When Beverly arrived at the Captain's quarters the next morning, she let herself in using her override and was very surprised to find him up, dressed in uniform, and sitting at the dining table. He had on the captain's variant grey pullover, without the jacket, to accommodate the cast and his arm was strapped into the sling. Everything at least looked as it should. Admittedly, he was staring into space rather than actually eating anything that lay before him, but she could see that he had tried.

"Good morning Jean-Luc," she said quietly so as not to make him jump. No response. "Jean-Luc?"

She walked toward him and crouched down in front of him. Upon finally noticing that he was no longer alone, he drew in a sharp breath, his good arm twitching once sharply.

"I didn't see you there, I'm sorry," he croaked.

She laid her hand over his twitching arm, smoothing it trying to calm it with the power of hope alone, "Sleep well?"

"Oh yes, thank you. Very well, no dreams."

"When did you wake?"

"Not too long ago, about an hour I think. I rather thought I might try to get my act together. Presumably there are some very eager Admirals doing the rounds?"

"How did you know?"

"Well, there is this computer here… turns out it can tell you an awful lot of-"

"Well, it's good to see that you have some spirit back, I can tell you feel a little better this morning."

"Yes. I do. I really was very tired yesterday."

"I know," she indicated toward the plate of pastries on the table, "do you mind?"

"Help yourself, please."

"So, how do you want this to go Jean-Luc? They want to meet you – it's Smith, Vidal, and Durini. Admiral Smith, he says he knows you?"

"We met, some time ago at a conference… I forget what is was for now…" his tone was flat, lifeless.

"I can refuse if you want? Doctor's privilege?"

His brow crinkled, perplexed. "Refuse… what?"

She could see that though he was presenting best face forward, he wasn't nearly as well as he wanted to be. He was having trouble staying tuned into conversations, engaging with people around him. Deanna had her work cut out. Beverly had heard stories through Jack of the various disasters that had befallen Jean-Luc on board The Stargazer, and she'd personally seen him though his fair share on the Enterprise but he'd never faced anything near the severity of his capture by the Borg.

"Jean-Luc, you don't have to meet the Admiral at all. I can pull medical rank," she repeated.

"No. I don't think so. I'd erm… better get it over with."

"If you're worried about your command?"

"Beverly…" he rumbled in warning.

"You're safe, nobody is taking the ship away from you."

"Well, good to know this has already been discussed," he turned to the empty plate in front of him, selected a small roll from the serving dish then set to work awkwardly slicing into it one-handed, his knife taking out his anger on the innocent roll.

Beverly's instinctive reaction to dig into his last comment was interrupted by the door announcer.

"Come," said Picard with less force than was usual.

"Good morning Captain, Beverly," Deanna strolled smiling into his quarters taking a seat at the table, "I thought I'd stop by and see how you are this morning?"

"Oh I'm fine. Feeling much better," he replied flatly, his ruined roll long forgotten on the plate before him.

"Well, I thought we might talk?"

His attention had wondered again. Deanna looked to Beverly for guidance.

Beverly nudged him as she placed her hand over the cast on his arm, "Jean-Luc?"

"Hmmm? What? Oh, yes counsellor, that will be... agreeable." Hoping the conversation was over, he stood expecting the doctor and counsellor to recognise his dismissal for what it was.

"I want to see you in sick bay first, then you can tackle as many Admirals as you can handle," she waited for him to stand, expecting him to follow her.

"I'm not a complete invalid Beverly. You don't need to escort me."

"No but we can all do with a little TLC from time to time. And besides, you don't have a choice. Medical prerogative." She smiled knowing he was putty in her hands.

"Fine. Fine, let's get this over with then. Shall we?" he gestured for both women to proceed before him. He went to take a final sip of tea, thought better of it, and followed them out of his quarters.

He lay undressed down to his underwear on the biobed as Beverly scanned him with her tricorder then set to work checking his healing skin. She worked silently, her face a picture of concentration and gravity. He stared at the ceiling letting his mind wonder. He thought back to being in a similar position on the cube. He'd behaved exactly as the Borg had commanded. He had raised his arm when they fitted the prosthesis, he had stayed perfectly still while they had added attachments, sent nanoprobes squirreling into his circulatory system, when they'd drilled into the side of his face, the back of his head. He closed his eyes against the growing onslaught of images perfectly seared into his visual memory.

From somewhere in the distance, he heard his name being called out but he didn't connect the sound with something he needed to respond to.

