The Line Between Personal and Professional
Posted on Sun Sep 6th, 2026 @ 6:27am by Lieutenant Commander Corin Layal & Lieutenant Ezra Van Wijnbergen
Edited on on Wed Sep 9th, 2026 @ 9:03am
2,107 words; about a 11 minute read
Mission:
Episode 3 - The One Who Got Away
Location: JAG Department Offices - Deck 6 - USS Artemis
Timeline: MD1-2 1600 hrs
Personal conversations always made Layal more nervous than courtroom performances. In court she could be whoever she wanted to be. Face to face, there was always the fear that more of herself would show - that she would be judged for it, not the case.
And with Ezra… she’d let her guard down too many times with him before. It was time she learned to treat him like everyone else. That’s where he decided he wanted their situation to be. It was appropriate, especially now that she was staying on board.
She made her way to his office to break the news and found him working on something. She didn’t know what, though she’d likely find out soon enough. She decided to skip through the pretenses and just get straight to the point.
“I won’t take up much of your time. I just thought you should know, Captain Kidd asked me to stay. Run the JAG division.”
She got the words out quickly, no real emotion for him to read into. Though the speed at which she spoke and the awkwardness of the last few days said enough.
When Layal had arrived, he was bent over a report–a former patient from The Artifact had reconnected with her children. It was a heartwarming addendum to an otherwise sad story. He looked up at her immediately and found her just as beautiful as the day they’d met a decade ago.
Then she spoke, and the words came too quickly.
Ezra knew lawyers. He knew counselors. He knew survivors. Sometimes all three used exactly the same voice when they wished to leave their fingerprints on a conversation.
A strange thing then happened. He felt relieved. And not the complicated sort of relief. It was pure relief and, moreover, the small knot he always felt in his chest in her presence loosened a little.
“That’s good news. You should.” Ezra couldn’t tell if he was smiling or not, but touching his face to figure it out would have been crossing a line into the weird.
Layal let out the breath she’d been holding. “That makes me your boss again. C-O.” She’d have to get used to being on a ship, around officers, speaking the language again. It was no different than the time she’d spent on bases. But on Earth things had been more courtroom, less Starfleet.
“Is that going to work?” She asked, finding her confidence again, her authority.
Ezra’s eyes remained on her for a moment before he glanced down at the report in front of him. The smiling photograph of a reunited family suddenly felt very far away.
Then he rose to his feet but not abruptly. Not because protocol demanded anything of the sort. He convinced himself that remaining seated just felt wrong.
For years, Layal had existed in his mind in two forms at the same time. There was the woman standing in front of him now, with her ability to cut through the preamble and attack the main point–all behind guarded eyes and encased in the history neither of them seemed capable of placing in small box.
Then there was Lieutenant Commander Corin Layal, Judge Advocate General, and the woman he had once served with who represented justice and integrity. She was trusted with the lives and futures of others.
“Yes, Commander.”
It was said with sincerity and, hopefully, in the same vein Layal had approached the subject.
He felt a faint smile on his face but wondered if it was just window-dressing for the sadness and longing he still carried to this day. Ezra told himself it may as well be both–genuine happiness that she was staying, and wistfulness at the prospect of having their roles delineated by military hierarchy.
She watched Ezra for a moment, as she kept her own expression stone, serious, as if she were in a face off with a judge. He, however, was expressive. Always so expressive. Maybe that was why people were always so drawn to him. Women always so drawn to him. She knew that she could make friends, but it was because she was good for a laugh or a favor and in turn could usually count on the people around on her in turn. But Ezra, when Ezra got to know someone, he let them really get to know him.
She didn’t know how.
When she spoke, she gave away none of her thoughts, keeping the topic on business, pushing away the awkwardness of the other night. She was good at pushing feelings and memories away.
“I’ll be honest, I have no idea what if any pending cases the Artemis is working on right now,” Layal admitted. “When I came here it was for the Vamcet case only, and I had no intention of staying, and quite frankly, I’ve never been interested in what this ship was doing.” It was true. Serving on the ship had never interested her. The Artemis always seemed to grab the attention of the younger lawyers, and so far they hadn’t stayed very long. Now for her since the Captain had asked her to remain it was more of a curiosity project for her than anything else.
“I’m going to ask Lieutenant Corwin to do the same, but I’d like a report on any of your pending cases - Artemis cases, that I need to be brought up to speed on. Short and to the point. I can dig into the details myself. If there is anything pressing, any victims I need to meet soon, please make sure they get added to my calendar.”
There had been a time when her presence alone would have unsettled him more than any briefing or directive. That time had not disappeared–more receded–like a Betazed sunset. What remained now was something a little more undiluted and pure. And in its own way, more difficult to name.
Ezra stepped back toward his desk and retrieved a second PADD, waking it with his thumb. The list appeared sparse at first glance, but he knew better than to call anything in his office truly sparse.
“I can give you the active file list,” he said, turning it slightly. “Most of these are leftovers from the Vamcet case.”
