AN: Here we are, the next little piece for anyone who is interested! As always, suspension of disbelief and the understanding that this is purely for entertainment value is always appreciated!

If you read, I hope you enjoy. If you enjoy, please do let me know. It always means a lot to know that you're reading and enjoying.

111

One could probably argue that neither Jean-Luc nor Beverly had always been known for making the safest decisions. If they had loved safety and the guarantee of it too much, they might have never joined Starfleet. Still, at the moment, Jean-Luc was beginning to definitely think that this decision was among some of their most questionable.

"The only thing I can do, at this point, is try to stay out of the way," Jean-Luc admitted to Beverly. He was controlling the shuttle, while she was doing her best to follow the beeping sign indicated on the scanner.

"Stay out of the way," she said, "but not too far out of the way."

"Just far enough to keep us alive," Jean-Luc said, laughing quietly.

He felt, at the moment, a great deal calmer than he probably should—caught up in a rather large Romulan firefight. Sometimes, the adrenaline of the moment seemed to have more of a calming effect on him than was typically expected. In fact, he sometimes found that he felt more anxious and less grounded when there was nothing going on—when the world around him was calm and still.

There was, more than likely, a great deal about himself to be explored in that realization, but it would have to wait until after this was done.

And that, he realized even as he slipped around the edges of a fight, was possibly one reason that he preferred the chaos—there was much less time for reflection and dealing with emotions.

"She's out here," Beverly said. "I have her sign."

"The good news is that she's alive," Jean-Luc said. "The bad news is—we're not likely to find her in this chaos."

As he spoke, another of the small ships—very small fighter ships that were a more recent Romulan preference, since the supernova, and which they had always claimed were simply "patrolling ships," despite their advanced firepower—exploded.

"Laris?" Jean-Luc asked, his heart feeling as though it came to a stop for a second.

"No," Beverly said. "Her sign is still actively moving."

"I went with her to one of the Romulan colonies not too long ago," Jean-Luc said. "She was looking at the current security. Those little Romulan fighter ships have a lot more to offer than these shuttles do."

"We'll have to avoid engaging any of them in a battle," Beverly said. "From the looks of things, we haven't been noticed. We don't bring any kind of real threat. They're ignoring us."

"That's for the better," Jean-Luc said. "They would have found our message as soon as they noticed us leaving the shuttle bay. Geordi's been working on communications and repairs. Hopefully, he put a bit more emphasis on the communications for now. Starfleet should be here at any time."

There was a flash of light as another of the fighter ships practically disintegrated.

"Not her," Beverly said. "There—Jean-Luc—do you see this? Follow that signal. See if we can get closer."

Jean-Luc followed what Beverly indicated, hugging the outside of the fight as much as possible. Around them, ships were being damaged. Some were exploding—gone as if they'd never existed. Jean-Luc couldn't tell who was Tal Shiar, and who was fighting the Tal Shiar, but he imagined they must somehow know who was on what side.

As he followed the signal that Beverly indicated, one of the small fighter ships near them fired a shot that destroyed their target, but immediately took a hard hit from another passing fighter ship. The ship didn't disintegrate, as so many had, but the damage was extensive to the point that Jean-Luc couldn't imagine that it would last very long.

"Shit!" Beverly spat. "That's her!"

"Is she dead?" Jean-Luc asked. He was already instinctively moving toward the little ship that had begun to drift. The other ships, assuming that it was damaged beyond repair and its pilot was likely lost, had moved away from it and were continuing their battle.

"It's impossible to tell for certain," Beverly said. "Wait—I've still got her. Her life sign is weak. Get me a little closer, Jean-Luc, so that I can lock onto her."

"I'll get in as close as I can. It's moving away from us."

"And away from the fight," Beverly said. "Thank goodness for small blessings. I can't get a lock just yet, but…almost. Hurry, Jean-Luc! Before something ignites and creates damage we can't undo!"

