Chapter 4
That entire day was a fight for survival, for sanity, for the will to keep going. Picard had lost count of the number of "sessions" Madred had inflicted. The Cardassian had enjoyed using his toy on him, experimenting with different settings to see what was the most unpleasant. Although Madred had not laid a hand on him since earlier that morning, Picard hurt. The intense pain stopped with the push of a button, but there were lingering effects. The violent seizing of his muscles had left his whole body sore. Dehydration made his head ache and his mouth feel as if cotton were in place of his tongue. Sleep deprivation was having an effect on his control. He could say with certainty that the Cardassians were skilled in the art of torture…but there were four lights.
"No, there are five!"
Thirty minutes of agony later, Madred turned off the device, set the remote on his desk, and left the room. Picard had long since fallen, convulsing from the chair. The blinding pain had been unimaginable, like being eaten alive from within. He now lay on his side, in a fetal position, facing away from the cruel lights. He was gasping; holding onto the life he felt was being ripped from him. The experience left him utterly exhausted, and now free from his tormentor, he mercifully collapsed into a heavy sleep.
Muffled music drifting in from another room roused Picard. Music? Picard lifted his head and saw he was alone in the room. The music wasn't Cardassian. It sounded like an Earth folk melody. As he sat up and searched for the source of the music, he noticed a wooden door he hadn't seen before on the other side of the room. Light glowed from around it and almost beckoned him with its mysterious intensity. Standing up, he approached the door and saw it had beautiful carvings of vines artistically crafted into its surface. He turned the antique doorknob and curiously opened the heavy, creaking door to the room of light. The music grew louder and the aroma of roasted turkey wafted towards him and filled the air. Picard stepped through the threshold into a warm, joyous atmosphere, glowing golden from the light of a fire burning in the fireplace. Logs popped, sparks flying up the chimney. It was so good to be home. He stomped the snow off his boots, unzipped his coat and took it off…too warm for that in here. His grandmother tottered towards him holding two glasses of red wine.
"Have a glass of wine, Jean Luc." She was smiling broadly. He loved his grandmother. She had been a guiding light in his life, and he missed her.
"Thank you, Mamau," he said smiling back and taking the glass from her. "It is so good to see you. I've missed you."
"I know, Jean Luc." She pulled him down to her level and kissed him on the cheek. Her love radiated in waves. "Come to dinner," she said as she took his hand and led him towards the dining room.
Picard followed and found that his family was there, already seated at the huge oak table covered with a feast that could feed the crew. "It's about time you got here," said Robert. Picard grinned to himself. Typical. He and his brother rarely got along, but Robert had been the one to help pull him through some of the toughest times in his life. He would always be grateful to him for that.
"I wouldn't miss this for the world, Robert."
His grandmother took her seat next to Rene who helped her with her chair. Robert and Marie, Rene…and Beverly Crusher, Will, Deanna, Data, Worf, Geordi, Wesley...His whole family was there. Jean Luc took a seat next to Beverly who smiled at him and squeezed his hand under the table. He must have gotten a slightly surprised look on his face because he saw Deanna smiling at the couple from across the table. Candlelight lit her beautiful face as she made eye contact with the captain. He grinned that half-grin that he had started to let slip around his crew. Everyone was talking, happy. The buzz in the air was one of contentment, friendship, and warmth.
"So, Mr. Worf, what do you think of your captain's home?" Robert asked, putting him on the spot.
"Nice house." The Klingon was uncomfortable with the question and fidgeted in his seat. "Good wine."
Picard grinned. The Klingon's comment was almost verbatim from when he had once been asked how he liked his tea. The mental picture of the warrior holding the china teacup made him chuckle. The delicate wine glass was only slightly more masculine. He liked Worf. And he respected him. Picard knew the difficulties of a lone Klingon on a Federation ship and admired the courage he showed in that challenge. Picard had learned much about himself through his officer.
"It has been a long time since I've had a home-cooked meal," said Beverly. "It smells wonderful! I think I cooked a meal like this for Wesley once in his life."
"It was more than once, I think," Wesley said. "But it has been a long time. Thank you, Marie, for preparing such a lovely meal." Being a teenager, Wesley had his plate heaped. Picard wondered how he could put that much food away and still remain rail thin. Ah, to be young.
"Well, it's the least I can do. To have you all here is a special occasion. We're lucky enough to get Jean Luc here, much less his family on board the Enterprise." Marie was a beautiful woman, genuine, and Picard felt fortunate to have her as a sister-in-law.
