat a 
scratch behind the ears.

"And anyway," Miles continued, "I have somethin' to talk to you about 
later on tonight after they've all left. Providin' they do leave." 

Julian nodded, his mood dropping. "Of course. I do want to stop at the 
bookstore, though; that atlas I ordered just came in, and I might need 
it for Monday. Vedek Harka's neuropathy's acting up."

"You have three hours," he pointed out. "You could slip out now."

He looked up at the chrono as he rose from the table and put Chester 
down on the floor. "You're right. And if I hurry, I should be able to 
catch the 1015 train. I'll be back for the festivities." 

Miles's voice trailed behind him as he headed out the door. "You'd 
better be."

Not many people took the F train on the weekends, he mused as he 
approached the train station. But San Francisco was like that; the 
trains that were packed on weekdays were almost empty on weekends, and 
vice versa. He supposed it was a common occurrence in any city where 
the tourist attractions weren't located close to the business district. 
Or, as in the case of San Francisco, the military district. 

The sleek silver hover-train slipped into the station; Julian grabbed a 
seat on the bay side as it took off. As the scenery sped by, he 
rehearsed what he would say when Miles told him. Congratulate him, of 
course: that was a given. Find out who she was, hunt her down and...no, 
he would do no such thing. He'd greet her, get to know her, investigate 
her...

It isn't *her* fault, you dope, he told himself. It wasn't even Miles's 
fault. He was the problem here. He was the one failing to accept or 
even acknowledge reality. Although Miles had seemed nervous about 
telling him; perhaps it was someone he knew. 

He hopped off the train near the old Emperor Norton Bridge exit and 
made his way to the medical bookstore on de Boom Street. "Excuse me," 
he said as he reached the counter, "I'm here to pick up a special 
order."

"Certainly," the clerk replied. "Your name?"

"Julian Bashir."

The young man went to the far end of the room and pulled out a large 
hardcover book. "Atlas of Bajoran Microneurology, by Pel Marlis?" he 
called out over his shoulder.

"Yes, that's it."

He brought it back to the counter. "If you'd sign the purchase order." 

As Julian thumbed the padd and took the book from him, he saw the 
uncertainty in his expression. 

"If I could ask you..." the young man started.

"Yes?" 

He smiled shyly. "I'm in pre-med at UCSF, and I noticed that there's a 
ton of information on Bajoran anatomy in the FleetMed database. Why did 
you need to order a paper book?"

"Because the FleetMed database doesn't contain everything you need to 
know in order to provide proper medical care to a Bajoran. I should 
know; I wrote half of it. There are still things I need to bone up on, 
and most Bajoran books aren't available electronically yet."

His eyes grew as wide as saucers. "You practised on Bajor? That must 
have been exciting."

"It was. Sometimes it was a little too exciting, though," Julian said 
with a friendly grin. "Good day."

And he was 30 metres down the road before he realized that the boy had 
been flirting with him. 

Good grief, old man, you're out of practice, he thought. You didn't 
even notice his-

"Watch it!"

"Sorry," he mumbled as he side-stepped around a chalk drawing on the 
sidewalk.

He grabbed an espresso from a stall at the corner and surveyed the 
restaurants on the block. Hm...North Continent Vulcan, East Ktarian, 
American vegetarian, Vietnamese, Punjabi...he decided on Vietnamese for 
lunch. On the way home he stopped by at a real estate agent's and 
arranged for some condo brochures to be transferred to his Embassy 
terminal. 

On the train back he leafed through the atlas, half-heartedly studying 
the images. Might as well be depressed about the sun rising in the 
east, he told himself as he returned home - to his friend's house, he 
corrected himself.

"I was beginnin' to think you'd skipped out on us," Miles said from the 
kitchen as Julian hung up his coat. "Put down your book and come help 
me carry this stuff into the living room. They'll be here soon."

"All right, where - exactly how many battalions are we feeding?" he 
asked, staring at the spread as he walked into the kitchen.

Miles smiled at him. "Teenaged girls can eat like Marines, and most of 
'em don't gain a kilo. And usually the ones who do gain weight don't 
eat." He picked up a tray of snacks; Julian grabbed an enormous bucket 
of buttered popcorn and a stack of bowls and followed him. 

"Why are they having the party here anyway?" he asked as he went back 
for the cooler of drinks. "You lose a bet?"

Miles chuckled. "Nah. Molly's the star of the school, knowing the two 
of 'em and all, and everyone wants to hear what they're like. I'm just 
glad it's taking place on a Saturday; imagine the complainin' and 
whinin' if it had been set for a school day." He went back into the 
kitchen for the sandwiches. "Also we have the biggest tri-vid in the 
neighbourhood."

