Premise: Its a remix of TNG with the M*A*S*H* classic, 'Fallen Idol'. In that ep, Radar and Hawkeye have a falling out when the lad is wounded. This story would be set after 'Shades Of Grey', the last ep of Season 2 of TNG. For a point of interest, 'Fallen Idol' is the ep I use in my MASH stories when Radar gets killed and then finds out he is an HL-Immortal.

"Of all the people I thought would be reluctant to head down to Moguera for Shore Leave, I certainly never thought to count you among them, Mister Crusher."

Wesley sighed, but in a polite way. He was somehow hoping to simply remain aboard and have that be that, but Captain Picard's legendary thoroughness obviously extended to checking leave lists.

"Permission to speak freely, sir?"

"In private and off-duty? Of course, Wesley. What then, is troubling my very able Acting Ensign?"

"The fact, sir, that I'm not so able."

Picard took these words in and weighed them carefully. He regarded a lack of confidence on the part of any member of his extended staff as a crisis-in-the-making. Wes's casual brainstorms were a treasure he would fight to keep, if it proved necessary. It would.

"What lack do you describe, Wesley? You'll have to help me, for I must say, I've seen no evidence of it."

"Thank You, sir. But I would prefer to avoid Moguera 2. We have to be realistic, Captain. I don't always do very well when it comes to---these situations. Specifically, I refer to last year's incident on Rubicen Three, and the Edo people. My actions forced you to directly and knowingly violate The Prime Directive."

Picard frowned, and not just from the memory of that incident.

"Mister Crusher, that was to save your life from a casual, crass, and unjust death sentence. A sentence, might I add, that I would have moved to save any member of my crew from, considering that no rational being could have found you guilty, since they quite conveniently chose not to inform us of the law. Add to all of that, I now firmly believe the Edoan Deity was testing us all along, and you know my oft-voiced opinion about such tests."

But Wesley's face didn't change.

"Captain, would you say the Edoan's God was playing with us?"

Picard saw the boy was leading somewhere, but needed more to follow along the path.

"In a manner of speaking, yes, I suppose that could be said. Although I think it was at least in part to gain knowledge of us, however questionable its means of doing so."

Wes turned away, and then back.

"Sir, strictest confidence? Not a word to my mother, nor anyone else?"

"Within legal strictures, of course."

"Its nothing like that. Its just embarrassing. Okay. Remember the outfits on the Edoan women? The ones they almost weren't wearing?"

Picard smiled as he remembered, and pleasured at feeling a bit like a dirty old man.

"Vaguely. What of them?"

Wesley gulped, then looked up, and then finally spoke.

"Three of the more---well-endowed ladies there played a trick on me. Seems pranks don't get you executed. They took me to somewhat near the forbidden area, then told me to turn around. Well, I do, and when I turn back, they're doing pirouettes - but they're no longer wearing those uniforms they weren't wearing. They giggle, I start to fall back--and you know the rest. They had those strings back on in 3 seconds."

Picard felt like laughing, but wisely chose not to, for Wesley's sake.

"But you told us you were merely romping when we found you. Embarrassment? Fear of some of Mister LaForge's choice remarks?"

"No, sir. Geordi's a coward when it comes to that kind of back and forth, anyway. Always pulls rank to win. No, I figured, I was already set to die. Why risk dragging them down with me? The only thing that really bugs me is that when they pulled that---I reacted. "

"Many people would, Wesley. It was sudden, and very alluring."

"Was it? They were already, by our standards, 90% undressed. Why did that extra 10% knock me off my feet?"

Now Picard did laugh, and as he did, he got up to leave Crusher's quarters.

"Mister Crusher - two things. One, I am ordering you down to Moguera. Its a new Federation member, and bound by a great many of our laws, unlike the Edo's world. True, we don't know the culture as well as Betazed, Vulcan, or Andor. But that is what this is about, after all. Just play it by ear, and if you see trouble looming, quietly excuse yourself and beam up."

Wes gave in.

"Yes, sir. Sir...What's The Second Thing?"

Picard had a bit of the wolf in his regal face at that moment.

"Mister Crusher, 90% is fine and dandy. But do not ever discount the impact of that final 10%. I don't care what century it is, remember to watch that last step - its a doozy!"

Wes watched his Captain leave, then prepared to join the Leave party. He stopped, though, and spoke out loud.

"Heh. Jean-Luc Picard just said 'doozy'."

Once down on the planet, Wes did indeed feel more comfortable. He tasted of the local cuisine, which was always fun. Some Moguerans then suggested he witness an event taking place in the public square, and so he went. A lot of the Leave Party were already there.

He saw men and women from all over the ship, civilian and Starfleet both. In fact, it seemed odd that they were all there, as though the same suggestion had been made quite strongly. Crusher's hackles were further raised when he noticed that the crowd had no Moguerans whatsoever.

"Crusher To Enter....."

A ssuppressivefield was operating somewhere. The badge wasn't transmitting.

Now, people that Wesley recognized as State Security surrounded the square, wielding large phaser rifles. The head of the group walked up to an Asian woman Wes had seen around the ship.

"You! Who was the undersecretary for outworld finance in the 120th Cycle of our world's existence?"

The woman's eyes shifted. She had once been told a story of an immigrant ancestor who had to answer questions that crazed bigots would throw in her face. She now understood that woman just a little better.

