Author's Note: Well, this is the last chapter. I want to thank everyone for reading and writing so many positive, encouraging reviews. I really appreciate your thoughtful support. My other story, "Ghosts Within," still has many more chapters to post, and I hope to finish some more Next Generation and Voyager stories soon. Thanks again! JT

Wesley was the first to see. He raised his head, absently, at the sound of the aft turbo-lift door sliding open. A wide grin, from ear to ear, spread across his face.

"That must be some daydream, Ensign," Will Riker commented wryly from the center command chair.

"It's no dream, Number One."

Instantly, Will was on his feet, turning towards his captain's voice. Deanna stood also. Following their lead, the rest of the bridge crew rose to their feet as well.

"This is a pleasant surprise, sir," Will said.

Jean-Luc stepped off the lift, holding tight to his crutches. His eyes surveyed the bridge, and he frowned slightly. Their well-meaning show of respect put him more on the spot than he wanted to be. Beverly was at his side, and she cast him a look that seemed to say "Be careful what you ask for." Because he had asked for it, and now he was here, and there were twenty feet and a ramp between where he was and where he wanted to be.

He looked down at Will. "I thought you might need a little help up here."

It was now or never. He headed down the ramp, slowly, carefully. Beverly a respectable two steps behind him; close enough to catch him if he fell (God forbid), yet far enough away to allow him this moment, this return to his world.

Will watched as the captain maneuvered his way down the ramp, and something inside of him relaxed; he exhaled some breath that he'd been holding for two and a half months. The coil that had been wound too tightly began to unwind.

"We can always use experienced help," Will supplied, the smile on his face even broader than Wesley's.

Jean-Luc stopped, shifted his gaze from his feet to his first officer. "In that case, I trust you'll accept my application."

He continued down the ramp, and a minute later he'd reached the center seat. He sank into it, propped his crutches against the arm, and looked up. Both Will and Deanna were beaming at him. He checked out the rest of the bridge crew. They were all staring back at him with the same open expression of pride and pleasure laced with relief. At least this time they hadn't clapped.

He sighed good-naturedly. "You may sit down. And resume your duties." The voice was authoritative, and they all returned to their respective tasks.

"You're back," Will observed aloud.

"More or less," Jean-Luc answered, glancing over at Beverly who sat down next to Deanna. Then he turned his gaze back to Will. "I trust you and Mister Data have taken care of things for me."

Will smiled. "Yes, sir."

"I've been keeping an eye on them, Captain," Deanna added.

"You've been keeping a good eye on us all, Counselor," he said softly in her direction. Then he raised his voice. "Number One. Starbase Seventeen. They have extensive shore leave facilities don't they?"

"Yes, sir."

He leaned back in his chair, comfortably. He'd missed the feel of it. "And we are due to pick up the Andorian delegation in four days?"

"Yes, sir," Will answered hesitantly, trying to follow the captain's train of thought.

He nodded. "Mister Data, what is our estimated time of arrival?"

"Maintaining our present course and speed, we will arrive at Starbase 17 in three-point-eight days."

"Ensign Crusher, what is our present speed?"

"Warp three, sir," Wesley replied.

"I see." He rubbed his fingers over his lips, thinking. "The Intermezzo," he murmured.

"The Intermezzo?" Will asked.

Jean-Luc smiled, only somewhat self-consciously. "A little restaurant on Starbase 17. Authentic French food."

Deanna's eyes lit up. "And divine pastries," she sighed, then grinned. "I've been there before."

"So have I," Beverly chimed in. "They have a wonderful selection of imported wines."

Will looked from one to the other of them. "I've never been," he confessed, feeling left out.

"We really must take you then," Jean-Luc said, then added quietly, "Three-point-eight days."

Will leaned into him. "I could instruct Ensign Crusher to increase out speed to say, oh... warp four," he offered conspiratorially. "That would get us there roughly two days ahead of schedule."

