The Low Ground

It had been a bad day, he decided, leaning heavily against the wall of the shower and letting the sonics clean him. If only they could remove the blackness that weighed him down, pressing against his mind and heart.

Seventy-four dead. The number haunted him. The entire ship's compliment lost to a faulty power coupling. His fist came up, striking at the controls, switching from the gentle hum of sonics to the brisk force of hot water. How could they have been so careless?

He was tired, bone-weary, and in desperate need of a vacation. Even if he did pretend to dislike them so much. He lifted his face into the water and let a forbidden thought free; he needed to get away from Beverly.

It had been nearly a year now; not really a long time. It felt like eons.

He quashed the traitorous feelings and tabbed off the water. He rubbed himself dry, dragging the towel roughly across his enervated skin. He hoped she was already asleep.

"Jean-Luc?" the light knock startled him and he swore.

"Yes, yes. I'll be right out." Couldn't she leave him alone for even five minutes?

He wrapped the towel securely around his waist wishing that he had brought his pajamas into the bathroom. If she saw him like this, she'd probably want sex, and he was not in the mood.

He wiped the moisture away from the mirror and frowned at his reflection in the foggy glass. There was a time when he couldn't imagine ever having enough of Beverly Crusher. For twenty years she had been his dream. Now it felt more like a nightmare.

A sound from beyond the bathroom door brought him back. Enough wallowing. He was tired, he needed rest. Everything would seem different in the morning. No matter that he had said the very same thing for the last three nights.

She was in bed reading, one of those ridiculous bows in her hair. She smiled up at him, and he could feel her watching as he walked to the dresser for pajamas. Just to annoy her he put on the top first, fastening it before dropping the towel and pulling on the pants. He kept his back to her as he straightened, taking the time to place the towel in the reprocessor neatly. She tended to leave her wet towels lying on the floor until morning. He hated that.

She didn't say anything as he climbed into bed, a padd clutched in one hand. Instead, she just watched as he adjusted his pillow and tried to get comfortable. He wished she'd just say whatever it was that was on her mind and let him get some rest. Instead, she closed her book and set it on the nightstand. Settling down, she leaned close and gave him a light kiss on the cheek. "Good night, Jean-Luc," she whispered quietly. "I love you."

He looked down at her, surprised and a little annoyed that she was going to sleep. With a sigh he put the padd aside and settled against her, dimming the lights. He really did need rest.

*****

He'd been growing more distant and edgier by the day. She knew this was coming and had already prepared. Not that it didn't hurt, but she could understand how he felt - clearly his feelings were very like her own.

The deaths of those 74 people had left her too raw to maintain the façade for him. She barely had the strength to pull herself through the day. There was nothing left for playacting. Jean-Luc would have to work through this on his own.

It wasn't confinement she decided as she slipped out of their bed hours later when he had finally settled into a deep sleep. It was more like boundaries, the restrictions of this ship, their positions, his captain's image - it was all too stifling right now.

Sometimes she longed for the solitude of her own cabin and the relief of being able to walk away from his dark moods and neediness.

Sometimes he made her tired.

The conference on Kelvor wasn't a particularly interesting one - there were no notable speakers to pique her interest; no seminar topics to catch her attention - still, it was close enough to get there in a shuttle yet far enough that Jean-Luc didn't have to justify his not going with her.

As compensation, she supposed, he threw in an extra week's stay - although she didn't have any leave time left. She'd used it all up a few months ago for a trip to Caldos.

She accepted the offer at face value, not thinking too hard about his motive for sending her away for two weeks. The time apart would be good for both of them.

*****

Two days later:

She boarded the shuttle early, having skipped breakfast to avoid the stilted conversation that seemed to have replaced their comfortable morning chats. She had wanted Jean-Luc to hold her last night - perhaps even make love to her - but his manner had put an end to that. Now she was eager to leave, tired of the bittersweet pain of the last few days.

Will came to see her off and his warm embrace brightened her mood considerably. Although neither had said anything, she knew that he and Deanna were aware of the problems she and Jean-Luc were facing.

"Take care of him," she said softly.

"Take care of you," he countered, smiling. "Let Deanna and me worry about the captain."

"Deal. Don't have too much fun while I'm gone," she teased, knowing how much Will loved these extended star-charting jaunts. She took a seat and started her final pre-flight check as they talked.

