Shane slowly became aware of his surroundings. For an instant, he did not recognize where he was and he sat up too quickly. He stopped only when a sharp dagger stabbed his chest, causing him to cry out in pain.

"Sir!" Simmons rushed through the door.

"I'm . . . I'm okay," Shane said, once again fighting through the pain. He looked around the library, still a little disoriented. This was the first time in weeks he had woken up anywhere other than the hospital. "I guess I fell asleep." That was said almost as much to himself as to Simmons

Simmons nodded. "Yes, sir. Miss Eve said that you had nodded off."

"How long was I asleep?" Shane asked.

"About two hours, I believe." Simmons walked over to a tray he had set up across the room and poured a glass of water. He opened up a prescription bottle, shook out one of Shane's pain pills, and carried the pill and the glass back over to the couch. "I believe you're overdue for one of these."

Looking at the clock over the mantle, Shane realized Simmons was right. No wonder it had hurt when he woke up. Gratefully, he took the pill, swallowed it, and washed it down with the water. After taking a moment to let the painkiller kick in, he asked, "Is Eve still here?"

"No, sir. She said something about meeting Madame Williams at Wings."

Now Shane remembered. Before he had fallen asleep, Eve had said she had a matter she wanted to discuss with Julie. He looked up again at Simmons. "And Kim? Is she home yet?"

Again, Simmons answered in the negative. "No, sir. Madame Brady and Master Andrew have not returned yet. I took the liberty of putting Miss Jeannie down for her nap when Miss Eve left." Simmons paused, before adding, "Sir, Mickey Horton called a little earlier. He said that he had some matters that he needed to discuss and wanted to know when you would able to have visitors"

"No time like the present," Shane said. He reached for the cane that he had set beside the couch and, using it and the arm rest, managed to stand up. He took a couple of breaths, walked slowly to the desk, and picked up the phone. Mickey said he would be over right away, so Shane used the next few minutes to do a little walking before he returned to the couch. Simmons led Mickey into the library shortly thereafter.

"I bet you're glad to be home," Mickey said after they shook hands and Shane motioned Mickey to a chair. Then they waited for Simmons to bring some coffee, step out of the room, and close the doors behind him.

Settling back against the cushions on the couch, Shane looked at Mickey. "I guess this probably isn't a just a visit to say hi, is it?"

Mickey shook his head. "I'm sorry, but it isn't. Judge Lambert issued some rulings yesterday afternoon, and I figured I should tell you about them. I'm afraid they're not very good for us. He rejected all of our legal challenges to the charges."

"So what does that mean?" Shane asked.

"It means that, if you go to trial, you'll face everything - murder, conspiracy to commit murder, treason, espionage, expedition against a foreign country, you name it."

Shane let that sink in. "I should hardly be surprised. Chief Tarrington did say the judge was in the ISA's pockets." He looked down at his hands. "So what now?"

"Now we have to figure out how to mount a defense - unless you change your mind and plead guilty." Mickey watched him carefully for a reaction.

"No, I told you," Shane said. "I'm not prepared to do that. I can't give up on my family yet. Only if that's the last resort."

Mickey gave him a sympathetic nod. "It may be the last resort."

"Not yet, it isn't," Shane shot back. Then he lowered his voice. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped like that. I just don't want to give up yet."

Mickey seemed to understand. "Look, it's pretty clear the government wants this to go away with a plea deal, so the option will stay open. If that changes, I'm sure Louis Pasqua will tell me. But I still have to prepare a case, and, right now, you haven't given me anything. I don't even know the names of the soldiers-"

"We've been over that," Shane said. "We're not calling them. I won't ask them to go to jail and throw away their lives for me."

They both fell silent for a few minutes. Finally, Mickey asked, "Isn't there something we can do? I mean, I've got to at least look like I'm trying to prepare a case. I can go through the motions and talk to Steve. And maybe I can do some things to make the government think I'm going to prove what happened to Steve, as if that's part of the case. At least, it will look like we're mounting some kind of defense, not just stalling."

That sounded like a good idea, except for one thing. "Just be careful, Mickey," Shane cautioned. "All the roads leading from that boat explosion go right to Lawrence Alamain's doorstep. He's dangerous. I already think he killed Maurice Marchand, and I don't want anything happening to you because you're making a pretense of putting on a defense."

Mickey did not seem particularly surprised at what Shane had said about Marchand, and he just nodded. "I'll be careful. But it still doesn't help you beat the charges."

"No. . . ." Shane leaned forward, grimacing slightly as he felt a jab along the sternum. "But I had a thought about that."

Mickey's eyes narrowed. "Go ahead."

"Well . . . from what I learned going through Kim's trial, it seems like all the evidence is given to the jury and they're told what the law is. But after that, the jury can basically do whatever they want. It's not like they have to explain why they decided a case the way they did." Shane paused. "I'm right, am I not?"

Mickey nodded. "That's right."

"So what if something happened between now and the trial. . . . something that would counteract all of the lies and the rumors in the press - something that had a big impact on Salem?"

"A good impact, I hope?" Mickey said.

"Yes," Shane answered. "A very good - and a very big - impact. And it was because of something I did. How would that affect the jury?"

Mickey seemed to think that through a bit. "It's hard to say. What you seem to be describing is what we call 'jury nullification.' It's basically asking the jury to ignore the evidence and law of the case actually in front of it, and decide the case based on some other factor. Whether it would work depends on what the other factor is. I think it would have to be pretty significant to get a jury to overlook murder."

"But it's something we could do?" Shane said.

"Well. . . ." Mickey hesitated. "Technically, it's illegal. The jurors are sworn to uphold the law and are instructed to decide the case based on the facts and evidence they are given. Of course, they're human, so they will come to any case with some bias."

Shane understood. "And they will be reluctant to send me to prison if I've done something important to help Salem?"

"I guess. But the people of Salem already know you, Shane. You stopped that drug ring, you helped stop Stefano DiMera from blowing up the city, you defused that bomb a few years ago at the Brady Fish Market. . . ." Mickey seemed perplexed. "What else could you possibly do for Salem that would have a bigger impact than that."

Shane sat back. "I have an idea, Mickey. Maybe nothing will come of it, but I have an idea."

"Okay." Mickey let out a deep breath. "There's just something I need to warn you about. As I told you, jury nullification is illegal. As an attorney, it's not something I can actually encourage the jurors to do. And I'm sure the government would try to keep all mention of whatever this 'big impact' thing is out of the courtroom. So you'd be taking a big risk that the jurors even know about whatever you did."

"I understand," Shane said. "I do. It just might be a risk that I have to take."