Julian carried out a plate of unidentifiable hors d'oeuvres. "That'll 
do it."

Suddenly the front door burst open and the house was full of loud, 
giggling girls, tossing their hair everywhere and making catty remarks. 
O the joys of young womanhood, he thought, as he grabbed a bottle of 
soda and took his place on the sofa beside his friend. "You owe me," he 
whispered.

Miles rolled his eyes. 

"It's time!" Molly announced. All thirteen of her friends ran to grab a 
good spot in front of the tri-vid as she switched it on and the 
broadcast began.

A few minutes in, Miles whispered, "They play march music at Cardassian 
weddings?" 

"They do at Trill ones," he whispered back.

The announcer was describing the venue in detail when Garak, dressed in 
a black suit covered in dazzling jewels, strode arrogantly to the 
centre of a hexagonal stage, turned to his left, and bowed deeply.

"Bloody. Bet he designed that himself," Miles muttered out loud; 
fourteen pairs of eyes turned on him. "Sorry." 

Julian made faint clucking noises out of the side of his mouth, gaining 
a black stare in return.

The holo then cut away to an image of Ezri in a shimmering gold 
Cardassian-style gown standing beside her uncle. The announcer related 
with a catch in his voice that her parents had each declined the honour 
of attending her wedding.

"They always liked me," Julian said under his breath, gaining only a 
few glares from the assembled crowd. "It's true."

Miles flipped a soy nut into the air and caught it in his mouth. 
"Y'know, Ezri's the dumbest girl I ever met."

"She isn't dumb, she's just-" 

"Sssh; here comes the challenge," Molly hissed.

Julian sat on the sofa internally grouching as Garak and Ezri spent the 
next ten minutes hurling vindictive insults at each other. Therapeutic 
his arse...although if someone had told him a year ago that Garak would 
be the groom in the Wedding of the Century, he probably would have 
laughed himself into an Institute.

Molly's friend Tasha suddenly squealed, her clouds of black hair 
bouncing around. "Look, look - there he is! There's the Chief Archon!"

The two men sat up as a tall man in imposing flame-coloured robes 
entered the circle. The archon had a thick cord in his hand; within 
seconds he had wrapped a loop of the cord around Garak and another 
around Ezri. An announcer related in breathless tones that the archon's 
actions were meant to represent the indissolubility of the Cardassian 
marriage bond. The girls oohed and aahed as the cord tightened around 
Ezri's shoulders.

Miles snapped another nut into his mouth. "I know you were his friend," 
he said to Julian, "but Cardassian weddings are idiotic."

"Daddy..."

He shrank back into his seat in mock horror. "Sorry," he whispered. 
Julian snickered at him under his breath.

FNN broke away for commercials as Ezri and Garak left the stage to 
change into their next outfits, the ones required for the pledge. One 
of the girls, Anna if Julian remembered correctly, turned around and 
asked him, "Was Ezri Dax really your girlfriend?"

"Yes, she was," he told her. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Miles 
making an heroic attempt not to smirk.

"And you're friends with Vice-President Garak too..." Tasha cooed. 
"He's so dreamy."

Oh Gods... "Garak and I were friends. Molly's parents knew him as well, 
back when we all lived on Deep Space Nine."

"So why aren't you at the wedding?" Michelle, the little redheaded one, 
asked. 

"Guys, stop it! That's so rude!" Molly cried. "Sorry, Julian."

He smiled at her and said, "It's all right," before turning back to 
Michelle. "I'm not in contact with either of them any more. Sometimes 
that happens with old friends." He rose to his feet. "Do any of you 
want a glass of water?"

They all shook their heads; he headed towards the kitchen, Miles in his 
wake. "You okay?" he said under his breath to Julian as they turned the 
corner.

He shrugged as he opened the stasis unit. "I've heard worse. They're 
just children, anyway; they don't intend to be cruel. Ale?"

"Nah, I'm off to use the fresher. Back in a moment."

He was rooting around in the cutlery drawer for the bottle opener when 
he overheard one of the other girls whispering.

"Your dad's boyfriend is really cute."

"He's not Daddy's boyfriend," Molly replied, a hint of mischief in her 
voice. "At least not yet."

His jaw hit the floor. My God, was he that transparent? If Molly had 
noticed then Miles surely...no wonder he hadn't said anything about the 
woman he'd met. He could have kicked himself; why did he constantly act 
like such a yellow ass...

