A/N: Thanks so much to all you kind readers for the reviews! There is definitely a lot of desire out there to see Beverly back in ST:Picard :) As for this story, there will be just a few more chapters to come before it wraps up...

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The revelation that Romulan secret agents had long operated on Earth, that the infiltration had reached to the highest levels of Starfleet, that the very head of Starfleet Security had been a Zhat Vash agent responsible for the total devastation of Mars—it was as if a plasma torpedo had been detonated at the heart of the Federation, and the ripple effects were only just beginning to be felt. Investigations would be ongoing for months if not years; the political fallout would be immense. If the destruction of Mars and the Romulan supernova had previously been the most important events of the past quarter-century, the unraveling of the conspiracies behind them might yet equal them.

Being far removed in both time and distance from the day-to-day workings of Starfleet—intentionally so—Will Riker might well have been insulated from all of the upheaval to come. He'd certainly prefer to be; while the socio-political consequences to the quadrant might be vast, at this point in his life he was much more concerned with protecting his own small family. But the arrival of Jean-Luc Picard on Nepenthe had drawn him back into center of events again after all, and Riker's pivotal role in the Ghulion IV standoff with Commodore Oh and her fleet meant he was going to be much, much more involved than he would ever have imagined a month earlier.

With so many briefings and reports trading back and forth, he wasn't surprised when he received his fourth subspace call of the week from Headquarters. He was surprised, though, that the commander-in-chief wasn't calling for him this time. Her snow-white hair perfectly coiffed even at the late hour, the fleet admiral looked even more sour than usual as she addressed him. "Captain Riker, I understand you're hosting something of an Enterprise crew reunion at the moment."

"You might call it that," Riker said, nonchalant. That Kirsten Clancy evidently disapproved of his choice in personal company mattered precisely not at all to him. That she was monitoring him in the first place did irk him somewhat, but then again, he hadn't established a good working relationship with her by picking petty battles. "What can I do for you this evening, Admiral?"

"If you would be so kind as to call your guests, I need to speak with them both."

"Yes, ma'am." Riker frowned, but rose to summon his friends from the great room, where they'd all been visiting with drinks after dinner, Kestra having already gone to bed. A few moments later Picard had joined him at his desk, with Beverly Crusher standing a few paces back, arms folded. Deanna stayed out of frame, watching from the other side of the room.

"Kirsten," Picard said. Ever the diplomat, his demeanor was cordial, but the past weeks of combative interactions had done little to lessen their mutual antipathy. And while of course he had anticipated they would speak again when he returned to Earth, he hadn't expected to be tracked down along the way.

"Jean-Luc." The admiral set her jaw. It clearly galled her that Picard had been right, about all of it—the synths, the Zhat Vash, Mars—and she didn't want to be making this call; but her tone was likewise carefully controlled. "In spite of Starfleet's dramatic action to protect the Coppelian colony, and positive steps taken with our first contact delegation since then, it seems the Coppelians don't entirely trust us."

Picard exchanged a glance with Riker and leaned forward, resting his clasped hands on the desk. "There is a great deal of history behind their mistrust," he said cautiously, unsure where this was leading.

Now she scowled. "None of us knew what had really happened on Mars. We still don't." As he opened his mouth to object, she raised one hand. "But the synth ban will almost certainly be lifted now, and it seems the Coppelians are insistent that you be the Federation's ambassador to the protectorate during the admission period. To be perfectly candid, Jean-Luc"—was she ever not? he wondered—"I disagree with this. Emphatically."

Picard suspected he understood well enough why, but supposed he should let her have her say. "On what grounds?" he asked, noting out of the corner of his eye that Deanna had left the room.

"On the grounds that you have continued to be publicly critical of both the Federation and Starfleet, causing no little difficulty not just for me but for all of us." Her eyes flashed with resentment, which Picard absorbed without expression. "Even after all this time, the words of the great Jean-Luc Picard still matter. And you have exercised rather piss-poor diplomatic judgment in speaking them. So you can see why your taking on this role might be objectionable.

"But the Federation is willing to appoint you. Do you accept?"

Picard sat back in his chair, considering.

Ambassador.

When he'd left Coppelius, he'd known he might still have a role to play as an advocate for the synths within the Federation. Indeed, he'd promised them that he would be their advocate against widespread lingering prejudice, against the laws that denied their very existence, much less their personhood. But as a civilian, with no formal position to occupy on Coppelius and with the Coppelians' safety assured for the time being, he had decided to return home until such time as matters were more settled.

And he did have plenty of reason to return, even aside from the pressing desire he'd had to find and speak to Beverly again. While Soji, Seven of Nine, Raffi, and Elnor had elected to stay behind with the Artifact, Agnes Jurati still rightly intended to turn herself over to the authorities for what she'd done to Bruce Maddox. But Rios—to whom she'd become quite close—and Picard didn't intend for her to do so alone, given the mitigating influence of Commodore Oh's brutal mind meld with her. Picard wanted to help Agnes, if he could, when they arrived. And as for himself, no matter how much he disclaimed any real connection to his family home, it was nevertheless the case that after more than a dozen years, it had become an integral part of him. Truthfully, too, he missed the faithful companionship of Number One; he always looked forward to their daily walks through the vineyard, especially around harvest time, as it was now. So to return instead to Coppelius so soon—it was unexpected.

Still, the idea of having a defined role to play in life, a purpose again—to help Data's literal and figurative offspring find the safety and the freedom to thrive within the Federation—well, that was something that, no matter his ultimate desire to return home, he couldn't deny.

"Yes, I accept," he said finally. And yet—he did have to concede that, Clancy's sarcasm aside, she wasn't entirely wrong to feel that Picard, simply by virtue of who he was, who he had been in the past, might find his effectiveness hampered in the role... "On a provisional basis," he added, "until another ambassador is found who is acceptable to both the Coppelians and the Federation."

Apparently surprised by the acknowledgement of her objections, the fleet admiral paused for a moment, assessing him, and then nodded, some of her hostility visibly evaporating. "Very well. I will relay that to the Council and you will start effective immediately. The next question is how to transport you back to the planet as soon as possible."

"Captain Rios," he began, but she cut him off.

"I've just spoken to him prior. Mr. Rios has agreed to continue back to Earth with Doctor Jurati. Before she surrenders herself to the authorities we will need to speak with her first regarding her communications with Oh. I have assured them both that she will be afforded due consideration for this." Clancy shifted her attention to behind the two men. "Captain Crusher?"

Beverly, whose attention had followed Deanna out of the room, straightened up, her tone cool. "Yes, Admiral."

"Given the lack of other Starfleet vessels in the vicinity, I am ordering you to ferry our new provisional ambassador to Coppelius."

"Acknowledged," she said evenly. In her peripheral vision she saw Jean-Luc turning to glance up at her and she met his gaze briefly, her stomach tightening. True, the day had gone much better than she'd originally imagined, but the two of them had really only just established this new, tentative rapprochement—now they would need to be alone together for days? So much for easing back into things.

She squared her shoulders and looked back to Clancy, another question forming as she processed the admiral's words. "Permission to wait to depart until tomorrow, Admiral?"

"Granted, but we need him there urgently. This whole affair is a veritable shitstorm and the sooner the Coppelians' status is settled, the better for all of us." She lifted her chin. "I'll expect you to advise once you've arrived, and then you may proceed back to your ship. Your next mission orders are unchanged."

Beverly pressed her lips together. She didn't expect an apology for having her leave cut short, and she didn't receive one. "Understood."

The admiral's steely gaze settled on Picard once more. "We'll talk again then. Clancy out."