Chapter 9
Beverly had talked to Troi soon after agreeing to the captain staying in his quarters instead of sickbay. Troi had reported that Picard had started their conversation in his ready room very open about his feelings but had experienced sensations of being trapped once he began recalling the most troubling parts of the ordeal. Troi knew why he had abruptly halted the conversation but sensed that pushing him to talk about it could have escalated the situation into a full-blown panic attack. She had made the professional decision to let him escape to his quarters and calm himself down. The captain was a very private man and forcing an issue generally only resulted in him putting up more barriers. Troi had found that out on several occasions. They would talk about it the next day when he had a level head and had had time to think about it.
Beverly trusted Troi's judgement, so suppressed her protective, mothering instinct and gave him his space. 0800 hours couldn't come quickly enough, though, for Crusher. She had been concerned about him all night even though he had promised that he would call her if he needed her, and hadn't made that call. She had asked the computer to report on the captain's vital signs several times throughout the night when she had awakened for various reasons, and although his blood pressure was higher than usual, the computer reported nothing alarming. No matter, at 0800 hours, she was promptly at his door. She pressed the door chime and received no answer. She tried it again with the same results. "Computer, what is the location of Captain Picard?"
"Captain Picard is in his quarters," answered the computer.
Beverly pushed the door chime again. Still no answer. "Computer, medical override…Dr. Beverly Crusher." She hoped he was just sleeping and hadn't heard the chime, but the spike of adrenaline her instincts had just given her made her think otherwise.
The doors slid open to dark quarters. "Computer, lights 50%," ordered Crusher. The lights came up by half…enough for her to see but not enough to jar awake a sleeping person. Her optimist side still hoped he was asleep. Seeing he was not in the living area, she called, "Jean Luc?"
No answer.
"Jean Luc?" Crusher made her way into his bedroom to find the bed empty and dried vomit on the floor next to it. Uh oh. "Jean Luc, where are you?" Just as she said it, she saw the broken mirror through the bathroom doorway.
Crusher rushed into the bathroom, her blue lab coat billowing behind her in her haste. Her eyes tracked from the broken mirror, down to blood smears on the sink, and finally to the floor where she found the captain propped against the wall, legs out in front of him. He was still in his uniform, but it was wrinkled and dirty, sweat stains on his chest and under his arms. Both hands rested limply on his thighs, palms up, his right hand wrapped in a bloody towel. "Jean Luc!" Crusher hurriedly knelt down beside him. His eyes were open, but held a vacant stare. "Jean Luc, what happened? Are you alright?" She laid her hand on his face, and he reacted slightly to the touch but did not look at her or answer her questions.
"Crusher to Troi. I need you in the captain's quarters now."
"I'm on my way, Beverly," came the instant reply. "What's going on?"
"Just get here as quickly as you can," said Crusher, not wanting anyone to overhear the details of the situation. She would respect the captain's privacy as best she could, however the tension in her voice conveyed the urgency of the situation to whomever overhead the communication.
"Jean Luc, it's Beverly. Can you hear me?" She stoked his face. He was coming around because she saw his breathing rate increase and his eyes moved around as if trying to figure out where he was. Beverly heard the doors to Picard's quarters hiss open and shut. It had taken Troi only moments to get there. She must have run.
"Beverly?" Troi called.
"In here."
Troi rushed through the bedroom and into the bathroom to find Picard on the floor with Crusher kneeling by his side. "I found him this way and called you immediately. He's conscious but unresponsive. Help me get him off the floor and onto the bed."
Troi stopped short, shocked as she surveyed the scene and saw the shattered mirror, the bloody towel, the dried blood on the sink and floor. "Oh my God." She and Crusher got on either side of the captain and put an arm over their respective shoulders.
"Jean Luc, let's get you off the floor. You need to stand up. Deanna, on three. One Two, Three," Beverly said as she and Troi lifted in unison. "Unhh," he grunted at the sudden movement and grimaced as his stiff muscles changed position. Picard did put his feet under him when they got him vertical and walked numbly to the bed, letting Troi and Crusher support a good deal of his weight. They sat him down on the foot of the bed. "Jean Luc, can you hear me?" Beverly's voice had some authority now and it seemed to get Picard's attention. He lifted his eyes to her and for the first time seemed to see her. His intense hazel eyes were bloodshot and filled with confusion.
"Beverly?"
"That's right, Jean Luc." She and Troi smiled in relief. "Do you know where you are?" Crusher asked.
He nodded.
"Where are you?" Troi prompted, trying to get him to talk and reorient himself.
He glanced up at her but didn't respond. His eyes were hard and his jaw was set. Crusher interpreted the dark look as the moody side of an exhausted captain expressing annoyance at the question, but Troi felt seething anger from him.
