In many ways, they were just as isolated back on board the Enterprise as they had been on the planet. Crusher knew that Picard was relieved to be on the ship, but also uneasy. He spent a lot of time sitting quietly, reading or looking out the viewport. He was reluctant to talk, as if talking would somehow cause him to slip into regression. She allowed him his time alone, but checked on him often, needing to reassure herself that he was all right.

She stopped and leaned against the door frame, silently watching him. He sat on the edge of his bed, turned away from her, staring out the viewport. The last time she'd checked on him, he'd been reading, but the book lay open on the floor in front of him now, as if it had slipped from his hand unnoticed.

"Jean-Luc?" she spoke his name quietly, not wanting to surprise him.

"I'm here," he answered, equally as quiet, not turning to face her.

She breathed a soft sigh of relief. He was still with her. "You're awfully quiet in here," she said, crossing over to the bed.

He shrugged. "Just tired," he murmured.

She laid a hand on his shoulder. "Well then, let's get you in bed." She tried to help him up so that she could pull the blankets back.

"I don't need you to tuck me in," he snapped suddenly, pushing her hand away.

Crusher stepped back. "Of course, you don't. I'll, uh...just be next door if you do need anything." She started to leave.

"Beverly." His voice was hoarse, low. Don't go.

She stopped and waited. I'm here.

He turned his head away from the viewport. Tears were trailing down his cheeks. "I'm...sorry," he whispered. He rubbed the back of his hand over his eyes. "I...I, um..." He gasped, fighting the sobs that welled within him. Don't go.

Crusher returned to the bed and sat down beside him, gently wrapped an arm around his back. "I know, Jean-Luc," she soothed, allowing him to lay his head on her shoulder. "I know."

And she did know; she understood. He was frightened, and it was a fear that he couldn't explain, couldn't put into words.

"I'm here. Jean-Luc." She hugged him closer. "We're both here."

~vVv~

He cried.

And she held him.

He cried.

And she rocked him in her arms.

He cried.

And she held a cup to his lips.

Angrily, he pushed it away.

He cried.

And then, he slept.

And she cried.

~vVv~

He was sleeping quietly now, on top of the blankets, his head on Crusher's lap. She leaned against the pillows, one hand gently stroking his back. She knew, even while he slept, that he was in regression. His thumb was pushed half-way into his mouth, and she ran the fingers of her other hand over his chin, wiping away the saliva that had drooled from his lips. He shifted at her touch, his cheek pressing closer to her thigh. He exhaled a deep, long breath, but continued to sleep.

And Crusher was relieved. He needed to sleep. He'd cried for almost an hour, and nothing she said or did gave him any comfort. She'd rocked him, and sung to him, and tried to get him to drink some warm milk from a cup. He would have nothing to do with it, and she knew why. She knew what he wanted. What she and Troi had agreed not to give to him. And she hadn't broken their promise, though a part of her had wanted to break it, had wanted to give him anything to make his pain go away.

But he was peaceful now, and Crusher released a sigh of relief, her hand rubbing the back of his neck. She heard the outer door open and close, and she looked up, expecting to see Troi. Instead, she found Will Riker standing in the bedroom doorway.

"Will, what are you doing here?" she asked quietly.

"I wanted to see him. I talked to Deanna. She knows I'm here."

Crusher shook her head. "I'm not sure if it's a good idea."

"Deanna said you would say that. She told me to tell you that it's time." He stepped over and sat down on the chair beside the bed.

Gently, Crusher ran her hand over Picard's back. She sighed. "Deanna's right. He misses you. But his stubborn pride gets in the way."

"I've missed him, too." Riker hesitated. "I'd like...to wait until he wakes up."

Crusher frowned slightly. "I don't know...how he'll be."

"It doesn't matter." Riker smiled. "I just want to be here." With him.

~vVv~

A half hour later, Picard's eyes blinked open and he yawned, his hand rubbing over his face. He stretched, legs pushing toward the end of the bed, arms extending above his head.