"I think Ezri dumped him for Garak," Molly continued in a low voice 
after they all stopped giggling. "That's why we aren't at the wedding."

"You could have gone? That's amazingly fierce," Michelle said, her 
voice dripping with envy. 

"Ooh, look!" another girl cried out loud. "Omigod is that Vulcan silk?"

He plastered a smile on his face as he went back into the living room 
and grabbed a small bowl of popcorn before retaking his seat. 

Miles rejoined him a few minutes later. "So did I miss anything?" he 
whispered. "Here, let me have some." He reached into the bowl and took 
a handful of popcorn.

"No, they haven't cut their palms yet," he whispered back, forcing 
himself to remain calm as Miles's fingers scraped the bottom of the 
bowl on his lap. You could've been one hell of an actor, he told 
himself, as he listened to the wedding coverage drone on.

******

Part 7 of 7. Disclaimer in Part 1.

Later that evening during dinner, he asked Molly, "So what did you 
think of the wedding?"

She thought for a moment as she chewed. "It wasn't as romantic as I 
thought it would be. The clothes were pretty," she added. 

"Pretty ridiculous," Miles muttered.

"Daddy." She glared at him before pointedly turning back to Julian. "I 
don't think he loves her, though."

"What makes you say that?" he asked.

"The way he looks at her. When people are in love, they look at each 
other a certain way." She sipped at her juice.

He nodded as he swallowed a bite of stew, privately hoping she wasn't 
going where he thought she was.

"But when he looked at Ezri it was almost - I don't know, as if he'd 
just bought her. Tasha didn't think so, but it creeped Akina and me 
right out." She scooped up a spoonful of peas and diced turnip. "I 
don't think you should marry someone unless you really love them. And 
what was with her parents anyway? I sure wouldn't get married if Daddy 
refused to be there."

Yoshi jumped into the conversation. "Julian, is your mom going to be at 
your wedding?" 

"Yoshi!" Molly glared at her baby brother, her face colouring. "Julian 
isn't planning to get married!"

"But-"

"I don't know if I'll ever be married," Julian interrupted, pushing 
away the intense desire to have the ground open up and swallow him 
whole. "But if I do I want my mum to be there. I'd like you guys to be 
there as well."

The boy rolled his eyes. "Well, of cou- ow!" He glared at his sister.

Miles, who had been darting confused looks at the three of them, shook 
his head as he carried his plate back to the replicator. "Who wants 
dessert?"

"Me!" Yoshi called out.

Molly handed her plate and glass to her father. "Can I go over to 
Concepcion's? We were going to study virology together."

He nodded. "Just be back before dark." 

She hopped up and ran off to get ready.

Julian looked down at his barely touched dinner. "I should spend some 
time with that atlas tonight. I'll be in the living room."

He was studying a table of neuroelectrical correlates when Miles 
wandered into the living room. "Do you have a minute?" he asked, his 
gaze shifting uneasily around the room before resting on Julian's face.

He nodded, grasping his book as a kind of security blanket. "Sure."

"I, um..." He swallowed and nervously scratched the back of his head. 
"Julian, there's something I need to-"

The comm panel suddenly dinged.

"Flamin'..." Miles gave the panel a filthy look as he strode over to it 
and smacked one of the controls with his fist. "Miles O'Brien. ... oh, 
hi. What's ... oh for God's sake ... no, I was going to ... oh hell. 
Listen. I'll be there as soon as I can. ... Yes, I'm sure ... all 
right. See you in a few." He harrumphed as he went to the front door 
and pulled on his boots.

"What's up?" Julian asked, puzzled. "One of your students?"

His eyes were evasive. "Something's going on over at Sean and Suki's 
and they need me there. I shouldn't be gone long; wait up, all right?"

"If you want."

He returned to his book as Miles left.

It was well after midnight when he heard the aircar land at the front 
of the house. Julian was back on the deck watching a bank of cloud that 
was threatening to spread down from the hills and over the 
neighbourhood. He'd pulled on his wool cable-knit sweater earlier, but 
it was so chilly that he had been wondering if he shouldn't go back 
inside and get his jacket.

The door from the kitchen swung open. "Thought I'd find you out here." 
Miles handed him a glass and poured a couple of fingers of Bushmill's 
into it. "Got 'em calmed down. Finally."

Julian pointed with the glass towards the back of the yard. "Have you 
thought about getting the trees trimmed this fall? The crabapple's 
getting straggly."

