Gore warning! If you are queazy of stomach when it comes to injury, may I suggest a cautious approach to today's update?! Happy reading friends :)
Will Riker managed to steal a good look at his Captain, watching as Beverly helped him back into bed before he made his presence known. He looked better than last time he'd seen him but the man on the biobed before him looked very little like the commanding and capable captain he remembered on the Bridge. He had watched as Picard contemplated the mug of tea waiting on the tray next to the bed, staring past it, lost. How many times had he seen the Captain absentmindedly sipping at his favourite tea?
It was very clear to him that Captain Picard was not going to be coming back to the big chair any time soon.
"You look good Captain," Riker said, hoping his words weren't exposed for the lie they were.
"Hah…" he managed, his good hand going to the plasts on his head.
Never one to turn down a snack, Will picked up the plate of uneaten croissants, "Do you mind?"
"Be my guest."
Riker chewed for a second, enjoying the warm buttery pastry melting in his mouth. This was the real deal, the kind you could only get on Earth, delicious.
"Between you and me Sir, I hear the food in sickbay leaves a lot to be desired," he was met with a dazed expression, he ploughed on, "so I was thinking, I could swing by later on, whip up one of my famous omelettes – with real chicken eggs. It's not often we get to come back. We should take advantage…" he trailed off.
The Captain had visibly paled. His eyes were closed tightly, his good hand gently touching the edges of the plast on his cheek.
"Sir?"
"What?" Picard's eyes snapped open. "Oh, yes. A nice idea Will… I'm afraid I'm just not much company."
"No matter Sir, it would be my pleasure. 1700 hours?"
"Yes. Fine," he agreed. He knew Will wasn't going to take no for an answer. He just wanted the conversation to be over, for Will to leave him alone.
It also occurred to him for the first time since his recovery that they were in sight of Earth. He'd known that of course, on the cube. That was the target destination, the whole point of the sorry mess that saw him being taken off his own Bridge. Knowing how close they'd all come to utter destruction made the bile in his stomach rise. He'd been party to the Borg plans for the Terran System, central to its success. He knew in excruciating detail how the assimilation was going to go down, every single step of it.
He felt nausea rising, his mouth filling with saliva, his cheeks flushing. He knew he was about to vomit right in front of his First Officer. His stomach clenched a warning, giving him a head start.
Fortunately, Will recognised the signs and shouted for Crusher. He grabbed an emesis basin from the supply cupboard and gave it to the Captain.
"Will?" Beverly started before she recognised the problem, "Oh Jean-Luc… wait right there."
Too late. Picard was helpless in the face of the pitiful amount of vomit making its way up through his digestive system. Sitting forward, trying to get his head low over his legs, he retched as the few sips of tea he had managed to imbibe made their presence known, then heaved helplessly against the contractions trying to vacate his already empty stomach. Vaguely aware that Crusher had pressed yet another hypospray to his neck, he concentrated on counting to ten, waiting for the medicine to take effect.
After a few seconds, he started to focus on breathing again in and out slowly. He felt his stomach starting to relax.
"Feeling better?" Crusher asked, hand to his forehead.
"Thank you Doctor, yes," he answered quietly brushing her hand away, "I'm not quite feeling myself…"
"That, my friend, is an understatement," she replied as she settled him back against the bed. "You have a little bit of a high temperature there too. Here." She pressed yet another hypospray to his skin, he flinched again.
"Captain?"
He'd forgotten Riker was still there, deeply wished he hadn't seen all that.
"I'm fine Will, really," he tried to coax a reassuring smile, then grimaced as his healing skin pulled tightly against the implant he could feel inside his cheek.
"Not yet Captain, but you will be," Riker finished. He went to pat the Captain on the shoulder but couldn't quite see enough plast-free skin to complete the manoeuvre. He settled on the Captain's hand instead. "I will see you later Sir. Get well, take it easy."
"Thank you, Will," he sighed, relaxing against the bed, eyes closing, bone tired.
"Beverly really. I'm fine. Just-"
"Jean-Luc, hold still. I can't get these off if you keep wriggling like that. Does it hurt?"
"No it doesn't hurt... Sorry Doctor. It just feels… uncomfortable."
Picard was lying on his front as Beverly Crusher and Doctor Selar worked at the plasts on his back.
"These are looking great! I think we can probably forget the grade 1 plasts? Doctor, would you agree?"
"I concur Doctor. The skin has reformed very well. A further session of regen therapy will resolve the remaining injury in this area without need for further plast usage."
"Want to see Jean-Luc?"
He nodded automatically in reply. Did he? He had seen the plasts by turning to see as much of his back as he could in the head earlier. But that had been covered skin. Thinking of the damage that must lie underneath made his stomach curl.
Crusher gave him a handheld mirror then held another one up finding the right angle, "Can you see?"
He angled his mirror a little, then honed in on what he was seeing. His back was covered in bright patches of pink skin. It looked tender though he couldn't feel it, and far less horrifying than he had expected.
"Amazing…" he whispered.
"What were you expecting?"
"I just…" he didn't know what to say. He had expected to see black patches of necrotic Borg skin, tubing, wiring… he was having difficulty reconciling the two halves of his experiences.
"Well Jean-Luc. I'm not offended. I can handle it."
"Oh no, I didn't mean…" he said as both doctors helped him up into a seated position.
