More 'Sanctuary' in this episode, so I don't own anything you recognise.

Enjoy and please hit that review button! :)

Three days later

"How many times Mr Stone? How many times does a black man have to roll over and play dead?"

Ben thrust his hands into his pockets and sighed. Perhaps it had been a foolish idea, coming to Carina Roberts home, in the hope that he could persuade her to convince Isaac to take the deal that was on offer. Twice since their conversation at court Ben had tried to talk to Shambala about it and each time she had shut him down. In normal circumstances he would have thought 'to hell with it' and ploughed on to trial...but this case was different. For one thing, he wanted to spare Mrs DeSantos the trauma of having to testify about how her husband was murdered right in front of her.

"Mrs Roberts, I am not suggesting he roll over..."

"Please...my son, Isaac's father, was a night janitor in a midtown office building. There was a robbery during his shift. His lawyer said 'if we go to trial you don't have a chance.' Ricky took the deal. That was three years ago. This family has bartered enough lives already!"

"Mrs Roberts, I'm not trying your son, I'm trying your grandson, and there is no doubt in my mind what he did." For God's sake, he wanted to add, it was all over the Goddamn news! Carina Roberts stared at him and, for a moment, he thought he might have gotten through to her, until there was a sudden knock at the door and Shambala came storming in.

"In the future," she said angrily, "if you want to talk to Mrs Roberts you talk to me first!"

"Shambala..." he sighed, "do you really think you're doing a client a service by refusing to plea?"

"Why don't you let me determine what's in the best interests of my client," she replied, reaching into her bag. "Thanks for coming. You saved me the price of a messenger." Ben took his glasses out of his pocket as she handed him a familiar looking, blue-backed paper. "It's my notice to call Dr Myron Janson as an expert to testify as to my client's mental capacity."

"You're not serious," Ben said, scanning through the papers.

"I'm deadly serious," Shambala replied. "I told you that the war wasn't over and it isn't. Carina, thank you for your hospitality but Mr Stone and I will take our leave of you now...won't we?"

Ben looked at Mrs Roberts, who was clearly in no different a frame of mind that she had been before Shambala's entrance and, with a sigh, he followed her to the door and back out into the hallway. "You're making a mistake with this," he said, as she stormed down the stairs in front of him. "Who is this Dr Janson anyway?"

"Well that's for me to know and you to find out, isn't it? It's not up to me to do your job for you." She turned and looked at him, her expression shifting from one of annoyance to one of sympathy. "You look like hell."

"Well this case doesn't exactly make for restful sleep."

Shambala shook her head, as though she didn't quite believe him, and Ben found himself hoping that she wouldn't bring Evelyn up again. "Then take what I'm willing to offer. Let's put an end to this now."

"No," Ben replied, irritated by her stubbornness. "If anyone ever deserved manslaughter two it is not your client."

"Fine," she turned on her heel, "then I'll see you on Wednesday in Judge Steinman's chambers."

He watched her go, wondering what it was all about. Was she pushing this case to the limit because as a black woman she sympathised with what Isaac Roberts had done or was she just determined to outmanoeuvre him as she had tried, and failed, to do so many times before? As he made his way back to his car, Ben thought about how long he had known Shambala and about how many cases they had tried together. She had always been passionate, but this was on a different level.

He suddenly wished he had Evelyn to talk to. No doubt under normal circumstances she would have relished the opportunity to debate with him about it, throwing Shambala's best arguments at him and watching with a smile as he tossed them back at her. He missed that, and so many other things. When she had left the apartment with the last of her belongings, he had wanted to chastise Peter for his vicious remark and somehow make him apologise. Yet he found that he couldn't. His own pain was too raw to allow him to consider making any apology for hers.

It was still early. He could be back at the office in around half an hour and still have time to start researching this new angle before needing to be home for the kids. Or, he could call home, leave a message on the machine for them and then work on into the night until he was satisfied that he knew exactly what he were going to say in order to win.

Or, you could go to the public defenders' office and talk to Evelyn.

He started the engine and turned the car out of Carina Roberts' street. He knew what he wanted to do and he knew what he should do. He just wished they both amounted to the same thing.

