The new year finally dawned and January had arrived, as had the court martial. Beverly had endured all the hearings, not wanting to miss a second. It was the least she could do for him. Soon, he would want to know the detail, not yet... but soon enough. The details were painful, and if she didn't have Jean-Luc at home and recovering, she didn't think she could have borne it. The other families were there too, some with their own survivor, and some of the deceased, there were even two or three survivors themselves, the ones who'd got out early.

The families had formed an unhappy alliance of sorts, nodding to each other before the start of each day's session, sometimes chatting… sometimes needing to be around other people who understood, who they didn't need to explain anything to. Beverly had talked most often to the sister of one of the survivors. Like Jean-Luc, the young ensign hadn't wanted to attend, but her sister, Trelisa, was there. Every single day.

"So you see, there's about ten of them now, in the group. One of the counsellors runs them through the session, keeps it healthy. I know it's difficult, but I can see the difference it made to Surahna. Just knowing that there are others in the same boat seems to really have helped her regain some of her confidence," said Trelisa, earnestly as she and Beverly waited on a long bench outside the court martial.

"I just don't think he's ready… I did get a message from them, I told him… it was..." she stopped mid-sentence, unable to finish. Jean-Luc was fiercely private, she couldn't imagine him ever showing up to a survivor group.

"You don't need to explain… I understand. Surahna told me about the admiral. I know his situation was so much more…"

Beverly's blood went cold, reminded suddenly of the terrible state in which he'd been found. The image of him in the biobed when he'd been on the Phoenix imposed itself, frail, starved… owlish green eyes vivid amongst all the duvets and pillows they'd bolstered him with. She swallowed down her feelings, there would be time for that later. She patted Trelisa on the hand, thankful that she didn't have to speak any further. At that moment, an aide from the JAG office came out to call them in. "Come on, let's get a good seat."


While Beverly was out at Command, she had arranged for Robert to baby-sit, as Jean-Luc had termed it. She and Robert had concocted a distraction policy, doing their best to make sure he wasn't left alone to dwell or linger on any of the details that he might stumble across from the press. The next day would bring the final judgement of the court martial and the press was almost at full frenzy.

Jean-Luc and his older brother were strolling through a nearby market. They'd been chatting about the vineyard, Robert telling him all about the process of the last harvest, it had been a good year, a good cold snap, followed by a warm spring and then a good long summer. The grape buds had broken early, something he always thought indicated a bountiful harvest, and Robert was telling him in detail of the quality of the tiny, dense growths that had dotted the vines. Jean-Luc was absorbed, but it hadn't escaped him that while he had still been missing, trapped on Xhandria, Robert had been dealing with his grief in the face of the never-ending demands of the vineyard. Life had gone on without him...

He hadn't cared about the winery, when he'd been young. He'd been so invested in getting out into space, exploring the galaxy, joining Starfleet. As Robert spoke, his mind took him to long hot days traipsing around the vines after his father, and when he was really young, his grandfather too. He'd been bored beyond anything back then, but now those same memories were recalled fondly. It was a time in his life when he'd been warm, protected, and safe.

He reached into the bag he was carrying to take the nose off the baguette they'd bought. He ripped the bread in two and popped a piece in his mouth enjoying the crunch of the crust and the soft texture of the bread inside.

A voice broke into his thoughts and made him stop suddenly in the street.

"Shh…That's him… Admiral Picard… it's him," whispered a man's voice, its owner unseen.

"Jeannot?" said Robert, alarmed himself.

He'd heard his name. He felt a shiver run up his spine and knew the eyes of all the people at the market were burning into him. He dropped his head knowing that he needed to make himself smaller. He was out, in the middle of the street, vulnerable… too weak, he was too weak. They would come for him if they saw him out here in broad daylight. What had he been thinking?

"Are you sure?" said another voice, a woman's this time.

"Yes. Yes, it's him. That poor man…" said the first voice.

"Take a picture!" said the woman.

"Quick, get the bag..." replied the man.

Robert put a hand on his brother's arm, "Jeannot? Everything alright?"

Jean-Luc stood frozen. He'd hunched over as though to protect himself and try as he might, could not get his feet to move. He was in danger. If he didn't move, they would come for him. It had happened that way… if he drew attention to himself, they'd come for him.

