Will Riker took the call he knew was coming in the Ready Room. He'd replicated a black coffee, it had already been a long day, and now it was looking as though he were in for a long evening. He could do with the caffeine. He sat behind the desk, took a deep breath, then stabbed at the button readying his face into one he hoped might express the gravity the situation deserved.

"Admiral Smith, it's good to see you."

"And you Captain Riker. I can't help wishing the circumstances of your visit home were of a more… conventional flavour however."

"Me too Admiral, me too. What can I do for you?" he asked taking a sip of coffee.

"Well, Riker, there isn't an easy way to out this so I'm going to get straight to it. I take it this is a secure channel and that we are alone?"

"Indeed Sir."

"Well then, what we need to know is this. Is Picard a threat?"

Riker almost spat out his drink, "A threat?"

"He gave them everything Riker. His years of experience and knowledge all used against us at Wolf 359. I needn't remind you, you saw it for yourself I believe."

"They took him from the bridge Admiral, against his will. I can assure you that the Captain is about as far from being a threat as I am."

"That is reassuring Riker but naturally we will be sending a team to investigate for ourselves. To be sure."

"If you must Admiral. Crusher and Troi can testify if necessary?"

"No. We cannot take that risk. The fleet was decimated Captain. We will be sending a team once we have convened a competency panel and established the parameters of our investigation. I would imagine two or three days from now."

"As you wish Sir, anything we can do to assist, naturally."

"And Will?"

"Sir?"

"How is he?"

"You've read Crusher's report?"

"Of course."

He wasn't about to fill in the gaps, not with what was coming their way. They would see for themselves, whether the Captain was ready or not. "I don't think I can add anything else. It was a very thorough report. The Captain is under excellent care here on board." Will replied firmly.

"Understood. And Will?"

"Sir?"

"It is good to have The Enterprise home. Welcome back."

"Thank you Sir, Riker out."

This was getting complicated. He understood of course, the fleet was greatly diminished thanks to what the Borg had taken from Picard. There would be families ripped apart, deaths to deal with, ships to rebuild. The Enterprise herself had limped to McKinley. And then there was the Captain. He needed rebuilding too.

He wasn't sure what had woken him but he had been lying awake for what he guessed to be an hour or two. He wasn't really thinking, in fact, there was an absence of the usual looping thought processes that normally signalled a period of insomnia. This time, he just felt numb.

After the cacophony of the Borg voice invading every bit of his brain for the best part of a week, getting used to the quiet of human life was disconcerting to say the least. Instead of a thousand voices issuing commands, crying out against their programming, trapped in their own loops of individual versus the machine, he could hear the distinct rhythm of his mechanical heart. The organised whoosh of blood, the ever-so slightly detectable regulated tick, the beat it mimicked. He supposed he had always been part-machine, in a way.

He knew there would be no return to sleep this night.

He cleared his throat, determined to keep things calm, controlled, not give into the fear and sense of panic he had felt earlier. That wouldn't do at all, he wanted to get back to his quarters.

"Doctor?" he called out finding himself alone in the trauma recovery room.

He took three calming breaths, and called again, "Beverly?"

No answer. Where was she?

He imagined that he was hooked up to all kinds of alarms and alerts revealing intimate details about the state of his health to anyone passing by the sickbay duty station. Surely someone would realise he was awake?

And then quietly, insistently, there they were again, inside his head. Calling out from the distant reaches of the galaxy. Were they here? Had they infiltrated the ship? Were they going to find him here?

He started to feel panic building through his body. If only he weren't tethered to the damned bed.

He prodded at the stasis field on his arm. It rang out at the contact, flashing a warning at him to stop. How did this thing work? He couldn't see any control panel for it. He tried pulling at his arm, hard. The field flashed and seemed to constrict even more tightly.

"Captain?" came a nervous voice.

This was why he hated sickbay. Some timid young ensign fresh out of the academy had appeared at the entrance to his room, he could barely meet his gaze.

"Where is Doctor Crusher, Ensign?" he said mustering as much of the Captain lost within him as he could.

"Sir, Doctor Crusher is off-duty sir. Can I be of assistance?"

"What… What time is it?"

The thought occurred to him that he wasn't completely sure even what day it was never mind the time. On the cube, he'd been minutely aware of every second of every event that had occurred, but since he had been disconnected, he hadn't even been awake long enough to reacquaint himself with his natural circadian rhythm.

"It is a little past 0200 hours Sir. Is there anything I can do for you Sir?"

"No, thank you Ensign. I'm fine," he lied.

The pain that he had felt earlier was starting to ramp up again. He could feel the heat of damaged muscles and tendons, and the tingling of freshly healing flesh. His arm was thankfully numb, bound and tethered in the stasis field and cast.

"Can I get you something to eat Sir? Doctor Crusher left orders…"

"No, that will be all Ensign," he said firmly, "Thank you," he added as an afterthought.

The ensign disappeared quickly, probably glad for the dismissal. Left alone with his thoughts in the darkness of the night, Picard fought against the growing sense of unease.

How was he going to look anyone in the eye again?

He knew exactly how many ships the Borg had destroyed. He knew in grotesque detail how many people had died. He could see the mess of the battlefield. Were there survivors? There were always survivors in situations like this. He'd been there himself in the past, drifting helplessly in space waiting for rescue.

Were they here? On The Enterprise? The thought occurred to him that there could well be victims here, getting over being stranded in space. He knew there wouldn't be any other assimilation cases. It didn't work like that.

What had he done?