Picard sat in his Ready Room scanning Dr. Selar's report on her latest patient. He ran his fingers across the description of broken ribs, lacerations, blood loss, contusions, nerve damage. He let out a deep sigh of remorse. The door chime broke his concentration.

"Come."

Deanna Troi entered. He motioned her toward the chair and she sat with a tired thud.

"How is she?" He asked tentatively.

"Physically, much better. They have had her sedated to speed her recovery, but now that she is out of it I can really feel her distress. Dr. Selar has released her to her quarters. I tried to talk to her, but I just can't get past her defense mechanisms."

"She's been through more than I can imagine. Please continue to try, Deanna."

Troi shook her head. "Captain, there is not much I can do right now. I think *you* are the one she needs help from."

Picard got up from his chair and paced. "Counselor, I'm the last person she is going to want to see. If you'll recall, I'm the one who got her into this position to begin with."

Deanna gripped his arm and gently pulled him to a stop. "If you have ever trusted my judgment on anything, trust this - Beverly is scared and alone and in desperate need of an anchor to hold on to. You need to put your guilt aside and be that for her."

He looked at her for a long moment. She was right, of course. He had been avoiding Beverly because he couldn't deal with his own feelings of guilt and remorse. By comparison to what she had gone through, it felt very selfish.

He took a deep breath and walked past her out of the room. He strode up the bridge ramp and to the turbolift, not even glancing Riker's direction. He made a beeline for his cabin to get what he needed.

Beverly lay across the sofa in her living quarters absent-mindedly rubbing the spot on her chest where she had removed the device. She ran through the entire series of events in her head, recounting the confrontations as if they were acted out by a character in a novel. The pain, however, was all too real. Though most every visible trace of injury was gone, she could still feel the impact point of each blow she had received.

The door chimed.

"Computer, identify."

"Captain Jean-Luc Picard is requesting entrance," it sounded.

Beverly sat up and straightened the soft green sweater that hung loosely over a pair of black tights. She rubbed her hands across her eyes and ran her fingers through her clean, unstyled hair.

"Come." She looked up to see the casually dressed captain with two boxes in his hand. Without invitation, he entered and made his way to the chair opposite her. Silently, he placed one box on the table and handed her the other.

Beverly thumbed open the box and knit her brow at the gift. While she certainly appreciated the sentiment and didn't want to insult Picard, the very last thing on her mind was a box of Maurivian chocolates - no matter how rare they were. She tried to hide the sorrow and loneliness she felt at being so misunderstood. She looked up at him not sure what to say.

Picard nodded in the direction of the chocolates. "So, do you really think Deanna will like them?"

Beverly was very confused.

He smiled and tried to explain. "I got them as deterrents. Every time Deanna tries to pry some emotional response from me and I'm too tired or just don't want to talk about it, I can pull out this box of goodies and she instantly drops the subject. You know she can't resist - I really think I've found her Achilles heel! Pretty smart, huh?

Picard was rewarded by a tired, but appreciative smile of understanding. He moved to the sofa to sit next to her. "I brought the other box for you to use when she visits. Something tells me you might need them more than I do right now."

Beverly nodded and set the box back down on the table.

*She looked so worn out.* He leaned back against the sofa, draped his arm around her shoulders and coaxed her to lean in against his chest. For a long moment he just hugged her. She was rigid and tense. He kissed her on the top of the head then reached up to comb his fingers through her hair. Slowly, her body began to relax.

They sat in silence for a long while.

"Did I ever tell you that I consider you my best friend?" Picard finally asked. "I guess it's because over all these years, I can't image anyone with whom I have been through more - anyone who knows more about me or who I know more about. But I have to say your behavior on that Cardassian base showed me how little I really do understand about you." He paused and continued in a raspy tone, "You are the bravest woman I have even known, Beverly."

Picard drew his hand across her cheek and felt the first wetness of tears. "Just let it out," he whispered and squeezed her tightly against him. She breathed deeply and her chest began to heave with the onslaught of released tension. The anguish and pain she had stored up inside racked her body with unrelenting sobs. Picard rocked her gently trying to absorb and share the raw emotion. When at last her crying ebbed, he pulled her legs up onto the sofa and moved so her head rested in his lap. He ran his fingers through her auburn hair until she fell asleep.