Jean-Luc ignored her outburst. He knew that she had a tendency to get very involved in what she was doing. It was one of the things that made her a wonderful doctor—she was passionate.

"Got her!" Beverly said.

She left her station immediately, and Jean-Luc focused on steering the shuttle further away from the firefight. There was no reason to pretend that, in this shuttle, they had anything to offer in this kind of battle.

"Is she alive?" Jean-Luc asked.

"Yes, but barely," Beverly said from behind him. "No—I'm not going to lose her. I'm not! Laris…don't you dare!"

"Do you need my help?" Jean-Luc asked.

"Ignore me. Ignore us. Focus on what you're doing, Jean-Luc. I know you need that, and that's all you can do for now. That's the best thing you can do for now. Just get us out of here," Beverly said. "What I need is better medical equipment. A sickbay. Get us out of here, and look for those ships that I hope Starfleet is sending."

Jean-Luc didn't dare to send out a communication just yet. On the whole, the Romulans had been ignoring them because they saw them as absolutely no threat—a solo shuttle with limited shields and next to no firepower that had somehow gotten off its course. In fact, this particular shuttle model was so out-of-date, that they might have assumed it had been repurposed for some other job and wasn't even as much of a threat as it was. If he sent out a communication, however, indicating at least the belief that there were Starfleet ships nearby, he would absolutely draw the attention of the Romulans.

Jean-Luc tried to listen to what was happening behind him with half an ear. On the one hand, he wanted to know what was going on. On the other, he didn't want to know. There was nothing he could do at the moment, beyond what he was doing, and he needed to keep his mind on watching everything around him. Beverly had been right about that.

Beverly had been right about far more than Jean-Luc had ever given her credit for in the past. For Jean-Luc, his feelings, and the potential distraction caused by those feelings, had always been one of the reasons that he'd struggled with maintaining a relationship with Beverly. He feared the absolute heartbreak of losing her—of losing his love. He feared, too, the fact that his love, and the heartbreak it may cause, could distract him from doing his job well. Now, he was in love with two women, and he was struggling just to feel confident in his ability to do everything necessary to get them all to safety.

Jean-Luc didn't ask how things were going, and he didn't dare to even attempt to look and see for himself. He knew that he couldn't do what he needed to do to keep everyone on the shuttle as safe as possible, if he were distracted with the likely reality of the situation. He needed to keep his emotional distance, just until he knew that this was out of his hands and he'd done all that he could.

Beverly seemed to know that because, though he could hear the occasional words from her—including words it seemed she was saying to Laris, who might not be able to hear her—she was keeping her voice low enough to keep him out of the loop. He had no genuine idea of what might be taking place aboard the shuttle.

Only Beverly's occasional escaped swears—unusual, but not in truly dire circumstances, when she needed to release a little tension—really resonated at the moment.

Things weren't going well, but the fact that Beverly continued to try meant that Laris had not yet slipped the proverbial mortal coils of this life.

Jean-Luc opened up the scope of their scans as soon as he felt they were far enough away from the Romulan firefight to risk doing so. He flew toward what he knew was Federation space at the highest speed the small shuttle would allow. The moment that he saw the scanners pick up signs of a Starfleet vessel, he felt like he might have a heartache from the sheer joy of it.

He sent a signal and did his best to raise the ship. It took three tries before he reached them.

Jean-Luc had never cared less for the name of a vessel or its commanding officer. He practically cut the captain off.

"This is Jean-Luc Picard," he said. "I need immediate transfer of the remaining life signs in this ship directly to sickbay. This is an emergency. There's no time to explain. I will gladly dock the shuttle and explain after they are safely aboard the ship."

"They are already in sickbay," the voice came back. "Transfer is complete. Now—would you please explain?"

