Hey readers, just a public thank you for the flurry of lovely reviews I was sent yesterday! There are some I cannot reply to personally, so 'Guest'? Thank you :)

I've been reading this all back through and realise that my section markers didn't make it through the publishing process... sorry if you've been thrown around through space and time during your reading of this story. Now I know, it hopefully won't happen again!

Picard walked the corridors of his ship self-consciously. Try as he may, he couldn't seem to find his command posture. Somehow, his shoulders sank, rounded, drooped, and he couldn't seem to lift his head, he focused on the ground, eyes furtive, hackles raised. He could sense the crew and civilians they encountered trying their best not to stare. The few eyes he did meet on the seemingly endless journey, were averted quickly. He didn't blame them. He wouldn't want to look at him either. He pulled at the sling trying to hook it away from the back of his neck, his arm felt heavy, and very, very obvious. He might as well have a huge sign pointing to the ex-drone.

Data kept up a litany of small talk. Picard imagined that he had dug deep into his reserves of human etiquette.

He felt like a walking beacon. Wherever he went, he always attracted attention, he was the Captain after all. But now, he was not only the injured Captain, he was also the captain responsible for their near destruction. Thankfully, the ship appeared half empty and the corridors were near deserted, still, he hadn't realised sickbay was so far away from the command deck.

"I hear the weather in France is really quite nice at this time of year Sir."

He realised that Data had broken the silence, "Hmm? I'm sorry Data? You were saying something?"

"I said, I hear the weather in France is extremely pleasant at this time of year."

"Oh yes, France…" he trailed off, he couldn't keep his mind on the chatter. He was thankful to whomsoever had arranged for Data to be his escort. He couldn't possibly offend him despite the fact that he couldn't follow the train of Data's unique brand of small talk.

They entered the turbo lift and Picard let out the breath he hadn't realised he had been holding. He leaned back against the wall of the pod, tipped his head back, closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing in and out, steadily and evenly.

"Are you feeling alright Sir?"

The Captain did not answer. Data had no opinion about this, but he recognised the unusual actions of his commanding officer were running counter to his usual behaviour - enough to trigger Data's first response function.

"Do you require medical assistance Sir?" he paused for the appropriate amount of time, "Sir?"

Picard remained in position, gathering his nerve, digging into reserves of bravery he didn't think he had anymore, "No, Data. I'm fine."

"If I may, you do not appear to be 'fine'."

Picard lowered his gaze, looked at his Second Officer, "I do not need medical assistance. I would just rather not…" he dropped his head again, he couldn't explain.

"I understand Sir."

Picard screwed his eyes tightly shut, and within seconds, they had arrived at the aft bridge.

"Pause turbolift."

"Sir?"

"Just… just wait a minute, please Data."

After a few silent minutes, when Picard had gathered his nerve, he released the turbolift doors maintaining his position with his back to the rear of the pod. The doors opened onto a picture of calm and tranquillity playing out on the bridge. All was just as he had left it weeks ago.

The ship was on down-time, a skeleton crew was all that was required so it was no surprise to see a very junior Lieutenant manning the command centre with an ensign operating tactical… just in case. He noted at the back of his mind that this was all happening well clear of the Big Chair…

He was hoping to sneak unnoticed over the back of the bridge past the science stations and straight through to the observation lounge. Unfortunately, the junior lieutenant was apparently wound so tight at being in charge, that she leapt to attention at the sound of the doors and announced his presence suddenly and loudly,

"Captain on the bridge!"

Picard flinched at the loud and unexpected sound, taking a step back and standing on Data's feet from which position he flinched for a second time reacting to the sudden change beneath him. His head snapped to attention, eyes darting about the room, ready to find the danger he felt sure was lurking. Fortunately, some part of Data's programming prevented him from pointing out the Captain's startling behaviour.

"Sir, perhaps if we take a moment in your ready room?"

Data's concern was rewarded with a tight nod. He needed to gather himself together. He needed time to settle the tumult churning in his belly, he couldn't let them see him like this, he'd never even get to the competency hearing never mind pass the thing.

The doors to the ready room shut behind him and he went straight to the sofa, dropping his head into his hands and focusing on regulating his breathing.

In a second, a cup of tea appeared underneath his nose, it's gentle aroma making its presence known.

"Sir, perhaps your regular warm drink may prove soothing?"

"Thank you Data," he whispered, taking hold of the cup. He raised it to his mouth shakily then sipped at it cautiously, glad for the activity.

"Would you like me to summon Counsellor Troi?"

"No, thank you. I'm fine… well, I will be. Just give me a second." He admitted.

"Of course Sir. Take your time."

He took another sip of his drink, its warmth spreading through the chill he felt through the rest of his body. He stood, placing the saucer on his desk. He tugged at his uniform top, using the familiar action as a way to signal to himself that he was in control even if he didn't feel anything close to it.

"Right, Mister Data, lead on. Quickly."

"Understood, right this way."

Data exited the ready room with Picard in tow. They walked in tandem without further incident to the rear of the bridge to the observation lounge and the waiting admirals.