The brig allowed him some time to visit Jen. That surprised Paul at first, until he mentioned it to Sharpe and the master-at-arms nodded knowingly. 'They want you to soften her up, sir. Not deliberately. But maybe get her to blurt out something to you, maybe get her thinking about cutting a deal.'
While he was waiting for Jen, Paul read the warning posted on the wall of the visitor's room. 'All conversations and movements within this compartment are subject to audio and video monitoring at any and all times. Use of this compartment indicates acceptance of these conditions.' I hadn't really noticed that before. I wonder how many prisoners have said something here that they regretted?
A master-at-arms escorted Jen into the room, checked the door Paul had entered by to ensure it was securely locked, then left through the other door. Jen sat down heavily in the chair opposite Paul. Paul cleared his throat cautiously. 'Hi, Jen.'
'Hi.'
'I, uh…' Want to cheer you up but hadn't really thought about how I'd do that beyond being here, which doesn't seem to be doing the trick. 'How-' I'm going to ask how she's doing? What a stupid question.
Jen looked away from him. 'I can't decide whether to be angry or despairing.'
'We'll beat this, Jen.'
' We aren't facing anything. I am. Thanks in no small part to your favorite lawyer.'
'Commander Carr's doing her job, Jen. It's not fair-'
' Fair?' Jen finally looked at him, glaring with anger. 'If you're going to bring up fair then what am I doing here?'
'I… I just wanted…'
'It's very convenient, isn't it?'
'What? Convenient?'
'You know what I mean. That hot-shot babe gets me convicted, leaving Paul Sinclair free to fill the role of her part-time boy-toy.'
Paul held up his hands in a calming gesture. 'Jen, are you serious? You can't really believe- '
'How am I know what to believe, Paul Sinclair?'
'I would never choose Commander Carr over you. Not for an instant.'
'Then why are you defending her? Siding with her even while she drags my reputation through the mud?'
Paul looked down, unable to meet her gaze for a moment. Look at it from her perspective. She's right. 'I'm sorry. I'm here, I'm at the trial, for you. Not for anyone else.'
'Can you believe it? Bad enough I had to sit there while they recited all those names. Names of my friends and co-workers.' Her face worked with emotion. 'And what could I do? Cry? I couldn't do that. I'm an officer. I have to be strong.'
'You're stronger than I believed possible, Jen. I mean that.'
'I wish it helped. But I'm sure they're figuring out some way to use that against me. Just like they're using my professional skills against me. How can I defend myself against this? I'm supposed to be able to refute evidence. To strike back at hard facts. But there aren't any. There's just these ghosts, things I can't hit no matter how hard I swing. How do I prove I'm not guilty? Or am I crazy to even ask?'
'You're not guilty, Jen. And you're not insane, either.'
Jen sank back into the chair, elbows on her knees and her head buried in her hands. 'No hard targets to hit. That little son of a bitch Taber. I can't believe he made that stuff up.'
'Lieutenant Bashir discredited him.'
'No, he didn't! You saw the members!'
'Bashir proved Taber didn't know what he was talking about, that he'd distorted what he testified about, that he had ulterior motives. Jen, I'll tell Bashir that I'll go on the stand and testify for you. That I know you couldn't have had anything improper going on with Schmidt because you couldn't have done that. You're too honest.'
Jen smiled sourly. 'Honest. That's doubtless another crime on my part.'
'Everyone knows Taber was wrong. Nobody'll believe him.'
'That's wrong, Paul Sinclair. You know that's wrong. You know what everyone'll be thinking. Sailors. They leave their marriage vows and other commitments at the pier. They sail off and have affairs and patronize hookers, and it's always been that way and always will be that way. You know they'll think that. And even if you and Schmidt's guy go up there and swear teary-eyed that she and I were faithful to you two everyone'll just think 'those poor guys. Always the last to know. Don't they know what sailors are like?' You know that's what they'll think, Paul!'
Paul bit his lip as he met Jen's gaze. Do I deny that? Knowing she's right? I can't see where pretending that I'm oblivious is going to make her feel any better. 'Yeah. I know that.'
'How the hell do I prove I didn't have an affair with a dead woman? How do I prove that?'
'I don't know.' Paul let his helpless feelings show. 'This isn't how it's supposed to work.'
'Oh, that makes me feel a lot better. Thanks for letting me know that.'
'Jen, I'm doing everything I-'
' Then why am I still here?'
Paul stared at her, momentarily silent with shock at the way her anger had erupted. Anger obviously directed at him once again. How do I answer a question like that? I don't know. Maybe that's the only answer that fits now. 'I don't know.' Jen leaned forward so she could press her fingertips against her temples. Paul could see the flesh around her nails whitening from the force Jen was using. 'I'm there every day, Jen.'
She didn't look up. 'For me or for her?'
'Her? Her who?'
'Commander Carr.' Jen almost spat the name this time.
Paul felt his own anger flaring now. 'Jen, for God's sake knock it off. I told you that's nonsense. You know full well-'
'I don't know anything anymore, Mr. Sinclair.' She finally raised her head to look at him again, but Paul found his own eyes flinching away from the emotions mirrored in Jen's. 'I'm fighting for my life. And I don't know why.'
Paul's voice sounded rough to him. 'I told you I don't know why either.'
'Then you're not doing either of us much damn good, are you?'
He stared straight into her eyes, not believing what he'd heard. 'What…? Jen, what're you doing?'
She looked down again, concealing her haunted eyes from Paul once more. 'I don't know,' she whispered. 'Just go away.'
'No!'
'Then shut up or something.'
'Jen, this isn't like you.'
'What do you know what I'm like? What do I know what I'm like? Maybe it's all a big illusion, maybe I've always been an awful screw-up, an accident waiting to happen. And I did something or didn't do something and a lot of people who trusted me died. How do I know that isn't true?'
'Because it's not!'
' Then why am I here?'
'I…'
'You're not helping me. You're not helping you. Give it up. Just go away and let me sail off to hell alone.'
'I don't want to.'
'And I don't care.'
'Jen.' Paul waited as minutes passed without Jen moving, then finally he stood up slowly. 'Okay.' Shouldn't I say something else? What? I understand? How the hell could I understand? I don't even know what the hell's going on. 'I'll see you tomorrow.' Jen didn't respond, so Paul left, feeling an emptiness inside only partially filled by his anger at her.
Franklin offered no refuges, no places to hole up alone with his anger. The rent-a-shacks were all tied up, used by people brought in to work on the Maury or assist in or provide press coverage of the court-martial. He didn't