"With pleasure," Jean-Luc said. "I am Jean-Luc Picard. Recently reinstated to Starfleet, though I'm not sure the paperwork has even had time to go through. There was a Romulan uprising. Former members—or, at the very least sympathizers—of the Tal Shiar were attacking Romulan colonies. A small faction of peaceful Romulans have entered into a fight with them to try to put a stop to them before more Romulans are injured and they have a chance to grow and resume the sort of behaviors they have been previously known for. I am transferring the coordinates to you now. Please make Starfleet aware."

"We are aware," the captain's voice came back. "Shuttle bay is open. We will drop shields, as you approach, long enough for you to dock the shuttle."

"Understood," Jean-Luc said. "You've been so kind—but could you please have an escort waiting? I would like to find sickbay as soon as possible. I will be happy to meet with whomever, if more information is needed."

"Dock your shuttle. I'll meet you, myself."

111

Jean-Luc's android body was built to be just as mortal as a human body, and he retained a lot of his former human self—even more than he really knew. He wasn't fully aware of all the details about his new body. He knew some of the things that made him different from a complete android, but he didn't know all of them.

At the moment, he was wondering if his new body was prone to heart attacks. He could barely breathe. His chest felt tight. His throat felt tight. He could practically feel that he had high blood pressure, though he wasn't sure if it was real or merely a sensation made to make him feel more "normal" in certain situations.

He could hear the blood rushing past his ears. He could barely focus on the words of the captain—Captain Rutheford of the Sinclair.

He recited the story of how they'd gotten there as quickly and as accurately as he could, and he'd made his way on jellied knees to the sickbay of the ship. He must have taken his leave of the captain—and, perhaps, he'd heard some news of what might happen moving forward—but he'd hardly noticed any of it.

His brain felt almost feverish and his thoughts were slightly muddled.

All he could truly do was hope that all was well—that Beverly had nothing but good news for him.

There would be a great deal for them to discuss, on a personal level. There were going to be big decisions and conversations that Jean-Luc didn't want to have. There would be discussions that he already dreaded. There was going to be a great deal of emotions that he would have to deal with in the coming hours and days.

But, at the moment, he felt more than willing to face all of those, just to hear Beverly say that Laris hadn't succumbed to her injuries—which he knew, from the snatches of things he'd heard on the shuttle, must be truly severe.

As the sickbay doors opened, Jean-Luc had a moment of wondering if his knees would carry him any further. He scanned the sickbay—which was busier than he'd expected it to be, even with an emergency—for any sign of Beverly. Not finding her, he began to panic slightly. Then, he was suddenly face to face with a Caitian woman of considerable height.

"You must be Jean-Luc Picard," she said, her voice carrying the typical accent of a Caitian that even a universal translator couldn't erase. Still, it wasn't as thick as Jean-Luc had heard from some Caitians.

"Pleased to meet you," he said, trying not to offend anyone on the ship that might not understand his sense of urgency and panic. "I'm looking for Dr. Beverly Crusher."

"I am Dr. M'Pram," the Caitian offered. "I will take you to Dr. Crusher."

"Laris," he said. "The Romulan woman…is she alive?"

"She is receiving the best care possible," the Caitian said. "Her injuries are extensive, but she is currently stable."

Dr. M'Pram led Jean-Luc to an area that had been surrounded by privacy curtains. She pulled back the curtain to reveal a sign that Jean-Luc hadn't expected in the slightest. Instead of finding Beverly hard at work keeping Laris alive, which was what he had expected, Jean-Luc found Beverly lying on the biobed with a nurse paying a great deal of attention to the work they were doing with her.

"Beverly?" Jean-Luc asked.

"Jean-Luc," she said. He interrupted her, though, before she could say more.

"Where's Laris? I don't understand. Were you hurt? How were you hurt? We were never even hit…"

"Jean-Luc," Beverly said, offering him a smile that he knew was an attempt to calm him, "I need you to…relax, OK? I'll explain everything, but…I'm afraid it's…well…it's going to be easier for you to take if you're as relaxed as possible."

"Are you OK?" Jean-Luc asked.

"I think—we're all going to be fine," Beverly said. "But…we need to talk."