She saw Jean-Luc reach out for her but the transporter claimed her first. When she felt herself standing on her own weight again, her first thought was for him. Her next was one of confusion and alarm as she took in the Cardassian soldiers surrounding her. Rough hands grabbed her arms and she struggled reflexively, panic surging, before an injector pressed to her neck brought darkness.

When she was awakened, her arms were bound behind her and she was led to a small, sterile gray chamber. The guards spun her around to face the door and she stumbled, off balance, against the wall, but the muttered curse at them died on her lips as a new Cardassian entered. The two guards gave him a wide berth and she surmised quickly that he was in charge. For a moment he studied her, and she suppressed a shudder at the hardness in his eyes. "Doctor Beverly Crusher," he said finally, with a cultured, intelligent voice. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

Finally? "Who are you?" she demanded warily.

"Oh, come now," he replied. "I'm sure Picard has mentioned me in passing."

A chill raced up her spine at the realization. "Gul Madred."

He smiled, but it was not a pleasant sight. "Very good, Doctor."

"He's here, then, too." A sense of dread began to fill her and she unconsciously, fruitlessly pulled at her restraints. "You've brought us both here. Why?"

He wasn't going to answer her directly. "You've had a long history with Picard, haven't you?" he asked rhetorically. "First associations came more than twenty years ago, when your husband and he served together. Then your husband died. You didn't see Picard for a long time, but now you've been together on the Enterprise for several years. I wonder, Doctor, what's happened during these last few years? I imagine the two of you have become quite close." He was standing at arm's length in front of her.

She stared straight ahead at a fixed point on his shoulder armor, mentally recoiling at the smug insinuation of his words. There was no way this monster could possibly claim to know anything about her relationship with Jean-Luc—

"Did he ever tell you that I gave him a chance to go free in the middle of our interviews?"

She remained mute, but the confusion must have shown on her face.

"He didn't? I can't say I'm surprised. Allow me to tell you, then. You will recall that he had no way of knowing that you and your Klingon had escaped from our little ambush. I decided to play on that gap of knowledge. I told him he was free to go, to return to the Enterprise if he wanted. The only condition was that I had you in custody and if he left, you would be the next to be interrogated. He chose to stay, Doctor."

Her eyes darted up to Madred's face in silent shock, mind coming to terms with everything that implied. He could be lying, but what would be the point? She saw with utter clarity that Madred had discovered at that time exactly what it would take to break Jean-Luc Picard: Her. She reeled at the thought. She'd seen all the physical and emotional scars left by the Cardassian, knew how devastating the torture had been. If he could have left it behind…She finally managed, "He would have done the same for any crewmember."

But it wasn't true, and she knew it. No matter how self-sacrificing he could be, for almost anyone else, he would certainly have rationalized that he could better serve them by working from the Enterprise toward their rescue. For anyone else, he would never have continued to be subjected to the excruciating pain.

But for her...

Madred was voicing her thoughts. "I don't think so, Doctor. And that is why I have brought you here along with him. With the power to back up my intimations of harm coming to you, I believe I have found the key to my adversary."

It was all she could do to keep from shaking. "What do you want?"

"It's quite simple," he assured her. "I want him to make a confession admitting to a plot by named members of the Federation Council to invade the Cardassian Union."

"But that would mean war," she said, horrified, her voice sounding distant to her own ears.

He shrugged. "If you can persuade him, we won't need to harm you."

She snapped out of her momentary shock. "You don't need to do anything," she spat angrily. "You're going to kill the negotiations, and the peace, because you want revenge. Because you know that in the end, he had more integrity and dignity after being beaten down and tortured for days than you ever could hope to have." Her eyes blazed with contempt. "And no matter what you do to him, that will always be true."

The gray countenance stared at her coldly. "Fortunately, my goals and Cardassia's coincide quite nicely at this junction," he informed her. "Your concern for...the negotiations," and he emphasized the word, believing she was protecting Picard first, "is not necessary."

"Why not?"

He shook his head. "Enough questions. I believe it is necessary for you to understand what will happen if you do not persuade Picard to make this confession." He stepped forward with an odd expression and ran his fingers appraisingly down the side of her face. She flinched, instinctively trying to shrink away from him and pull her hands from behind her, but the bindings held fast. Madred watched her carefully as his hand strayed lower, pausing to prod at a cut under her collarbone. "You never witnessed firsthand the effects of the device I used on Picard, did you?"

Her skin was crawling. Amidst the rage and revulsion, her mind flashed with the memories of what she'd seen—the delicate skin marred with bruising, the internal trauma from prolonged electrical shocks, the nerve damage from extensive stimulation of pain receptors. She drew breath to hurl an epithet: Bastard—

She felt a searing pain in her stomach, in her head, and the air instead left her lungs in a convulsive gasp. Lights exploded in her field of vision and coherent thought fled as she instinctively tried to double over, but Madred's hand shoved her shoulder back against the wall and forced her to stand. Just when she thought she would collapse at the sudden agony, he stopped what he was doing to her.

