A big day for Jean-Luc, and a BIG read for you, dear reader. May I suggest a nice hot drink to accompany your reading mission?


On the day of the final judgement, Jean-Luc and Beverly transported directly into the outer chamber of the courtroom. They were escorted into a private waiting room away from everyone else by a JAG usher, a condition of his attendance. He still wasn't sure if he could hold his nerve long enough to actually enter the courtroom itself but at least he'd made the first effort.

Outside, Will, Deanna, Robert, Worf, and everyone else involved ran the gauntlet of the press frenzy that had gathered. In the hope of catching a glimpse of Jean-Luc, journalists clamoured for space at the foot of the building, and those who hadn't managed to grab a coveted spot, lined the long paths that lined the verdant grass before it. The JAG section maintained an ancient building that had once been San Francisco City Hall which seemed to add to the weight of the moment. Its beautiful domed interior chamber loomed over the waiting families, reducing them to pack animals scuttling about in its shadow.

Inside the waiting room, Jean-Luc was nervous. His chest was tight, he could feel the moisture on his hands, feel his heart beating too hard.

He tried his best to sit still on the bench where he was waiting. He wanted nothing more than to run from this place, run and run until he was home, until he was safe. He forced himself to think about the few places he'd been since returning home: Medical, the mall, the market, the shore, that was all. His world had ironically grown and shrunk at the same time: he had more freedom than his cell on Xhandria, but compared to his days exploring the entire galaxy, he was living such a small life. He forced himself to focus on the sensory detail of the shore, using one of Deanna's patented coping strategies in the hope of soothing the rising agitation and anxiety he felt .

"It will be fine, this is a done deal," said Beverly cautiously laying a hand on his shoulder.

He turned to her, surprised that she was there still. "I know… I know." He said so quietly he almost couldn't hear his own voice.

"Want to talk about it?"

"Not really… I just want this to be over. To go home."

"I'm sorry…" she said, gifting him a small sympathetic smile.

Presently, a court official knocked on the door and called for them. Jean-Luc stood, mustering every bit of courage he could and followed along with Beverly as the man lead them into the court room. "Alors…"

In the corridor outside, he found himself at the tail-end of a queue of people moving slowly toward the courtroom. Ahead, he could just make out the familiar shape of his brother and Will as they disappeared inside, both towering above the general height of the crowd.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, someone jumped in his path shoving a camera in his face. He brought his hands up to protect himself from the attack he felt was imminent. Before he knew it, Worf appeared from behind him and with one swift blow, had knocked out the errant photographer. With another step, the large Klingon had stepped on the camera, smashing it into pieces under his foot.

"Photography is not permitted!" he growled at the now terrified paparazzo. "Security!"

In seconds, Worf had the terrified man in an arm lock awaiting his fate with the JAG security officers barreling toward them.

Beverly dragged Jean-Luc over to one side of the long, wide corridor, and he found himself with his back to the wall and Beverly standing in front of him protectively blocking anyone's view of him. "It's okay… it's over. They got him."

He panted, eyes darting to the scene of the crime, the queue, Worf, his brother… everywhere. "I... I... what..?"

"Jean-Luc. Listen to me."

He was breathing hard, couldn't get enough air… he didn't feel safe. He needed to get away. The last people in the queue had heard the whole thing and had turned to watch the commotion. He could see people pointing at him, his whispered name carrying down to him.

"Come on. Let's go. They can wait," she said hurriedly.

She hooked him under his arm and dragged back to the room from which they'd just come and guided him to the seat he had been occupying just moments earlier.

He dropped down and buried his face in his hands, needing the darkness to assuage the sensory overload he could feel building. He felt her sit down and put her arm around him. He concentrated on breathing, in and out, in and out.

After a few minutes of much needed silence, he dropped his hands and turned to her. His eyes were wide with fear, but he tried to smile, glad she was with him.

She brushed his brow with her fingers tenderly, "Feeling better?"

