Inside his own mind, trapped and helpless as he'd vowed never to be again, Jean-Luc Picard was screaming as well. Screaming his hatred to the pirate now occupying his body, screaming his anger and outrage at having been shunted off to a corner of his own mind and forced—again!—to watch helplessly as his body participated in a rape. To watch with horror the moment Beverly realized something was horribly wrong.

A moment too late. As soon as recognition entered her eyes and she screamed her own anger and betrayal, Narve brought Picard's fist up to deliver a smashing blow to the side of her head, then a second blow that brought her to full unconsciousness. He rose from the bed after that act of casual brutality, looking around the room as he stepped into Picard's clothes. With a triumphant smile, he found what he was looking for: the decorative cording from one of the many boxes containing Beverly's recent purchases. He yanked it from the package without regard for the contents, which spilled onto the floor in a jumbled heap. Picard numbly noted a shirt that he'd admired, no doubt meant as a surprise for him, along with a few other articles of clothing before Narve turned back toward the bed, striding with grim purpose.

Pausing only long enough to throw Crusher's clothing back on her unconscious form, Narve knelt on the bed and bound her hands and feet together with the efficiency born of long practice. When he finished, he jumped back to his feet and tapped Picard's combadge. "Narve here; you there, Mylal?"

"Affirmative, Commander," came the prompt response. "I was able to reset the combadges to our private frequency with no problem. Are you ready for pick up?"

Narve glanced around the room, then down at Beverly's body. "Oh yes," he replied softly. "More than ready. Narve out." Hope you enjoyed the show, Picard, he thought gleefully to his mental captive, the first sign of true emotion he'd shown since his sickening joy at finally having Crusher and Picard exactly where he wanted them. Don't worry, it isn't over yet.

Picard's roar of outrage was heard by non one except Narve, whose only response was a triumphant smile as the whine of a transporter filled the room.

They were gone.

Betazed

"Will?" Deanna Troi called softly into the darkened room, having finally managed to drag herself away from yet another formal reception her mother had insisted on throwing in Deanna's honor.

He was already asleep, having left the party a full hour earlier; too much Betazed hospitality, she thought fondly as she smiled down at his peacefully dozing form. She shrugged out of her filmy party dress and snuggled down next to him, not bothering to remove the elaborate headdress she had donned for the evening's festivities. Her mother had foisted it on her, but Will had admired it, as well as the elegant tumble of dark curls the headdress topped, so she decided to share it with him one last time—if, of course, she could wake him up. It would certainly be fun to try; this visit home was definitely more enjoyable than the last one had been.

She frowned at the memory. When Will had agreed to come with her the last time—had it really only been six months ago?—it had been a time of quiet convalescence for both of them, a time during which the scars of rape and possession had slowly begun to heal. During that time their friendship had blossomed, sturdier than ever. They'd returned to the Enterprise after that second visit easier in their minds than when they'd left.

Many things had happened between that time and now, including a doomed love affair for each of them. She'd become involved with the leader of a colony of genetically engineered isolationists, and he'd started seeing a member of a supposedly gender-neutral race who had decided she was, in fact, a she—and very attracted to Will Riker. Allen had elected to remain with his people when they once again turned their backs on the larger universe, and Soren had been psyho-adjusted by her world's government "for her own good," not only losing her sense of being female, but also her feeling for Will.

Troi's eyes clouded as she remembered the pain of those encounters; double pain for her, since she felt Will's ache of loss as acutely as her own. But those bittersweet episodes, to her continued amazement, served only to deepen their friendship, as no casual sexual encounter ever could.

Those encounters also led to a revelation that still filled her with wonder; the fact that she still loved Will Riker, loved him intensely and passionately and—almost—unselfishly. She was truly happy for him when his feelings for Soren deepened, had wished him success in that troubled relationship. A small part of her had sighed wistfully, perhaps, but she'd easily suppressed it in light of his happiness.

It was partly his pain after that relationship had been so abruptly and unfairly terminated that prompted her to offer him the hospitality of Betazed once again, this time during the ship's refit, and partly her own desire to explore the possibilities of their relationship. Because slight though the tinges of jealousy and relief were, the fact that they even existed at all was a sign that her feelings for the only man she'd ever called "Imzadi" were far from resolved.

"Not while we're serving on the same ship," she'd told him on more than one occasion. Words that now came back to haunt her. Wasn't that the entire reason behind permitting families on board ships like the Enterprise? So that people in relationships could serve together, instead of having marriages destroyed and families strained past the breaking point by long-term separation? Had she only been hiding behind that as an excuse? She determined to find out, to focus for once on her own emotions and not those of others. Except, of course, for one particular other.

Once on Betazed, everything seemed to fall into place. The second night on the planet they'd gone to a restaurant Deanna's mother had recommended, and were pleasantly surprised to find that actually lived up to Lwaxana's rapturous descriptions. A perfect dinner was followed by an evening of dancing and talking and just being together. Will's first kiss had been tentative, Deanna's own reaction equally hesitant, until they'd pulled back to look into each other's eyes. At that moment, Deanna knew exactly how she felt; all the doubts and confusion fell by the wayside at the feeling of loved she sensed from him. And at the equal feeling that arose in her own heart.

"Imzadi." Startled, still half-caught up in the pleasant memory of rediscovered love, Deanna looked down to see Will's warm hazel eyes looking up at her. She hadn't even realized he was awake, too busy concentrating on past emotions to sense ones belonging to the here and now.

She leaned forward to offer him a kiss, but hesitated. Something was off; faintly, as if from far away, she could sense an urgent need aimed directly at her. Before she could do anything to respond to that need, however, Will pulled her down for a passionate kiss.

Deanna never even felt the phase Larsch used to blast her into unconsciousness.