Her breath came in short gasps as she bowed her head. Madred grabbed her chin and tilted her face up, studying it impassively. "I think it will be harder on him, actually," he assessed.

Jean-Luc... Beverly managed to stop the moan that wanted to escape her lips, instead saying, "Let go of me."

He did so, in no hurry, to remind her it was because he chose to and not because she had ordered him.

She swallowed once, heart still pounding against her ribs. "I want to see him."

"You will, in due course. Although he cannot help you unless he makes this confession." He produced a hypo from somewhere and continued, "I'm sorry to have to do this again, but it really is necessary."

Beverly had craned her face away, but was unable to avoid him as he pushed the injector into her neck. "Jean-Luc," she said thickly, and then she passed mercifully into unconsciousness.

#-#-#-#

"You abducted me in full view of my ship, Madred, and the negotiations are scheduled to begin in three days. You will not get away with this." Jean-Luc Picard was livid. Only hours before he'd convinced himself that he could face his tormentor again, had it been in the controlled environment of his own ship, under the full protection of her security; to be here in a Cardassian cell instead, flanked by armed guards, in the same vulnerable position as before, was the stuff of nightmares. He had only felt so helpless as when taken by Madred at one other time in his life, when he had been assimilated into the Borg collective. The Cardassian had assaulted his dignity, his humanity, in some long days of torture, seeking to break him not just in body but in spirit. And he had nearly won. Picard had been shaken to the core of his soul at that, and recovery had been a long, painful process. Yet now, Madred could not possibly believe he had the upper hand. What Picard was telling him was true: the Enterprise had seen Beverly killed, heard him be kidnapped, would not allow it to happen. Then why...?

"Of course I will. Not only will I get away with it, but you will help me. You will make the confession." Madred spoke with an utter certainty that made Picard extremely uneasy.

"What makes you so sure?" he asked cautiously.

Madred smiled and turned away from him, pacing slowly, showing his complete lack of concern for any threat Picard might pose him, in every way asserting his control. "The last time we met, you and I," he began, "I found out much about you." Picard stiffened. "I found out about your family, I found out about your ship. And–" he stopped now and leaned close to Picard's ear to whisper the words, "I found out what will make you break."

He froze, remembering all too well to what Madred was alluding: that moment when he had turned around, turned to stay in the desperate hope that Madred wouldn't harm her. But she was dead. He said so, mechanically.

"Willing to bet her life?" This was said with a smile, a cold, cruel smile.

God, no. "What have you done to her?" Picard demanded, his voice deathly quiet.

Madred pulled back, satisfied that he'd indeed been right and pleased with the reaction. "Oh, nothing, Picard. Not yet. But I can't promise that she'll continue to be unharmed, if you refuse to make this confession."

Picard fell back a step, clenching his fists, in shock at the full implications of this. "No," he breathed hoarsely, and then looked up, eyes blazing as he felt the blood rush to his head. He had to draw Madred's focus from her, had to somehow gain control of the situation that he knew on some level was already lost. He grabbed a weapon out of his surprised guard's hand and shoved Madred back against the wall in one short, uncharacteristically violent movement. The other guard shouted at him and raised his own disruptor, but Picard ignored him and pushed the barrel into Madred's throat. "You," he said, his voice still tightly controlled, "will let me contact my ship and release both Dr. Crusher and myself."

"I will do nothing of the sort."

"Then go ahead and shoot," he challenged. It was a desperate calculation: take himself out of the equation, maybe she would be spared...

"I don't have to," Madred answered, his voice even though his eyes were focused on the disruptor Picard had pressed into his neck. He swallowed once and raised a hand so Picard could see. "I can use this." He saw the horrified recognition in the man's eyes at the control device, and knew he'd won. "I don't think you want me to hurt her because of you."

Slowly, Picard stepped back and dropped the weapon. It fell to the floor with a clatter that seemed too loud, breaking the moment of silence. He felt, distantly, the guard slam him across the face with the recovered disruptor and he stumbled backwards. The side of his face stung with the impact, but he took no notice, knowing it was nothing compared to–

Madred, composure already regained, rebuked the guard for having struck Picard, then turned again to his prisoner. "I had given orders that you not be touched, Picard. My apologies." He glanced at the device in his hand, as if suddenly recalling its presence. "As for the doctor, I'm afraid that if you don't make the confession, I will have no qualms about using this."

He wouldn't. Picard was certain of that. He tried once more to draw the focus to himself, having no illusions about his own abilities to withstand anew the torture, knowing only how much worse it would be to see her suffer. "Madred. Be reasonable. She has nothing to do with any dispute between us. Let her go."

"Make the confession." Madred paused, then continued pleasantly, "No? Very well then. Would you like to see her? I imagine that she's probably feeling quite alone at the moment."

Picard felt another surge of anger at the gibe, but cooler thoughts prevailed. No matter that Madred was taunting him, manipulating him–he had to see Beverly. He nodded once, his face ashen, thinking with increasing dread over what would be done to them…to her...