He nodded, taking her hand in his, "What happened?"

"A damn photographer… don't worry, security got him. Worf helped." She said grinning at the mention of their friend, "Once your security officer, always your security officer hey?"

"Where did he come from?"

"You know Worf, a good warriror maintains vigilance and is ever-ready..." she said, smiling.

"He keeps getting me out of trouble… I owe him one," he whispered, finding the levity she had introduced something of a lifeline.

"Ready to try that again?"

He nodded, but he looked entirely unsure, "Is it clear?"

She stood then, popped her head around the door and was met by the court usher that had come for them earlier. The young man bustled into the room, red faced and over excited. "I'm so sorry about that Admiral! I don't know how that man got in. Please, if you are ready, the corridor is now completely clear and security are guarding all entrances. Of course, if you need more time perhaps?"

Jean-Luc stood slowly, his movement beset by the lingering pain he still felt. He cleared his throat in an effort to claw back some authority over himself, "Thank you, I'm ready now."

"If you'll follow me?"

In the corridor, Worf stood, a silent sentry ready to flank Jean-Luc. He nodded at his old captain and the pair fell into formation, albeit much slower than their days on the Enterprise, and headed to the courtroom. When they reached the double doors that would open to reveal a waiting public gallery, the defendants and the prosecution, he suddenly realised he was about to come face to face with not only the other survivors, but also Sacrosanc.

He hesitated. Could he do this? He swallowed hard, dropped his head, took a deep breath and looked to Worf and Beverly. Both of them nodded to him in silent affirmation,

"We're here, you can do this," said Beverly.

He stood back as the usher opened the door for him, then he took a step forward.

Once he'd crossed the threshold of the room, he hesitated for a second, eyes darting to scope it out. He could see Will and Deanna sitting with two seats between them, for him and Beverly he presumed. Robert was there with an empty seat that Worf was now preparing to take. Then, he looked at the defence bench. There, he saw an admiral he vaguely recognised from his time at Command, Sacrosanc... Jean-Luc caught the man's eye and he turned red, looked away, and dropped his head, shame clear on his face. The man looked pale, small, even though he was wearing the uniform, it somehow looked like a borrowed costume. Was that him? That tiny little man was the one to have caused this whole thing?

He felt Beverly hold his hand and squeeze, reminding him that he was hovering, he needed to take his seat. She whispered in his ear, "I love you. You can do this."

He squeezed her hand back. He just needed to put one foot in front of the other…

He took his seat between Will and Beverly, then felt Robert put a protective hand on his back from his position right behind him. He was hemmed in by friends and family, grateful for the security their presence gave him.

He kept his head down, his eyes still darting about furtively from under his brow. He didn't want to catch anyone's eye, he was well aware that the minute he'd walked in, everyone had turned to him. The last one, the one they thought wouldn't make it. He hadn't even noticed any familiar faces. The last time he'd seen any of the Apollo crew, they'd all been in a pretty terrible state. But that had been over eighteen months ago. He'd been kept completely isolated from them eventually. He didn't know why. He still couldn't begin to imagine any kind of official, rational reasoning at work behind this whole debacle.

Soon enough, the Judge Advocate General herself, Rear Admiral Nirin Kerina, and the JAG officer presiding over the whole thing rose, as did the gathered participants in the trial. He struggled to his own feet, Beverly giving him a subtle lift under his elbow. He felt like he was some kind of massive glowing beacon, immediately obvious to everyone, and very much seen. Once he'd reached full standing position, he realised he recognised the JAG officer serving as prosecution, Phillipa Louvois. She met his eye and nodded, her lips frozen in a tight smile. He nodded back to her. Sacrosanc didn't stand a chance…

Rear Admiral Kerina, a woman in her late 70s, started her summation, "Thank you all for coming here today for the concluding session in this court martial of former Admiral Juron Sacrosanc. We have gathered to give our judgement in the hope that this will, in part, go some way to providing the very necessary answers so that the victims of this crime will be able to begin the long process of healing.

