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Deanna Troi sat at the desk in her quarters smiling serenely at her screen. The face of one of Starfleet Medical's finest counsellors was smiling back at her in a tight greeting. Doctor Sirian Bandakah was infamous in counselling circles, drafted in to resolve some of the toughest situations, and here he was, about to get involved in the most difficult situation Deanna had ever encountered professionally.

"Of course Counsellor, anything I can do to help. You will naturally lead the first session, and I can step in later on."

"Agreed, I think the Captain is reaching a stage in his recovery where he may be ready to begin the process. Physically he is doing well, recovering nicely," Deanna said.

"Have there been any behaviours that may indicate the depth of the trauma?"

"Not really, he still feels… lost to me. There is nothing discernable, more of a fuzzy vague awareness."

"Ah of course, you're the Betazoid empath. I'm sorry Counsellor, I hadn't realised."

"That's right." Deanna smiled, forgetting herself that not every counsellor shared her unique skillset, "He definitely hasn't got to the stage where he has begun to process what has happened to him, what he was forced to do… but there is a growing awareness, he is slowly coming to terms with being human again."

"How long was he there? A week was it?"

"Almost. The Captain spent six days in captivity."

"And how long has he been back on board?"

"Four days now, including today. Much of that time he has spent unconscious and in surgery. Removing all the implants was… quite extensive."

"And the battle?"

"Starfleet tell us that thirty-nine starships were destroyed at Wolf 359…"

"At the Captain's hand?"

"Excuse me?"

"Let me rephrase that. Those losses were incurred thanks to Picard assisting the Borg?"

"Maybe I can rephrase that once more?" she replied, smiling despite the rage welling inside her. "Just so we're clear, Captain Picard was taken against his will and forced to act as the voice of the Borg. The knowledge used to decimate the fleet was extracted from him against his will. Believe me when I say doctor, that there isn't a more dedicated captain in Starfleet. To suggest otherwise is not going to be conducive to the therapeutic relationship required."

"No, no. Excuse me, I can only apologise. A poor choice of words on my account, counsellor. No malice intended."

"Well, until tomorrow, Doctor. Troi out," Deanna stabbed at her screen to terminate the conversation.

She dropped her head into her hands breathing heavily to centre herself. This was not going to be easy. If her conversation with Bandakah was anything to go by, not everyone was sympathetic to the Captain's point of view. There had to be a better choice for the Captain's psychological therapy plan than that man.

There was a long road ahead…

At exactly 1700 hours, Will Riker knocked on Crusher's office window, a huge grin on his face and a portable burner under his arm.

"Is that an actual frying pan?!" she asked, startled from the log entry she was making.

"It certainly is, I had it shipped up from Earth just today, the finest of skillets money can buy."

Beverly laughed at Riker's infectious energy, "You're really going to use that thing?"

"I am indeed Doctor," he replied, eyeing up the handle of the pan like a master craftsman.

"Just don't get your hopes up Will, he's had a long day."

"Oh don't worry Doctor, once he gets a whiff of my cooking, he'll be chowing down in no time," he said confidently.

"I hope so Will, he hasn't eaten anything substantial since he returned, and I'm not sure just how nutritious Borg regeneration is… they don't seem to value healthy biological bodies from what I've seen of the Captain."

"Well, let's see what we can do about that shall we? Lead on Doctor," he finished, waiting for Beverly to lead the way into the Captain's room.

Crusher lead the Commander out of her office and down the corridor to the trauma recovery suite. On arrival, a momentary ripple of fear hit her stomach, the Captain was missing.

"I thought he was supposed to be..?" said Riker, just as perplexed as she was.

"So did I… Jean-Luc?" she called.

No answer.

She tried again, trying to keep the worry from her voice, "Jean-Luc? Captain?"

Both officers waited in silence for what felt like an eternity. Momentarily, the heavy breathing and laboured steps of a recovering patient not quite in control of his body drew closer.

"Jean-Luc!" said Beverly never more relieved in her life to see him in person.

"No need for concern Doctor," he answered, a little damp around the edges, a healthy looking flush in his cheek.

"Where were you?!" she went to him, supporting him under his arm.

"The Captain was feeling a little restless Doctor, I suggested a nice shower. I hope you weren't too worried?" replied Nurse Ogawa.

"A shower?"

"Did me good… I feel… clean," he huffed as he sat down on the bed, visibly exhausted after his exertion.

"Well, okay then. I guess we can allow that. Just, let me know next time?"

"Next time? Beverly, I'm hoping next time I have a shower it will be in the comfort and privacy of my own quarters – no offence Nurse Ogawa."

Beverly was glad to hear a little familiarity in the Captain's tone, she'd missed him, "We can discuss that as soon as I've seen you eat a good meal… and on that note…"

"May I welcome you to Chez Riker? The galaxy's most intimate dining experience?" said Riker as he revealed the shiny new skillet and box of eggs.