Picard sat on the floor next to the coffee table, colored chalk and paper spread out in front of him. All of his attention was focused on the picture he was coloring. Troi sat opposite him, coloring as well.

Tandem play, she had reminded Crusher earlier. A stage of development in two-year-olds. They were both very familiar with it. Although, it was disconcerting to see Picard experiencing it.

After he'd awakened from his nap, it had been very apparent that there had been a large shift in his mental capabilities. Both women had been expecting this possibility, but still it was very difficult to deal with.

Crusher watched from the kitchen where she was preparing supper. He hadn't spoken since he'd awakened a half hour ago, although he'd cried when he found the bottle he was still holding was empty. She'd refilled it, and now it sat on the table beside him, seemingly forgotten.

"But it's there if he wants it," Troi had explained.

The counselor looked over at Picard's picture. She knew immediately who it was, but asked him anyway. "Jean-Luc, who is that?" She pointed to the figure on his paper.

Picard pushed her hand away.

"Tell me who it is?" she insisted, moving her finger back.

"Uhh," he grunted, pushing at her hand again.

Crusher stepped over from the kitchen area. "Who is it, Deanna?"

Troi smiled up at her. "You tell me."

Crusher came around the sofa and sat down behind Picard, peering over his shoulder. The tiny drawing was smudged, but the colors and features were unmistakable. She touched Picard on the back of his neck, trying to draw his attention toward her. "Jean-Luc, is that Will?"

Picard sat up straighter and craned his head around, looking at her over his shoulder. His eyes were bright. "W-Will," he stuttered.

Crusher smiled. "That's right. And who am I?"

He grinned. "Bev-lee."

"What's my name?" Troi asked, drawing his attention back across the table.

"Dan-nuh."

"That's right." Troi reached over and squeezed his hand. "Very good." She picked up some blocks from the floor and set them on the table. She held one out to him. "What is this?"

Picard reached for it.

She pulled it back. "What is it, Jean-Luc?" she repeated.

He reached for it again.

And again, she pulled it away.

"Ahh," he yelled and slapped at her.

Troi caught hold of his wrist. "No, Jean-Luc," she reprimanded, gently but firmly, "no hitting."

He frowned and tears filled his eyes.

Crusher shook her head. "I think someone is getting tired."

"Yeah," Troi laughed, setting the block on the table and getting up off the floor, "and so is Jean-Luc."

Picard grabbed the block Troi had left behind, and looked up at her, proud of himself for getting it.

"He's very demanding," Troi observed.

"Is that demanding or commanding?" Crusher questioned, getting up as well and returning to the kitchen.

Troi went and sat down on a stool next to the bar, gratefully accepting the glass of wine Crusher handed her. She watched Picard continue his solitary playing, pleased that all the blocks and pieces of chalk were his now, and he didn't have to share them with anyone. She smiled. "I suppose his personality is the same in some respects."

"Do you sense any familiar emotions from him?"

Troi shook her head. "No. Not really. Mostly all I sense are very basic emotions: frustration, anger, pleasure. But look at him, can you see how proud he is of himself? He thinks he's won something because I've left him alone with all the toys." She took a sip of her wine. "He's still smart, Beverly."

"Is that your way of saying that he's still Jean-Luc Picard?"

"I guess so." Troi stared across the kitchen. "So, what are we having for supper?"

"I hope you're not hungry just yet. I thought we might try to get him to eat something, and then put him to bed before we eat."

Troi nodded. "That's a good idea. He needs something more than just milk."

"He does. And even though he'll eat when his mind is lucid, there's no telling how long these regressive episodes will last." Crusher went over and retrieved a plate of chicken nuggets, already cut up into small pieces. "Wesley loved these when he was little."

She placed the plate on the table. "Jean-Luc?"

He looked up from the tower of blocks he was building.

"Are you hungry?"

He could see that there was something on the table. He pushed himself up off the floor and wandered over to Crusher, his fingers already reaching out to play with whatever the new toy was.

"Just one minute," Crusher caught hold of his hand, and guided him into a chair. She tucked a napkin into the top of his shirt, and then sat down next to him. She let go of his hand, and he touched the chicken, pushing the pieces around on the plate. Then he picked one up.

"It's chicken, Jean-Luc. You can eat it." She took hold of his hand and lifted it to his lips. He refused to open his mouth. Pulling his hand away from hers, he threw the piece of chicken across the room.

Troi sighed, and took another drink of her wine. Crusher stared over at her.