"Relax," she said, running her warm hand down his good arm, "I'm teasing you. It's going to take time. Injuries like these aren't just visual. You've got to figure it out up here too." She said as he tapped at her own head.
He nodded. That was what he was worried about.
"Later on," she said brightly, "I'll treat you to one of my famous massages – it'll really help. Very relaxing."
"Oh no, I don't want to be a bother."
"Consider it part of your treatment Captain. All part of the service!" she straightened his blankets, "Now then, how about we take a look at that arm? See how this miracle cast is getting on?"
He looked up at her apprehensively.
"Don't worry, it won't be that bad. Probably better to let me take a look first though. It was in pretty bad shape when… well, you know when."
He nodded.
"Okay then, Selar, can you get me the cast removal kit?"
"Yes Doctor," came the reply.
"Listen Jean-Luc, there is every possibility that this is going to be quite traumatic. I can't keep that from you."
"Doctor…"
"I strongly suggest, that given your current condition, it is best that you don't look. Now, I can give you a little sedative, knock you out? It's what I would choose for myself."
He paused for a moment before responding, "I think I should… I want to see it."
"Jean-Luc…"
"I need to know Beverly. I can handle it," he finished, hoping that his voice conveyed a sense of strength that he certainly wasn't feeling.
He'd seen what they had done to his arm, felt the nanoprobes going in. He'd lived with the prosthesis for six whole days. He had to complete the picture, see for himself just how far removed he was from Locutus.
"Okay, but if it gets too much, just say the word and I'll stop, okay?"
Another nod. He didn't trust his voice this time.
When Selar entered the room, the equipment she brought looked more like one of Geordie's engineering packs than anything medical. Still, he supposed that seemed about right in this particular situation.
He waited patiently as Beverly prepared herself. She and Selar gowned up into red surgical aprons, a sign that his arm really was in a bad state. He swallowed reflexively biting down on the anxiety he could feel brewing. Selar activated a sterifield to protect him from any possible infection while Beverly pressed an anesthetising hypospray to his neck. Within seconds he could no longer feel his arm. He was completely numb from the tips of his fingers, to the top of his shoulder.
"Okay Captain, ready?"
He took a deep breath and nodded.
Beverly started by deactivating the cast's interior regen field. He felt his arm cool as the healing energy dissipated. Next, she tapped at the cast's remote control to release the clamshell opening. He heard and felt the vacuum release and watched as the cast opened dropping to the surgical tray in two halves.
For a moment, it seemed like time had stopped. He stared down at his arm trying to reconcile the sight of it with what he remembered it looked like before this debacle had occurred. He felt the burn of anger radiating across his chest. Dégoûtant…
What lay there on the bed far from resembled the healthy muscular arm he used to have. This one was almost eviscerated, covered in huge sections of raw angry flesh, patches of dead black skin, and had the general appearance around the edges of the Borg's mottled grey colour, which he now knew to be decaying flesh.
He didn't have the words to express his repulsion. He turned his head, swallowed the bile rising from his stomach, and forced himself to look again. From nowhere, Nurse Ogawa had appeared, taking his good hand in hers and wrapping the other around his shoulder tightly. He turned to look at her, fear shining in his dull eyes. She smiled at him and squeezed his shoulder gently.
"It actually looks a lot better," said Crusher.
"Better?" he whispered disbelieving.
"Yes, there are areas here of very healthy tissue regeneration. It's going to take more time obviously, but the signs are very encouraging." She spoke as she worked, cleaning the raw flesh and removing the remaining sections of dead skin, "I think we are out of the woods now and well on the road to full recovery, thank goodness. I think we can make this a little easier on you though, Starfleet Medical have sent a lighter weight cast. It works exactly the same way but it is hinged so you will be able to move your elbow a little. And I think we can lose the anti-grav field too. How does that sound?"
"Sound?" he whispered, eyes fixed on what she was doing.
"Yes, I think if we make the switch, then you will be much more comfortable. Of course, it will also help to extend the new skin so you have greater range of movement when this is all over.
"Range of...?" he repeated what she said, not really listening to her words.
"Yes, we are essentially growing new skin over a joint, it's always a tricky balance." She said, busily working away. "And the best bit about this plan? You get to wear some real clothes, not just those shorts."
"Shorts," he repeated mindlessly, "Oh, yes. Yes, that will be good," he added as he realised his mistake.
"There, all done. Now just give it a little test." He bent his elbow the tiniest fraction. "Good job. Perfect. Now, sickbay blue, or sickbay blue?" she asked him holding up two identical t-shirts.
"Hmmm, sickbay blue?"
Playing along earned him a broad smile from his favourite doctor and she tossed him the shirt. She and Selar worked professionally to get it over his head and over the cast, something he knew he wouldn't have been able to manage. Crusher tapped at the control and he felt the slight tightening of the cast as the vacuum seal established itself. A moment later, the warmth of the interior regen field began radiating along the length of his arm soothingly.
"And the best bit Jean-Luc?"
"What's that?" he asked as he tugged at the bottom of the t-shirt pulling it into place.
"Will Riker will be here any second to distract you with one of his galaxy-famous omelettes. Trust me Captain, you don't know what you've been missing all these years."
He smiled instinctively then stopped suddenly as he felt his flesh rub against the implant in his cheek. His face tightened, grimacing against the strange sensation.
Seeing the expression on his face change so quickly, Crusher made a mental note to make Riker's visit a brief one. The Captain was tiring, it had been a long day.