"You've what?" He stared at his first officer.

"I've come to take you to lunch."

"It was my idea, Jean-Luc." Crusher added as she entered his room and walked over to his bed. "Here. You can put these on." She held out a folded shirt, a pair of pants, and dropped a pair of shoes on the floor.

He took the clothes from her. "Where am I going?" His eyes darted from Crusher to Riker, and back again.

"I thought perhaps Ten Forward," Riker answered, looking over at the doctor.

She smiled. "Sounds like a good choice for lunch."

Picard sighed. "You're determined to make me eat more, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am. And I've been told the food in Ten Forward is far better than the food in Sickbay."

He frowned. "But that's not possible. All food dispensers on the ship are programmed exactly the same."

"I'm just repeating what I've been told. Maybe it's the ambiance." She headed towards the door, looked back over her shoulder. "Now get dressed. And I'll join you later."

Picard watched her go. "She's impossible."

"It could be worse," Riker remarked. "She could be Kate Pulaski."

Picard eyed his first officer. "Now, I liked Kate..."

"So did I. But you have to admit, she was a lot tougher than Beverly."

Picard pursed his lips and thought about it. "Not much," he declared after a moment.

Riker just smiled. "Would you like me to wait for you in Beverly's office while you get dressed?"

"No. That's all right. It won't take me long."

Riker sat down in a chair next to the door. Picard threw back the covers, sat up, letting his legs dangle over the side of the bed. He quickly divested himself of his pajamas, then pulled on the dark green shirt and tan pants. He stood up, started to push his feet into the shoes on the floor, felt his knees buckle. He grabbed the side of the bed, trying desperately to steady himself. Riker was immediately at his side, holding him up, then easing him back onto the bed.

"Easy there, Captain. I think you tried that maneuver a bit too fast."

Picard nodded in agreement, took several deep breaths, then looked up at him. "I think I'm ready to try it again."

Riker held the captain's arm firmly as he stood up, slowly this time, and slid his feet into the soft, slipper-like shoes.

"Do you feel steady?" he inquired, still holding his arm.

"Steady enough for you to let go," Picard answered, glaring at the man's hand on his arm. Then his expression softened. "But I'd appreciate your staying close by."

"Always, Captain," Riker assured, letting go of his arm.

Picard straightened his shoulders. "Well, I suppose it's now or never," he commented as he walked out the door, Riker striding to keep up with him.

He was slightly self-conscious of his appearance. In addition to the plates on the side of his head, his cheeks were sunken and hollow, his eyes still dull, his face pallid. But, damn, it felt good to be out of Sickbay, walking the corridors of his ship again. Even though he had to stop every five minutes, brace his hand against the bulkhead, and rest, while Riker hovered beside him. By the time they reached Ten Forward, however, the only thing that felt good was sinking into a chair at a table near a viewport.

The lounge was virtually deserted except for a few uniformed crewmen on the opposite side of the room. Picard cast a wondering gaze at his companion.

"The crew's busy with repairs."

Picard nodded. They were all mending, in one way or another. He stared out the viewport. Earth, blue and green and white, was there before them, like a precious jewel suspended in dark space.

"It's good to see it's still there," he murmured.

Riker inclined his head in agreement. "There's no place like home."

Home. Picard sighed. The concept was a good one. The idea of having some place where you always belonged, where there were people to take you in. Like his home in LaBarre. It had been twenty years since he'd last been there. He wondered if they'd take him in now.

"Any idea what you'd like to eat?" Riker's voice broke into his thoughts.

"Eat?" he queried.

Riker grinned. "That's why we came here, Captain."

"And the food's good. Better than Sickbay's." The voice came from over his shoulder.

Picard turned and smiled broadly. "Guinan."

She reached out, took both of his hands in hers. "Captain." She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "It's good to have you back."

"It's good to be back."

Guinan continued to hold his hands, and they stared into each other's eyes. Riker wondered again at their relationship, closer than friends or family. What exactly did that make them? Two people who cared a great deal for each other, that was apparent. Several moments passed and then Guinan smiled and dropped his hands.

"So, you've come to eat lunch," she said.

Picard rolled his eyes. "So they tell me."