"Hey, I tried with the blocks," Troi reasoned. "The chicken is all yours."

Crusher picked up another piece. "Look, Jean-Luc, you eat it." She put the piece in her mouth, chewed and swallowed.

Picard watched. Then he picked up a piece.

"That's it, Jean-Luc," Crusher praised him.

He pushed the chicken nugget against her lips.

"No, no, you eat it."

He shook his head, and threw the piece in the same direction he'd thrown the other one. Troi suppressed a laugh.

Crusher glared at her. "This is not a laughing matter, Deanna. He has to eat."

"Yes, but we both know what he's holding out for."

Realizing that no one was paying much attention to him, Picard reached out and pushed the plate of remaining chicken nuggets across the table. It clattered to the floor. He laughed. And so did Troi.

Crusher sighed. "No bottle. Not yet. I'll try some soup." She went to the replicator and returned with a bowl of chicken soup. She dipped a spoon into it and held it out to Picard. "Jean-Luc."

He stared at her, and surprisingly, he opened his mouth and allowed her to spoon feed him the warm soup. He ate it all, and when he was finished, he got up from the table and went to the sofa, climbed onto it. He leaned over, retrieved the bottle he had left on the table earlier, and proceeded to finish it.

"Let him have his dessert, Beverly," Troi said with a smile.

Crusher shrugged. "That's fine. At least he ate the soup."

~vVv~

The next several days were difficult. More so for Crusher and Troi, than they were for Picard. In some ways, he seemed to take it all in stride.

When he was aware of his surroundings, he spent much of his time talking with the counselor and the doctor. Occasionally, he read. And when the regressive episodes occurred, he would allow Crusher to read to him, or sing him songs. And Troi would play with him, draw pictures and build castles with blocks.

The transitions from awareness to regression usually happened when he was tired, or while he was actually sleeping, and so he took very little notice of the shift in his mental abilities. And the changes from regression to lucidity seemed to happen randomly. If Troi were with him, she would immediately sense the alteration in his thinking. And Crusher could see it in his eyes. They found that they could ease him back into reality by simply placing a hand against his cheek and reassuring him that he was all right, and that they were there for him.

The only situation that was extremely distressing for Picard was coming to awareness and finding himself cuddled into Crusher's arms while she held a bottle to his mouth. He would stiffen and sit up abruptly, push her hand away from his face. She would see the disgust he felt written plainly in his eyes. And although she assured him that everything was all right, the best thing to do was to take the bottle away and leave him alone for a while.

"Perhaps we should stop giving it to him all together," Troi suggested late one afternoon.

Picard had just stalked into his bedroom after "waking up" to find himself sprawled on the sofa, his bottle in hand. He'd flung it across the den, glared angrily at Crusher and Troi and disappeared into the relative safety of his bedroom. They knew from experience that he'd stay in there for at least a half hour before venturing out again.

"Deanna, he barely eats anything even when he is lucid. And when he's regressed... I put a lot of extra nutrients and vitamins into that milk," Crusher explained. "And besides, it's the sense of security that he likes."

"When he's in regression. But when he comes out of it and he sees it in his hand, he can't pretend that those regressive episodes don't exist."

"That's right." Crusher thought for a moment. "But Deanna, if we take the bottle away, then Jean-Luc could pretend that those regressive episodes don't exist. And that's not what we want. He has to learn to deal with them, until they're gone."

Troi sighed. "You're right. And you know what? I think I'm letting his emotions affect me too much these past few days." They'd only been in the cabin for a week, but it felt like months. "Beverly, I know initially that we felt it would be better for him to...go through this here in the cabin. But, I don't think we took ourselves into consideration."

They were the same thoughts that had been going through Crusher's head all day. "We're both guilty of always putting our patients' needs first, forgetting that what they need the most are well-adjusted caregivers."

Troi laughed slightly, despite the serious nature of their conversation. "Now, I'm not implying that either of us is maladjusted."

Crusher smiled. "No, of course not. But we are very isolated here."

"I'm not so sure that this cabin is what Jean-Luc needs anymore," Troi said thoughtfully. "Neither am I," Crusher concurred.

"We all need to go home." The words came from the bedroom door. Picard stood there, his arms wrapped securely in front of him.

Crusher could see that he was trembling. She patted the sofa beside her, and he slowly came and sat down next to her. She draped an arm warmly around his shoulders. "So, how much of our conversation did you hear?" she inquired.

Picard exhaled a deep breath. "All of it."

Troi studied him from across the coffee table. "And what do you think about what you heard?"