"Only if you promise to have some fun for me. From what I've read, this place has plenty of diversions." He raised his eyebrows and stepped towards the door. "Take notes if you have to. I'll expect a full report."

"Aye, aye skipper," she answered, saluting his back side. "Now get off my ship. Those diversions are waiting."

"Yes sir," he replied smartly tapping the door control. As it slid shut he shouted out, "Don't forget to show up at the conference once in a while Doc. Gotta justify this joyride somehow."

She tapped the launch warning button, startling him with the loud alarm. His laughter sounded even as the door closed and he hurried away from the shuttle.

As soon as she had the all clear signal from the bridge, she left, gliding smoothly out of the shuttle bay and banking hard to the right. She spared one moment to look back and think of Jean-Luc before setting course for Kelvor.

*****

Jean-Luc Picard didn't know what to do with himself. He'd been so anxious for Beverly to leave. Now all he could do was wish for her presence - her voice, her warmth. She had only been gone 4 days but it felt much longer.

He consoled himself by cleaning out the storage crates that had been annoying him. Beverly had never fully unpacked when she moved into his quarters and her stuff was taking up most of his storage space. Time to get things in order without her distracting him with silly reminiscences.

*****

The blast caught her in the left shoulder, sending her off balance as she jumped. She twisted hard to the left to compensate, missing her footing by mere centimeters. A second blast caught her on the ribs - the right side this time - and she fell hard against the dark water.

She gagged and choked, fighting her way to the surface, trying to dodge the weapons fire. A small, sharp object caught her hard on the back of the head, the pain making her vision go red. She tried to shake it off, letting the water carry her away from her pursuers. The narrow channel broadened and she mustered enough strength to turn herself towards the far side where a low bank jutted into the water in the distance.

The water was cold and she was shivering, sharp rocks twisting under her feet, tearing at the flesh through the soft sandals she wore. Darkness tinted the edge of her vision and an odd lethargy pulled at her arms and legs, slowing her movements.

Behind her, the shouts were growing more distant as the current rushed her away. Determined, she dragged herself across the path of the flowing water, making for the bank. More than once, she lost her footing when a stone twisted suddenly beneath her. She swallowed more than one mouthful of the dark water; the aftertaste of minerals made her mouth dry.

She threw herself onto the ground, lying helplessly for a few moments as she caught her breath. Her head was pounding and the darkness took over more of her vision. Fighting hard, she pulled herself upright and staggered into the brush.

*****

Jean-Luc Picard closed the storage crate and shoved it aside. There was only one left, a small one on the top shelf. He surveyed the boxes around him and was pleased. Beverly had been gone 6 days already and he had been using the time to finish some long-delayed chores – like cleaning their storage space. He had packed much more efficiently than Beverly, managing to get all the items in just over half the number of crates.

With a grunt, he yanked the carton out and down, surprised when the lid came loose and small items rained down around him. A small case bounced off his head, then clattered to the floor. He heard the sound of at least one thing breaking, and for a moment he felt guilty for his actions.

Jean-Luc quickly pulled the carton down and set it on the floor. After clearing the breakage he picked up the case certain he had never seen it before. It was thin and gray, but long and wide enough to hold several padds. There was a clasp on one side which he quickly unfastened, not letting himself think about his actions.

It wasn't an invasion of Beverly's privacy, he assured himself. They were lovers, after all; they shared everything.

He didn't recognize the items in the case at first, as he puzzled over the few sheets of rough paper and the clipboard that secured them. He flipped through once, twice, studying the sketches. Beverly's eyes, her hands, her face...

Betrayal washed through him like bile, making him swallow convulsively. He knew what this was...

Clutching the clipboard in his hands he stormed away, feeling nothing but hatred for the woman he loved.

*****

Her head hurt. Her feet hurt. Her... Oh, everything hurt. She tried to assess the situation, to divine where she was by the sound, the smell and the touch of the place. She couldn't see anything, but she wasn't sure if it was dark or if her eyes weren't working properly. Her face felt funny and hot.

After a while there were voices. She tried to move, and found that her arms and legs wouldn't respond. She couldn't feel her fingers or her toes, and it was still dark.

A brilliant light shattered the darkness, bringing moisture to her eyes. She blinked against the intensity and squinted, trying to make out forms or shapes. Nothing.