"That's an improvement from just a minute ago. That's good," Crusher breathed with more than a little relief in her voice. "Let me take a look at your hand. Can you tell me what happened?"
"I don't know." Picard looked down dumbly at his hand as she carefully unwrapped the towel. The fabric was embedded in the matrix of the clotted blood and was stuck to the wound. Picard looked back up at Crusher and reached up to touch her hair. "I'm sorry," he said
"Deanna, will you hand me my medkit? I think I put it on the his desk when I came in." Crusher pulled the towel away as gently as she could from his hand. Picard grimaced slightly as she pulled it free, taking some of the scabs with it. He could see that there were several deep gashes on his knuckles that had started to slightly bleed again. "What are you sorry about, Jean Luc?"
"I'm sorry," he said again, tears welling in his eyes.
"The mirror is broken in your bathroom," Troi told him. "Is that how you cut your hand?" she asked as she brought the medkit to Crusher and opened it for her.
He looked at her and then back to his hand. "I don't know."
"Captain, what do you remember?" Troi asked as Crusher began cleaning the wounds.
Picard furrowed his brow and stiffened at the question. "I…," he paused, an obvious internal conflict raging. "I…I don't know."
"I need more light here," Crusher said. "Computer, raise illumination by 30%." The lights quickly brightened, giving her more light but not enough to see what she was doing. Picard flinched at the unwelcomed brightness. "Deanna, will you bring me that floor lamp so that I can see this better."
"Sure." Troi carried the lamp from beside the head of the bed and set it beside Crusher. When she turned it on, Picard turned his face reflexively away. His body tensed, hands balling into fists, the hair on the back of his neck prickling as he braced himself for the unbearable pain that would soon follow. "There are four lights," he whispered to himself, too softly for the others to understand. "There are four lights."
"Thanks, Deanna. That's perfect. Sorry, Jean Luc, I know that's bright, but I need to see what I'm doing. I need you to open up your hand," Crusher said. "I can't heal these wounds with your hand in a fist." He slowly complied and she began using the dermal regenerator on his knuckles, his hand spread open over her palm. She held it in a downward grip.
Troi felt the shift in the captain's emotions and posture. He was mumbling something to himself over and over, but she couldn't quite make out what he was saying. "Captain, are you OK?" Troi asked sitting down next to him on the bed. "What are you saying?" She put her hand comfortingly on his upper arm, and his whole body went rigid, his left hand now gripping the covers. The wave of terror that boiled out of him nearly took Troi's breath away. "Beverly, stop what you're doing… Captain, you're safe." She squeezed his arm slightly...a completely innocent, comforting gesture, but utterly the wrong thing to do at the time. She heard him inhale quickly and felt the situation snowballing out of control. "Beverly..."
"I'm almost done," Crusher said still concentrating and unaware of the true urgency of Deanna's request. Without thinking, she repositioned her hand under the captain's and gently grasped his wrist to hold the hand at a different angle. The second he felt pressure on his wrist, he jerked away in terror.
"NO!" he shouted. He couldn't let it happen again! He had to get away. He shoved Troi off of the bed with his shoulder and kicked Crusher in the chest as he back-pedaled across the bed. Crusher toppled backwards onto her backside, stunned but unhurt. Troi was already picking herself up off the floor.
It all happened so quickly, that Crusher wasn't sure what had happened. By the time she registered that she was looking at the ceiling and not Picard's knuckles, Picard had lurched across the bed, rolled onto his feet on the floor, and was about to escape the bedroom. Troi was on her feet and blocked his way, hands up in front of her. He retreated backwards until the wall stopped him. His breath was coming in quick gasps, sheer panic radiating from him; a caged animal seeing his last chance to escape vanish. "No, no, no, no, no," he kept repeating under his breath. His eyes cut around, searching for a way out.
Troi continued holding her hands in front of her, palms out. "Captain, you're having a flashback. Focus on me. You are safe on the Enterprise. No one is going to hurt you." Her voice was soothing and calm.
"I don't believe you," he said in a low, breathless voice.
"Look, Beverly is here. She is safe. You are safe. Listen to the sound of the ship, the smell of the air. You are on the Enterprise." By this time Beverly was on her feet as well.
"No, it's just another trick! I don't know about Minos Corva! "
Beverly stepped around Troi to the side of the room where Picard wedged himself. "Jean Luc, it's not a trick. I'm right here." She slowly approached him. "Deanna's right. You're having a flashback. You're safe."
He looked at her with anguish on his face. "Beverly, have they hurt you? I'm trying not to break. I'm trying to protect you….but I don't know how much more I can endure." Tears were flowing now, his face contorted in grief. "I'm so sorry…"
"I'm fine, Jean Luc. We both are fine because we are on the Enterprise. You are in your quarters."
