Hi everyone, thanks for reading! Just a heads-up, this is a LOOONG story (actually the longest I've written) and it's about 90% complete so I'll be posting a wee update every day. Remember, reviews are gold :)

Deanna was putting the finishing touches to her outfit for the day that lay ahead. She knew her skills, her presence, would be equally demanded and avoided and she had to strike the right tone. She settled on a sombre grey jumpsuit and pulled her hair high up into a bun. The crew of the Enterprise had been tested to the limit and the events of the previous few days were only the start of what lay ahead. After the Captain's initial reaction in the lab, even she had to admit to having come close to being overwhelmed with the intensity of the pain he had experienced. She could probably do with some counselling herself.

At least, for the moment anyway, the Captain was under sedation. She couldn't sense him at all, it was an odd and disconcerting feeling, his strength and gentle presence had been a factor humming away in the background throughout her time on board. Now, he was at the very front of her mind yet the space she reserved for his emotional energy, was empty, a gap on her empathic spectrum.

At times of heightened intensity like these, life on board was tough for the empath. She needed focus, time out to meditate, and to know that the strength of feeling that buffeted her from all directions during her on-shift hours, was temporary. Despite the terrible reason for their downtime near Earth, she was glad that their extended stay would mean a reduced ship's complement. She figured that within the course of the next 24 hours, once they had docked at McKinley, enough crew members would have had the opportunity to make arrangements to see family and friends, the people that held them together from afar as they explored the distant edges of the galaxy.

She knew who wouldn't be going planet-side any time soon… Beverly.

Reaching out for her friend's distinct emotional signature amidst the maelstrom of the rest of the crew, she found her quickly. Beverly was deep in concentration, Deanna could sense the laser-like levels of concentration she was capable of. She concluded that the Captain's second phase of surgery was underway, having been scheduled to commence at 0400 hours. Beverly had been working through the night after only a few hours sleep the previous day. Surely she would be nearing completion now?

Deanna tugged her jumpsuit into a more comfortable position and headed out of her cabin. She would check in with Will first, then she would head to sickbay, Beverly had to be a priority today.

Several hours later, Deanna headed to sickbay and Beverly's office. she passed through the main sickbay section and noted how busy the medical staff were. Every bed was filled and she was well aware of the reason, they were starting to pick up rescue pods. Things were only going to get worse.

"Beverly…" she didn't need to say anything further, she let the doctor's emotions wash over her, telling her everything she needed to know.

"Deanna, you're a sight for sore eyes."

"The surgery went well?"

"Yes and no. He doesn't look quite so scary anymore, I managed to patch him up and his skin is recovering nicely thanks to the extended regen time. I've got him covered in dermaplastic grafts but there is some Borg technology I cannot remove. There's one bonded to the zygomatic bone with millions of what appear to be cellular micro-sutures, organic in nature and indistinguishable from the Captain's own DNA. There's no way to remove it."

"What does that mean for him?" she didn't need to add, for us.

"I just don't know Deanna. I had Data neutralise it, there are no discernable signal pathways that I can detect. We ran the labs, we're sure there is no risk to the ship or the Captain but it's got to stay put, the bone infiltration is too complete, we think that's the site of the first stage of his assimilation – kind of like a Borg umbilicus I guess."

"And it's inert?"

Beverly nodded her head in reply as she sipped at a hot drink, "I can't say for sure that it will stay that way, but for now at least. I've stood Worf down."

"And that's the bad news?"

"Well, the recovery is going to take time, there's no doubt about that. Almost 40% of his skin had to be removed due to necrosis. His arm… that's probably the worst of it, the deepest damage. He's not going to bounce back from this, physically. With the best medical care in the world we still need to let nature take its course – we can help speed things up but he needs rest, recuperation, and some serious regen sessions over the next week. Growing skin back is not pleasant. And, you know how well the Captain responds to being restricted in any way."

Deanna smiled thinking back to times when the Captain had suffered minor injuries. He was his own worst enemy at the best of times.