XXXX

The pile of files on her desk was growing smaller. Or perhaps she was just better organised. With a day free from court and other mediocre tasks public defenders were expected to undertake, Evelyn had attacked her work with gusto, finally getting around to doing all the things that had been sitting screaming at her for days and weeks. It gave her a sense of satisfaction to churn out tape after tape after tape of dictation, though she knew it probably didn't have the same effect on the typing pool. For the first time in a long time, she felt as though something was going well, even if it was only one small thing. She tried hard not to stop, tried hard not to allow herself to think about anything else, in particular Ben and the kids.

Selfish bitch.

Peter's words still reverberated around her head and every time she thought about the events that had led them to the point of him feeling he needed to say them, she wanted to cry. Maybe she was being selfish but as Sarah had reminded her on more than one occasion, she had spent fifteen years doing and saying what someone else wanted. Was it so wrong for her now to be doing something for herself?

When the phone on her desk rang, she picked up the receiver, her mind distracted by the file she was looking at, "Evelyn Nicholls."

"Well at least you picked up the phone. I half expected to need to leave you a message."

Evelyn frowned, "I'm sorry, who's this?"

"Laura Williams."

"Oh...umm...hello..." she said, surprised, "how did you...?"

"What, get this number? From my children of course. It wasn't difficult. I think they were both just itching for me to call you and tell you what I thought of you." Laura's voice dripped with venom. "They came to stay with me over the weekend."

"Ok..."

"Is that all you can say, ok? My children have been left devastated by what you've done!"

Evelyn took a breath, trying to keep her voice steady, reminding herself who she was talking to. "I'm sorry. I never wanted to hurt them."

"Well you have," Laura said. "Pamela cried practically the whole time she was here and Peter, well, he barely said two words except to ask me if I thought his father would be all right on his own."

"I'm sorry," she said again, hating the image of a solitary Ben that was now in her mind. "Like I said, it was never my intention..."

"Oh spare me your fucking apologies! You manipulated my children into getting close to you whilst all the time you knew that you were going to up and leave the first chance you got!"

"That is not true!" Evelyn shot back.

"Isn't it?"

"No!"

"How long have you been planning this? How long have you been planning to just leave them in the lurch while you go off to England on your merry fucking way?"

Evelyn paused, wondering how much of Laura's information had come from the kids and how much had come from Ben. She would have been foolish to have assumed that Laura wouldn't find out about what had happened, but her righteous indignation did ring a little hollow in light of everything that had happened in the last few months. "That's pretty rich coming from you," she said, keeping her tone as measured as possible. "I'm not the one who got herself arrested for having a fight with her boyfriend in front of her children. I'm not the one who lost custody of her children to her ex-husband. I'm not the one..."

"No, you're just the one who can't keep any children of her own. Maybe you should see that as some sort of sign that you're just not fit..."

Evelyn slammed the receiver back into its cradle before Laura could finish her sentence and immediately burst into tears. They were tears of anger, fury, indignation at the other woman and her downright mean-spiritedness. But they were also tears of despair, because somewhere in the back of her mind she knew that Laura was right.

A few seconds later, the phone rang again and she snatched it up without thinking, half hoping it was Laura again so she could give it to her with both barrels. "What?!" she demanded angrily.

There was a slight pause at the other end of the line. "Evelyn?"

Her breath caught slightly in her throat at the sound of his voice, but the anger remained. "What do you want?" she asked roughly.

"I...uh...I wanted...I mean, I was hoping that we could..."

"If you're calling because of her, then forget it!" she interrupted him. "Thank you very much for putting her up to that, it was just what I needed?"

He paused, "I don't know what..."

"Go to hell!" she slammed the receiver down again, lifted her bag and headed for the door, just as Kelly opened it. "I'm leaving for the day," she said quickly, before the other woman could say anything.

"Oh...ok, it's just that..."

"I don't care," Evelyn said, pulling her coat on. "Whatever it is, it can wait until tomorrow." Without giving Kelly any further opportunity to speak, she made her way to the elevator and viciously pressed the down button. It opened straight away and she got in, pressed for the ground floor and then stood back against the wall as it made its slow, creaky descent.

It was four o'clock and it wasn't as though anyone would miss her.

XXXX

"Ben?"