He swallowed convulsively and then answered. "I know the regressive episodes exist. I'm even beginning to remember some aspects of them."

Crusher sat up. "Are you?"

Picard nodded. 'Yes. Does that mean something?"

Troi answered. "It might. I know that when dealing with psychological regression, the ability for the conscious part of the mind to remember the regressive episodes is an indication of acceptance. And acceptance allows integration."

Crusher rubbed a hand along Picard's back. "And even though your regression is partly physiological, the same may hold true. After all, your neural receptors are trying to integrate new ways of thinking."

"And it's not all physiological anyway, is it, Deanna?" Picard asked, knowing the answer already.

"No. There are psychological elements as well." She smiled, proud to hear him admit it to himself.

"I will get better?"

Crusher and Troi exchanged glances.

"We still think so," Crusher assured him.

"But it may take a few more weeks," Troi added.

Picard considered the counselor's words. "I'd still like to go home. If it's all right."

Crusher pulled him closer to her. "It's more than all right."

Picard smiled with relief. "And as for the other matter..."

Crusher wasn't sure what he was referring to at first, but Troi knew. And the doctor realized also with Picard's next words.

"Please, don't give it to me anymore."

~vVv~

While Troi contacted the Enterprise and made the arrangements for their return, Crusher walked Picard back into his bedroom. He shrugged out of his robe, and tiredly climbed into bed. He allowed the doctor to tuck the covers around his shoulders.

"I guess it's bedtime?" he asked, suppressing a yawn.

Crusher sat on the edge of his bed, smiling down at him. "Close enough. Are you tired?"

"Exhausted," he admitted.

She smoothed her hand over his forehead. "You're sure you want to go back to the ship?"

"I'm sure. I..." He yawned again and rubbed at his eyes. "I don't know what I'll do there, but I want to go back."

"So do I. New Colorado is beautiful. But it's not the Enterprise."

"No. It's not."

Picard was silent for a few moments, his eyes half closed. Crusher thought he was falling asleep, but then he spoke.

"Beverly, if I'm never able to regain command-"

"Jean-Luc, it's not time to think about that."

He opened his eyes and looked up at her. "No. Listen to me. If I'm never able to regain command, you have to make Will understand that he has to take over the Enterprise."

Crusher sighed and repeated her words. "It's not time to think about that. And besides, if that time comes, which it won't, you can talk to Will yourself."

Picard's eyes widened. "No. I don't want to talk to him."

Crusher's expression grew even more concerned and she ran her hand along Picard's arm. "Why not?"

"I...I don't want him to see me like this."

"You mean, when we're back on board the ship, you don't want to see Will at all."

Picard nodded.

"But, Jean-Luc..."

He reached out, grabbed hold of her hand and held it tightly. "Please, Beverly. I...I can't see him. Not yet. Just you and Deanna. All right?" His eyes pleaded with her.

She smiled slightly, reassuringly. "All right," she promised. "Now, you get some sleep." She leaned over and kissed his cheek.

He closed his eyes, and still holding her hand, he drifted off to sleep.

~vVv~

"The ship will return for us in the morning," Troi said when Crusher emerged from Picard's room fifteen minutes later.

The doctor didn't respond, but walked over to the sofa and sat down wearily, running her hands through her hair. Troi went over and sat beside her.

"Beverly?"

Crusher let out a deep breath. "He's giving up, Deanna."

"What do you mean?"

"He doesn't believe that he's going to get better. He's preparing himself to give permanent command to Will. Only he doesn't want to see Will when we get back to the ship."

"I think he'll change his mind about seeing Will. Or Will will change it for him." Troi smiled. "He'll want to see the captain. And Will Riker doesn't take no for an answer."

"But he doesn't want him to see him like he is now. And I think...I think we have to respect that, Deanna."

"We will. For a while. But, Beverly," Troi reached over and touched Crusher's arm, "eventually we're going to have to help Jean-Luc face some things he's afraid of. He can't avoid Will for the rest of his life. And regardless of the outcome of his recovery, he can't stay here or in his quarters forever."

Crusher drew in another deep breath and let it out slowly. "You're right. I'm just frightened for him. His sense of control has always been so important to him, and every time it's taken away, I feel like a little bit of him dies." Tears had filled Crusher's eyes, and she hastily tried to brush them away.

Troi moved her hands to her friend's shoulders, holding her securely. "Beverly."

Crusher shook her head. "I don't want to lose him, Deanna."

Troi pulled her into an embrace. "You won't," she promised.

~vVv~