Ten Forward was packed but deathly quiet. Various members of the crew along with their planet-side visitors were huddled in small groups locked in grave conversations.

Beverly paused at the entrance suddenly aware that for the last few days her world had consisted solely of her cabin and sickbay. She had been focusing on the Captain and had not been aware of the ship's overall status.

"Oh…" she whispered under her breath.

Deanna snuck her arm through Beverly's and guided her over to the nearest table, one tucked away in the corner. She knew the doctor's presence would be noted: the one person aboard who knew exactly how the Captain had fared in the face of his abduction and assimilation. Already, curious heads were turning, trying not to be noticed.

"Doctor, Counsellor," said Guinan magically appearing at their table, "I've taken the liberty of bringing over my latest batch of Lorarian soup, I hope you don't mind. It's got a little of everything you need, some of what you want, and it tastes really good… even if I do say so." She smiled placing two bowls of steaming soup on their table.

Behind her, one of the Ten Forward assistants arrived with two green and purple gently fizzing drinks, and a plate of sliced freshly baked baguette. "I call this particular concoction, Guinan's sparkling power pack. I think you'll enjoy it ladies."

"Mmmm… blueberries, peaches. Are these, fresh?" asked Beverly as she sipped at the delightful drink.

"They are, we don't often get near Earth, I thought I would take advantage and have some supplies shipped up."

"And the bread?" she enquired.

"Well, let's just say I know someone on board who's going to enjoy a little taste of home soon enough. Enjoy, and if there's anything I can get you, give me a shout." She replied as she floated back behind the bar.

The two women sat in contemplative silence as they ate their lunch. The soup was perfect – as though somehow it was filling them with the energy, nutrition, and power they would both need in spades over the days to come.

"That was good… how does she do it?" Deanna said as he dabbed at her mouth delicately with a serviette.

"I don't know, but I'm glad she does. That was exactly what I needed." Beverly paused, taking a further glance around the room, "I didn't realise…" she whispered as he gestured to the other tables in Ten Forward.

The odd head kept turning in their direction, the Captain was very definitely a hot topic, it didn't take an idiot to work that out.

"I know, it's very different. This has been very hard on the crew. There's a lot of… emotion on board. The battle-"

"The battle?" interrupted Beverly.

"There were so many ships… Starfleet is on its knees."

"I… I've been rather preoccupied. I didn't think… of course. And we're Earth-side too."

Neither Beverly or Deanna could begin to comprehend the level of loss, neither woman was privy to the full extent of it. Crusher knew she was in for some serious grilling from Starfleet Medical but for now, at least, they were letting her be. She had a sneaking suspicion that once the Captain was out of immediate danger, he would be being transferred to Starfleet Medical.

"What a mess… how are we going to come back from this?" Beverly asked, the irony of the multiple inferences not lost on her.

"Sickbay to Crusher?"

Beverly stabbed at her commbadge, "Crusher here."

"Doctor, the Captain's vital signs are fluctuating."

"I'll be right there," she was halfway across the room before she replied, Deanna close behind.

This time, the Captain's waking wasn't quite so underwhelming. Before Beverly had even managed to walk through the sickbay doors, she could hear him shouting at the top of his voice.

"No! Lâchez-moi! Non!"

She picked up pace to run into trauma recovery. What she saw when she arrived was a small crowd of blue-clad medics doing their best to calm the Captain and keep him from jumping off the biobed. He was straining at his arm fixed as it was in the anti-grav cast. Every muscle in his body was primed and straining away from his arm and he was grunting with the effort. Alarms were screeching, the anti-grav and regen fields were flashing at all the points of contact. "Mendell, what happened?!" she shouted across the noise.

"The Captain began to rise to consciousness around three minutes ago. Which is when we called for you. As he became conscious he became increasingly agitated and that brings us to right about now," shouted Mendell in reply.

"Don't touch me!" shouted the Captain.

"Adrenaline levels nearing critical. Heart rate entering danger zone," intoned the computer uselessly.

"I can see that! Audio off!" shouted Beverly running to Picard.

As the medics continued to try to restrain a clearly incensed Captain, Beverly dialled up a sedative, placed the hypospray against his neck, and pressed to initiate. Within seconds, the Captain's body melted and he collapsed against waiting arms, eyes dropping to a close. She lowered him back down to the biobed, and as she did, the screeching alarms started to return to normal.

"Right. Okay," she said decisively giving the team around her the illusion that she was in control. What is going on? She wondered to herself.

As if in answer, Deanna drew nearer reaching out to touch the side of the Captain's head unfettered by the plast, "He's breaking through, repairing his individuality. Beverly, we need to wake him. It's time."

"I agree. He's clearly not going to stay under. I've never seen anything like it. We have about 30 minutes before the sedative wears off – or rather, before it is scheduled to wear off." Then, turning to an assistant, "Lieutenant, go get some of the grade two regen plasts. All three sizes – as many as you can replicate as fast as you can. And Mendell," she added turning to a further medic, "help me remove these plasts. Turn the regen field off while we switch them."

"Quickly Beverly," Deanna whispered, her hand resting on the Captain's shoulder now. She could sense him coming to awareness once again. He was in a dark place, afraid and alone.