Just as she was going to try her voice, a figure came into view. It was a man, or at least she thought it was. He had lots of dark hair, just over shoulder-length and a roundish face. Unthinking, she whispered his name, "Finn."

Unsmiling, he reached down and slapped her hard across the face.

*****

He thought of tearing the pages, the desire to rip them asunder with his bare hands almost irresistible. They were already wrinkled from where he gripped them.

One thought tumbled against the other, fighting for dominance in his mind. Unable to contain his turmoil, he began to pace. He tried one emotion and another, modeling each one and discarding it. At length he calmed and reason took over.

Beverly did everything for a reason. She was a very methodical woman. He just needed to understand her method and it would all make sense. What possible reason would she have for keeping a few sketches drawn by the terrorist who had kidnapped her and who had threatened the Enterprise? A man who had threatened her son.

It made no sense, and at long last he laid the pages on the dining room table and went to sleep. His dreams that night were not pleasant ones.

*****

She was dreaming, or at least she hoped she was. There was a funny tingling in one arm, like pins and needles, and her head hurt. There was a steady murmur around her and at last she couldn't stand it. She opened her eyes, blinking to adjust to the gloom. Vague shapes surrounded her, at least as far as she could see. She blinked several more times and tried to turn over. That's when she realized what the prickling sensation was.

Her hands were bound together with heavy manacles. The cuffs closed tightly around her narrow wrists making it painful to move her fingers. She flexed them several times to be sure nothing was damaged or broken. It hurt, but it was nothing serious. Curious, she lifted her head slightly to examine the rest of her body, finding a matching set of manacles on her ankles.

Memories came back slowly, half remembered through the haze of pain and shock. The medical conference had been staggeringly boring and she'd snuck away to see the famous waterfalls she'd read about. She'd heard about the mysterious disappearance of two of the other attendees, but since the general consensus was that they were off sight-seeing, she hadn't given it much thought. Then the men had appeared, dressed all wrong for a day of walking nature trails, and carrying weapons.

She had tried to avoid them, slipping off the path into the woods, hoping to double back to her transport and half believing she was just being paranoid. Until they started chasing her. She had been captured shortly after leaving the water, still shivering from the shock of the cold water. Her captors had not been gentle with her, marching her through the brush uncaring of her tender feet and aching body.

One of the men had been impatient with her, shouting in a language she didn't understand. She tried to understand what he wanted, but his words were too loud and too fast. In the end he had struck her and she remembered nothing clearly until her awakening just a few minutes before.

Somewhere in there she must have been dreaming. For the first time in more than a year she thought of Finn, the Rutian terrorist who had kidnapped her. There had been something about the man that had intrigued her, and she had mourned his unnecessary death in private, unable and unwilling to explain the mixture of feelings that she didn't understand herself.

She was still puzzling that out when the overhead lights went on and four of her captors arrived.

"What is your name?" the nearest man demanded. She could understand him, but he still spoke with a heavy accent.

"I am a doctor attending the conference at the capitol city."

The man raised his had to strike her but the woman at his side stopped him. They conferred in low tones for a few moments before turning back to her.

"You are Doctor Beverly Crusher, Chief Medical Officer on the Federation flagship."

She didn't respond, trying to keep her expression neutral, desperate for some semblance of control.

"I have no desire to play children's games. You have information. We require it. If you cooperate, you will be allowed to leave in a few hours. If you do not cooperate, I will be forced to persuade you." He leaned close, his breath hot on her face. "If I can not persuade you, there are many others here who are anxious to try. But their methods are more... physical than mine." To prove his point he slid one had over the swell of her breast, pinching the nipple hard. "I'm sure you understand..."

She nodded slowly, trying to pull away from his hands, but unable to move. They eyed each other, taking each other's measure. At long last he straightened and stepped back.

"Now that we understand each other, you will cooperate, I am sure. What is your name?" She didn't answer, her expression icy calm to hide as she fought to control her anger and fear.

"I asked you for your name."

Again she didn't answer.

"This is the last time I will ask. What is your name?"

She saw the blow coming, watching as he raised his hand to strike her, but as he was about to hit, pain struck her from behind. She twisted her head around, trying to see something other that the mocking smiles of her jailers. While she was looking away, she was struck again.