"Shut up," Miles said as he sat beside Julian, his smile belying his 
harsh words. "And here I thought you'd be back here moping about the 
two of 'em."

He laughed. "Garak and Ezri? How could I? They looked so damned stupid 
in that arena that I can't help thinking they deserve each other."

"How close were Ezri and you?" He waved a hand. "I don't mean 
physically."

"In retrospect, not as close as I had thought at the time," he replied, 
sipping at his whiskey. "Looking back it seems so obvious. We were in 
similar enough careers that we had common interests, but somehow we 
never got to know each other as individuals. I loved Dax, but no matter 
how much I was attracted to Ezri I couldn't love her. At this point I'm 
not even sure if I ever liked her that much."

"So it doesn't hurt? You don't feel tied to her any more?"

He shook his head. "I haven't felt tied to her in a long time. If 
anything..." He sighed; might as well get it over with, he thought. 
"Miles, who is she?"

His friend turned a puzzled eye on him. "Ezri? The woman you lived with 
for a year?"

"No, the woman you've met. I overheard you talking to your father this 
morning. You told him you had met someone and I think you told him you 
loved her very much."

"Oh." Miles looked down at the deck. "That's what I wanted to talk to 
you about tonight. You're right; I've fallen in love, and..." He 
shrugged uncomfortably. "It's not easy to..."

"I know." Julian looked out at the approaching fog, unable to 
completely hide his misery. Just tell me, he pleaded silently.

Miles looked at him. "It's just that - well, as usual you've got it 
arse-backwards. There is no woman."

"You made it up?" he asked, turning in his seat. "Then why'd you need 
to talk to me..."

"That's not what I mean, ye daft..." He took Julian's drink and put 
both glasses on the side table, then turned back to him, his eyes 
suddenly soft. "Julian...there is no woman." And he took his hand.

And as he looked down at their joined hands he suddenly realized what 
Miles was trying to say. 

'You could marry someone who already has kids.'

'I've gotten used to you, ya bugger.'

'Ezri's the dumbest girl I ever met.'

He returned his gaze to Miles's face; what he saw confirmed the 
diagnosis. "It's me."

"Yeah, well, I..." he stammered. "You're not angry, are you? I'm-"

"No, I'm not angry. I - I'm flattered. I-" he managed to get out before 
his mouth shut down. How blind could he have been? He stood, holding 
his hand up to forestall Miles following him. "I, um, I have to think," 
he choked out. "I'll be back." And he hurried towards the back gate, 
unlatched it, and took off down the back alley.

As he meandered through the neighbourhood, his shoulders hunched 
against the fog and his fists buried in his trouser pockets, he 
wondered which one of the two of them was worse: Miles for being so 
damned closed off from his feelings or himself for once again being so 
damned oblivious. 

He remembered what Miles had told him once: there were people who hated 
him and people who loved him, and Miles at the time 'didn't hate' him. 
But then it had just been friendship: Miles had been married to a 
wonderful woman, and it would have never occurred to Julian-

And that was a lie. The truth was that it had occurred to him back 
then; he had just relegated the idea to the back of his mind as 
inappropriate and wrong. It would have been possible, he reflected, had 
Keiko been a raging bitch or unfaithful to her husband, but she had 
been one of the loveliest, kindest, most brilliant women he'd ever met, 
and she had loved Miles dearly. So he had stashed those embryonic 
emotions away, never to be acknowledged or acted upon. Why was he 
surprised, then, that they had come back now?

He wasn't, he supposed. The shock was that his feelings were returned. 

But were they? It had barely been 14 months since Keiko's death; could 
Miles love again so soon? And if so, had he simply fallen in love with 
the closest candidate and not the best one for him?

He backtracked his steps as the fog suddenly became a driving hard 
rain. Eventually he found himself back at the park, this time in front 
of the statue that graced the southwest corner. He had seen the rear of 
it in the distance a hundred times from the playground area, of course 
- four persons, one carrying a weapon of some kind, standing in some 
kind of heroic posture. Mrs. Gonzales, the lady whose grandson played 
with Yoshi most afternoons, had told him it had been taken from an old 
photograph of the Bell Riots, but he had never actually examined it 
from the front. Now he peered up at the first figure and realized with 
a shock that it was Gabriel Bell. Or, to be more specific, Benjamin 
Sisko impersonating Gabriel Bell. And one of the three men behind Sisko 
was him. 

"There you are."

He spun around. "You'll get wet."

"I might at that." Miles gave him a once-over. "How long have you been 
standing here?"

"I don't know. Not long. I walked around for a while."