Robert scouted the market, looking for the problem then linked his arm, "Hey… it's alright. It's me. What can I do?"

Jean-Luc flinched, panting, his heart beating fast, his chest tight. He couldn't speak, his voice wouldn't come. All he could manage was a peculiar squeak that sounded like it had come from a wounded animal. His body was locked in position, every muscle contracted, freezing him in position like a statue. He had to get out of there.

The voices drew closer, he could practically feel their breath on his skin.

"Should we go up to him?"

"I don't know… maybe."

Then, Robert heard the voices too and instantly understood what had happened. He turned to the direction of the man and woman who had spotted Jean-Luc and growled at them, "Go!" He glared at them furiously as they fumbled about for a camera. Suitably chastened, they turned red, walking off quickly in the other direction.

"Idiots… my god… idiots…" he muttered at the same time as trying to scope out the market. "It's okay, they've gone. We need to just take a step over here… out of the crowd." He said trying to coax the terrified Jean-Luc out of the path of further harm. He had never seen his fearless little brother look anything approaching scared but here he was, trembling, eyes wide with fear.

Slowly, slowly, Jean-Luc managed to get his feet under control and took one slow step after another until they were sitting on the terrace of a café. Robert ordered glasses of water from a waiter and moved his seat as close as he could to Jean-Luc's. He put his arm around his shoulder, not caring what the strange scene might have looked like. "It's okay, you're safe here. I'm right here."

He could feel Jean-Luc breathing heavily into his hands, doing his best to regain control of himself. Robert reached into his pocket and pulled out the commbadge Beverly had given him. He fumbled with it, unsure of how it was supposed to work. He tapped at the unfamiliar object in his hand, "Hello?"

The waiter came back then, and startled Jean-Luc afresh as he placed a pitcher and two glasses on the table. Robert felt him tighten up again but was relieved when he poured a glass for himself. Growing in frustration, he tapped hard on the commbadge satisfied when it bleeped.

"Uh, hello yes. This is Robert Picard, I must speak with Dr Beverly Howard immediately."

"Robert, it's me. What happened?" came the worried sound of Beverly's voice, tinny and tiny in his hand.

"Oh thank god. I'm at the market with Jeannot, we need to get home fast."

"Okay, I'll arrange a beam-out. Stay right where you are, it'll be a few seconds."

"Okay…" he turned to his brother, "We're going home. Transporting."

"Thank you…" Jean-Luc replied, in a tight whisper. He clung onto the recognition of feeling a little calmer now. The intensity of what had happened fading quickly in the face of despite the hatred he felt for succumbing to such blatant and raw displays of his fear in the first place.

"It's my first ti–" said Robert as the pair shimmered away into nothingness.

They rematerialized inside the house, Jean-Luc headed straight for the sofa, dropping into it gratefully while Robert checked himself over. "My god…"

His brother's reaction to the transport had distracted him enough that he now felt calmer, his heart was still hammering away, but he no longer felt like he was in imminent danger of being taken away by the Xhand. "Please tell me that wasn't your first time going site to site?" he said, his voice still weak.

"As it happens…"

"Seriously?"

"Well… yes. As a matter of fact. Transporter stations, shuttles, now those I can do. But just suddenly being whipped away into molecules without any notice? Urgh..."

He laughed, amazed at the ability of his brother to write off all the things that made life so much easier as 'wretched technology' "Robert… honestly."

"Well I'm glad it cheered you up." He said, teasingly.

"I'm sorry…back at the market… I just… panicked."

"Think nothing of it. Those people… can't they just leave you in peace?" Robert left the room, muttering to himself. He could hear him talking to the replicator in his uniquely brusque way.

Jean-Luc was exhausted. After the tension of the morning, all he wanted to do was to switch off his brain for just a few minutes. He rubbed at his brow. He couldn't really explain to his brother quite what he needed or how he was feeling. He knew those people in the market had just been curious. He couldn't account for his overreaction… but of course he could. The Xhand had taken everything from him. He had often been recognised in the past, he had grown used to it, putting it down to one of the disadvantages of living back on Earth. Now though, he wanted nothing more than to not be Admiral Picard. He wanted to be left alone, to try to rebuild his life, lick his wounds… as far away from any prying eyes and Starfleet as he could.

