Jean-Luc Picard sat in his quarters reviewing the acting-captain's log reports from the past few days. A long night's sleep in his own bed, a shave and a crisp, fresh uniform had helped to erase the lingering traces of Galen the smuggler from his persona, but his days away on the aliens' ship had left the captain of the Enterprise with a lot of catching up to do.

The door announcer chimed. "Come," he called absently.

The door hissed open and he looked up to see Beverly Crusher stride briskly into the room. His heart filled with pleasure. Aside from those few brief seconds in the cargo bay hold, he hadn't seen her since he'd left for the archeological dig and found he'd missed her far more than he felt comfortable admitting.

He opened his mouth to greet her, but one look at the intent, severe look on her face had him tossing the padd in his hand aside and leaping to his feet. This clearly wasn't a social call.

She marched straight up to him, fiery and resplendent in her blue lab coat. Almost without pausing she threw her arms around his neck and drew him to her in a fierce hug. His arms went around her without hesitation, gratefully holding her warm, lithe body tight against his own. For a moment her head tilted to rest against his and a small sigh escaped her. Then with a final sharp squeeze she let him go and stepped back.

"Jean-Luc Picard, what in the hell got into you?" she demanded before he could take a breath to speak. "I can't believe you of all people got into a fight in a bar. You could have been killed – you don't know how lucky you are that you were shot with a transporter beam instead of a disrupter beam. You're a Starfleet captain, and your primary responsibility is to this ship and this crew. It was unconscionable of you to put your life at risk like that."

She crossed her arms, radiating displeasure like a star going nova. "Normally it would be your first officer reminding you of all this, but right now I think Will's rather too pleased with his own part in your little charade." The final word was emphasized with undisguised irritation.

She exhaled and ran a hand through her hair, raising pained eyes to his. "You scared the hell out of us, Jean-Luc," she finished quietly.

The unexpected admission shook him to his core. She was right. He had behaved irresponsibly. He'd put his life in jeopardy. To be fair, when he signed on with the thieves after the bar fight he hadn't known that the evidence left behind was going to indicate that he'd been killed, but he also hadn't stopped to consider what effect his sudden disappearance might have on his crew. For the past few days his entire command staff – including Beverly – had thought he was dead. That couldn't have been easy on any of them.

He gazed more closely at the woman standing before him, taking in her pale, pinched face, the dark lavender smudges that marred the skin just above her cheekbones, the slightly haunted look in her eyes. No, it hadn't been easy on her at all.

He reached out and gripped her forearm briefly, not attempting to hide his remorse. "You're right. It was an error of judgment on my part," he admitted, his voice resonating with sincerity. "I'm sorry."

She nodded but the tense slant of her shoulders didn't shift.

He continued, lifting his tone a fraction in hopes of lightening the mood, "I promise that the next time I uncover a plot to steal precious Vulcan artifacts I won't confront the suspects in a spaceport bar."

The corners of her mouth twitched upward. "At least not without backup."

Jean-Luc smiled, recognizing that he was, after all, forgiven. "Agreed." He watched with relief as Beverly's blue eyes brightened, the storm clouds leaving them. He rubbed his hands together briskly. "Now, have you had breakfast?"

"Not yet."

Jean-Luc's smile broadened. "Good." He gave his best friend's arm a gentle squeeze and headed towards the replicator. "Tea and croissants, coming up."

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