"I told Robert the last time I visited that he had found the best cook in France and married her," Picard told Beverly.
Will Riker was savoring the sweet potatoes. "No kidding. Marie, you've got to tell me how you made these potatoes! I'm something of a cook when I have the time. This is not something I want to taste just once in my life!"
"Well it helps to have a garden with fresh vegetables," Marie said. "But I'll still give you the recipe."
"Maybe you have a recipe for scrambled eggs for him too," Geordi teased remembering his first and last time sampling Riker's cooking.
"Don't change your recipe, Commander," Worf said.
Riker feigned being hurt by Geordi's comment. "Thank you, Mr. Worf."
Picard looked around the table, enjoying the banter, the comfortable ease of being together. He leaned over towards Beverly. "I'm very glad you could come, Beverly," he said low enough not to be noticed by everyone. She turned towards him and looked him in the eye, her red hair radiating in the candlelight.
"Me too," she said. "I haven't enjoyed myself this much in a long time." She put her hand on the side of his face. "Hold onto this moment," she said, keeping his gaze long enough for him to realize that there were multiple meanings to her statement.
Jean Luc didn't understand exactly what she meant, but he could agree that this was the most content he had been that he could remember. "I will."
The feast continued until everyone was stuffed. It was all undeniably delicious, and there was enough for them all to have second or, in Worf's and Wesley's cases, third helpings. Picard usually stopped after the first helping, but couldn't help going for seconds. He was starving! His grandmother stood up after dessert and directed everyone towards the living room lit with the roaring fire. Robert started the song – his favorite folk song. A lot of wine, full bellies, and the joy of the moment were enough to get everyone in on it. Jean Luc Picard was happy.
"Wake up."
Picard turned away from the beautiful scene. Who had said that? The voiced seemed to have come from behind him.
"Wake up."
Picard opened his eyes, ripped from his haven by a Cardassian boot shaking him awake. The warmth and joy evaporated into the cold floor and dank air. Dull grey prison walls extinguished the light; the stench of sweat, piss, and vomit brought him fully back to his reality. Picard took a breath, trying to hold onto the last wisps of his dream. "Hold onto this moment," Beverly had told him. Now he knew what she meant. A tear spilled out of the corner of his eye and he could hear it drip onto the floor by his ear.
"Where were you?"
Picard took another shuddering deep breath, trying to savor the fading memory and tuck it into the safe place in his soul. "Home...Sunday dinner….we would all sing afterwards…" His voice was soft and slurred.
"Is that what's keeping you from breaking? Images of home and happier times?"
Picard nodded slightly, a small grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. Picard knew that this version of Sunday dinner had never really happened, but the vivid clarity of it could fooled him. Right now, it was real.
"I must congratulate you. You are remarkably strong-willed," Madred said from behind him. "I have decided that there is no point in holding you further. You are free to go." He pushed a control on his desk and the doors on the other side of the room slid open.
That got Picard's attention. He was lying on the floor facing the doors and focused his eyes on the blackness in the hall. He waited for the guards to come through and drag him back into that chair. That's what happened when those doors opened. But there were no guards. Was he still dreaming? The captain summoned all his strength and struggled mightily to roll to his stomach then push up to his knees. The aching pain and weakness in his body told him that he was indeed awake. He looked at Madred to see if he had heard him correctly.
"The guards are outside waiting for you. They will give you clean clothing before we return you to your ship."
He stared at the Cardassian warily, still not believing what was happening. But lots of things had happened to him here that he couldn't believe. Picard used the chair to drag himself unsteadily to his feet and held on until he felt he could keep his balance. Hope was a powerful motivator and gave him the strength to walk.
"We will get what we want from the human female," Madred said cheerfully as Picard was nearing the door.
Picard stopped in his tracts. His heart sank as he realized that this was just another game. Turning to Madred, Picard asked the question to which he already knew the answer. "To what female are you referring?"
"The one from your aborted assault mission, of course…Dr. Beverly Crusher. We have high hopes that she will be more cooperative than you."
The thought of them doing to Beverly what they had done to him ignited an anger in him that quickened his breath. "What have you done to her? She's a medical officer and knows nothing of strategic plans."
"You may be right. We'll soon find out for ourselves. As of now, she is safe…but as soon as you leave…" Madred let the sentence hang and smiled knowing he had hit a nerve. So, there was the weakness. Madred was pleased with himself.