He scrolled through the manifest of patients, mentally tabulating a final figure.
“Twenty-seven are from Bajor,” he muttered, his deep voice reverberating off the walls of his still-bare and tiny office. “Most are post-trial follow-up, a few cross-jurisdictional matters. They have all been transferred to local government support agencies.”
He looked up at Layal again, placing the PADD into her hands.
“I should be clear,” he said after another moment, his voice lowering. “There are three active victim support cases I’m currently handling directly.”
Ezra didn’t want to present them as a burden.
“The first is the Ch’sam case: a civilian engineer attached to Starbase 304. She was caught in a decompression event during what should have been a simple maintenance job. Her ex-wife–a Starfleet engineer–has been charged with attempted murder. It seems the decompression was planned as a retaliation of sorts.” He sighed sadly.
“Physically, she’s stabilized, but she’s having difficulty returning to duty. She’s terrified of enclosed environments–turbolifts, corridors, anything that seals. And… she is on the fence about testifying against her ex.”
He found himself admiring Layal’s hairstyle. She must have recently changed it, he thought. He always loved her hair–especially the way it looked when she first awakened in the morning. There was something honest and playful that stirred him.
Layal nodded an acknowledgement, nothing unusual.
“The second is a former enlisted officer that served aboard this ship–security division. He was involved in a hostage situation during shore leave on Deep Space 18. This Petty Officer was shot by one of the Nausicaan perpetrators. He returned fire, killing one. The JAG Office over there cleared him of any wrongdoing but the case was shifted to us for impartiality reasons. There is a pretrial date set for next week for the four surviving accused.”
“Nausicaans,” she repeated, “Why does it…” but she let her voice trail off.
Ezra circled his desk, coming around to the other side where Layal stood, reading the PADD. He leaned back, perching himself on the edge of his desk.
He crossed his arms and nodded toward the PADD. “That last one arrived this morning. It’s from Huesar IV in the Argolis Sector. A mining consortium co-owned by both Federation and Breen interests is accused of repeatedly strong-arming the leaders of a potential union there. Several workers have been receiving anonymous, threatening messages. Their power grids have been disrupted, leaving their homes without heat or power. The workers and their families are frightened.”
“All of these are assigned to the Artemis?” She asked dubiously. “Even though they have no solid record of holding on to a prosecutor for longer than a few months?” She regretted her judgmental statement almost immediately as she remembered the way that Ezra had hurt her the other night - leaving her feeling raw and exposed. He wasn’t one she should be making these kinds of comments to, not anymore.
“I mean, their investigative division is very well-staffed,” she added, “And the fact that they are mobile certainly is more than a convenience, it’s efficient.” This time she held back her thoughts on having a convicted murder running the Emergency Services Unit. No, she had to remember to keep her distance.
“I’ll take a look at the DV case,” she suggested. “I may want to meet with this victim, especially if it looks like there has been a history of violence.”
“Work with local authorities on Huesar IV, make sure the families are receiving adequate protection, extra patrols,” Layal ordered. “If you get any pushback, or hear that the neighborhoods aren’t being adequately protected, I’ll um… Have Chief Frost reach out, or possibly do it myself if needed.”
Ezra listened without interrupting, his arms still loosely crossed as she made her way through the cases. There was comfort in watching her inhabit this part of herself again. The uncertainty she’d carried into the office had gradually settled into confidence and the practiced rhythm of a Judge Advocate.
“I’ve already reached out to the Huesar IV authorities,” he said. “The colony governor has authorized additional security patrols around the workers’ housing, though they’ve admitted they’re stretched thin. They’re worried about escalating things with the consortium before they have enough evidence to justify stronger action.”
His eyes drifted from her face to her hair, remembering how much he loved to run his fingers through it.
“I’m going hands-off on that one since there isn’t exactly a victim–at least, not yet.”
Layal stopped and looked at him, only business - responding to his last statement. "You don't get to be hands off. If a case is assigned to us, and there are people communicating that they are frightened, then we need to be taking those calls and documenting what we can and making sure that at the very least messages for investigation and protection are getting forwarded along," she stated. "You just said it - 'yet.' There could be one who just hasn't come forward, or there could be one because didn't forward a message. It doesn't matter if we aren't technically first point of contact - once they make it, we're liable."
She doubted that anyone from such an indigent colony would make a point to sue. It was always the more privileged entitled sorts. But they fact that they could and did, made Layal all the more eager to make sure the smaller voices got the same treatment.
"I'll be in my office for a bit gathering materials if you need anything," she offered as she started to side step her way out.
Before Ezra could respond, she was gone. That's how it is with Layal, he considered, before returning to the work in front of him.
A Joint Post By
Lieutenant Commander Corin Layal
Judge Advocate General, USS Artemis
Executive Officer, USS Artemis
Starfleet Criminal Investigations Unit
Lieutenant Ezra Van Wijnbergen
Victim Advocate Counselor, USS Artemis
Starfleet Criminal Investigations Unit
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