"Can I see him?"

"Yes, I've got him sedated and will keep him that way for another 24 hours. He's under the regen field of course. But Deanna, be warned, he doesn't look great. There's a lot of cellular level damage."

"But Locutus has gone?" she asked as they rose to leave Crusher's office.

"Yes, physically. I don't know what's going to happen when I wake him," warned Beverly as she guided Deanna to the recovery room. They were dealing with uncertainties with no benchmark to use as a comparison.

"Well…" Deanna trailed off as she caught her first glance of the Captain.

A blanket covered his lower half but his chest was bare. He looked almost peaceful. His face, as odd as it appeared, was expressionless. He appeared to be asleep, relaxed, just the sight of the neural calliper on the uninjured side of his head gave the game away. The gentle blue glow of the regen field worked away, his skin visibly improving in colour incrementally as it swept over his body in waves from head to foot. Crusher had applied industrial-strength grade one dermaplastic grafts, for serious tissue regeneration, to cover the worst sites of injury. Half his head was covered in a one-piece plast that mimicked the headpiece Locutus had worn. A green status light flashed in tandem with the other plasts across his body, his belly, his shoulder. Then her attention turned to the Captain's arm. In place of the prosthetic arm extension the Borg had applied, was a full sleeve-length hard cast that covered his fingers and went up to his shoulder suspended in an anti-grav field. Deanna couldn't help reaching out but stopped short of making contact with his skin, he looked so fragile.

"This is the best we have. I had it transported up from Starfleet Medical," Beverly indicated toward the cast, whispering reverently. She adjusted the sheet across the Captain's waist, "It's capable of total tissue regeneration from the very deepest skin layers but it takes time. The damage here was…"

She didn't finish. Deanna let her mind reach out once again to check how the Doctor was doing. One of the things Deanna loved most about her friend was the awe and wonder she had when it came to cutting edge medical technology. She could sense a mixture of bone-deep fatigue, heartache, and the positive energy of her curiosity.

When she turned her attention to the Captain, there was nothing but a vacant hollow.

"Oh Beverly…" she began, "what did they do to him?"

The hush of the room was interrupted intermittently by the gentle warning tones that marked out the Captain's continuing medical journey. A large display on the wall above his head tracked his temperature, his blood pressure, and the rate of cellular repair enacted by the cast on his arm. With the lights down low and the Captain motionless on the biobed, Deanna felt herself falling into a trance. She was sure this was the most tranquil spot on the ship. He deserved it.

"He will be under for another 24 hours. I'm hoping to downgrade the plasts before I wake him. He still looks a little… Borgish," she finished, for want of a better word.

Deanna tore herself away from the Captain's appearance, he wasn't her priority at this moment. It would be another day at least before he would be in need of her services. Instead, she turned her attention to Beverly, "And how about you?" she nudged.

"Oh I'm okay. It's been good to have a focus for the last couple of days. But I need some sleep. I'm going to dose myself up and head to my cabin. Right at this moment, he's essentially in stasis. He doesn't need me, just the best of medical technology left to do its work."

Deanna quirked an eyebrow. One of the defining features of the senior staff was their unified reluctance to admit to weakness – especially of the sleep variety. Beverly must really have been pushing herself if she was willing to admit defeat. Deanna could feel her resolve, and could sense the strength and focus she recognised. The doctor was capable of remarkable levels of self-preservation when she was on-duty.

"What?" asked Beverly, innocently.

"Oh, nothing. It's just that you must be really tired if you are prepared to actually prescribe yourself some R and R," she answered, hoping her tone conveyed the amusement she felt, and that her friend could infer that for herself.

"I am Deanna," she smiled back, "but I get where you're coming from. I am quite often my idea of the very worst kind of patient." She knocked the lights of the Captain's room down further and glanced back a final time. "He's going to need me to be at my best. I need to be ready."

The walked out of sickbay, Deanna intending to accompany the Doctor to her quarters to make sure she got there in one piece, "We'll all be ready Beverly."