It went like that for a while, questions and pain coming from all directions while Beverly slipped in and out of awareness. At long last the man questioning her straightened and started to turn away. He was sweating a little from his exertions, and a fine line of sweat beaded his upper lip. Beverly concentrated on this as he asked her one last question.

"I give you one last chance to save yourself, Doctor Crusher. Or should I say Locutus of Borg?"

He laughed at her expression, and kept laughing as he motioned the others towards her before walking away.

*****

Deanna had a mission. Beverly had been gone 6 days and still the captain had not relaxed. If anything, he was more tense than when she left. And it wasn't a good tense. This had nothing to do with missing his lover.

Deanna wasn't too concerned over the feelings of betrayal and anger she sensed - that was common for any time Beverly went away. In a day or two she was sure those feelings would change to longing, or even desire.

What she didn't understand was the disappointment. What had Beverly done?

*****

"I must say I am disappointed." The round-faced man had returned. He was looking down at her, his face a mask of disgust and disdain. "I had expected the notorious Locutus to be someone stronger. Yet here you are, pathetic and groveling on this filthy floor. Hardly an image to strike fear into humanoids throughout the universe." He prodded her with the toe of his boot.

Beverly moaned softly and curled into herself. She had been half-drowned, starved and beaten, but none of her many jailers had assaulted her sexually and for that she was thankful.

She had been thinking of Finn again, remembering how she had argued with him, how she had defied him. He had permitted her small rebellions, even encouraged them as he watched her tend the injured. He almost seemed to enjoy their arguments, as if he was trying to put fire into her eyes and a flush into her cheeks for his drawings.

She squinted up at the man standing over her. She had never really been afraid of Finn but she was afraid of this man and his helpers. Truly afraid that she wouldn't get home safe and sound to the Enterprise.

*****

He was afraid he would never see her again. Although he knew it was foolish, it was the thought that occupied his mind almost every moment of his day. The hidden clipboard full of drawings did more than bring back embarrassing and unpleasant memories, it proved how little he truly knew the woman he shared his life with.

He had tried, beyond counting, to find ways to understand why she would have kept this. It wasn't a matter of simple longing. It was Beverly, and like everything associated with the woman, it was complicated.

Sighing, he leaned back in his chair and wished with all his might for something simple.

*****

"It's very simple." The woman told her, speaking in whispers as she leaned close to Beverly. For the moment they were alone in the dirty cell and Beverly couldn't help but feel relieved, hoping this woman would offer some help. "All they want," she continued, "is for you to tell them how they did it. How did the Borg integrate their technology into humanoid bodies without the risk of rejection? How were they able to assimilate people so quickly and efficiently?" She stroked Beverly's fevered forehead with a cool cloth. "Just tell them and you can go home."

Beverly closed her eyes, trying not to reveal her revulsion at even being asked such a thing. She'd heard her captors talking, little snatches of conversation here and there when they thought she was unconscious. From what she had pieced together it appeared that a group of renegade doctors had raided the medical conference looking for colleagues to help in their goal of achieving immortality. They wanted to take Borg technology and use it to replace failing biological components with mechanical ones, allowing people to live forever. Until now, the rejection rates had been too high to make this practical. With Borg technology, the rejection rate was less than one half of one percent. Of course, anyone considered a poor candidate for assimilation was killed outright, but these doctors didn't care about that. In their arrogance, they were sure that what they were considering would benefit all humanoid life forms.

It was interesting, Beverly decided, that such self-proclaimed humanitarians would resort to beatings and starvation to gain the knowledge they desired. There were moans and cries, sometimes screams from her tiny cell. The noises kept her awake when she first arrived, however long ago that was. Now she barely noticed, sometimes unable to tell if the sounds were coming from her or someone else.

"Doctor?" the woman's voice startled her and Beverly was startled to realize that she had almost drifted off to sleep. How long had it been since she had slept, she wondered.

"What's your name?" Beverly asked, her voice deep and raspy.

"Carin." The woman paused to rinse the cloth, wringing it out carefully before placing it back on Beverly's forehead. "I was a medical student on Peirol. My specialty was biomechanical implants."

Beverly studied the woman, really looking at her for the first time. In the dim lighting she had thought the woman older, her dark hair streaked with gray, her face showing the signs of age. Perhaps it was worry that lined her skin instead.

"How long?" she whispered.

"Nearly eight months." She looked away. "I didn't resist... not after the first time..."