"Doctor Crusher says you haven't been eating in Sickbay."

He threw his hands up. "Does everybody know my dietary habits?"

Riker opened his mouth and started to answer.

"No, no," Picard stopped him. "Don't tell me about the two ensigns on Deck Thirty-nine who know nothing about this."

Riker closed his mouth and stroked his beard, covering the grin on his face with his hand.

Picard looked at Guinan. "Yes. I've come to eat lunch."

"Good. I've prepared something special for you. I think you'll like it."

He nodded. "I'm sure I will."

Guinan walked away, and Picard leaned back in his chair, crossed his legs in front of him and looked over at Riker. "Who's taking care of the ship, Number One?"

"Data and Commander Shelby have everything under control."

"I take it your opinion of Commander Shelby is more favorable now."

"She did a fine job, sir. All of the crew did. I think you would have been proud of them."

"Oh, I am." He smiled slightly. "And it's good to know all of you can function without me."

"We managed to scrape by, but just barely. You were very much missed."

Picard heard the sincerity in his first officer's voice. "Thank you," he murmured.

Riker leaned forward, propping his elbows on the table. "Guinan also provided some valuable assistance." He studied the captain, hoping to gauge his reaction, but there was very little reaction to observe.

"I'm not surprised," was all he said.

"She's very insightful," Riker continued, probing gently, hoping the captain would shed some light on his relationship with the woman.

"Yes, she is," Picard agreed with a smile. "I sometimes find her counsel very helpful."

Riker glanced over at the bar and saw Guinan coming towards them, a tray in her hand. He realized that he may never know the truth about their relationship, may never understand how deep and meaningful it was. But that would be all right, for the important thing was that they knew.

Guinan reached the table and set the contents of the tray down in front of them. Roast lamb in wine sauce with pepper jelly, asparagus, baked potatoes, French bread, tall glasses of milk.

"And if you clean your plates you may have dessert," she stated matter-of-factly.

"Thank you, Guinan," Riker said. Then when Picard didn't say anything, he asked, "Doesn't this look wonderful, Captain?"

"Oh, yes," he answered, "thank you very much, Guinan."

"You're welcome. Now eat." And she left.

Picard stared at the food spread out before him. They were all his favorites, and it was so kind of Guinan to remember and prepare them for him, and up until that moment he'd really thought that he was hungry and ready to eat something substantial. But now, despite the change from Sickbay to Ten Forward, he found that his appetite was still non-existent. He looked over at Riker. As was typical of the broad-shouldered first officer, he was quickly consuming his meal, enjoying it thoroughly.

Picard decided before Riker noticed that he wasn't eating, he'd better make some effort to do so, appetite or not. He picked up his fork, speared a small, tender stalk of asparagus, and lifted it to his mouth. He chewed it slowly. Then, finding it difficult to swallow, he managed to wash it down with a sip of milk. He was studying the plate of food, contemplating his next possible bite, when Wesley Crusher and Miles O'Brien showed up next to their table. Picard had been so concerned about not being able to eat, and Riker had been so busy doing just that, that neither of them had noticed the pair come into the lounge.

"Captain," O'Brien started, "I'm sorry to disturb you, but I just want to say it is so good to see you out of Sickbay."

Grateful for the interruption, Picard laid his fork down. "No, no. You didn't disturb us at all."

"In fact," Riker offered, "why don't you join us?"

"All right." O'Brien sat down in one of the empty chairs, and Wesley took the other one. A server from the bar came over and took their orders.

Riker shook his head after the server left. "You're both going to sit there and just drink while we're eating this?" He waved a hand over the table.

Wesley grinned sheepishly. "It does look good."

Suddenly Picard saw a way out of his predicament. It was simple. Knowing how much teenagers liked to eat, he slid his plate towards Wesley.

"Oh, it is very good, Ensign. Won't you try some?"

"Well," Wesley hesitated, looked at the plate longingly, then gave in and picked up the captain's fork. "If you insist."

"Oh, I do," Picard assured him, ignoring Riker's look of disapproval. Before he had a chance to voice a protest, the lounge doors opened and Geordi LaForge and Sonia Gomez entered, walked over and joined the group at the table. They both pulled up a chair and sat down.

