Hey there readers! This is going to make way more sense if you read House Call first as this leads on directly from there. Enjoy and remember, reviews make a writer's day!


"Captain Picard, I thought we'd discussed this?" said Banda Ubkan, the ultra-efficient nurse assigned to his care. She propped her hand on her hip, a broad grin on her face. She knew full well how to get even the most ornery of Starfleet hot shots to bend to her will, she'd had plenty of experience.

He dropped his head, he was just heading outside for a bit of fresh air, nothing more sinister than that, "I just thought I'd sit on the terrace, get some sun on my skin." He sounded pathetic even to his own ears.

"Captain, you know better than that. You should have called me, I would have come right away. You need someone with you." She waited while he gathered his confidence, she could see him wavering with the cane. "Come on, where did you want to sit?"

"Nearest available please." An honest admission, but hard-won.

He'd been given the cane after his initial physio assessment, and he'd spent the first few days with it by taking small walks to the head, out to the ward lounge. Within the week, he had been released from Medical to Fleet quarters near Baker Beach. Even he was impressed by the house he'd been assigned: a freshly decorated beach house with everything a passing visitor might need. His bedroom was on the first floor, with a terrace balcony overlooking the shoreline. Medical had insisted on a full-time nurse and a night aide, both of whom he was tolerating but other than that, he was out of anything nearing a medical facility. For the first time in a month.

The Enterprise, with Will at the helm, was gearing back up to head out to the far-reaches of the quadrant after a lay-over for repairs. He'd left Medical two weeks ago, and now he felt… abandoned was probably the right word. He was starting to feel more than a little left out. He thought idly about how much he'd missed out on since he'd got sick. Too much. He was far from ready to give up the big chair but time was marching on… if his illness had taught him anything, it had shown him that time indeed, waited for no man. His life had veered off-course, taken an unexpected direction. Will was doing a stellar job. And then there was Beverly…

He'd always been quite happy with his own company, but after being laid so low and surrounded by medics fussing over him for so long, he was very grateful that things with his favourite CMO had too taken an unexpected turn. She'd abandoned her own billet pretty much as soon as he'd been released but they were taking things cautiously, slowly. He was still convalescing, and his energy levels were pretty much non-existent. He most certainly was not in the market for serious romance. It hadn't been their first time of course, but it was far from his usual standard. She'd done all the work and afterwards, he'd slept for hours.

Given that he wasn't in a position to be going anywhere soon, he was glad she was prepared to take things at his tortoise-like pace.

He was still struggling to stay awake for anything longer than a couple of hours, amazed by the exhaustion he was still battling. He'd found that even reading, the simple act of following a story was proving to be too much of a challenge. He read a paragraph, lost concentration, re-read it… he couldn't keep his focus. Something he knew he'd need to regain before he could step back into anything resembling his career.

The morning sun felt good on his face. Warm rays whispered over his skin, making him feel reenergised simply by being in its presence. He felt good, for the first time in a long while. Ready for what lay ahead.

"I brought you a cup of tea. Fancy something to eat? A bit of toast? A croissant perhaps?"

He didn't want to disturb the peace of the moment but had to admit to being glad for the drink. He took a long sip, she made it extremely well, "Nothing, thank you… I'm fine."

"Maybe later? You have to regain that strength, put some meat on your bones."

He smiled at her, belying her endless interference, "Maybe."

"Okay, is that all you'll throw me, Captain?" she laughed. She knew he despised her 'endless hovering' as he referred to it, that she reminded him of his continued weakness, his need.

"Oh no, no I didn't mean…" but he did. He hated needing anyone. He had always been entirely independent, prided himself on getting out of some pretty tricky situations in his time. There was no getting out of this one until the ides of time themselves decided.

"Don't worry, I'm going to be here until lunch, then Doctor Crusher is coming to check you over -she managed to get you added to her rounds. Then I'll leave you to it for a few hours before I come back this evening and get you sorted for the night."

He hoped she hadn't spotted the involuntary shudder at the mention of his need for her. By the end of each day, he was beyond exhausted. Physically spent. Totally reliant on her to help him get to his bedroom, to change, visit the bathroom, get into bed. He hated feeling this way.

"Good, thank you Banda." In the past, his passive dismissal would have worked. Whichever ensign he was talking to would have taken the hint out of respect for his position. Banda's reading of him however, was an entirely different matter.

"Right well, there you are. I'm just going to get a quick scan of you, send the results, then I'll get out of your hair."

He appreciated her attempt at levity. He looked at her quizzically, then waved her on with the scan. She pulled out her trusty tricorder and scanned him very thoroughly. He hoped the readings were within tolerance. He'd been 'returned' to Medical more than once due to inconsistencies in his temperature, white blood cell count, something… He held his breath, the tricorder sounded an alarm.

"Well, anyone would think you want to go back. Don't hold your breath, relax and breathe normally. You're sending this thing all crazy."

He released his breath, felt the tension ease away with it. "Done?" he snapped, his patience wearing thin now.

"You need to eat more." She said as she closed the tricorder, stashed it in the pocket of her uniform tunic.

"I'm fine…" he replied, staring at her in order to drive his point home.

She cocked her head to the side, studying him, "You'll do. For now."

"Huh. Thank you." He replied grumpily.

"Now, I'll be getting back inside. Do some tidying. Make your lunch. Want anything?"

"No." He turned his face back to the sun, it felt so good. "Banda?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you. I'm sorry for being…"

"The grumpiest captain in Starfleet?"

"Well, yes."

"I have news for you. You're not even close. I've dealt with far worse. Between you and me? Captain Hawkes was a terrible crone." She turned, satisfied with the smile she'd finally managed to put on his face. Leaving him sunning himself on the terrace of the little house he'd been drafted to. When she turned back at the doorway, he had his eyes closed, she suspected he'd be asleep in seconds. She would need to wake him before she left, she didn't want him to burn out in the sun.