Beverly laid her hand atop the younger woman's, not saying anything, but offering understanding. There were times since she'd been brought here that she was tempted to tell them everything. Especially when the soft, seductive voice in her head whispered promises...

Cool air on her chest startled her and she started to sit up. "What are you...?"

"Quiet! Don't let them hear." She lifted her hand up into the dim light, opening it just enough to reveal the small bar of soap concealed in her fist. "It will make you feel much better."

"He'll be angry." It worried Beverly to hear the fear in her own voice.

"He won't even notice. You're nothing more than the information you possess. As long as he thinks there's a chance of getting the information from you he won't turn you over to the others. They're the ones you have to worry about. They're already planning..." She stopped and turned her head away, wetting the cloth and working up a lather with the small soap.

"Let's not talk right now," she suggested, not looking at Beverly's face. Slowly she opened the brief shift, easing it over Beverly's tender flesh. "Sorry, I know that hurts. I wish I could get those chains off," she whispered. "He keeps the key with him all the time."

Beverly watched as Carin concentrated on washing her, the feel of the soapy cloth comforting . When it came time for her sensitive areas to be cleaned, Beverly felt herself blushing. It was oddly arousing and she couldn't help but move.

"Sorry, I'm trying not to hurt you." Carin said, not realizing the effect she was having on the injured woman.

It was a relief when Carin moved on, leaving the blood-stained wrists and ankles for last. The manacles had been loosened slightly as a reward when Beverly had finally spoken her own name aloud, admitting through tears of pain that she had been Locutus of Borg. It had been her captor's biggest triumph so far, and Beverly found herself wishing the manacles were tight again, although she knew from the feel of her wrists and ankles that the skin was seriously abraded and that there was a danger of infection.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Carin whispered as she watched Beverly fight against the tears that filled her eyes. "I've smuggled a pain tablet for you. Here, just... that's it. Now some water... It won't last long. I hope it can help you get some sleep. It should take effect soon. There now, the washing's done. Let me just fasten this. Better?"

Sleepily, Beverly nodded. "Thank you," she said, touching the younger woman's hand.

"Sleep. He's resting now. You should have a few hours. I'll try to bring you some food later." She slipped away quietly when she realized the doctor was already asleep.

*****

"I *can't* sleep," he said angrily.

"Then go to sickbay. Better yet, take some shore leave," Deanna replied calmly. "With all due respect, captain. There is no need for you to personally supervise this mission. Stellar sciences can handle it." P ALIGN=Left>

"It's impossible, Counselor. I can't take shore leave at this time."

"Have you even talked to Beverly since she left?" Deanna asked, changing tactics quickly. Getting the captain to take voluntary leave was a challenge at the best of times. She wasn't in the mood for that kind of battle today.

"Dr Crusher's schedule is quite full. I don't want to interrupt her."

"The conference ends today, sir. I am sure she will be glad to hear from you." Deanna leaned closer and lowered her voice. "She would be even happier to see you, sir. Being away from the ship would allow you to discuss..." She hesitated, watching as the captain's expression darkened. "Whatever you might wish to discuss," she finished in a hurry, standing up and smoothing her uniform. "I will await your decision, sir," she added just before making a rapid retreat.

Picard rose from his desk slowly, turning to look out the window, not seeing the spectacular view that stretched before him. He saw, instead, the look of quiet resignation that Beverly wore as she left. She had kissed him softly on the cheek, whispered goodbye and stepped away. There was a moment's hesitation as her back turned, then a straightening of her shoulders before she strode away. He tried to remember why he had been so irritated and annoyed at her, but the feelings didn't make sense now. He leaned his forehead against the window and sighed.

At length he returned to his desk, one hand idly tracing the edge of the clipboard that he had brought with him. Beverly's clipboard. He turned it over, examining the sketches that filled page after page. Images of Beverly, yet somehow not Beverly. There was something compelling about the woman in those sketches, something in the curve of the lips, in the play of light in her eyes. It was all rendered in black and white but it seemed as real as flesh.

It struck him suddenly, the full impact of what he had done - violating her privacy in his anger and fear. He had treated her possessions, and yes, he had treated her, with deliberate malice. Trembling with the realization, he was consumed with remorse. Hadn't she been violated, abused enough? How could someone who claimed to love her have committed such a criminal injustice?

