After minutes of frantic searching, Riker found him in the nearest bathroom. He had all but tailed him off the stage and back behind the scenes then managed to lose him amongst a crowd of attaché and assistants buzzing about in reaction to the hubub caused by the outraged crewman. In a moment of hush once the President began to speak again, Riker tuned his ears for any sound that might alert him to the Captain's whereabouts. Sure enough, from somewhere near by, he detected the sounds of a man trying not to vomit.

Now, the Captain was kneeling before a toilet, retching furiously into the bowl, spitting uselessly. He had ditched the jacket of his dress uniform somewhere along the way, and Riker could see the sweat staining the back of his undershirt.

He ran for the stack of fresh rolled handtowels, soaked one under the cold faucet, and held it out, hoping the Captain would take it.

"Sir?"

Wordlessly, Picard took the wet towel and wiped his face down, sitting back on his heels as he did so.

He dropped his head, closed his eyes, and Riker could tell he was employing some well-developed deep breathing skills – Deanna had probably had him running relaxation-drills over the last few weeks.

Picard held his hand up in a stop sign. He wasn't going to speak, wasn't ready to discuss what had happened on the stage.

Riker tapped his commbadge, "Commander Riker to transporter hub?"

"Go ahead sir."

"Two to beam to Enterprise transporter room 1, energise."

As they materialised in the relative safety of the ship's transporter room, Riker issued an unspoken command to the ensign on duty. With a firm glare and a raised hand, he silenced the terrified youngster allowing the Captain the emotional bandwidth to decide on his next move.

Picard stood on the platform, eyes darting to the door and Riker could almost feel the indecision burning inside the man.

He jumped in to rescue his CO with only a vague plan forming as he spoke, "Follow me."

With a tight nod from the Captain, Riker lead him through the empty, silent corridors of the ship and knew there was only one destination he could head for.

When they reached the relative safety of Ten Forward, the doors whispered closed behind them and almost before he could blink, Guinan appeared before them, ready to help. She looked from Picard to Riker and back again before smiling and nodding as is she had immediately ascertained the problem. She hooked the Captain under his arm and guided him over to a table. Riker followed like a spare part, he'd had never felt more glad to see her in his life. Give him a room of hostile aliens duking it out and he could sort it in no time, give him a man who had just been through one of the worst and most public emotional experiences of his life, and he was like a fish out of water.

Wordlessly, the three sat down at a table tucked in the far corner, right next to the ship's biggest viewport.

Picard sat rigidly, his body tense, hands clasped tightly together on the table-top. He closed his eyes and Riker had run out of ideas, he had no idea what to do next. He had reacted instinctively, got the Captain out of trouble and back to safety. That was his job. What came next was anybody's guess. Deanna would know but he had no idea where she was and he couldn't leave the Captain to make the call.

Guinan put her hands over Picard's, closed her eyes, and leaned her forehead against his as though she were tapping into some mystical power. Picard dropped his head in response and some of the tension left him. She floated off behind the bar and came back with three shot glasses and a bottle of something amber-coloured placing them on the table.

"What's this?" asked Riker, intrigued.

"This, is very old, very good, and very real Scottish whisky. The kind of drink you should have when you are sending off a loved one, or two." She replied taking the Captain's hand in her own when she was done.

Wordlessly, the three took their glasses and drank the shots down in one. Riker felt the familiar burn, the peaty taste. This was a very good whisky.

"To the dead of Wolf 359." Said Guinan, raising her second glass in a toast.

Picard uttered his first husky words since Riker had seen him backstage, before the ceremony, "Les morts."

Riker repeated the toast then drank his second glass eternally grateful to Guinan's ability to read the situation and know what to do about it.

"This has been a terrible day my friend, but you will get through it. Tomorrow will come, then the next day, and the one after that. You might not think so now, but there are a lot of people rooting for you Jean-Luc." She said reverently.

"Guinan…" Picard rumbled, his voice thick with emotion. His hands were shaking and he placed his glass down unsteadily on the table, whisky spilling over the edge. He nervously rubbed at the edge of the remaining plast on his hand silently willing it to still.

"I know… I know. Just trust me on this one. I've seen my fair share of things in my time. And what I have learned is that time has no respect for pain, it just moves on, and you, you will move with it. I know you will." With that, she hooked the Captain under his chin, forced him to make eye contact and smiled.

Picard held her gaze, looking at her with every emotion laid to bare right there in his eyes.

Riker stared on mesmerised and feeling more than a little like a third wheel. Thoughts were racing in his head. He needed to get Beverly and Troi back from the surface but he didn't want to cause any further disruption to the memorial. He didn't want to leave the Captain, but he deeply didn't want to stay either. He wasn't doing well with the concept of Picard's emotional recovery. He had seen him very few times since he'd been sprung from sick bay and every time had been tense. He missed his Captain, the man who always knew what to do. And then there was the ship, and HQ keeping a good close eye on everything...

Moments later, Picard stood and turned to face the viewport. Lost in contemplation, Guinan floated off, knowing to leave him to his thoughts. Riker took her cue and made for the doors turning around to take one final look at the Captain as his commbadge sounded.

'Troi to Riker?'

Picard was bathed in the glow of stars surrounding the ship. Past the window, the arms of McKinley Station illuminated the sections of hull that were being repaired by shuttles flitting about unendingly. Knitting the ship back together, their tiny size almost ridiculous in comparison to the mighty Enterprise, like Gulliver and the Lilliputians.

'Riker here, I'm with the Captain. One moment Deanna.'

Beyond McKinley was Earth, floating innocently, safe from harm, not knowing how close she had come to annihilation. If it weren't for the Captain.

Riker wished he could convey how sorry he was that he hadn't protected the Captain, hadn't been able to stop him being taken, then that he hadn't been able to get him off the cube the first time they'd tried. He also wished, more than anything else, that he could tell him how grateful he was that Earth was safe. That somehow, he had broken through the horror of assimilation and stopped the Borg from taking everyone, and everything that lay in its path. He wished he could tell him, but he couldn't find the words, and this was not the time.

"Hang in there Captain…" he whispered.

He left Ten Forward and headed to the Ready Room. The day was far from over and the burden of command weighed more heavily then he'd ever felt it before.