He felt the all familiar analgesic cream being wiped across his chest, could smell it's distinct aroma, something minty, buttery, maybe lavender. He felt the pull of a plast being removed from his stomach, heard his name being called again.

"Jean-Luc? Can you hear me?"

His eyes snapped open, startled for a moment to find himself in sickbay, "What? Oh, sorry Doctor."

"I thought I'd lost you there… where were you?"

He tried to sit up then realised he was receiving a regen treatment, the wave sending a ripple of warmth across his body incrementally. Beverly placed a hand on his chest nudging him back to a prone position

"Hold still. Just take it easy and relax. You have another twenty-five minutes under there before you can escape. Why not take a nap?" she pulled a blanket up over him as she watched for his reaction

He was finding it very hard to keep his eyes open. "I'm not tired." He said, eyes closing as he spoke.

"Okay, if you say so." She smiled at the overwhelming evidence to the contrary. "Well, shout if you need anything. I'm going to be just round the corner in my office. Allisa Ogawa will be in to check on you. Jean-Luc?"

His head had flopped to the side, his mouth had dropped open and his breathing had deepened. "No way, you're not tired…" she checked the settings on the regen wave and left him to it.

Beverly sat at her desk and checked for any messages she might have missed. The call indicator flashed at her, she knew exactly who it would be before she even allowed the call: Jean-Luc's brother, Robert. Part of her responsibility as CMO was to communicate with family members and friends whenever a member of the crew had been injured. She'd written to Robert Picard several days ago, laid out the edited horror of Jean-Luc's trauma in detail.

She pressed the button connecting the call, "Hello there, Robert. How are you?"

"Hello Doctor Crusher. How is my brother?" Robert got straight to the point.

"Jean-Luc is healing very well physically. His arm is taking a while to get back to normal as expected, and he has some areas of damage on the side of his face that require a little more treatment."

"I see. And erm… how about…" he trailed off avoiding the awkward conversation about his brother's mental state.

"He has suffered a very traumatic experience," that was putting it lightly, she thought as she spoke, "We have an excellent team on board with a very well-qualified ship's Counsellor. He will be receiving treatment for some time I'm afraid to say." She wondered how Jean-Luc's very traditional and uniquely Earth-bound brother could even begin to comprehend what had happened.

"I see… that's reassuring. And erm… I believe you are in orbit? Around the planet?"

"That's right. I can arrange for you to visit, if you would like?"

"Actually Doctor, I was thinking it is about time my brother came home. It's been quite some time. That's if… he has recovered sufficiently to travel of course."

Beverly could recognise the same recalcitrance, the same self-assuredness in the Captain's brother. They looked nothing alike, but the sound of his voice, the accent, was familiar, almost comforting, commanding.

"Well, I uh, of course I cannot speak for the Captain but I think that would be a marvellous idea. It would do him a lot of good to have a break from the ship. He needs a little longer here on board for treatments but I fully support your idea," she smiled at the stern face on her screen.

"Then I will make the necessary arrangements. Presumably transport can be arranged directly? He will stay with me at the house of course. I will ensure he is well looked after."

"Yes, we can arrange transport directly to the house from here. It sounds like you have given this some thought."

"I have indeed doctor. If that's all for now? You'll let us know when we might expect him? And erm, I rather think it may be prudent to encourage my brother to arrive at this idea for himself, knowing him as I do."

Beverly almost laughed, this was one of the most awkward and uptight conversations she had ever had, Robert made the Captain look positively Betazoid in comparison. "I see what you mean. Of course, I completely agree. I will get in touch when plans this end reach fruition."

"I would like to thank you of course, for putting him back together."

"Don't even mention it, just doing my job."

"Well then, goodbye for now."

"À bientôt, Robert," she tried out the French sign-off Jean-Luc had taught her Robert smiled in acknowledgement then terminated the call from his end. So now she had two pressing missions, first the admirals, then convincing Jean-Luc that he had come up with the idea to make the trip home. The admirals would be by far the easier task.

She wondered back through to check on the man himself. He lay fast asleep under the regen beam, which was seconds away from finishing its cycle. His skin looked visibly pinker, the Borg mottling had almost gone, as were the more superficial of his injuries. All she intended to do now was replace the few plasts dotted about the right side of his face and head, and check up on his arm, he just needed to wake up first.

She put her hand on his chest gently, "Jean-Luc?" no response. She pressed a little harder, "Jean-Luc?"

This time, he gasped awake, immediately propping himself up on his good elbow.