He was grateful to Robert however, he was getting over some of his own barriers in the effort to take care of his little brother.

Robert came back into the room carrying a tray with a tea service and a plate of madeleines, "Jean-Luc, now look here. You just have to take your time with this sort of thing. And if that doesn't work, then you just need to take a little longer still. There's no rush."

"I uh…" he was interrupted by the sound of the door chime. He raised his eyebrows in surprise, tried to quash down the rising fear he felt bubbling up from the pit of his stomach once again.

"Leave it to me. I'll get rid of them," said Robert, patting him on the knee and heading to the door.

He strained to hear what was going on but couldn't quite work it out from his position in the living room. Soon enough, Robert came back into the room.

"There's a Klingon?" he said hesitantly.

He laughed again, after years in blissful ignorance, Robert really had been thrown in at the deep-end. Transporting, replicators, Klingons… he'd be signing up for duty soon enough.

"Worf?"

Robert nodded, "That's what he said."

"Let him in… I'd like to see him."

"You're sure?"

He nodded, and Robert hurried off to admit his visitor. Within a few seconds, a deep voice rumbled from the door leading into the living room, "Admiral?"

He turned to the sound immediately and smiled. "Worf… what are you doing here?"

"I had some... business to attend to at Command… I thought I would come and pay you a visit," he replied.

Jean-Luc realised then that Worf would be an integral part of the court martial. He would be back to give evidence. Of course... "My god… please, come on, sit down. Can I get you something?"

"No, thank you."

"Uh… this is my brother, Robert. I don't think you've met?"

"It's a pleasure to meet you," said Robert, a little less sure of himself in the presence of the Klingon.

"As it is to meet you. The Admiral has told me often of your work with your family wine," replied Worf as he folded himself into a chair.

Jean-Luc stared at Worf, there was something tugging at his memory. He shuffled back into the depth of his seat and let his mind wander as Robert and Worf made small talk. Worf had unknowingly unlocked Robert's hesitance by mentioning the vinyard. If he hadn't been so preoccupied with the memory slowly forming, he would have laughed at his brother and his friend, two of the galaxy's least successful small-talkers, doing their excruciating best.

Just as when he'd been walking with Ted and happened across the box, Worf appearing in his home had made the fuzzy image of another memory coalesce… He hadn't actually seen Worf with his own eyes in years before he'd been taken. At least, he didn't think he had... Hadn't he and Riker collected him from the Phoenix?

He tried to let his mind skirt the edges of the hazy image, hoping that attacking it sideways might force it to come into focus. He heard the surprise in Worf's voice as Robert was telling him something about the winemaking process, but he didn't let it take him from the image.

Slowly, as Robert and Worf continued to talk, his memory came back a little. A shuttle, a lot of pain… someone in a Starfleet uniform… Worf… reaching to him perhaps. Coming in and out of consciousness. It was all so confused…

He shook his head, tried to clear the image. His head was hurting from trying to force himself to remember something clearly out of reach. After the horrors of the market that morning, he just didn't have the energy to force it all into shape.

He remembered then that that Worf had been the one to bring him back into Federation space. Deanna had talked him through the chain of events following his rescue, what Starfleet knew of it at least. He was having trouble retaining the chain of events, needed to keep revising it all with her. How he'd got from Xhand to the drop planet, remained a mystery. Whoever the liaison was, they'd done a good job of maintaining their anonymity.

Before he lost his nerve, and without waiting for a natural gap in the conversation, he blurted out what was on his mind. "Worf… You… " he said suddenly, pausing to take a deep breath. The words wouldn't come in the right sequence. "It was you, wasn't it… you rescued me. I can see it…"

Worf cut him off, "Please, I did not wish to stir up any… unpleasant memories."

"I owe you my life." He said, staring in disbelief at his friend. How could he ever thank him?

"Think nothing of it." Worf replied sternly, "You would have done the same for me had our fortunes been reversed."

He knew Worf was a man of few words. Knew he wouldn't appreciate being pushed on the issue. He nodded at his friend, looked him in the eye and whispered, "Thank you."

Robert, looking out for his brother, stood breaking the moment, he could see the fierce concentration on Jean-Luc's face, "Jeannot?"