He turned in time to see Elizabeth come out of the elevator and felt a funny feeling start in his stomach. It was the first time he had seen or spoken to her since Evelyn had left and though he knew that now was the time to be professional he couldn't help but wonder exactly just what Elizabeth had known about the whole sorry mess.

Go to hell...Evelyn's last words rang in his head. He had no idea what had happened in the moments immediately preceding his call, a call it had taken him a long time to work up to making but, whatever it was, it had put paid to any hope of a rational conversation.

"You told my secretary you wanted to see me?" she queried, as Claire came up the corridor to join them.

"Thanks for coming over," he said, trying to focus on the case in hand. "Shambala Green is intending to call Dr Myron Janson as a defence witness at trial to shore up her plea of diminished capacity in the Roberts case. I was hoping you might have a take on him and his so-called theory."

"Wow, well, Dr Janson's made the rounds," Elizabeth said wryly. "Every time ten or more people get out of line he's there to testify that the collective group psyche rendered each of the individuals guiltless."

"And that's effective?" Claire asked incredulously.

"Dr Janson's a good witness. He gets to the jury...puts them at ease."

"Is there any validity in this?" Ben asked.

"You couldn't count the number of volumes written on mob psychology," Elizabeth replied with a smile.

"That's not an answer, Liz."

"What do you want me to say?" she said, seemingly amazed that he was even asking. "Is Isaac Roberts clinically insane? No. Is it possible that the screaming of a hundred of his friends and neighbours affected his actions? Yes."

Ben felt himself grow angry, at more than just her attitude towards his case, specifically at her constant propensity towards playing devil's advocate. "Are you going to stand there and rationally excuse what he did?" he demanded.

"That's not my job. I'm sorry Ben, but I don't think it's a good idea for you to put me on the stand."

He sighed heavily. "Then we have to keep Dr Janson off the stand."

"I'll check the case law," Claire offered. "There has to be something we can use to argue against this."

"Thanks," Ben said, as she turned and headed back down the hallway towards her desk, leaving him and Elizabeth alone in the corridor.

"I'm sorry," Elizabeth said.

"About this case or about Evelyn?" he asked, before he could stop himself.

She frowned, "Evelyn? I don't..."

"Did you know?" he interrupted her. "Did you know she was going to do this? Did she tell you all about it in her sessions? Maybe she even asked your opinion on it?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about her deciding to leave everything and everybody she knows behind and go to live in London! I'm talking about her leaving me!" The moment the words were out of his mouth, he suddenly remembered where they were and quickly glanced around for a free conference room.

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about," Elizabeth said, as he ushered her inside. "She's never mentioned anything about..."

"She never told you? She never said her cousin had offered her a job? She never said that she was thinking about taking it? She never told you that she had made an application for a visa?" His voice rose with each question and he watched as she took a slight step back away from him.

"No, she didn't!" Elizabeth said in astonishment. "When did this happen?"

He felt the wind drop slightly from his sails. Part of him had hoped that Elizabeth had known. Then he would have had someone else to rail at...someone else to blame besides himself. "She moved out a week ago."

"She's gone already?"

"No, she's staying at her mother's place. Her application hasn't been approved yet but once it has...she's going."

Elizabeth paused, "Ben, I'm so sorry..."

"You're supposed to be her therapist."

"Supposed to be...?"

"You're supposed to know how she is, how she's feeling...do you really think that it's in her own best interests right now to do this? To just...leave?"

"Ben, you know that I can't talk about our sessions..."

"I'm not asking for confidential details!" he snapped. "I'm asking a purely professional question. Given her state of mind...given everything she's been through...do you think that it's in her best interests to leave?" Elizabeth didn't say anything. "Liz? Do you think...?"

"No," she said finally. "No, I don't."

Ben found himself taken aback by her answer. He had expected some psychobabble from her about how important it was that Evelyn find her own way, stand on her own two feet, especially in light of her comments to him the previous year.

"She needs a strong support system," Elizabeth continued. "Having family and friends around her is just as important as her being able to find her own coping mechanisms. Does she even know anyone in London?"

"Apart from her cousin and her family, no."

"What reasons has she given for wanting to go?"

He looked at the floor, "My not understanding her feelings about Edward...us wanting different things...her needing a fresh start, that sort of thing."