"Then you've been traipsing around for half an hour in the pouring 
rain." He gestured back at his aircar. "Get in, you'll catch your 
death."

Julian rolled his eyes. "You don't get sick from cold and damp, Miles. 
And DON'T change the subject."

"WHAT subject?"

"You know what subject," he replied. "You said you loved me."

"I do." He furrowed his brow. "I have, for a long time. If it bothers 
you that much-"

Julian's mouth dropped open. "How long?"

"Couple months, I suppose. Sort of sneaked up on me." He leant up 
against the base of the statue. "Guess I first realized it that night, 
after I came home from that disaster of a date. I tried to tell you 
that being out with her made me feel like I was cheatin' on you."

"ME?" he said. "I thought-"

"But then you started blathering about moving out," Miles continued, 
his voice increasing in volume and overriding his protests, "and it 
pissed me off so much I had to take off downstairs...And then I was 
going to say somethin' after we saw that lawyer, but you had to make 
that STUPID comment about singles bars...And then after you got your 
license from the Bajorans, but you were too busy being happy about THAT 
and then Yoshi interrupted us..."

"Oh, so it's always MY fault," he cried out.

Miles glared at him. "Well, if you have to know, YES it is! If you'd 
have just SHUT THE HELL UP for once in your GODDAMNED life, MAYBE I 
could have gotten it out. BUT NO...you have to constantly be..." He 
scowled at Julian. "Why do you have to be SO BLOODY IRRITATING?"

"Well, if you weren't such a CHICKEN-SHI-"

"Is there a problem, gentlemen?"

Julian glared at Miles before answering the police constable who had 
pulled up beside them. "No, officer, we're just having a-"

"Damn right there's a problem," Miles said, rain dripping into his eyes 
as he pointed at Julian. "Tell this IDIOT I'm in love with him."

"Sir," she said as her left eyebrow rose, "please keep your voice down. 
We've-"

Julian broke in, his anger overtaking any sense of propriety. "For TWO 
MONTHS? And you didn't even have the guts to - why didn't you TELL me?"

"That's what I'm doing NOW, you ANNOYING LITTLE SONOFA-"

"Miles, there's a lady present. Keep a GODDAMNED CIVIL TONGUE in your 
head!" 

"Gentlemen," the constable interrupted, holding up a hand to forestall 
any disagreement, "as fascinating as this conversation is, I'm going to 
ask you to take it to a private venue before you wake up the entire 
block." She cocked a thumb at the houses across the road. "We've 
already had one complaint."

They both shrunk in their boots. "Yes, ma'am," Julian said.

Miles nodded. "We'll do that. Sorry."

The chastened pair headed towards Miles's waiting aircar as the police 
car sped away. "Keening at each other like a pair of banshees at one in 
the morning..." Miles grumbled as he unlocked the doors. "Get in." As 
the doors closed behind them, he called, "Computer, raise the internal 
temperature to 23 degrees."

Julian glared at him again. "Miles."

"You're soaked to the skin; I can hear your bones chatterin' from 
here." He reached behind him and dragged a towel from the back seat. "I 
threw this in before I came to get you. Dry off."

He towelled his hair and rubbed his face dry while Miles took the 
aircar into a holding pattern over San Bruno Mountain. 

"I didn't set out to feel like this," Miles finally blurted out after 
the car had made one full circuit. "It's just... dammit, why do you 
have to be - that way?"

"Which way?"

"You know what I mean," he grumbled. "Sometimes you get under my skin 
so badly I want to bash yer head in, and then other times I don't want 
to ever be without you. Recently mainly the latter." He looked out the 
side window. "Y'probably think I'm gone in the head."

"No, no I don't," he said. "I think that when two very good friends 
live together for five months, at least as closely as you and I have, 
they either learn to hate each other or they fall in love, and..." He 
reached for Miles's hand. "And I don't hate you."

Their eyes met. "You don't-"

"I'll admit, I was shocked tonight," Julian continued, "but not for the 
reason you think. Miles, I've fallen so hard for you I'm all but 
obsessed. I was devastated when I overheard you talking to your father 
this morning. I stood there virtually paralysed wondering what the hell 
I'd say when you introduced me to this 'woman' you'd met. And then 
suddenly..." 

"I told you." 

He nodded. "And I freaked out. I had no clue...."

Miles's gaze dropped to their joined hands. "I thought you might feel 
somethin', but when you buggered off this evening I thought I'd lost my 
chance. Spent 20 minutes sitting there telling myself what an idiot I 
was before I got the car out and went lookin' for you."