"Beverly, forgive me. I'm so sorry."
She was even closer now. "Jean Luc, look at me. I'm fine and you are too. This is just a memory. It's not really happening."
"What?" Confusion started to replace the panic; uncertainty instead of terror in his body language.
"You are safe on the Enterprise. Deanna is here. I'm here, and we are all safe."
"What's happening?" he was disoriented.
"You've been on the Enterprise for over a week now." She was now close enough to touch him and slowly reached her hand towards his shoulder. When he didn't flinch away, she put her hand gently on his left shoulder and then her other hand on his right. "Jean Luc, you're home," she said and softly pulled him towards her into an embrace. Breaking down, he fell sobbing into the hug and held her like a man clinging to a life line, his face buried into shoulder.
"What's happening to me?" he choked out through the tears.
"You were having a flashback…but you're back with us now. You're safe," said Beverly, her voice cracking with emotion. Tears welled up in her eyes. She cared deeply for his man, and seeing him in such pain was heartbreaking. They stood there for several minutes before Picard began to quiet down and pulled away exhausted. He cupped her face in his hands and looked into her eyes. Despite the tears still in his eyes, he smiled in open, unashamed relief, this time the smile reaching his eyes. "I'm so glad you're safe. I thought they were hurting you too." He hugged her again, this time out of love and not desperation. The embrace lingered; Troi stood watching and feeling her captain coming back from the abyss.
"Come on, Jean Luc. Come in here and sit down." Beverly gently pulled away and led him by the hand into the living area of his quarters. He sat down on the couch, burying his face in his hands. Troi followed them in and sat down next to him while Crusher got water from the replicator.
"Here, drink this," she said, touching the captain's shoulder to get his attention. He lifted his head from his hands and shakily took the glass, downing the water in one long gulp. "Want some more?"
He nodded, handing back the glass. Picard was fully cognizant again of what was going on. He was painfully aware that he was in a filthy uniform, unshaven, a little on the odiferous side, and nursing a pounding headache that felt like a hangover. He had lost his mind briefly and broken down on the shoulder of his chief medical officer and in front of Troi. But he was literally too exhausted and felt too horrid to really care too much. Crusher handed him another glass of water and he chugged it down as well, setting the empty glass on the coffee table in front of him.
Crusher retrieved her medical tricorder from her kit and scanned him. It showed that he was dehydrated, had elevated stress hormones, elevated blood pressure, and showed signs of sleep deprivation. He must have stayed awake all night. "Jean Luc, why don't you get a shower, change into something clean, and then I'll replicate you something to eat. You'll feel better. And once that's done, we'll figure out what to do. OK?"
Picard nodded and slowly stood up. "Alright." He numbly disappeared into his bedroom and they heard the bathroom door close and the shower turn on.
Crusher looked over at Troi whose face mirrored the concern Beverly felt. "I learned about Post Traumatic Stress Disorder at the academy, but this is the first time I've actually seen someone having a flashback," she said exhaling and shaking her head. "He had nightmares after the Borg event, but never hallucinations like this."
"This is a different circumstance for him. With the Borg, he was part of the collective, his identity suppressed. But this time, he was fully Jean Luc Picard. And he told me that he was close to breaking under the torture. He feels that they beat him. But there is something else that he's not telling us…something about you."
"Well, they told him that they had me as well. Maybe he's still trying to convince himself that it was all a lie."
"Maybe. But I think there's more to it than that."
Something about water pouring over him seemed to wash more of the darkness away than the sonic shower. Picard stood leaning forward onto his straight arms, hands flattened against the shower wall, water pelting over his scalp and shoulders. He exhaled the tension pent up in his body, feeling as exhausted as he ever had. Emotional fatigue was worse than physical fatigue. Finally, he forced himself to move and washed himself. Crusher was right. It did make him feel better.
Shaving was a little difficult because of the broken mirror, but he could see enough in one of the larger shards to do a respectable job. As he washed the lather off of his face in the sink, he saw the dried blood in the basin and on the rim. He looked down at the knuckles on his right hand and the pink lines that had recently been deep gashes. He suddenly remembered hitting the mirror, trying to wipe out the loathsome face of a weak man. Sighing, he used his towel to wipe up the blood from the sink and the floor. He would have a hard time explaining the mirror to the repair technicians. What was he thinking? He was the captain. He didn't have to explain himself. But he knew rumors would fly.
After he had cleaned up the mess, he dressed charcoal grey slacks and a loose-fitting green shirt. He didn't worry about socks. He wasn't planning on going anywhere. Taking a deep breath, facing the inevitable conversation, he walked into the living area where Crusher had replicated him a croissant, jam, fruit, and a cup of earl grey. He smiled weakly at her. "Thank you."
