A/N: Hi all - the end is approaching! It'll be another few chapters, but I hope it's satisfying and makes up for such a long wait. Apologies!

Eighteen

*Picard*

Captain's Log, Stardate 46436.4

Commander Data was successful in rescuing our crew members. All members of the rescue party are currently recuperating in sickbay, including the young man at the centre of it all. His injuries, although severe, have been given a good prognosis. I will be conducting a visit to sickbay shortly to reunite with Wesley, and observe the start of his very long recovery.

My eyes widened in horror. I had tried desperately to suppress my feelings in front of him, but one glance had cracked the dam of emotions.

Bloodshot eyes stared dully in my direction, unfocused and lazy. Nurse Ogawa was sanitising an infected-looking wound that wrapped around his neck. Remains of his ragged uniform lay scattered near the bed, a standard hospital gown taking its place. An unsightly scar above an eye drew my attention; Ogawa mustn't have had a chance to heal it, for it still wept small tears of blood. The restraint around Wesley's mouth was still present, coated in dirt, sweat and blood. I began pondering exactly how long he had been deprived of the simple right to speak.

He barely acknowledged my presence as I took a seat next beside his biobed. A slight flicker of his eyes in my direction was the only sign he gave that he was aware of his surroundings.

"There, that's that one done." Ogawa collected herself, removing her supplies from the biobed. She nodded at me before stepping out, presumably to give us some privacy.

It took me some time to find my voice. "Wesley."

The young man in front of me didn't react. He seemed to stare so intently at the ceiling that I wondered if he had even heard me. However, I quickly found myself sympathising with his reaction; I remember performing a similar ritual when my implants were being removed. The coming days and weeks would be difficult for Wesley, there was no doubt of that.

"Wesley," I spoke again. "I'm…incredibly sorry for what's happened. Regardless of your rank or status aboard this ship, you are still…a beloved friend. And I will do everything in my power to ensure these people are punished for what's been done to you."

I don't know why I was expecting a reaction, for Wesley did not deliver. He remained transfixed on the ceiling.

"I know it seems difficult to comprehend, Wesley, but I…I understand how you are feeling," I leaned forward in my seat, lowering my voice. I realised I'd never admitted these personal thoughts to anyone; not even the Counsellor or Beverly had heard them. "After I was captured by the Borg, I spent many, many sleepless nights reliving what happened. I would…stand in front of the mirror and retrace my fingers along where the implants had been, wondering how easily those scars were removed, yet the mental ones persisted. Sometimes the nightmares would make me physically ill. I'd be trapped beside the lavatory for hours in helpless fits of vomiting and shaking. And yet despite this, I continued to push it away. I had this...thought that if I truly deserved my captaincy, I would keep my feelings to myself and continue with my duties. That was the worst decision I ever made."

It was unclear to me what had caught Wesley's attention, but he slowly turned away from the ceiling to face me. Regardless, I thought it best to continue in case his attention quickly wavered.

"I look back and I wish I had spoken about it more. I should have taken up Counsellor Troi's offers for discussions in her office. I should've discussed my insomnia and other issues with your mother. I should have taken more time off duty. Yet I didn't. And while I did recover, it took much longer and was far more painful than it needed to be."

Wesley quirked an eyebrow. I had to suppress the urge to let out a chuckle; in that moment, he looked like that little boy I welcomed onto this ship many years ago. If only his innocence had been retained longer.

"My point is, Wesley, that you shouldn't feel the need to hide how you feel. You have been through an ordeal that no one should ever experience. And you may find a lot of officers onboard have been through similar events that had a long term impact-"

Wesley suddenly threw his head back, seemingly in frustration, making indecipherable noises. He turned to face me again and pointed at his mouth in an exaggerated motion before gesturing widely to the surrounding sickbay.

"I understand you can't talk right now," I chose my words carefully as to not upset him further, "What I'm saying is that when you physically can, you need to talk about it. Your mother, Counsellor Troi, myself; it doesn't matter who. If you…feel you want to discuss a nightmare, have a cry, then come to someone. Please, Wesley, don't bottle it up any longer than you have to. You're among friends. You are safe. And it will be okay, even if it doesn't feel like it will be."

I paused for a few moments, allowing my words to sink in. Wesley sighed deeply and wiped his eyes tenderly. He then surprised me by extending his hand out to me. Unsure as to why, I found myself clasping my hand in his. He then used the opportunity to attempt to lift himself upright, albeit with great difficulty. I managed to catch him before he collapsed onto his shoulder, gently pushing him into a sitting position.

I gave him a chance to catch his breath. The effort had seemingly worn him out, which hardly surprised me. When he recovered, Wesley tore his gaze away from the floor, staring directly into my eyes with his bloodshot, teary ones. The image it left in my brain always be one that haunts me.

I gently took a seat beside him on the biobed, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. Wesley leant into my shoulder, ragged and muffled sobs tearing through his body.

We sat there for some time, for it seemed there was no end to the fountain of tears produced by either of us.