"I use the word crime deliberately because, the actions of Juron Sacrosanc, can only be described as criminal. The prosecution, lead by Admiral Phillipa Luovois, has proved beyond any reasonable doubt, that it was a criminal act knowingly undertaken by the defendant that led not only to the Xhandria Massacre, but that this was then compounded by the knowledge he held that the surviving members of the Apollo crew were in fact, still alive and being held in abhorrent circumstances on the surface of the planet.

"That the defendant kept this knowledge to himself and his aide, former Ensign Trillo, whom we have already sanctioned, for two years, the entirety of Admiral Picard's incarceration, can also only be described as criminal. Indeed, I am not sure there are adequate words to describe the true nature and impact of this most heinous of crimes."

He'd managed to follow the words of the judge even though he was trying his best to remain in his seat and fight the urge to run. He thought of the irony that even if he had given in, his weak and broken body wouldn't have got him very far.

Kerina continued to talk through the list of crimes with which Sacrosanc was being charged. Jean-Luc felt sick to his stomach. Everything he'd been forced to endure was all down to the man sitting not three metres away from him. He hadn't ever been a violent man, had prided himself on rising above the worst that life had thrown at him before all this. But this… this was different.

The man sitting ahead of him had destroyed his life. Hearing the judge lay out the crimes one by one, shocked him even though he had been the one to live through them.

He clenched his fists and felt his jaw tighten, his teeth grinding involuntarily against each other. Beside him, Beverly moved closer to him, her hand in his. "Jean-Luc?" she whispered.

He turned to her, couldn't see past the anger building in his chest. He withdrew his hand and balled it with the other tightly in his lap. He dropped his head and willed himself to calm, whispering his reply, "I can't do this. I need to get out of here."

Next to Beverly, Deanna squirmed in her seat. She was too far away to be of any use, but she knew just how strongly he was feeling and she was reacting to him. She nudged Beverly who turned to look at her and mouthed a quick plea for help to the counsellor.

"Okay, just hold on…" Beverly glanced about looking for a way out. Before she could come up with some kind of plan to get him out of there, an audible gasp sounded from the rear of the room. She snapped her head to look in the direction of the gasp to see several members of the gathered audience, start to stand.

"Is there a doctor?! We need a doctor!" shouted a man in a blind panic. "She's collapsed!"

Beverly stood automatically then stopped in her tracks, she couldn't leave Jean-Luc. Not like this. She didn't need to be an empath to know how he was feeling right now. She could see the anger written in his face.

"Go… I've got this," said Deanna, also standing. Beverly dashed out of her row, then darted to the back of the room.

Deanna used the opportunity to grab Jean-Luc's hand and pull him up. She nudged at Will whispering urgently, "Will, we need to get out of here."

"Deanna?"

"Let's go." She said, more forcefully this time.

Jean-Luc was silent but thankfully biddable. He was breathing rapidly, his flight response kicking in. He held tightly to her hand as she dragged him out discreetly into the hallway while Beverly dealt with the medical emergency back in the courtroom. Will bumbled along after them, not really understanding exactly what had happened but ready to do whatever it took to protect Jean-Luc.

Jean-Luc followed blindly and in his mind, all he could see were the flashing images of random moments of violence. He'd been violently attacked and beaten so many times he had lost count. Images of bruised, bloody and broken parts of his body assailed him. And through the buzzing sensation that had now enveloped every bit of him, he could feel each and every injured part of himself as though it were freshly wounded.

He pulled Deanna to an abrupt halt once they were clear of the courtroom and away from any prying eyes. "I want to kill that man," he said through gritted teeth. His voice didn't sound like his own.

He turned back to face the room from which they had just escaped, and she could feel the strong anger churning within him. It was alien to her. She had felt this from him only once before, after the Borg. The intensity of it frightened her, as did its unfamiliarity. Knowing someone for so long as an empath was different, there were very few people who had it in them to surprise her. And it was happening now.

