Blinking the haze from his eyes, Picard fights heaviness to open his eyes. Staring up at a familiar face staring down at him in concern, Picard swallows in his dry throat.

"Take it easy," instructs Beverly," perching on the biobed next to his shoulder, rapidly scanning him with her tricorder whilst her eyes complete a quick visual scan.

Bolting upright, Picard's head pounds against his temples. "Beverly!"

"Slow down!" commands Beverly, glaring at him warningly, urging him back down to a lying position on the bed. "Lay back."

Grimacing, Picard lays his head against the pillow, glancing up at Beverly urgently. "What happened?"

"You didn't heed Geordi's advice," admonishes Beverly, quirking a brow, setting aside her tricorder and shifting entirely onto the bed beside him. "He warned you about that energy anomaly and you insisted on piloting that damned shuttle. Your curiosity got in the way of your judgement, Jean-Luc."

Appraising her curiously, Jean-Luc tries to set aside the pain pulsing through his head. "I miscalculated the trajectory and couldn't get out of the path of the anomaly."

Nodding, Beverly runs her hand along his arm. "We were close enough we could close in on you in time. We beamed you right to Sickbay. You've got a little concussion, but I'm not overly worried. You had a small fracture in your right hand but I've set it already. Other than that, just a few bumps and bruises."

Glancing down at her hand running circles patterns along his arm, Picard's eyebrows knit. "Right..uh…"

"You're lucky, Jean-Luc," Beverly tells hims jestingly. "You have to be more careful. Next time I may not be able to patch you up so easily. And, I couldn't stand to see anything happen to you."

Taken aback, Picard's mouth falls agape, his mind reeling. Perhaps the concussion is slowing his mental processing, but he is having difficulty interpreting Beverly's mannerisms. Trying to formulate an appropriate question, Jean-Luc struggles as Riker enters Sickbay, walking up to the biobed in the emergency ward.

"Hello, Captain. How are you feeling?" Riker inquires concernedly, taking stock of the captain's physical condition.

"Fine," mutters Picard, his head foggy.

"He'll be fine," Beverly assures Riker, patting Jean-Luc's knee. "I'll release him to go home. He just needs a good rest."

Nodding, Riker returns his attention to the captain. "We're clear of the anomaly, sir. We've nothing to be concerned of. We're back on course now."

"Thank you, Number One," nods Picard stiffly.

"Have a good night, sir. I hope you feel better," Riker replies warmly, a small smile on his lips.

"Thank you, Will," Beverly responds, watching as Will backs up, ducking out.

"I can go home?" Picard asks hopefully, somewhat relieved. Truthfully, he is surprised that the doctor is willing to release him so quickly, but he is eager to get out of Sickbay. He just doesn't feel right.

"Sure," offers Beverly, rising off the of biobed. "There's no reason for you to stay the night here. Just let me pack up here and we'll get going. Stay still for a few moments and I'll be back for you shortly."

Watching the doctor cross the room and converse with a nurse, Picard exhales slowly. To him, something is slightly off, but he cannot pinpoint what that something is.

***
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"Did Riker mention if they got any readings from the shuttle?" Picard inquires as Beverly leads them down the corridor.

Nodding, Beverly rotates her neck slightly to address him as they head down the hall. "They did. You can look at them tomorrow. Remember, you've still got a bit of a need to rest."

Pursing his lips, Picard disagrees with her response, but he has no strength to fight with the doctor as she enters the passcode on the keypad to his cabin door. As she opens the door, Picard's brows furrow, wondering to himself why Beverly has stopped at his cabin and is letting herself in. Sure, she is a frequent visitor in his quarters. In fact, most mornings she drops in for breakfast, and they will often have dinner together or simply chat. But, it's certainly out of character for her to simply waltz right into his cabin.

"Mom!"

Eyes dilated, Picard follows Beverly through the door, where Beverly is immediately accosted by Wesley.

Pausing, Beverly holds a hand up as Wesley rushes up to her urgently. "Slow down. What's wrong?"

Bewildered, Picard shakes his head as the cabin door slides closed behind him.

"Maelle won't go to sleep. I tried to get her to sleep, I did!" Wes explains breathlessly, his hands gesturing wildly. "She just kept stalling, asking for a glass of water, another bed time story, whining, crying."

Rolling her eyes, Beverly pats Wesley's shoulder. "It's okay, honey. She's just going through a phase. I'll deal with it. Is Pierre in bed?"

Taking in a long breath, Wes nods. "Yeah. He was reading and when I checked he was asleep."

"Thank you, sweetie," smiles Beverly graciously. Turning to Picard, Beverly offers a weak smile. "I'm going to go get Maelle settled. Why don't you go lie down?"

Swallowing hard, Picard manages a lame bob of his head. He is so beyond confused at this point his head is spinning.

"Go sit down. I won't be long," Beverly assures him, giving his hand a quick squeeze.

Brows furrowing, Picard struggles to articulate any words as Beverly dashes across the room, apparently completely at ease in what he had thought was his cabin. Inhaling sharply, Picard attempts to steady his now rapidly beating heart. Perhaps he has more of a concussion than the doctor had detected. Perhaps he is missing something profound here.

"Papa? Are you okay?" inquires Wesley in concern, taking a step toward Picard. "Mom said you were hurt, but that you'd be fine. You don't look fine."

Mouth agape, Picard stares speechless at the teenager, thoroughly shocked that the boy had referred to him as 'Papa'. What is going on here?