"What time is it?" he asked urgently.

"It's a little after 1000 hours. It's okay, take it easy. No rush."

"The admirals doctor? I can't just sleep the day away… the ship…" he said as he sat up pulling the sheet across his lap to protect his modesty.

"Don't worry about them, they are perfectly happy right now, in Ten Forward with Data I believe."

"Data?!"

"Hmm, I see what you mean, we better hurry this along hadn't we?!" She helped him turn to sit on the edge of the bed, "Just hold on a moment, let me get to those plasts first okay?"

"Doctor…" he whined.

"Hold still. You're not going anywhere looking like that. It won't help your cause."

She set to replacing the remaining plasts on his face and the side of his head quickly covering the remaining raw flesh, his appearance improving by the second. She reckoned she had only a few minutes before his patience would completely expire.

"Okay, done. I've removed several of them – those areas may feel a little tender for a few days but they don't need any more treatment. Watch your stomach especially, okay? Jean-Luc?"

His attention had turned to the freshly pink patch on his stomach where there had been a control panel. He prodded at his flesh as though he was struggling to compute that it was part of his own body.

"Can I go now?" he asked hopefully.

"Not quite, I want to take a quick peek at your arm, then I can make a decision about how much longer you need to wear the cast. Show me," she ordered him as she took his casted arm gently. The hydraulic hissed as he bent his elbow then the cast beeped as she released the seal. As before, the cast's internal regen field halted and then the whole thing opened into two halves.

"Feels cold…" he whispered, turning his gaze to anywhere but his arm.

"I know. This won't take a minute. Want to see?"

"Not really," he replied, turning to look at what was left of his arm. He flexed his hand slowly into a fist, relieved to have some level of control over it. The skin stretched uncomfortably, each tendon sounding an alarm as it kicked into play, unused for weeks. Damaged nerves tingled under the surface, the intensity of the sensation grew as he observed the withered appendage apparently attached to him.

Beverly watched him cautiously, trying to ascertain his reaction, "How does that feel?"

He turned his hand over, palm down, then palm up. He bent his elbow straightening it as much as he could and bending it reflexively. He watched detached from the skinny, pathetic looking arm before him. His arm had been solid, muscled, the thing before him was pale and stringy, the few remaining hairs withered and wiry. There were still large raw patches still but even he could see that it was on the way to normal finally.

"It doesn't look like my arm," he replied quietly.

She smoothed his skin with the topical analgesic to support the new growing skin, "Not right now, but it will. It looks great to me – see here? The skin is starting to form over the damage. At a cellular level, there really is some magnificent healing going on here. Remarkable really. In a few days, when we take this off, you'll soon regain any lost muscle," she finished talking then closed the cast on his arm once again, and tapped at the control panel. "The scars will fade, in time."

He could feel the regen field start up again, its warmth instantly soothing the lingering nerve pain he could feel, "How much longer?" he asked as she tossed him his uniform. He started to dress pulling on his trousers first then clumsily trying to coax his arm through the sleeve of his pullover, way past any feelings of embarrassment.

She turned discretely to the cast's remote control panel, tapping commands into its auto programming, "I would say another few days? How does that sound?"

His voice surprised her, he had dressed quickly and was standing much nearer than she had expected, "That's good, it will be a relief to get back to some sense of normal."

She turned to him taking both his arms in her hands. She looked him directly in the eyes, "Jean-Luc, take it easy okay? There's no rush. We're not going anywhere, there's no urgency. You're going to be feeling tired, physically, for a few more weeks yet." She rubbed his arms up and down. "I'm glad you're back. I missed you." She pecked him on the cheek, she couldn't resist, he just looked so open.

"Yes, well," he broke contact pulling his arms free and tugging his uniform top down into place, "I erm, I have some admirals to deal with."

The moment was broken by a very polite, and not altogether convincing, cough.

"Captain, doctor."

"Data?"

"I arrived a moment ago Sir. I have come to accompany you to the observation lounge if you are feeling able?"

"Yes, fine. Thank you Data. Doctor?" he checked he would be allowed to leave.

"Go ahead – I'll see you later on for that scan. And the physio – Jean-Luc, don't forget okay?"

He nodded tightly to acknowledge the arrangements for later in the day, being an invalid was turning out to be quite time-consuming.

"If I may Sir?" Data paused for effect, cocking his head slightly, "It is good to see you looking so well."

"Thank you Data," he replied hooking the sling over his head, "Let's get this over with."