Deanna turned to look at him. "You don't mean that," she said, cautiously.

He started pacing, Will looked to her for an explanation, and she urged him, through their bond, to take a seat and stay quiet. She didn't want any sudden moves, and didn't trust Will's size not to trigger something undesirable in Jean-Luc.

The corridor gave him just enough space for a few steps in either direction before he arrived at a wall. "I do. I mean it. I want to kill him. I'm so angry."

She waited, quietly, and without moving. She knew he could work through. She had to trust in her reading of him, that he just needed a presence that he could trust.

"Will, maybe you could go check in with Beverly?" she said, without taking her eyes of Jean-Luc.

"Will you be okay?" he asked, entirely unsure of what best to do.

She nodded and indicated with a small movement of her hand that he needed to go. Will edged along the wall, doing as much as he could to stay out of Jean-Luc's path.

Deanna remained exactly where she was. "You are safe here," she said quietly, and cautiously. "That man is going straight to prison. He cannot hurt you."

"Two years… Deanna," he spat. She could sense his anger starting to tail off. She needed to be patient, he would work this out. She trusted him.

"I know. But you are stronger than this. Stronger than him. And you are safe here."

He started to visibly slow his pace and seemed to be suddenly aware of where he was. "My god…"

He took a seat on the bench lining the wall. He dropped his head into his hands and wept. He couldn't stop himself. He was roiling through every possible emotion. He became vaguely aware of Deanna's presence next to him, could feel her in his mind somehow. Like a warm hug, friendship, love.

She put her arm around his back and he flinched; too much, too soon. He slid away from her, unable to stand her touching him. His back felt like the brand had just been burned into him only seconds before. He wiped at his eyes, his brow. Nothing he was feeling was in the right place, the right order, and the tears still came.

Next to him, Deanna tracked through the mess of emotion he was struggling with. The anger had dialled down considerably, but grief was rising to the top. He was starting to become recognisable to her once more.

"I wish this hadn't happened… to you, to any of the others. I'm sorry."

He sniffed, tried to understand her words as they brought him back from the cell on a far-away world. He turned to her, "What?"

"I'm so sorry."

"Whatever for?" he asked, confused.

"I'm supposed to be helping you come to terms with this. I'm supposed to tell you how you need to find it within yourself to move on and forgive him."

"Supposed to..?"

"The thing is," she said wistfully. "If I'm honest, I want to kill him too. He is despicable. I want nothing more than to launch him off in torpedo casing, target him with phasers and blast him into billions of pieces. New Zealand doesn't deserve the horror of having to deal with him."

She was speaking from the heart, but he'd never heard her talk this way. She'd always been so reasonable, empathic. He laughed at this new vindictive side to her.

"I mean it," she said, crossly.

He wiped the last few tears away, "I know you do."

"Well then. Now you know."

"I do?"

"Not quite the nice little Betazoid that everyone thinks they know, am I?"

He dropped his head into his hands once again, but this time his body shook with laughter. "Deanna," he mumbled from his odd position. "Thank you."

"Whatever for?" she repeated back the phrase he had used only seconds before.

"For being a friend."

At that moment, Beverly came bursting through the door of the courtroom and his head snapped to the sudden sound of her calling his name. Behind her, he could see a team of medics taking out the woman who had collapsed inside the courtroom on an anti-grave gurney.

"Jean-Luc?" she jogged toward them urgently. "Are you okay?"

He turned to Deanna and the look on her face was priceless, as though she'd been caught with her hands in the cookie jar. He laughed again and smiled at Beverly. "I am…"

Beverly arrived at their position and crouched down next to him, "Really?" she asked, putting her hand over his.

He nodded and took her hands in his, "Yes. I'm fine."

"Okay?" she questioned.

