At 0700 his door chime sounded.
"Come," he called from his bedroom. He heard the door slide open.
"Jean-Luc?" It was Beverly Crusher. He'd known it would be.
He smiled at his reflection in the bedroom mirror. "I'll be right out," he informed as he gave the front of his uniform a customary tug into place. She'd probably come to drag him to breakfast.
"I thought you might like to join me in Ten Forward."
"For what?" he asked, coming into the room and fixing her with a steady gaze.
"For breakfast," she replied, her own gaze just as steady.
Picard laughed. "You are overly determined, Beverly."
"Guilty."
"And overly protective," he added with a heavy sigh.
"Guilty again," she shrugged, not the least bit apologetic. A few silent moments passed. "So?"
"So what?"
"So would you like to join me for breakfast in Ten Forward or not?"
He shook his head in affirmation. "How can I refuse such a gracious invitation?"
"You can't, so come on." She pulled at his arm and led him towards the door. He followed, almost docilely, but he hesitated before stepping into the corridor. She looked at him knowingly.
"You look fine, Jean-Luc," she said softly. It was one thing to go out into the ship as a recovering patient, but quite another to be the captain again.
"Uniform doesn't feel right," he complained, tugging at the front of it once more.
Crusher smoothed her hand over his shoulder, feeling him jump slightly. "Relax. You look fine," she repeated firmly.
He looked at her disbelievingly.
"You do."
"All right," he sighed, "I'll take your word for it."
Five minutes later, they were in Ten Forward, seated at their usual corner table, one that allowed the captain some privacy, yet at the same time offered him a good view of the lounge, which was practically empty.
"Hungry this morning?" Crusher asked teasingly after the server left with their order.
Picard returned her smile. "Why do you ask?"
She leaned towards him. "Pancakes, sausage, hash browns, cereal, toast, and a bowl of strawberries?" she whispered loudly.
"Don't forget the hot tea."
She rolled her eyes. "Oh, who could forget the Earl Grey?"
He laughed. "To answer your first question, yes, I am hungry."
"That's good," she assured him. "How did you sleep last night?"
"I, uh... I slept fine," he stammered.
She eyed him intently. "Really?"
"For part of the night, anyway," he admitted. "But, I managed. On my own. And it wasn't too bad. I caught up on a lot of my reading."
The doctor shook her head. "You need your sleep."
"Don't worry. I feel rested."
The server brought their breakfast and they both started eating, all conversation set aside for several minutes.
"Beverly?" Picard looked up from his stack of pancakes and broke the silence.
"Yes?"
"I was wondering..." He reached up and touched his right cheek. "When can these be taken out?" He indicated the small plates along the side of his head.
"If you'll drop by Sickbay sometime tomorrow afternoon, I'll remove them. It won't take long."
Picard nodded. "Good. It'll help to look completely Human again."
Crusher sighed, but smiled encouragingly at him. "You already look completely Human, Jean-Luc." She hesitated. "Your injuries won't leave any visible scars, but there may be some emotional ones."
"I can handle them now," he said nervously, rubbing his fingers against his lips.
"I'm sure you can, but," she stared down at the table, dreading his possible reaction to what she said next, "I still want you to meet with Deanna every day, to talk. She's expecting you in her office this afternoon. Sixteen hundred hours."
"What?" His voice was barely a whisper.
She looked up at him. "You heard what I said, Jean-Luc."
"Beverly-"
"Don't fight me on this."
"But I have a ship to run."
"I think Commander Riker will be willing to help."
"But-"
"I don't want to make it an order," she threatened.
"All right," he agreed reluctantly. "How long?"
She frowned at him. "You make it sound like an old-fashioned prison sentence."
"Beverly, I just want to put all this behind me," Picard said evenly.
"I know."
"And talking with Deanna..." He trailed off.
"Makes you remember things you'd just as soon forget," she finished his sentence for him.
"Yes," he murmured, lowering his eyes.
"Jean-Luc, Deanna and I want to help you put this behind you. But we want to keep you healthy at the same time. Both physically and emotionally. You've got to store these memories away carefully. Put them all in their proper place. Because if you don't, they'll always be there, every time you close your eyes."
Picard pushed at a piece of uneaten pancake with his fork, then looked back up at her, his green eyes fastening to her blue ones. "You know, Doctor, you are almost as smart as your son."
"Thank you."
"And," he pushed himself up from the table, "you may tell Counselor Troi that I shall be in her office promptly at sixteen hundred hours."
~vVv~
"If you can't beat them, join them." The phrase rattled around in Picard's mind as he headed for the bridge. They meant well, both of them, all of them. He knew that logically. But emotionally, he was having a hard time accepting it. Why couldn't they just leave him alone and let him forget? Surely, after a week or so, the nightmares would go away. He could last till then. He stifled a yawn. At least he hoped he could.