He examined Miles's face before speaking. "There's still something I 
have to know. I know you told your father this morning that you knew 
your own mind. Are you sure that's really the case?"

"What d'you mean?"

"It's only been a year. It's not easy to believe that you're over 
Keiko. I know a year isn't six weeks, but still..." 

"Don't you think I've thought of that?" Miles said, his brow wrinkling. 
"Not just for me, either, but for the both of us? Why d'you think I 
asked you about Ezri tonight?"

"Miles, my relationship with Ezri was hardly on the same level as yours 
with Keiko. You were married to her for over ten years. You loved her. 
You worshipped her."

"Yeah, well..." Miles's gaze flickered over the front windscreen. "I 
did. I still do love her. I'm just not *in love with* her any more. You 
can't be in love with someone who doesn't exist. And you're right about 
the worshipping part, but..." He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I kept 
thinking about that after she passed. It finally hit me that it hadn't 
been fair to her. Or to the kids, I guess, givin' them a bad example, 
but mainly to her. I'd built this pedestal and put her up on it, then 
when something happened that made her look human..."

"Like those love letters," Julian murmured, wondering if the Isle of 
Wight was still on Earth.

He nodded in agreement. "Exactly. It'd all crash down. If I'd been more 
realistic..." He turned back to Julian. "And then when I started 
thinkin' about you, well, you know...I wondered if I was puttin' you up 
on the same pedestal. You're an irritating jackass at times, don't get 
me wrong-"

"I think we've covered that."

"-but still, I was worried that I was, you know, in my mind, replacing 
her with you, and...well, you might deserve a kick in the arse every 
once in a while but you don't deserve that. So I took some time to 
think it over, and eventually I realized that I had accepted her death 
and I was ready to go on. I was more worried about you." His eyes met 
Julian's. "Keiko didn't choose to leave me. She didn't reject me. Ezri 
rejected you. D'ya think you might've married her if things'd been 
different?"

"I know I would have asked her eventually," he replied, "and if she had 
said yes - it would have been the biggest mistake of my life. And I've 
made some big mistakes."

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Miles eventually asked, "So what 
do we do now?"

What indeed, Julian thought. What else could he do?

"This." He took Miles's face in his hands and kissed him deeply. 

And they suddenly drew apart as a police siren rent the air. 

"Hell." Miles steered the aircar to the surface and parked on the old 
road leading up to the summit, then opened the glove compartment and 
pulled out his registration. "Computer, open driver's side front 
window."

The same constable who had shooed them out of the park earlier peered 
into the passenger compartment. "Do you gentlemen not have a home?" she 
asked.

Miles turned red. "Um, yes we do, officer."

"Then why are you not there instead of flying a holding pattern through 
a major air corridor over a restricted area in instrument conditions?"

Miles hit his head against the front console. "Oh God."

"We'll go home right away, ma'am," Julian volunteered.

"Yes, you will do that, and I'll be making sure that you do. Now go; 
I'll be right behind you." Her tone was adamant.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"Good evening, gentlemen."

Miles steered the aircar over the mountain, then down the valley 
towards their home. As he turned into the driveway and the police car 
sped away, the two men looked at each other, then burst out laughing. 

"Couple of idiots we are," Miles finally got out as he reached for 
Julian's hand again. "Come on, let's get you inside. You must be half-
frozen."

Julian wisely said nothing as he followed Miles up the front steps. As 
they entered the main room and gently closed the front door behind 
them, Miles sat down at the terminal and closed a text box. "I left a 
message for the kids if either of 'em woke up. Didn't want 'em to think 
we'd taken off somewhere."

"Good thinking." He perched in Miles's lap and kissed him again, 
running the back of his knuckles against Miles's warm hardness. 

"You're still...oh God...soakin' wet," Miles murmured against his neck 
once their lips parted. "We should really get you out of those ...mmm 
...things before you catch your death."

"All right then. Why don't we do that?" Julian whispered into his ear 
as he stood and led him down the hallway.

******

He blinked his eyes and peered at the chrono on the bedside table. 
0552; eight minutes before they had to get up. Well, they had barely 
just got to sleep, but...

The arm wrapped around his waist tightened as warm lips caressed his 
ear. "Good morning."

"Good morning," he replied, twisting in the embrace and kissing his new 
lover. As their eyes met he thought about the previous evening. They 
had coupled - he for one couldn't have kept his hands off Miles one 
moment longer - but afterwards they had simply held each other and 
talked. About Julian's father, Miles's time on the Rutledge, their 
friendship. About everything and nothing at all.