Even without using a tricorder, Crusher could tell what his mental state was. After watching him closely for the past several weeks, she knew the differences in his movements. But still, she took the tricorder from the bedside table and ran it over him. His brain activity was low, but not as low as it had been. His regressive episodes were maturing. Into "toddler years," Troi had said just the day before. He was more verbal and inquisitive, less frightened of his environment. Crusher wondered how he would be with Riker.

She handed the tricorder to the first officer, letting him see the lowered readings. Riker glanced at them and nodded, then sat back in his chair, allowing Picard time to wake up and adjust to his surroundings.

Picard's eyes were wide open now, staring up at the viewport above the bed. He smiled and rolled over toward Crusher, putting his hand out to her.

She took the offered hand, held it to her cheek for a moment, and then kissed it. Picard laughed softly.

"Hey there, did you sleep well?" she asked.

He nodded and sat up, pressing himself into her arms for a hug. Crusher held him close and whispered into his ear. "There's someone here to see you."

Riker saw Picard's shoulders tense at the doctor's words. He understood what she was saying. Slowly, he turned, still in her embrace, and stared over his shoulder, his expression one of open curiosity and only a touch of fear.

"Hello, Jean-Luc," Riker said quietly, leaning toward him.

Picard tilted his head in a curious manner, and then, pulling away from Crusher slightly, he reached his hand toward Riker. His fingers brushed against the younger man's beard.

"Will," he whispered, a smile lighting his face.

"That's right. It's me. Will."

Picard looked back at Crusher, his eyes questioning despite his smile.

"It is Will," she assured him, and then took a deep breath. "Why don't we ask Will to eat lunch with us."

Picard glanced back at the man. "Lunch...Will?"

Riker nodded. "I'd like that, Jean-Luc."

~vVv~

The peanut butter and jelly sandwich had been pushed aside, only half eaten, in favor of the wooden puzzle that was spread across one end of the dining table. Picard stared intently at the pieces, his large fingers manipulating them, occasionally pushing them into Riker's hand.

The first officer sat across from him, his own sandwich virtually untouched. But he had finished two cups of coffee and was starting on his third. He noticed that the doctor's appetite wasn't any better than his.

"I find that I'm not very hungry most of the time," Crusher said as she cleared away the plates. She left Picard's plate where it was, knowing that he would be upset if he reached out for the rest of his sandwich and found it gone. "I try to eat with him when he's not in regression. I think it makes him feel more comfortable."

Riker nodded and then smiled as Picard took his hand, turned it over and pressed a puzzle piece into it. He tried fitting it into the puzzle on the table, but Picard pushed his hand away.

"He just wants you to hold it," Crusher explained. She'd watched him with Troi the day before. He liked to put the pieces together himself.

Riker turned his hand back over, fingers spread, palm up, so that Picard could put the various pieces in his hand and take them out when he wanted them.

"Deanna was right. He really is like..." Riker"s voice trailed off.

"Like a three-year-old," Crusher finished his thought.

Reluctantly, Riker inclined his head in agreement.

"But he's growing," Crusher continued. "Every day. He's talking more when he's in regression, trying to do more things for himself. Like that puzzle. A week ago he could barely put one block on top of another."

Riker studied the puzzle before him, could see that several of the pieces were connected correctly, and the image was beginning to take shape. It was a starship.

"How long does each episode last?" he asked.

Crusher sighed. "It varies. A matter of minutes, several hours. Although they seem to be growing shorter since we've been back on board."

"And does he remember anything about them?"

Crusher shrugged. "Sometimes I think he does. He told us last week that he was beginning to recall some things. But...he doesn't like to talk about it a lot. Deanna tries to get him to discuss them. But it's stressful."

Picard's hand covered Riker's, and he started to pick up one of the puzzle pieces, but then he froze, his fingers tightening around the younger man's. Riker looked over at him; Picard's shoulders flinched and his head shook. Riker glanced back at Crusher. She moved around the side of the table and placed her hand on Picard's back.

"Beverly?" Riker said quietly.

She shook her head as if to silence him. Her hand smoothed over Picard's neck.