Maybe talking to Troi wouldn't be that bad. After all, that's exactly what he'd been doing for the past few days. Although, he admitted to himself, he'd done more listening than talking. But wasn't that his right; to share only what he chose to? Wasn't he allowed his own secrets, his own demons? He sighed, tried to shake off his feeling of gloom, reminding himself of who he was and where he was going.
He stepped onto the turbo-lift. "Bridge," he intoned. A few seconds later the lift stopped and the doors slid open. He stepped out, onto the lower deck, and the bridge crew stood.
"Welcome home, Captain," Riker grinned broadly.
Picard nodded. "It's good to be home, Captain," he returned, "and since the bridge is in more than capable hands, I'll be in my ready room." He smiled fleetingly, and then disappeared into the haven of his office.
The doors closed behind him, and he stood there for a moment and surveyed the interior of his ready room. Then he breathed a sigh of relief. There was nothing different about it, and that fact helped root him even firmer into this present reality. He walked over to the food dispenser.
"Tea, Earl Grey, hot," he ordered, remembering that he'd left his other cup at breakfast virtually untouched. He took a long, soothing sip of the hot liquid, enjoying the warmth as it spread through his chest. He moved over to his desk, set his cup on it, sat down in his chair and spread his hands out before him. The surface was smooth, solid, cool to the touch. And comforting because it was familiar and real. He turned to his desk computer, activated it. Then he picked up a computer log and began to catch up on information he'd missed, and long overdue reports. Moments later, the door chime sounded.
"Come." He looked up.
Will Riker entered. "Captain, I thought you'd like to be informed of our status." He walked over and leaned against the chair in front of Picard's desk.
"Very much so, Number One," he nodded, then proceeded to listen to Riker, all the while continuing his own work.
"And Earth Station McKinley has advised that they're ready to begin refitting the Enterprise." Riker came to the end of his report several minutes later.
"Have they estimated time for repairs?" Picard asked.
"Five or six weeks," Riker answered and winced inwardly at the amount of time involved. But it could be worse. Much worse. At least the Enterprise was still here.
Picard glanced up at him, both surprised and disappointed by his answer, but before he had a chance to comment, the door chime sounded again.
"Come," both he and Riker said simultaneously, and Picard raised his eyes at his former first officer, somewhat amused. Riker just straightened and looked away, a little embarrassed.
The doors slid open and Commander Shelby came in. She looked towards Riker.
"Request permission to disembark, sir."
Riker cut his eyes to Picard, silently reminding her of the captain's return to duty.
Shelby, realizing her mistake, raised her eyebrows slightly and turned her attention to Picard. The captain looked up, and Riker wondered fleetingly if he'd noticed Shelby's lapse in protocol. Probably, he had, but the expression on his face didn't give that knowledge away.
"Permission granted," he replied as he stood up, setting the computer log on his desk. "They picked a fine officer for the task force, Commander."
Shelby smiled confidently. "We'll have the fleet back up in less than a year." She turned her gaze towards Riker, a look of slight amusement on her face. "I imagine you'll have your choice of any Starfleet Command, sir."
Riker shifted his eyes from Shelby to Picard, only to find his captain looking at him somewhat expectantly also. He returned his attention to Shelby, and sighed. "Everyone is so concerned about my next job. With all due respect, Commander," he inclined his head toward Picard, "sir, my career plans are my own business and no one else's. But," he smiled good-naturedly, "it's nice to know I'll have a few options."
Shelby returned his smile, knowingly, finally understanding a few things she hadn't previously understood. "I hope I have the fortune of serving with you again, sir." Then she looked to Picard. "Captain."
Picard nodded his dismissal, and he and Riker watched her go. Then Riker looked back at the captain.
"Course for Station McKinley ready and laid in, sir."
Picard nodded curtly. "Make it so, Number One."
Riker left and Picard took a deep breath, exhaling it slowly. He reached down and picked up his tea, held the saucer in his left hand, and started to raise the cup with his right. He stopped, replaced the cup, hearing it rattle in the saucer as his left hand trembled. Such a familiar action for him, reaching down and picking up a cup of Earl Grey. Yet, suddenly, it seemed so alien, unnatural, as if this present reality was no longer real for him. He stared vacantly, once more hit by the enormity of what had happened to him, how close he'd come to losing it all, how close they'd all come.
He set the cup down on the desk, turned, and walked over to the viewport. The feeling would not leave him, that prickly feeling along the back of his neck, the feeling that "they" were still watching him. And even the sight of Earth, in all its brightness and green-blue serenity, did little to lighten the shadows in his mind and soul.
~vVv~
"They're just dreams, Counselor," Picard sighed, settling his shoulders against the cushioned couch in her office.
"Nightmares," she corrected, her eyes focused steadily on his face.
"All right. They're just nightmares," he mumbled tiredly, still trying to pass them off as though they were nothing.
"Very vivid, frightening nightmares," Deanna Troi pressed further.