Beverly and Mendell worked quickly to release the plasts as gently and efficiently as they could each one making a barely audible sucking sound as the fixing mechanism released. The skin underneath still looked raw but admittedly better than it had done the day before. Beverly worked at Picard's head and Mendell at the rest of his body, his chest, shoulder, hip, stomach, leg. The assistant ran back in with the first batch of the largest size grade 2 plasts – smaller, less cumbersome and supposedly less intrusive than the grade 1s were. Almost as one unified force, the team worked to re-cover the various sites of injury with the new plasts, the assistant running in with fresh supplies as fast as she could, there was so much to cover.

"On my count, we're going to roll him on his side toward his right arm. On three: one, two, three," she instructed.

Once the Captain had been rolled, Deanna saw the injuries he had sustained to his back. He was covered in the damage the Borg had inflicted on him. She winced as the team worked to downgrade the plasts on his back as quickly as they had his front.

"What about his arm?" whispered Deanna, feeling Picard's energy getting stronger by the second, "Hurry Beverly, you don't have long."

"Leave the arm, it needs more time. I've got it in stasis – even he can't break through that." Beverly replied as she popped the neural calliper off his forehead and stabbed at the flashing alarms, shutting them off.

As they rolled him back into place, the Captain's eyes started to flutter open and his head started to shift back and forth. Beverly shooed the team out of the room, threw the detritus of the rushed procedures they had just managed to finish to the corner of the room and lowered the lights down to 15%. Just in time.

Deanna and Beverly flanked each side of him and allowed him to wake of his own volition, each with a hand placed tentatively on one of his shoulders.

His eyes popped open, surprise written on his expression. He looked from Beverly to Deanna then slowly started to sit up. He turned to his arm when he realised it was being held firmly in position. The display behind him monitoring his heart rate began to flash red and slid over into the danger zone, without the audio warning this time.

"It's alright Jean-Luc, you're safe. It's okay," whispered Beverly.

Seemingly reassured, the monitor started to return to more acceptable levels. He leaned toward his mangled arm, determined to sit up, his legs moving to swing over the side of the bed. He ended up perched awkwardly on his side, supported by Deanna.

"Wh-what?" he rasped. He touched his hand to the tightness he could feel on the side of his head and face, his fingers bumped into the plasts that had been attached just a few moments before. He drew his hand away sharply turning his exploration to his chest and over to the stasis field keeping his arm captive. He reached toward it and drew back sharply when the field flashed in an energy spike, its alarm momentarily breaking the silence of the room.

"I… wh-what?" he asked again, the monitor indicators started creeping higher once more.

"You're okay Jean-Luc. You're on board The Enterprise, in sickbay. I'm here, Deanna is here too. You're safe. The Borg have gone."

"The b-Borg?" he repeated. His eyes were locked onto Beverly's. The intensity she could see there was frightening. This wasn't her Captain, not yet. The monitor started to flash red in silent alarm.

"Yes, they've gone. They can't hurt you now," she rubbed his good arm to distract him from the sensation of the relaxant she was administering via hypospray, "You're safe here Jean-Luc, very safe."

"Cold…" he whispered, licking his dry lips, "Soif."

Beverly removed her hand from his shoulder turning from him to reach for another blanket and turn the biobed temperature up a few more degrees. Once she had draped the blanket around his shoulders, she stepped toward the replicator to get him some ice chips.

"Soif?" repeated Deanna quietly.

"French for thirsty," she answered as she brought a chip to Picard's good hand.

He reached toward the ice but drew away sharply when he met the coldness. Beverly brought the ice to his lips instead allowing him to open his mouth tentatively to take the ice in. Behind him on the wall display, the indicator readings were returning to the safe zone.

He dropped his head, closed his eyes, and let out a low groan of distress. His good hand dropped to his side and his body looked as though he were about to collapse entirely.

"Jean-Luc?" Beverly enquired. "Still cold? Thirsty?"

"Non," he rasped as he looked into her eyes once again.

"What to lay back?" she asked.

"Oui… yes."

Beverly raised the head of the biobed up so he could rest more comfortably. She helped him draw his legs up taking his weight as his body started to shake with the effort. Deanna made sure the blankets covered him and didn't get tangled. He groaned out in pain as he moved but his emotional state was still lost to her. She could sense the dominance of pain right at the front of what he was projecting, but it was surrounded by confusion – snippets of a whole range of emotions flickered across his consciousness none strong enough for her to grasp fully.

"Sleep," he managed to utter barely audibly. He tucked himself instinctively toward his bad arm, curled on his side with his knees drawn up. With his arm restricted and locked into place in the floating field, he looked truly uncomfortable.

"Okay, you just stay put, sleep, rest. You're home, you're safe."

"Sleep," he mumbled before drifting off to a natural sleep of his own creation.

Deanna brushed her hand over his head, "Well, that went well I think?"

"Yes. Better than expected I would say. What did you sense from him?"

"He's in pain. He's very confused, it's hard to make out what's leading him," she replied, her eyes closed as she concentrated on the Captain's emotional presence.

"Well, this should help a little," said Beverly as she pressed an analgesic hypospray to Picard's neck, "Computer, is Commander Riker on board The Enterprise?"

"Commander Riker is currently located in Transporter Room two."

"Crusher to Riker."

"Riker here."

"Riker, the Captain has regained consciousness."

"On my way, Doctor."