I know this makes no sense in terms of time. Just pretend it's an alternate reality.
"The Q'jor'ans thrive on the pain of others. Literally. They are perpetually at war, torturing each other horribly and enjoying it thoroughly. Without pain and suffering they will die. Or at best, it's a narcotic to them. Either way they're going to be after it. I want you to go with Commander Riker on the away team."
Crusher looked frustrated. "Dammit, Jean-Luc, I'm a doctor, not a security officer. What do you want me to…"
"Sir, I'm the security officer around here. It's my responsibility to accompany the others." Tasha's loud, confident voice rang through sickbay.
"Tasha! You're still not completely healed! You need to be lying down…!" Crusher protested.
"Lieutenant," said Picard impatiently, "I am sending Doctor Crusher on this away team. Get back to bed. That's an order."
"You don't understand, sir," said Tasha, with a note of panic in her voice. "I need to go on this mission. It's a matter of life and death. Let Beverly stay up here, where she's needed and knows what she's doing, and tend to her patients. I don't care if it costs me my uniform, but I am going down there with the team."
Picard and Crusher looked at each other. Why was she so desperate?
Finally Picard sighed. "It won't cost you anything, Lieutenant. If the doctor agrees, you may beam down to Q'jor with the away team." He looked at Beverly, and she nodded grudgingly.
Tasha looked so relieved Beverly was afraid she might have another attack. "Take it easy, Lieutenant," she advised.
"And whatever you do," said Picard, very seriously, "try not to get hurt."
"I never do," she deadpanned, and disappeared.
Picard and Crusher looked at each other. "What do you suppose that was all about?"
"You can't hurt me," Picard said softly. "It won't matter whether or not you hurt me. I've endured pain before."
The Q'jor'an didn't even look at him. "It matters to me. And I do know how I can hurt you."
"Oh yes? How?" Picard didn't know why more afraid than he was. Oh, he had more fear than he was showing. But not as much as he logically should, considering the circumstances.
The Q'jor'an finally turned and looked at him, showing a hint of emotion for the first time, a tiny smile at the corner of his lips, in anticipation of the pain Picard would shortly be feeling. "I've been trading information."
Suddenly Picard knew what was coming, and all the fear he should have been feeling dropped like a weight into the pit of his stomach. "With whom?"
"The Cardassians. I understand you had an…encounter…with a certain Gul Madred a few years back? I understand he implanted you with a device to cause pain?"
"No…" Picard said, practically pleading, almost stuttering. "It was…that was removed, years ago…"
"No. You thought it was removed. It wasn't. Your tricorders didn't detect it because its signal is almost identical to that of your artificial heart."
Picard didn't want to remember that time in his life. He wanted to forget the pain, the suffering.
But right now that didn't seem likely.