"You're welcome. How are you feeling?" Crusher asked.
"Better. But tired…." He sat down at the table and began to spread the jam onto the croissant. "And…"
"And what?" Crusher asked
"My head is pounding."
Crusher got the scanner and scanned his head. "Looks like it is the result of dehydration. Did you drink anything at all yesterday?"
"I don't recall...No, I don't think so."
"That's a good reason to have a headache." Crusher went to the replicator and ordered an electrolyte drink. "Drink this. And this should help with the pain until you get rehydrated," she said as she retrieved her hypospray and injected him in the arm with a pain-masking agent. He stopped chewing for a moment and blinked as his headache slowly vanished.
"That helped. Thank you."
Deanna sat to his right at the table and was the first to broach the subject. "Captain, how much do you remember about what just happened?"
Picard drained the last of the electrolyte drink and winced at the sour taste. "It's like a dream. But I remember most of it. When I was talking to you in the ready room, I remember that I was overcome with panic and had to leave. I don't know what caused it."
"I felt as much. What happened after you left?
He had finished his breakfast and was now sipping on his tea. "I remember getting in the lift…and was just overcome with anger. I don't know how long I was there. And I don't really remember getting to my quarters."
Crusher sat down at his left. "Do you remember calling me?"
"Yes. And I really did try to take a nap, but…" His eyes started to glisten as the memory of the nightmare slithered into his mind: Beverly begging for him to keep her safe, the jeweled knife slitting her throat, the blood…
"but you had a nightmare," Troi said softly. Picard just nodded, struggling to keep his composure.
"It was so real," he said in almost a whisper. His eyes were unfocused as he became lost in thought. Crusher touched his hand and he jerked at the touch. He attempted to smile reassuringly at her, but when he looked at her, he saw her from the dream. Quickly, he looked back at the table.
"Captain, what happened in the dream?" Troi asked softly. He shook his head, jaw muscles working at his temples. "Did it have something to do with Beverly?" He looked up at her surprised at her insight. Troi took that as an affirmative. "Captain, she is safe."
Picard nodded, barely keeping his emotions in check. "I know, but it was so real."
Beverly still had her hand on his. "Did you break the mirror after the nightmare?"
He nodded. "I woke up screaming…and I went to the bathroom to splash some water on my face…but seeing myself in the mirror… I couldn't stand to see myself." His voice was tight with emotion. "I was so angry that I hit the mirror… several times in fact."
"Why couldn't you look at yourself?" Troi asked.
"I just couldn't," he said evasively.
"And what happened next?" Troi asked realizing he was clamming up.
"I found myself on the floor with my hand wrapped up in a towel…but I don't remember wrapping it or sitting down. Hell, maybe I fell down. I don't know... I just had to make sure that I stayed awake. I couldn't let anything else happen to…" He quickly redirected his train of thought away from the nightmare. "And then you found me there."
"You were saying something when I was treating your hand," Crusher said. "But I couldn't understand you. What were you saying?"
He hesitated... "That there were four lights." Picard's eyes were focused on the table as he said it.
Crusher ad Troi looked at each realizing simultaneously what had set off the captain. They had been completely unaware that he had been in the flashback the entire time. He was reliving the torture, and they had unintentionally played right into the hallucination. Troi voiced it. "And when Beverly raised the lights and I turned on the lamp, you flashed back to the lights the Cardassians used." He nodded. "And when I put my hand on your arm and squeezed it, it felt like the guards' hands."
"And when I touched your wrist…" Crusher finished "you felt the cuffs they used." Picard sat motionless except for an almost imperceptible nod. No one said a word for a moment.
Troi was the first to break the loaded silence. "As scary as this has been for all of us, we have learned some valuable information here," Troi said. "Victims of traumatic events often have no idea what triggers a flashback, but now we know three of yours."
"So I'm supposed to avoid bright lights and people touching me on my arms?" he asked incredulously.
"I don't think that will be possible. But now that you know what triggers your flashbacks, you can be aware of what is going on when you encounter a trigger and they make a memory surface."
"Ok, what do I do?"
"If you feel a flashback starting, pay attention to all of your senses. It's called "grounding." You have to convince your mind that you are in the here and now and not in the memory. Stomp your feet to feel the floor. Touch something cold or hot, taste something with a powerful flavor… you have to ground yourself to the present at the early stages and not let it escalate to what just happened. Every person finds what technique works for them. You will do the same."
Picard took all of it in. "But what if there are more triggers? I can't just go around waiting for something to make me snap."
Troi spoke straightforwardly. "There may be other triggers and they may not surface for months, or years... or maybe they never do. You will just have to be patient with yourself through this. It will take time, but you will get through it."
Her words were not reassuring.