Elizabeth sighed, "Her feelings about Edward are complicated, Ben."

"I know that."

"Have you talked to her about it?"

"Only when she left and...well...it was a pretty emotional conversation."

"I can imagine." She put her hand on his arm. "She's supposed to be coming in for a session later this week."

"Can you talk to her about it? Tell me what she says?" he asked hopefully.

"I can try and bring the conversation around to it, but I can't force her to tell me anything she doesn't want to. All I can really do is listen. And no, I can't tell you what she says. You'll need to find a way to talk to her about that yourself."

He let out a long breath, thinking about the wasted opportunity when she had come to the apartment and her anger on the phone. "Easier said than done."

XXXX

Shambala had reached Judge Steinman's chambers first and was already sitting outside, going through her papers when Ben arrived. It certainly wasn't the first time they had waited together outside before going in to argue against each other, but this time there was a definite tension that hadn't ever been there before, no matter how much they had irritated each other.

"Shambala."

She looked up as he sat down in the chair beside her. "Ben. Still not sleeping?"

"Are you?"

"I'll admit that if ever a case was prone to keeping me awake at night, it's this one. I can't argue with you on that." She paused. "How are you otherwise?"

"Fine," he lied.

"Have you talked to Evelyn?"

"Not yet." Shambala sighed and he found himself irritated by the fact that she felt qualified to offer any kind of opinion on his conduct. "It's not as easy as you might think."

"What's not easy about it? You sit down. You talk. You tell each other how you feel. You make a decision." She shook her head. "Even if you don't succeed it's still worth the effort."

"Effort has nothing to do with it!" he said, aware he was rising to her bait and that his protestations were directed more towards himself than towards her. "You think that I haven't tried?"

"Try harder." She paused. "Evelyn left the office at four o'clock yesterday."

"So?"

"So I know she didn't go home. How do I know this? I know because I met my sister for dinner last night and I saw Evelyn, stumbling out of a wine bar."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying what I said to you last week. You need to do something."

The door to chambers opened before Ben could reply and Judge Steinman urged them both inside. "I'm due in court in fifteen minutes, so can we make this brief?"

"Your honour..." Shambala started, "if we learned nothing from the riots in Los Angeles, we learned that peace loving individuals can be pushed to a point of extreme violence."

"The law requires a modicum of self-control," Ben said pulling his mind back to what was important at that moment.

"Nobody's arguing with that. In the normal course of events. But when one's normal powers of judgement are suspended..."

"Let me get this right," Judge Steinman interrupted, "You're claiming your client was legally insane?"

"Your honour, Dr Janson will testify that individuals swept up in a riot can submit to a collective frenzy that can diminish their ability to distinguish right from wrong."

"So the mob is guilty and no individual is?" Ben asked.

"Exactly!" Shambala met his gaze, seemingly almost pleading with him to try and understand. "The scientists call it 'group contagion.'

"I'll listen to your expert Ms Green," the judge sighed, "but I'm going to reserve my decision on admissibility until you present your entire case."

"Thank you," Shambala said, casting Ben a look as she gathered her papers, coat and bag and made to leave.

"Don't blame me for murdering them, they were horrible parents. And don't blame me for mutilating my husband in his sleep, he abused me!" Ben said, following her down the stairs.

"You really want to cast the Foster case up to me now?" she replied angrily. "After everything that's happened?" He said nothing."It's called diminished capacity."

"It's called fabricating jury sympathy!"

"And sympathy is part and parcel of justice."

"Right and my sympathy is definitely with Mrs DeSantos!"

"Of course it is," she rounded on him, "because you can empathise with her. You have no idea what it's like to be Isaac Roberts', to feel exploited, to be unemployed...to feel you have no opportunities in this life. You pump enough air into a balloon it eventually goes pop!"

He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "So the 'have-nots' can take their frustrations out on the 'haves' without recrimination? That's a hate crime!"

"It's been happening the other way for centuries! Look maybe you did march with Martin in the sixties but you know what, hanging a picture of Bobby on your wall just isn't going to cut it anymore!"

"Shambala..." he caught her arm as she turned to leave. "This is ridiculous..."

"Is it? Or is it that you just can't face up to the reality of the situation? Any situation?"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

She wrenched her arm out of his grip, "You tell me."