Jean-Luc nodded agreement. "Sounds good, Number One. Make it so."

~vVv~

Two days early and Starfleet granted the Enterprise the shore leave they deserved: the one they missed on Starbase 412. Jean-Luc spent most of his time while off ship at a corner table at the Intermezzo - ate five meals there in three days, and enjoyed every single one.

On their way to Stacius III now, he missed the place, even more when Will delivered the Andorian delegates invitation to not one, but two official banquets.

"I'm not overly fond of Andorian food," Jean-Luc sighed at the prospect.

But he attended them both, and enjoyed them more than he thought he would. Going back to work had done much for him. His improvement was phenomenal.

Although he still used the crutches, he walked all over the ship now, and rarely had any need for his wheelchair.

Occasionally though, there was still pain, frustration born of exhaustion. In the middle of a night, Beverly awoke to the feel of Jean-Luc's body shaking beside hers, the sound of his muffled crying. She reached out, ran her hand along his bare back, fingers gently teasing the soft hair on his shoulders. He sighed deeply, rolled over, and without a word, burrowed into her arms. She held him, comforted him, bent her head down, kissed his cheeks, the taste of his tears salty on her lips and tongue. He longed to return her kisses, her embrace.

Wanted, no, needed to take her in his arms and make love to her. But he was too tired, worn out, drained by the worries and cares of the day.

"Beverly..." he murmured, as he rubbed his hand slowly along her arm, his tired, hooded eyes looking up at her.

"I know, Jean-Luc." She held his face in her hands. "It's all right. Just rest."

She knew him so well, his thoughts and feelings. And there wasn't a drop of Betazoid blood in her.

He settled against the warm skin of her body, cradled his head in her arms.

Tomorrow he would save something of himself, find the strength to give back what she gave so freely. But for now, he drifted off, safe and secure, wrapped up with the woman he loved.

~vVv~

The end of a long day, and the captain, flanked by his first officer and ship's counselor, was on his way to Ten Forward to unwind. Something he rarely did.

Something he hadn't done at all since his return to partial bridge duty. And perhaps he wouldn't be doing it now if he hadn't let the two of them talk him into it.

"It'll do you some good," Will suggested, as the three of them left the bridge together. "Now that we've delivered the Andorian delegation, you deserve the chance to sit back, relax."

Jean-Luc cast an eye in Deanna's direction.

"I totally concur, Captain. You've been pushing yourself lately. Trying to make up for lost time. I think you'd enjoy it."

"I appreciate the invitation, but I can rest just as well in my cabin."

"Ah, yes, but you'll be alone, sir. Without the pleasure of the counselor's and my company."

Jean-Luc raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm not sure that's a selling point, Number One."

Will looked puzzled.

"I'm just teasing," Jean-Luc grinned.

And Deanna smiled. "Then you'll accompany us?"

"How can I refuse?"

They stepped off the lift and proceeded down the corridor toward the lounge.

They walked slowly, keeping pace with the captain, who, although he was fairly accomplished with his crutches, was slower, especially when he was tired.

When they were in sight of Ten Forward's entrance, Jean-Luc stopped.

"Captain? Are you all right?" Deanna asked softly.

Jean-Luc sighed. How many times, in the past months, had that question been posed to him? Too many to even speculate. But he answered all the same.

"I'm fine." He slid his wrists out of the crutches' arm bands, relieved the weight on his hands, steadied himself. He offered Deanna the crutches. "Will you take these for me?"

"Are you sure about this, Captain?" Will asked before Deanna had a chance to answer.

"No, I'm not, Number One," he replied. So far, he'd only walked without them during his therapy, and then only five or six steps at the most, before Selar stopped him, concerned that he would over do. But despite being tired, he felt strong today. Adventurous. "I have from here to there to find out if I can do it, don't I?" He motioned towards Ten Forward's doors.

Will nodded. "Yes, sir." His eyes gleamed with the challenge the captain had set.