Picard stared at her, exasperated. "Yes," he gave in, "very vivid, frightening nightmares. But I'm dealing with them."
"How? By staying awake half the night reading?"
His eyes widened. "She told you."
A slight smile crossed the counselor's face. "Let's just say I have my sources."
He tightened his mouth into a thin line. "And I have no secrets."
"Just the opposite," she said, "you have quite a few secrets. Even some you're not aware of yourself."
He shook his head and rubbed his eyes with his fingers. "Well, what I don't know, can't hurt me."
"But it can... it is." Her gaze remained steady. "And the longer you deny those secrets, the longer it's going to take before you're completely well."
Picard swallowed. "Both you and Doctor Crusher gave your permission for me to return to duty. Neither of you would have done that if you didn't feel I was... fit."
Troi nodded. "That's correct. But seeing that the Enterprise will be undergoing repairs for the next five or six weeks, we both felt that allowing you to return to duty would be less strenuous than forbidding you to do so."
He narrowed his eyes at her. "I do believe you're practicing psychology on me, Counselor."
She smiled. "Yes, sir."
"So, according to your evaluation, I'm not completely well?"
"No," she sighed. "Captain, your physical injuries haven't even healed yet."
Picard reached up and gingerly touched one of the small plates on the side of his head. "Beverly's removing these tomorrow."
"That's good. But emotional injuries take much longer to heal than physical ones. You know that."
"All right." He rubbed his hand against his forehead. "What do you want me to talk about?"
"I want you to answer some questions for me. That's all."
He inhaled deeply. "I'll try."
"Good." Troi hesitated for a moment and then proceeded. "When you realized you'd been taken captive by the Borg how did you feel?"
Picard grimaced slightly, but answered. "I felt angry."
"Is that all?" Troi had that tone in her voice; the tone that told him that she knew there was more.
He sighed. "And I felt frightened."
"Why?"
Picard stared at her. It was a simple enough question, but one he had not allowed himself to explore. And now, he gave it serious thought.
"At first, I suppose, I was afraid for the Enterprise."
"Afraid for your crew, and not for yourself." It was a statement, not a question, and there was no doubt in her words.
Still, Picard asked, "Does that make me abnormal, Counselor?"
She shook her head and laughed softly. "No, it just makes you a very dedicated captain."
He smiled slightly, as if grateful for the compliment.
"When did you first become afraid for yourself?" she continued.
His eyes lit with a sudden realization. "I'm not sure." He gazed across the room, staring at the wall. "They... they injected me with some sort of drug. I felt as if I was slipping in and out of consciousness... aware, then not aware. By the time I realized what they were doing to me, they'd already done it."
"Were you afraid for your life?"
"No," he answered, "I'd already lost it."
Troi leaned towards him. "But you were still there, weren't you?"
"Somewhere... in the back of my own mind." His voice had become almost hypnotic, remembering. "So alone," he murmured. "Yet not alone. Because they were there, touching me, changing..." Abruptly he stopped talking and leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees, cradling his head in his hands, fingers rubbing his eyes.
Troi was quiet, waiting for him to continue, but he didn't. He just sat there for several minutes, and then his shoulders heaved with a heavy sigh. He looked up.
"I think it's time for me to go now."
"Captain," Troi protested.
But he was already on his feet. She rose also, standing between him and the door.
"I appreciate you, Counselor, but I really think that... that this is unnecessary."
"Remembering can be very painful," she said softly, but firmly.
"Precisely," he agreed, "that's why I'd rather not." He stepped around her, headed towards the door.
"Captain."
Her voice stopped him, but he didn't look back.
"The more you try to avoid these memories, the longer they'll stay with you."
Picard closed his eyes tightly, trying to shut out the sound of her words. But he couldn't.
"You need someone to talk to," Troi went on. "It doesn't have to be me. You could talk to Beverly."
"No," Picard's eyes snapped open. He didn't want to share this with her. He didn't want to share it at all.
"Then will I see you tomorrow?"
"Counselor... Deanna," his voice softened, and he turned around to look at her. "I appreciate what you're trying to do. And I know you truly believe it is for the best, but I honestly don't think that daily appointments with my ship's counselor are what I need right now."
Troi nodded. "I see. And what do you need right now?"
"I simply need to be left alone. Be allowed to work some things out on my own. I assure you, I will be all right."
Troi smiled. "That's my line, Captain."
"Then you agree?" Picard inquired.
"With what?"
"That I will be all right?" He looked at her, almost like a child looking to a parent for reassurance.
She hesitated a moment, then answered. "Eventually. But if we could continue to meet..."
He shook his head. "Like I said, I don't think another meeting will be necessary." He took a step closer to the door.
"The nightmares won't go away on their own," Troi warned.
Picard looked over his shoulder and gave her a half-smile. "You're wrong, Counselor. They will." And with another step, the door slid open, and he was gone.
~vVv~