"And Lt. Worf?"
"He left us little option. We had to kill him. I am more hopeful we will get what we want from the female."
Picard walked slowly back to the chair and painfully sat down, the memory of the dream and of Beverly still fresh in his mind.
He was revolted by the Cardassian's games, by the thought of Beverly in a torture chamber, by the very real chance that they would use her as a tool to break him. He knew he would if that were to happen. Picard resolved to stay and hang on as long as he could...just keep them away from Beverly. If they got out of this, he would never tell her.
"Are you choosing to stay with me?"
Picard nodded. He had to hold on just a little longer.
The Cardassian seemed genuinely delighted, "I can't tell you how pleased that makes me. So, let's begin again!" he said pointing up towards the lights. "There are five lights there. Tell me, do you see five lights? And think carefully before you answer because the correct answer will result in a good night's sleep, more of your happy dreams. An incorrect answer… will be unpleasant…"
Picard didn't want to answer. The thought of more torture was horrifying. Part of him wanted to break, to yell out that there were five lights. Just make this stop. Please, no more... But he saw Beverly in his mind's eye. Hang on. He had to hang on. Someone was coming to rescue them. Now that he knew Beverly was there, he had even more hope. Picard looked up at the lights then back to the Cardassian who knew what his answer was going to be. "I see four lights."
"No. There are five. Since you haven't had anything to eat or drink in two days and are probably hallucinating by now, I will give you one more chance. There are clearly five lights… How many do you see now?"
Picard wouldn't say it again. Picard's gaze fell and landed on a random spot on Madred's desk. He clenched his teeth waiting for the inevitable, the muscles in his jaws knotting. Gripping the chair, he began to tremble as he waited for the inevitable.
"How many?"
Nothing
"I see…" Madred stood up. "Despite your ingratitude, I am still in a forgiving mood. Your lack of cooperation requires me to punish you, but I will give you the chance to shorten the duration of that punishment." He waved the remote in the air as he spoke. "If you can reach this padd, you can turn it off."
Picard's eyes lifted to the padd that Madred waved in front of him. It would be difficult, but possible to reach the desk. He had a small glimmer of hope.
Madred smiled and walked towards the exit with the padd. Picard was still bracing himself but now was unsure why Madred was carrying the padd away with him. Upon reaching the door, Madred added, "There is a proximity sensor on this. The closer you get, the more intense the pain. The reverse is also true. You choose what to do. Have a good night." He pushed the button and placed the padd just inside the door, 10 meters away. Then he was gone.
The moment Madred had activated the device, Picard's body seized in a painful backward arch and he flopped to the floor, howling in pain. He had not even seen where Madred had put the padd, but he knew it must be near the door. He was able to locate the direction of the door through the tears that welled in his eyes. He had to get to it. He knew he couldn't survive another night of this no matter what the intensity, so he willed himself to move. The intensity of the pain shot higher. Somehow, he heaved himself forward another meter through the fire. He was going in the right direction. Picard's entire world collapsed down to one thing – the padd by the door. Hands contorted at unnatural angles, limbs refusing to move except in jerky motions, he crawled in lurching, agonizing fits. He could hear screams and knew they were his. His mind tried to shut itself down. No! Black crept into his peripheral vision. No! He was 3 meters away now! Too close to stop! Hurts too much! No! Have to move! Have to move! Move, Picard!
The doors slid open and Gavek stepped inside the room. He had orders to check in on the human to "make sure he didn't kill himself," as Madred had put it. The human had made a valiant effort to get to the padd. He had, in fact, almost made it, but was stuck within one meter of it, suffering in the paralyzing throes of the highest setting. He wasn't going to make it to the padd – no one ever made it - and an entire night of this would kill him. The physician actually felt sorry for the human, and he slid the padd to the opposite side of the room with the toe of his boot. "Don't try to get to it. You'll survive if you stay as far away from it as you can," the doctor warned.
Picard heard it skid past him on the floor and felt the pain and his hope decrease as it slid away. He had had one shot at getting to the device and that was now gone. He could see someone standing over him, heard his words in the distance, knew it had probably saved his life by kicking the padd away from him. As the Cardassian left, Picard lay gasping on his stomach, the world spinning around him. Slowly, painfully, he crawled as far as he could away from the padd; grateful for any relief the distance gave him. After an eternity, his body could take no more and blackness overtook him.