Miles ran his hand lazily up Julian's spine. "What're you thinking 
about?" 

"You really are too thin. I can count your ribs."

"Pot callin' the kettle black...you're as skinny as a phaser beam."

He grinned. "I come by it naturally. You don't."

"I know something that could fatten me up," he murmured as he rolled 
Julian onto his back.

"Hey! We have to be up in a few minutes."

Miles rolled his eyes at him. "It's Sunday, remember?" And he pressed 
Julian down into the pillows, kissing him, running his lips down his 
throat, circling his nipples with his tongue...

When Julian opened his eyes again the chrono said 1029. He yawned, 
carefully swung his legs to the floor, and sat up, moving gently so as 
not to disturb his slumbering lover.

...his lover. His lover and his best friend. How lucky can one man be, 
he thought, as he rose to his feet and wrapped himself tightly in 
Miles's old green bathrobe. He then quietly opened the door and slipped 
into the hallway, crossing to the bathroom and gently shutting the door 
behind him.

As he washed and sanitized his hands after using the toilet, he heard 
the children chatting to each other in the front room.

"-just went into the bathroom," Molly was saying.

"What was Uncle Julian doing in Da's room?" Yoshi asked.

He could almost hear Molly roll her eyes. "You know how he and Daddy 
love each other?"

Julian grinned.

"Yeah?"

"Well, when grownups really love each other, they sleep in the same 
bed."

There was a pause. Yoshi finally asked, "Were they doing sex?"

The smile dropped from his lips as his eyes grew wide; he had better 
tell Miles-

"The term is 'having sex', dummy. And of course they were. Adults who 
really love each other in 'that way' have sex." Her voice lowered. "We 
can't let them know we know, though. They get *so* embarrassed when 
they talk about it."

He chuckled under his breath as he opened the door and slipped back 
into Miles's room.

"Where were you?" Miles asked as he stretched and sat up. 

"Just in the bathroom. By the way, I overheard Molly and Yoshi talking. 
They've found us out."

He gave the door a rueful look, then shook his head. "Seems I'm going 
to have to have a conversation with the two of them today."

"Be careful," he said with a smile. "They don't want to embarrass the 
grownups by forcing us to talk about s-e-x."

At that Miles leaned up against the headboard and laughed out loud. 
"C'mere," he said, holding a hand out.

Julian took it and slipped into the bed, propping himself up on an 
elbow. "You know, I should really go get dressed."

"In a minute. Then you can get your things and move 'em in here. No 
reason to tie up the spare room," he said. "I'd like to keep this in 
the family for the next week or so, let the kids get used to us as a 
couple." His face suddenly became serious. "You do want that. To be a 
couple, that is."

"Yes. Yes, I do." He frowned. "What happened yesterday, anyway? With 
Suki."

Miles rolled his eyes. "After I talked to Da, he jumped on the shuttle 
from Dublin and showed up at Sean's door yesterday afternoon ready for 
a piss-up with me. He's a good man, but he likes to plan out in his 
head how his kids are going to live their lives. And when they do 
something that isn't in the plan..." 

"...he gets mad."

"More than that," he said. "Says we're 'contradicting' him, or that 
we're doing things to spite him. Then he calms down, but by that time 
the damage's been done."

Julian thonked his head against the headboard. "I so did not want to 
make trouble for your family."

"Trust me, you didn't. Da is perfectly capable of making trouble all by 
himself, and he doesn't need a good reason either. Sean tried to set 
him straight, by the way, but then he started in on Suki and..." He 
shrugged. "Doesn't really matter. Suffice it to say, right now he's no 
fan of you, but given his track record in six months he'll likely be 
worshippin' the ground you walk on."

That was just too much. "Miles," he said with a laugh, "your family is 
nuts."

"Damn right we are." He swung his legs over the edge of the bed. "Which 
is why you fit right in, boyo."

******

His first message once that week was over was to Kira. The strike on 
Bajor had shut down subspace video and audio comms to the sector, so he 
prepared a text message.

PLEASE ADJUST YOUR RECORDS TO SHOW THAT MY CURRENT ADDRESS OF 143 
SCHLAGE LANE, SAN FRANCISCO, CA, NA, EARTH, 94134.02.04.001 PREVIOUSLY 
MARKED TEMPORARY, SHOULD BE RECLASSIFIED AS PERMANENT.

Ten minutes later he received a reply:

HA! I KNEW IT!

He stared open-mouthed at the screen. 