LaForge leaned over Wesley's shoulder. "That looks good," he said.

"It is," Wesley mumbled, his mouth full. "Want a bite?"

"Don't mind if I do," he answered, picking up a spoon off the table and helping himself.

Picard watched as his lunch quickly disappeared.

By the time Beverly Crusher arrived in Ten Forward, the crowd had grown to nine: Picard, Riker, Wesley, O'Brien, LaForge, Gomez, Worf, Thralen, and Barkley. She stopped a few feet from the table, her hands on her hips, and caught Riker's gaze. She sent him a look that seemed to say, "You were supposed to take care of him."

Riker, suddenly remembering his charge, turned and looked at the captain. Picard sat back from the table, his face even paler. As the get-together had grown, he'd become quieter, more withdrawn. And Riker, caught up in a half a dozen conversations, had failed to notice. He sighed, shrugging an apology in Crusher's direction.

She walked closer to the table, saw what appeared to be the remains of Picard's lunch, which she suspected had not been eaten by him. She glared down at Riker again.

"Beverly," he said brightly, despite the glare.

At the sound of her name, Picard turned and looked up at her with dull eyes. She placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I didn't know we were having a party," she said.

"It's sort of a welcome back for the captain," Wesley explained.

"I see. And I hate to do this, but I'm going to have to take the guest of honor."

It was then that everyone at the table realized how tired the captain looked, and they nervously started making excuses and departing. Soon Riker, Picard and Crusher were the only ones left.

"Come on, you," Crusher pulled on Picard's arm.

"Beverly, I'm all right," he muttered.

"You will be after I get you back to Sickbay and feed you."

Picard sighed, casting a weary gaze at Riker.

His first officer frowned. "Sorry, Captain, you should have eaten the lamb."

Picard allowed Crusher to help him to his feet. "Number One, please tell Guinan that you may have my dessert."

~vVv~

It was like force-feeding a child. Every bite was a battle.

"Jean-Luc, you have to eat." Crusher sat on the side of his bed, holding a bowl in her hand.

"I've eaten, Beverly."

She gaped at him. "Five spoonfuls of soup does not constitute eating."

"I'm just not hungry," he said for the tenth time.

"That is not a consideration. You must eat." Her voice was firm.

"Can't you just shoot me with something?"

She suppressed a grin. "Shoot you with something?"

"Yes, a hypospray full of vitamins, or nutrients or something." He looked at her hopefully.

"Jean-Luc, I have given serious thought to shooting you, but not with a hypospray. I was thinking more along the lines of a phaser set on full stun."

He lowered his eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm being a very difficult patient."

"Yes, you are. Now will you please eat? Just three more bites."

"Two?" he bargained.

"Fine." She lifted the spoon to his mouth twice, then set the bowl on the bedside table. She wiped the corners of his lips with a napkin, and he smiled at her weakly.

"It's hard to believe that you're the same person who complained about too much mothering yesterday."

"I'm tired, Beverly," he breathed.

"I know." She rubbed his shoulder. "Why don't you try and get some sleep."

He looked at her warily, fear in his eyes, remembering the nightmares.

"Don't worry," Crusher assured him as she removed the extra pillow from behind his back and helped him settle down into bed. "I'll be nearby." She leaned over and kissed him softly on the cheek. "You just call for me."

"I will," he murmured, as he closed his eyes.

~vVv~

He awoke, screaming in terror, his face wet with tears, his body covered in a cold sweat. He'd kicked the blankets off the bed, and the sheets were tangled around his legs. No sooner did he realize where he was, than the door slid open and Crusher appeared, hurried to the side of his bed, and gathered him in her arms.

"Shh, Jean-Luc. It's all right. Just another nightmare." The third he'd had that night.

"Beverly..." he mumbled.

"Shh," she soothed, rubbing her hand against his cheek, careful of the small plates that covered the areas where the implants had been.

"Uhh," Picard groaned. "Every time..." He swallowed, licking his lips. "Every time I close my eyes, they're there, watching me, touching me... oh, Beverly." Sobs shook his body.

"I know." She rocked him gently.

"So scared."

"I'm here," she whispered, "I'm here."

~vVv~