Here it is, hang on to your hats, the final chapter of this story - my second longest. Phewf! That's what a lockdown will do for you... I really hope you guys have enjoyed reading this.

Thank you SO much to all of you who have taken the time to write a review - it means more to me than you could possibly imagine.

There is a second part in the works but for now, pull up a seat, pour yourself a nice cup of Earl Grey, and enjoy the ride :)

He stood holding tightly to the doorframe carefully considering his next step. It had seemed so easy when he'd started this undertaking, but had quickly taken a turn for the worse. He had made it all the way to the head. Wobbly legs had taken careful slow steps and he had reached his intended destination. Now however, he found himself at an impasse. The prospect of making it inside the bathroom was very dim indeed. Equally problematic was the return journey to his bed. He was pretty sure gravity was about to make the decision for him. His vision was clouded at the edges, and he could feel his heart beating far too fast in his chest, the rush of his blood pounding loudly in his ears thanks to his very sensitive new cochlea.

"Jean-Luc! What are you doing?" shouted Beverly as she dropped a tray of something bland on his table and rushed over to catch him.

The captain looked like he was being held up by string. She could see his whole body trembling. He was about to hit the deck.

"I… I…" he stuttered before collapsing.

Beverly took a lunging step forward calling out for one of the orderlies. She managed to get her shoulder under his arm but knew she wouldn't last long. He was much heavier than he looked.

"Doctor Crusher? Oh my!" came the voice of the orderly.

"Give me a hand here? We need to just get him back into bed." She said as the orderly got under the captain's other arm and the two worked their way over with the captain dangling helplessly between them. "Jean-Luc, were you trying to get to the bathroom? Do you need..?"

"No… no I'm fine." He said quickly. The sound of his own voice seemed to come from miles away.

She looked at him sceptically. He was far from fine but she wasn't sure if his flushed cheeks were a sign of embarrassment, or that his temperature was elevated. She tucked him back into his bed, looked him square in the eyes. "Want to tell me what you think you were doing?" Her gaze shifted for a moment to the readouts at the head of his bed, nothing to worry about, just a very over-taxed patient trying to do too much, and too soon.

"I was just…" he said. His hand went to his forehead, rubbing away lines of tension and guarding his eyes from tiredness. "I just wanted to go to the head. On my own."

"Oh… I'm sorry Jean…" she paused, unsure how to console him. He was fiercely private, fiercely independent, what lay ahead was not going to be easy.

He flopped his head back against the pillows. His vision starting to lose its shadowy vignette. "No, I'm sorry… I suppose I'm just feeling a little hemmed in. How long have I been sick?"

She knew he still had a few gaps and was quite happy to answer them when they came up… now he'd given up on his apparent mission in Paris. "A few weeks."

He looked at her, amazed, "A few weeks?"

She nodded, her heart went out to him. He had really been through the ringer. She'd have to get a counsellor in to talk him through the events of the last months, tally it with his remembered experiences and sort out the ones he had imagined.

"And uh… not that I… of course…" he started awkwardly trying not to insult her, "why are you here Beverly?"

"Oh, charming!"

"No… no I meant…"

"Don't worry Jean-Luc, I understand. I'm not offended!"

"Why aren't you on the ship?"

"In a word? You."

"And in more than one word?"

"I couldn't leave you here." She took his hand in hers, "Jean-Luc… There's something I…"

The words she was going to say disappeared the second a nurse poked her head around the door, "Doctor Crusher?"

Beverly let go of Picard's hands and turned to the sound, "Yes?"

"You wanted me to let you know when the physio team arrived?"

"Oh yes, of course." She paused and turned back to Jean-Luc, "I think we should start getting you up and about, how does that sound?"

He stared at her, open mouthed. What had she been about to say? He decided to let the moment pass, whatever it was, it didn't need an audience, "If my most recent trip is anything to go by, I must admit to some trepidation."

"Well, I may be able to help you out there. You're probably not going to like this but I think it's your best hope. The physio team are going to put you through your paces. Jean-Luc?"

He looked exhausted. He stared back at her, flabbergasted, was the word, she thought. He had deep shadows under his eyes, his skin was pale, and he looked like his body was about to be enveloped by the selection of pillows and comforters piled on his bed. She had to admit, he did look like the galaxy's least likely physio candidate right about now.

"I know, I know. You feel terrible. Believe me Jean-Luc, I can see that. Don't worry, they're not going to put you on the test track just yet."

"Huh."

"Just, give them a chance. They're very good. And we all want you out of here." She smiled.

"Charming."

Jean-Luc Picard paused as he reached the threshold of Starfleet's famed medical facility. It was nothing more than a walking cane but to him, it represented so much more: illness, weakness, age… and more important than anything else, liberation. Just a few steps away, the outside world beckoned, calling him forward with a crisp blue sky and the promise of feeling the warmth of the sun's rays on his skin.