A few seconds later, Picard looked up, and his eyes locked onto Riker's. Immediately, he looked away, down toward the table, saw that his hand was clenched around his first officer's hand. He pulled it away and got up from the table. He glanced at Crusher. She could tell he was angry.

"Jean-Luc..." She reached for him, but he moved away quickly, crossing the cabin and disappearing into his bedroom.

Crusher exhaled a long breath, her hands resting on the back of the chair that Picard had just vacated. "He doesn't want to see you. And yet he does." She moved to follow him, but Riker stood up.

"Let me go."

"Will..."

Riker placed a hand on her arm. "He needs to see me, Beverly. You know that. Whether he's in regression or not."

Crusher looked up into Riker's eyes, saw the concern evident in them. He squeezed her arm. "I care about him, too. He'll be all right." She nodded. And Riker turned and went into the next room.

Picard stood on the opposite side of the bed, staring out of the viewport, his back to the doorway.

"Captain?" Riker's voice was low.

"Please leave."

Riker took a step further into the room.

Picard knew he was still there. "I don't want you here." He was fighting to keep his voice steady.

"I know. But I want to be here."

"Leave, Commander." Picard turned around. He was shaking, his fists pushed into the pockets of his robe. "That's an order."

Riker drew in a deep breath and sat down in the bedside chair. "You can't give orders right now. I'm sorry."

Picard stared at him, then he turned away and sank onto the side of the bed, defeated, his shoulders sagging. "I may never give orders again," he breathed, his voice husky.

"That's where you're wrong. This is just temporary. You know that."

"No..." He shook his head. "I don't know..." He gasped and rubbed his hand over his face and eyes. "Please... Will... I don't want you...involved...with this."

"But I'm already involved. You chose me to be your first officer. That means your health is one of my main concerns. And I want to be a part of your recovery."

"If I recover," Picard murmured.

But Riker heard. "So that when you recover, our working relationship will be strengthened. And when you go back on the bridge, and you will, you'll know that you can depend on me."

"I already know that," Picard said quietly.

Riker stood up and stepped around to the other side of the bed. "Then depend on me now."

Picard looked up at the tall man standing beside him, and he sighed, blinking back the tears that still filled his eyes. "So...what do you want to do, now that you're here?"

Riker smiled slightly. "We could go back into the next room and discuss ship's business."

"And when I'm not able to discuss business, what then?"

"Well, there's a puzzle on the dining table that needs finishing. Perhaps we could finish it together."

~vVv~

"Aren't you glad you let him stay?" Crusher smiled down at Picard from where she sat on the edge of his bed. Her hand brushed along the side of his face, her fingers feathering along his neck.

He shifted in the bed, pulling the covers closer around him, adjusting the pillow under his head. Even when he wasn't in regression, Crusher still insisted on tucking him in at bedtime. It aggravated him sometimes, but deep down, he liked it. It made him feel safe.

"I didn't let him stay, Beverly," he answered with a sigh. "I had no choice. He reminded me that I couldn't give orders."

"You know what I mean. It was good to talk to him, wasn't it?"

Picard let out a heavy breath. "Yes," he admitted, "it was good to talk to him. But it...it bothers me to know that he's here when... when I'm not myself."

Crusher ran her hand over his forehead. "Try not to worry about it. Besides, there's a part of you that needs Will to be there during those times."

'You're beginning to sound like Deanna," he complained.

Crusher smiled. "I'm sorry." She glanced over at the bedside table. A cup of warm milk was sitting there. "Do you want any more milk before I lower the lights?"

Picard shook his head. "No. I'm fine."

"Good. I'm glad to hear you say that." She leaned down and kissed his cheek. "Now, try to get a good night's sleep. I'll be right next door if you need me."

She stood up.

Picard's hand reached out and grabbed hold of her arm. "Beverly? Would you...would you sit with me? Just for a while?"

She settled back onto the edge of the bed. "Of course, I will." She touched the panel on the bedside table and lowered the lights manually.

Picard turned over on his side, his hand reaching out for hers. She squeezed his fingers, and felt him return the pressure.

"Goodnight, Jean," she whispered.

"G'night."

~vVv~