He turned from the window as the chime sounded and for a moment he thought about simply not answering. But of course he had called the meeting after too many sleepless nights, and if he cancelled she would contact him daily until he maintained the appointment. So he walked over and opened the door portal. The grey eyes of the counselor raised to meet his; her arms were crossed loosely behind her back, and she was in uniform. He realized that she was making it obvious to anyone observing that she was making a professional visit, not revealing that this was in fact a counseling appointment.

"May I?" Her polite request (she always requested, never assumed) came with a tilted chin, and he stepped aside for her to enter. She made a perfunctory glance around his quarters, then chose to go and sit at the table, which was somewhat surprising. He expected her to choose a chair or even the couch. Carefully, he sat down across from her, laying his palms flat on the cool surface. The last time he had sat across a table from someone else, Beverly had been the person across from him.

The counselor folded her hands on the tabletop, and vaguely Picard noted the scaled ridges trailing into her uniform sleeves, markers of her part-Cardassian heritage. Had he accepted her posting because he wanted to test himself after his experiences with the Gul? Even after all these years, occasionally the horror came floating back in his dreams. With a start, he realized that he had been sitting motionless for some time, staring at her hands. He raised his eyes and met her steady gaze, noting the subtle ridges around and across her face, framing her patient eyes.

She was waiting for him to speak. She would wait for hours, if needed. This is why he had been opening up to her over the previous weeks. She was always there, always waiting, and he realized that finally, finally, he was ready to speak with her.

He cleared his throat and began to push the words out. "I think I need I'm finished with the Enterprise. I never should have come back. My heart belongs elsewhere. With someone."

From: Crusher, Admiral Beverly; Starfleet Medical

To: Picard, Admiral (Acting Captain) Jean-Luc; USS Enterprise

Jean-Luc,

As I was sharing in our last transmission before I was called away (sorry about that – I know you understand; that's why I'm writing a message. It seems that we are less likely to be interrupted when we send old-fashioned written correspondence to each other), we've made substantial progress in managing the cellular deterioration. I've included a packet of information with this message. Please pass it along to your Chief Medical Officer, and if he has any questions, have him contact me directly. My research team would value his contributions.

Now, to rest your concerns you were attempting to voice: I'm fine. Perfectly fine. My own cellular deterioration has been halted, as in all of the humanoid subjects. And your crew should be safe, as well, as long as they don't go through a rift. The next step in our research is to determine whether we can regress the changes. But even if we cannot, I do not see any imminent danger of additional deterioration in any patients exposed to the anomalies. So, I'm fine. Stop worrying about me.

I do miss you, though. Desperately. Finish up your work out in the stars, and then come to Earth. I'll be waiting for you.

Yours,

Beverly

The distress signal contained the signature of a smaller Federation vessel - it was the most basic, simple message a ship could transmit, broadcast on all frequencies, used only when there was no hope left. Picard scrolled through the words, then saw the addition – a giant packet of information. Preliminary specs of an unknown vessel, battle tactics against the ship, then the results of implementation, abruptly cut off as if the Federation ship's transmission ended unexpectedly. As though the ship had been destroyed through battle or an auto destruct sequence.

Picard put the Enterprise on yellow alert as he absorbed the data, hearing the security team behind him on the bridge begin to mutter. Then the Enterprise rocked, and the enemy ship came out of cloak. It was unfamiliar, a sleek vessel, dark and elongated, wielding an energy beam that carved a slice out of one nacelle, causing alarms to shriek all across the bridge.

Picard wasn't about to let the Enterprise fall without a fight. "Evasive maneuvers, and full attack."

Moments later, Picard watched the enemy ship explode on the viewscreen in a silent burst of yellow and white sparks. He sucked in a breath, then another, carefully unclenching his hands from the armrests. Swiping blood away from his forehead, hissing silently at the sting, he looked around at the bridge crew. They were all alive, which was more than he had expected. Battered, bruised, some burned, but all alive.

The Enterprise was nearly dead in space. Minimal warp capabilities, part of hull simply sliced away from that odd weapon. Pockets of the ship had internal damage from the few creatures who were able to board.

There were casualties.

Picard took another breath. The Enterprise had no hope of continuing the survey mission in its condition. "Helm, set a course for the closest shipyard."

"The Sol system, sir?"

"Yes."

The celebratory mood behind Beverly Crusher faded into the background as she read her padd. She had given the research team a bottle of champagne to celebrate their accomplishment; there was in fact a way to reverse the cellular deterioration, and their results were being transmitted across the quadrant even as they toasted their successful research.

Beverly covered her mouth in horror as she continued to read. A gentle touch upon her shoulder brought her back to the research lab, and she looked up to see a host of concerned faces staring at her.

"Admiral?" The biologist met her eyes with a concerned look, and the rest of the team regarded her worriedly. With a sigh, Beverly posted the confidential report on the main viewer on the wall. Stifled gasps, then a tense silence fell throughout the lab.

Three Federation ships were completely destroyed. Twenty-seven were severely compromised and in need of external assistance, either headed to Earth or awaiting a tow to the nearest star base. Detailed data on the enemy ships – sleek, unfamiliar war vessels - was lacking. The only confirmation was that the ships came out of three of the rifts. Federation patrols were assembling around all known rifts in wait of other invaders.

Beverly looked back down at her padd and brought up the table of compromised ships. The Enterprise was listed in stark, emotionless typeface.