He nodded again, "Really…" He wiped at a final errant tear. "I think two attempts is enough," he said, referring to the two aborted attempts at taking a seat in the courtroom. "But I'd like to see the term, see him being taken away."

"You're sure?" asked Beverly.

"Yes. Very."

"Okay then, I uh…" she began looking around for inspiration.

Deanna interjected, "I have a suggestion, there's a break-out room, with a live link. A little less… public."

He nodded, his throat felt restricted, he didn't think he'd be able to squeak out an answer.

The three of them found the small adjacent to the main courtroom and settled in for the remainder of the judgement. They gathered around the screen installed in the room, with Jean-Luc in the middle of the two women. He felt raw, like someone had peeled his insides, but he desperately wanted to see this man suffer for what he had done.

The JAG office, Phillipa, had really gone to town. Starfleet had been chastened by this whole thing and were working as hard as possible to bring down the full weight of the law in the hope that public opinion would turn back in their favour. The Xhandria Massacre had sent the public confidence of each member world into the toilet.

As the link established, Kerina's stern face appeared on one half of the screen in front of them. On the other half, they could see the room from the her all-seeing perspective – including the defendant.

"…In short, the defendant knowingly and willingly participated in the continuing torture and imprisonment of the surviving 17 members of the Apollo crew. And in addition, willingly participated in the unlawful murder of the 283 crew members who sadly lost their lives.

"On all counts we find you guilty as charged. You are to be stripped of your rank immediately, and interred in the New Zealand Penal Colony for a period of not less than thirty years. You, are a danger to the Federation, to Starfleet, and to your fellow man."

To his left, Deanna pumped her fist and stood on hearing the punishment, "Yes!"

Beverly smiled, and pulled him closer to her, "He won't ever be allowed to hurt anyone again."

He felt a fresh batch of tears in his eyes, and wiped at them furiously. He'd done enough crying.

"The pain you have caused is immeasurable. For this reason, this court finds that any assets will be turned over to form part of a repatriation and compensation package for the 17 survivors, as well as in recompense for the families of the dead officers. To know that you knowingly and willingly not only sent fellow Starfleet officers to their deaths on Xhandria, but then, upon learning that there were surviving prisoners, to have done nothing to reveal this to Command… thus cementing their continued torture, this court cannot begin to understand your motivation. We would like to particularly draw attention to the plight of Admiral Jean-Luc Picard who was singled out for violent and brutal treatment beyond anything we have heard in this room before, and was the last survivor to be rescued and repatriated by some weeks. It is for him that we act now.

"You claim to have been badly informed, you claim to have been duped by the Xhand representative with whom you were in contact in the hope of enticing Xhandria to join the United Federation of Planets. This court finds that these claims are false and egregious at best. This court is unanimous in our sentence and our judgement. And the matter is now closed. It is our greatest desire and wish that this will also be the case for the survivors of the Xhandria Massacre, and it is for them for whom we now must express our most deepest and heart-felt apology. Starfleet, and the Federation, are in your debt and will remain thus for the rest of your lives.

"Case closed. Court dismissed. Take him away."

As soon as Kerina had finished speaking, Jean-Luc felt a great deal of the burden he'd been carrying on his shoulders drop away. He felt weak, spent, but most importantly, the anger he'd felt just moments ago, seemed to dissipate. He wasn't sure what that meant, but he was certainly glad of the feeling.

He watched, agog, as Sacrosanc got to his feet, the panic in his eyes more than evident. Security officers grabbed each of his arms and he wrestled with them for a second before he realised the futility of his actions. Jean-Luc heard him shout before the link was cut, "You can't do this to me!"

He sat, deflated, consternated. He hadn't known the full extent of it all until now. Out of a crew of 300, only 17 survivors made it home… The crew he was supposed to have kept safe.

Beverly put her arm around him, and he could feel Deanna's attention upon him, waiting for his reaction.

"Can… can we go home now?" he whispered.