Behind him, Beverly slowed her own pace allowing him the moment. It had been six weeks in total since she'd first found him close to death on the floor of his bathroom. Six weeks of repeated brushes with his mortality, six weeks of being shuttled from the far reaches of the galaxy via Starbase 3, and finally back to Earth.

"Beautiful day isn't it?" she said gently as she closed the distance between them. She placed her hand on his back, allowed her warmth to settle, hoping to boost his confidence.

He turned to her, smiled, and took his first shaky steps into the world from which he'd been cloistered.

"Hey, slow down! Let me catch up." She called. He was leaning heavily on the cane he'd been issued with. It's metal shone in the brightness of the day, flashing as he took faltering steps toward his liberation. A Starfleet ground car awaited them patiently, ready to transport them both to the digs he'd been assigned for the next part of his recovery.

He paused again as he reached the door, unsure how to handle his ailing body, the cane, and the door.

"Allow me, Sir Captain Sir." Came the voice of the harried ensign assigned to this particular duty.

"Thank you, Ensign." He replied, grateful for the help, unused to needing it. "Beverly? Are you coming too?"

"You bet. I need to know you're safely installed and off the premises. You've had us working round the clock, Captain." She replied, winking.

They travelled the short distance in comfortable silence. Jean-Luc stared in awe out of the window, sure he'd never seen San Francisco look so… alive. He felt like he'd just arrived on an unexplored planet. The rush of seeing things nobody had ever seen before, the thrill of observing its inhabitants going about their business, unaware of his alien presence. And all those people...

He felt strongly that he'd been given a second chance at life. Perhaps more so than Q's attempt to humble him after he'd taken a disrupter blast to the chest. This time, he knew he'd been really close to death several times. The more snippets of the times he'd been conscious that he'd started to be able to remember, the more grateful he was not to have sunk completely down the rabbit hole. More than once, he'd felt like it would have been very easy just to give in, slip away, let the darkness take him. It all felt a little too real, a little too recent.

He closed his eyes for a moment, remembering what it felt like to swim back up from the depths, to come round to concerned faces pulling him back into the world... And he remembered that during almost all those occasions, it had been Beverly who had winched him back in.

When they arrived at his assigned quarters, the ensign helped the captain out of the car and once Picard had begun his tentative journey to the porch, ran back and brought his meagre belongings to him. At the door, Beverly exchanged a few words with the nurse who he assumed had been assigned to his daytime care, a woman of about Beverly's age with pleasant features and a mischievous twinkle in her eye. He made his way slowly and steadily to the house, concentrating fiercely on each step, mindful he was tiring, losing his very limited supply of energy.

"Hey there, you made it." Smiled Beverly, taking his arm upon seeing how tired he looked. "This is Banda, she's very good, and she's very used to tyrannical captains. So no running her ragged, do you hear?"

"I wouldn't… dream of it." He replied breathing heavily with the effort. "Delighted to... meet you, Banda."

"And you Captain. Now, come on and we'll get you sitting down. I bet you could use a nice cup of tea about now?" she said genially. Her Irish accent sounded warm in his ears, an accent he hadn't heard in years.

And with the promise of a decent cup of real handmade tea, he knew that even though he despised the thought of being cared for, looked after, this woman had at least started off on the right foot.

The two women helped to guide him into the house, taking more of his weight with each step. Once he was settled on the sofa, Banda disappeared into what he expected was the kitchen.

"Beverly?" he called as his oldest friend fussed around him. "Will you sit down for a second?" her activity was wearing him out even further.

"How are you feeling? Are you okay?" she put her hand to his head feeling for heat.

"Beverly, I'm fine, really." He smiled, did his best to reassure her. He felt like he had about five decent minutes in him before the pull of sleep would claim him again and he knew he needed to have her full attention while he could. "Beverly, I uh… I just wanted to thank you. You've taken such good care of me and I'm coming to realise how much I owe you my very life."

"Jean…"

"No, listen. I owe you a debt of gratitude. I feel humbled by what you have done for me – I don't think I can ever thank you enough."

She leaned forward and kissed him gently on his cheek. "Jean-Luc, you don't need to thank me at all. Really it was in my own best interests to keep you around for a while longer."

"And why is that?" he replied, reacting to the tender expression on her face.

"Jean-Luc... I...

Feeling suddenly emboldened, he took her hands in his own, leaned forward and touched his mouth to hers. The fresh appreciation of the fleeting nature of his time on Earth, made him determined to take full advantage of the new lease of life he'd been given. All the fears he'd stored and held onto for years now seemed foolish, meaningless.

To his surprise and his pleasure, she returned his kiss, fell into his embrace then pulled back to assess him once again. "Well, then," she paused, catching her breath, "Does that answer your question?"

He couldn't find the words he needed, in Standard or in French. He nodded dumbly.

She laughed, the expression on his face was priceless. "Are you ready?"

"For what?" he replied quietly, confused by her question, and by the kiss.

She smiled mystically without saying a word then pulled him closer, and kissed him for a long time.