WHAT DO YOU MEAN, 'I KNEW IT!'? he typed back, frowning at the terminal 
before getting up for another cup of tea. The alert dinged before he 
put the pot down. He rolled his eyes and went back into the living 
room.

IT WAS OBVIOUS, her message read. JAKE ASKED ME IF THE TWO OF YOU HAD 
SET A DATE.

"What?!" 

Chester jumped up, his tail suddenly bushy, then fixed Julian with a 
skunk eye as he lay back down on the floor in his patch of sun. 
"Sorry," he told the cat.

He turned back to the terminal and typed furiously. FOR YOUR 
INFORMATION, WE HAVE ONLY BEEN TOGETHER FOR ONE EARTH WEEK. HOW THE 
HELL DOES JAKE KNOW?

Five minutes later the reply came. AT THE WAKE. EVERY TIME YOU LOOKED 
AT HIM YOU SMILED AND YOUR FACE GOT SOFT. EVERY TIME HE LOOKED AT YOU 
HE SMILED AND HIS EYES CRINKLED. LIKE I SAID, IT WAS OBVIOUS. EVERYBODY 
NOTICED. BTW, WORF APPROVES. QUARK'S TAKING BETS.

He dropped his head into his hand, thinking of how he was supposed to 
reply to that. ASK QUARK WHICH WAY? he finally typed. 

He then opened up a second text box. If Jake knew, Muna knew, and if 
Muna knew...

MOTHER. HOPE YOU'RE ENJOYING THE MOON. ALTHOUGH YOU'VE PROBABLY ALREADY 
HEARD ABOUT THIS SINCE EVERYONE BETWEEN HERE AND THE BREEN CONFEDERACY 
APPARENTLY KNOWS, MILES AND I ARE TOGETHER NOW. DESPITE WHAT MUNA 
AND/OR JAKE AND/OR ANYONE ELSE MAY HAVE TOLD YOU, WE HAVE ONLY BEEN 
TOGETHER FOR A WEEK. YES, WE ARE BOTH STUPID. YES, WE ARE BOTH HAPPY. 
SAY HELLO TO COUSIN SUFA FOR ME. YOUR LOVING SON. He sent the message.

"Morning."

"Morning." He turned around and reached up to give Miles a kiss.

"What're you doing?" He nodded at the terminal, one hand wrapped around 
a steaming mug of what smelled like coffee.

"Updating my personal information. You'll be happy to know that our 
private lives have apparently been the subject of public speculation 
among our friends. Colonel Kira, for instance. I messaged her to let 
her know this was now my permanent address and she wrote back to say, 
'I knew it!'"

"Really? That explains something," Miles said. "I told you we talked 
last week about Yoshi's blood vessel problem. Every time I expected her 
to ask me what I'd do about it, she asked me what the two of us were 
going to do about it. And then she'd get this silly look on her face 
like a cat with a mouthful of cream." He sipped at his drink.

"I suppose she was waiting for you to tell her about our den of 
iniquity," he said.

"But how did she know?" Miles asked, his brow furrowed. "I mean, Molly 
I could see. She lives here, and more importantly she's her mother's 
daughter. But Kira? Were we that obvious?"

"Apparently so," Julian replied. "Kira isn't the only one. *Worf* saw 
it."

"Worf?" Miles stared at Julian as if he had grown an extra ear in the 
last hour. "How the hell did - *Worf?*"

"I know. Kira said it was the wake. You'll be happy to know that he 
approves. By the way, I just sent a text to my mother so she won't feel 
out of the loop."

"Oh." Miles looked down and ran his finger around the rim of his coffee 
cup. "Actually, she, um, already knew."

"I suppose Jake's likely-" He studied Miles's face, then arched a brow 
at him. "Oh. I *see*. She didn't hear this from Jake or Muna, did she?" 

He shrugged sheepishly. "I commed her that morning, while you were at 
the bookstore. I wanted to ask her permission."

Julian was going to grouch at him, but that was just too sweet. "I'm 
sure she appreciated it, even though I am 36 years old and know my own 
mind." He reached out and squeezed Miles's free hand.

"Well...I also wanted to know if she thought..."

"What?" he asked as the alert dinged again. 

Miles peered over Julian's shoulder at the text reply. "I also asked 
her if she thought it was a good idea." He nodded at the screen. 
"That's exactly what she told me."

Julian turned around and read the message:

IT TOOK YOU LONG ENOUGH. GET HIM TO EAT MORE. HE'S STILL TOO SKINNY. 
MOTHER.

Julian shook his head. "I'm glad she has her priorities straight. Let's 
go get breakfast."