"I'm---very sorry. I'm in botany, back on the ship. I never had a chance to delve that deeply into your culture. But I've been meaning to."

The guard shook his head disdainfully.

"Such contemptible ignorance of our sacred culture."

He raised his gun-butt to strike the woman, but a hand grabbed his and pushed the gun away.

"Why don't you just walk away before we friendly folk get really annoyed? You wouldn't like us when we're annoyed."

As Wesley guessed, all this got Transporter Chief O'Brien was a beating of his own. The woman from botany held up his head once the thugs were done.

"Thank You--but I don't think he would have hurt me as badly as he did you."

O'Brien smiled, despite the pain.

"Ah, my baby sister hits harder than that palooka! Sides, my old ugly mug can take a few punches better than your pretty face."

She liked his toughness. She would like it more as time went on.

"I'm Keiko Ishikawa, from Botany."

"Miles Edward O...."

"I know who you are. I mean---I've seen you around."

In the midst of a crisis, something precious had begun.

Wes used the training Commander Riker gave him, and sized up the area. Moguera was a spaceworthy world, but not yet rolling in the latest tech. So it was that when he spotted a large, obtrusive device - he more or less knew it had to be the comm signal jammer. He thought about seizing a rifle, and then thought better of it. The leader of the guards ranted.

"You come to our world, harass our people, and eat our food---but you only wade into our superior culture's history. This is an insolence for which we demand satisfaction! Any last words?"

"Just one, sir. A question."

In his pocket, Wes activated the spare combadge he had kept with him at all times since Rubicen 3--not to mention that time with Aldea and the children. He had never quite forgiven them for asking for and then just taking the children as they did. When he was little, doing that kind of thing got him in real trouble.

"What question, boy?"

"Sir, what was the name of the undersecretary in your question?"

The sick man smiled.

"Who cares?"

As he and his men opened fire, people began to die. But Wesley did what his dear friends and his Captain would have done. He reasoned a way out. Powering up his main combadge, he hurled it at what he hoped was the jammer. O'Brien saw this and gave Wes a thumbs up, for he knew that if a low-tech jammer suddenly met up with the high-tech device it was jamming, an explosion might follow, and it did.

"Good work, Wes. Like my great-great grandma used to say, don't put tinfoil in the microwave!"

The head guard was ranting as everyone beamed up.

"No! You don't escape! Not from me! Our world is so superior, Bajor stole its culture and copied it. This is against the treaty!"

Because of his spare com-badge's low power, Wes was the last to be beamed up. As he did, the guards unloaded every weapon into his position. Some of the energy got through, as Doctor Kate Pulaski witnessed.

"Pulaski to Bridge! All the survivors are up! Only one wounded, though very badly. He'll pull through, I think."

On the Bridge, Picard sighed in relief that only five had been lost, although there was no reason for even those five to have died.

"Good work, Doctor. Who is the wounded individual?"

"Wesley Crusher, Captain. I don't understand what he was doing down there. He told me he wasn't going."

On the Bridge, Geordi chimed in.

"Yeah, that's what he told me, too. Wonder why he changed his mind."

Picard shook visibly, and thought out loud.

"He didn't change his mind. I ordered him to go, to get over his fears of a repeat of Rubicen 3."

Kate Pulaski, attending to a wounded Wesley, also spoke without thinking.

"You've given better advice in your time, Captain. Much better."

Riker responded.

"Doctor, that is quite enough! Bridge Out!"

Data took note of something.

"Captain, several small ships bearing Mogueran registry and possessing a much higher level of technology than we have believed them to posess are bearing down on our position. Weapons already charged."

Worf looked up from his station.

"Captain--they are demanding we surrender our 'War Criminals'. Permission to tell them what part of Hell they should burn in, sir?"

But Picard didn't answer. His face was that of one lost, his eyes vacant and soulless.

"Number One, take over. Extricate us as you see fit. I'll be in my quarters."

A stunned Will Riker watched as a man who once swore he'd stay on the Bridge if bisected withdrew from the scene of a battle. It wasn't the Romulans, true. But the sight alone was a soul-breaker.

"All right. Mister Data, get us the hell out of here. Mister Worf, if they try to block us, be gentle but firm."

Worf nodded.

"Of course, sir. Every bat'leth has a blunt edge, after all, for just such an emergency."

And so the Enterprise withdrew. Riker called Sickbay.

"Doctor Pulaski, how is Ensign Crusher?"

"He may be just fine. But like I told Picard, he's not up to seeing anyone right now. I had to chase him out."

"You chased out the Captain?"

"I'll tell you what I told him, Commander. In this instance, he's caused quite enough trouble for one day."

Riker breathed in, but failed to calm himself.

"Doctor Pulaski, that's two, and I am counting."

Will then cut off the connection himself.

"Now, all I have to do is figure out what the hell the Moguerans are up to, get with Starfleet on how to handle this mess, deal with a wounded navigator being treated by an insubordinate doctor, bury our dead---and see if I get our Captain back."

The Xo stared at the Bridge's lift doors.

"He left us."

In his quarters, Jean-Luc Picard stared at two pictures. One was of Wesley Crusher. The other was of Jack Crusher.

"Sacre Couer, Sang Real'. Please, not again. I couldn't bear it."