Jean-Luc turned to his brother sharply, as though he had suddenly been transported from Xhand to his home, "I... I'm fine." he said eventually, recovering himself. "And in any case, Worf makes a fine baby-sitter."

"Well Jean-Luc, in that case I will get on my way. René is home for the afternoon and I must see him. I will be there tomorrow however, at the court martial." He locked eyes with his brother, the seriousness of what was to come making his stern expression bore into him. "Beverly will be home shortly. You'll be okay?"

Jean-Luc swallowed, then nodded, the gravity of the following day suddenly sitting heavily in his stomach, "A demain."

Robert kissed him on each cheek but he remained seated, suddenly exhausted, his body felt heavy and weak. He heard the front door close from the far side of the house, then Beverly appeared at the door as though she had swapped instantaneously with Robert. They weren't leaving him alone for a second…

"Worf, hey! It's good to see you," she said as she breezed into the living room and hugged their friend before going to Jean-Luc.

Worf returned the embrace, looking embarrassed all of a sudden, "I'm afraid this was a very short visit I am needed at Command. It was... very good to see you. I am... glad you are feeling better. And... extremely glad that you are home."

He felt tears prickle in his eyes, and could manage only to nod at his friend. The man that had saved his life. He would be forever grateful and he didn't think he could ever adequately express his gratitude. "Worf..."

"Please..." he replied, holding out a hand to stop Picard from saying anything more. "Please continue to heal, get better."

And with that, he hurried out of the house. Jean-Luc heard the front door close for a second time. He smiled at Beverly, "I don't have the words..." he whispered haltingly, wiping at a tear.

"Neither do I," she said smiling back at him. "I'm just so glad he was there…" She went straight to him, holding out her hand to help him up, "You look tired, Jean."

He didn't have the energy even to take her hand, didn't have the energy for anything more than falling right to sleep. "I'm fine…" he insisted. But he wasn't. "Sit with me?" he said quietly.

As they sat, each lost in their own thoughts, his mind turned to Worf's destination, Command. The thought of even stepping foot in that building ever again filled him with dread. The institution, to which he had dedicated most of his life, had failed him, and absolutely so. Now that the court martial had been in process, he had learned the details of all that had gone on, or not gone on, since his capture. Beverly had broken news of Sacrosanc as gently as she could. If he wasn't living with the reality of what had happened, he would have refused to believe that it could have happened in the first place. Starfleet just wasn't supposed to operate that way.

He closed his eyes, he was so tired of having to think about it all... tired of living with the Xhand in his every thought.

She let him doze on the sofa, and stayed right next to him. He was exhausted, she could see that. She knew his waking hours were just as exhausting as the nightmares that attacked his sleep. He was constantly on alert, and she knew he was spending a good deal of time lost in reliving his experience. Deanna was making progress, she'd used every technique, new and old, humanoid and Betazoid that she could think of, but the damage the Xhand had caused him ran deep.

As he slept, his body kept jerking every so often, bringing him to awareness momentarily. She watched the tightness on his face, knew he was dreaming of them. Everything they had learned since the court martial had begun had dredged further down into a seemingly bottomless pit.

Her thoughts turned to the other survivors. She wondered what they were doing now. Deanna had told her a little, as much as she had deemed professional. They were further down the road of recovery, the bond they had formed seemed to be something that was helping them to assimilate what had happened to them. She thought back to the message she'd been sent, about the group they had formed, about Trelisa and her sister.

The image of him on board the Phoenix popped into her mind once again. He'd been almost unrecognisable but there had been something, some undefinable spark that was just him... She loved him, deeply, completely, of course. But their relationship was based on years and years of duty, friendship, service, and admiration. It seemed no matter how hard the universe tried, Jean-Luc Picard was not done with it yet... She wished she could convey to him just how much she admired him now. To come back from that... to be sitting here next to her in their home on a tiny island on the west coast of France seemed an incredible thing. The distances they had travelled together, the awesome, fantastic, majestic things they had seen and experienced, had all brought them to their life together, to their home, to their sons.

She didn't know what the future held. There was time for decisions to be made later on. She had a feeling he wouldn't be going back, an inkling that change lay ahead in their immediate future. But whatever he wanted, she would make sure it worked for him. It was time for a little payback. Starting with Starfleet, the universe owed him one, and she was going to make damned sure it paid up.