Deanna took the crutches, shaking her head. They were like two little boys, the both of them. One daring the other. One taking the dare.

Carefully, slowly, Jean-Luc took a step, then another, and another. And the grin on his face broadened.

"You're doing just fine," Deanna whispered, as she walked along beside him.

"He's doing great!" Will exclaimed.

"Yes, Counselor,"Jean-Luc concentrated on his next step. "I'm doing great."

But even as he said it, he stumbled, started to fall. Will grabbed his shoulders, held him up. He resumed his balance, smiled at Deanna.

"Seems I still can't walk and talk at the same time."

"Then don't worry about talking," Deanna said, "just think about what you're doing."

Jean-Luc nodded, and gave Will a look that seemed to say "unhand me." So Will did.

He started again, slow, but steadier, the slight unevenness in his gait almost imperceptible. In several, long minutes he reached the doors to Ten Forward. He braced a hand against the wall, leaned heavily on it. He looked over at Will and Deanna. They were beaming at him.

"You did it sir," Will said respectfully.

"Was there any doubt in your mind, Number One?" he gasped back.

"Not for a minute."

He smiled, took deep breaths.

"Do you want these back, sir?" Deanna held the crutches out.

"No, but," he inhaled, "let's sit at the first empty table we find."

~vVv~

Another week went by, and the crutches were put aside for good. Jean-Luc tried to convince Beverly to let him walk without the braces. She agreed half-way.

"You can take the left one off, and we'll see how you do."

Jean-Luc grimaced. "You make them sound like training wheels."

She smiled. "That's not a bad analogy. But I think you'll find you still need the right one. That leg's not as strong as the left."

He discovered she was correct the next morning when he tried walking across his bedroom brace free. He fell twice. And she laughed at him. Not a smirk, not a grin. But an all-out, belly rumbling, laugh.

"I told you so," she chided.

He pushed himself up off the floor and stared at her. She sat cross-legged in the middle of his bed. They'd shared the night together.

"Beverly, I've told you, it's not nice to make fun of a sick man."

"You're not sick anymore, Jean-Luc." She winked at him. "You've proven that."

He grinned mischievously. "Want me to prove it again?" He lunged at her, fell across the bed.

"A tempting offer. But I've got to get to work, and so do you."

"All right." He rolled over, sat up. "Hand me the right brace," he sighed, "but do me a favor?"

"What?"

"Burn the left one."

"Gladly."

~vVv~

Jean-Luc stood alone in the main observation lounge, his body pressed close to the viewport. Exactly three months had passed since that morning he'd first fallen and hit his head, three long months that he'd thought would never end.

According to Beverly, he'd recovered quickly, but it had seemed interminable to him. And he wasn't quite there yet. He still grew fatigued easily, and he'd discarded the right leg brace just the day before. But from where he stood, he could now see the end in sight. He'd be all right, and that was a comforting feeling.

The door slid open behind him. "Jean-Luc?" It was Beverly. She came and stood at his side.

"Getting lost out there?" she murmured. Something about sharing the stars with this man always made her speak softly.

"No," he looked over at her, "I can assure you I am firmly rooted." He reached down, rubbed his right thigh. "And this leg's a little more rooted than the other."

"Still not easy to move, is it?"

"No."

Beverly reached out, placed her hand on his shoulder. "It may always be a little weaker than your left one."

He mulled her words over in his mind. "That's good," he said after a minute's hesitation.

She shook her head. Sometimes she thought she knew this man, and at other times...

"Why is that good?" she questioned.

"Because it'll serve as a reminder." He turned, looked straight into her eyes. "I don't ever want to forget these past three months. What it felt like to need people," he brushed his fingers along her cheek, "to need you."

She covered his hand with hers, held its warmth against her skin. "I'm still here for you."

"I know." He wrapped his arms around her, held her close. His need for Beverly, and his willingness to admit that need, made him stronger than he'd ever been before. And here, with her, he'd come home.

~The End~