Drawing his hand over the top of his head, trying to calm and soothe himself, he instructed the computer to establish a communications link with the planet. After a long wait he was informed that there was no response to his signal. Three times he tried, each time, his signal was ignored.

A cold feeling crept up the back of his spine. Something wasn't right. He strode onto the bridge and asked Worf to try to establish the link. The results were the same. Now he was worried.

*****

Beverly was worried. They had nearly broken her during the last session, and she was sure her tormentor knew it. It was almost as if he was toying with her now, drawing out the agony. It didn't matter. Soon he would have stripped her of her ability to resist. Then he would go into her mind and take whatever he wanted, just as the Borg had done.

Tears flowed freely down her face, running from the corners of her eyes down to her ears as she lay on the cold and dirty floor. She was glad that Carin wasn't here to witness her weakness. It would be bad enough when she learned that Beverly had answered almost every question asked of her just to earn a few precious seconds without pain. She knew she would not be able to withstand another session of torture and she was ashamed.

They had removed the chains from her ankles, an indication of how confident he was that he controlled her. She wished with all her soul that she was a better person; a stronger person. She hadn't been good enough to resist the Borg, and now she would fail again, providing these madmen with the information they sought.

Yes, they would use Borg technology to prolong lives, but their goal wasn't to improve the quality of life for humanoids, it was to enslave them. She was sure of it. Every question she'd been asked in the last two sessions had been about the Borg hive mind - how did it function, how were individuals integrated, how was it controlled. They claimed to have a noble purpose, of course. Madmen always did.

She had tried to resist, sure that she didn't even have the knowledge to answer such questions. It surprised her as much as her captors when she had answered, the words flowing despite her desperate attempts to stop them. Her voice sounded odd to her own ears, taking on a low, seductive tone despite the pain in her raw throat. Even the cadence of her words was different, musical somehow, with phrasing and terminology that seems foreign.

They had returned her to her cell after that, treating her more gently than they had since she arrived. They had even brought her food and water, allowing her to eat in peace rather than using it as another means of torment.

For the first time in days she was almost full, the hunger pangs quieted to a dull pang. She lay back against the wall, drawing her knees up and wrapping her arms around them for warmth. Weariness overcame her and she drifted into a half-sleep, hearing but not reacting to the voices beyond the cell door. Slowly, she slid sideways to lay on her side on the floor. Her head felt cottony and she was too weary to resist. Sleep claimed her and she never heard the cell door open or the sound of Carin's footsteps as the woman crossed the floor to take a seat beside her, stroking Beverly's hair softly as she slept.

*****

She came to awareness suddenly, her senses hyperaware. She was lying on a hard surface, her arms and legs restrained. She tried to lift her head but managed only a few centimeters before something unseen stopped her. It was cold, a penetrating sensation that chilled her through to her bones. Taking measured breaths she looked around, only to realize not what she was seeing, but how.

Understanding gripped her, making her lightheaded and nauseous. It couldn't be... But she knew that it was. Unable to deny it, she lay back, waiting for the others to come, for the thoughts to fill her head.

She waited for her.

A single tear slid from her remaining eye, the one without the Borg implant. She felt the liquid move across her skin, down until it would trail away, into her hair. Instead it stopped, poised on the curve of her face, motionless. Beverly held her breath. "You have missed me," the voice insisted, insinuating itself into her mind like a caress. "I was afraid your human lover had spoiled you."

A finger traced a path across her cheek, the touch so light she wasn't sure if she really felt it at all. A second followed, and a third. She shivered.

"So sensitive, so responsive. Like no being I have ever... known before." The voice drew her, seducing her. "Have you missed me, Locutus?"

She looked towards the sound of the voice, trying to focus in the darkness. There was an outline, a familiar face. Beverly tried to focus, to concentrate through the sensations that distracted her. She lifted one hand and found that she could move. Despite her resolve, she reached for the speaker, her hand lifting, turned palm up in supplication.

"Yes," she whispered, the word drawn from her unwilling throat. Another caress, real or imagined she wasn't sure which. The face came into focus, lips moist and inviting, lowering towards hers slowly until they met for a lingering kiss. It drew her, drawing strength from her body, resistance from her soul. She felt herself fading, losing focus, drowning... Horrified, she opened her eyes again and recognized the woman holding her. Carin!

*****

He woke with a start, frowning up in annoyance at the man standing beside him. "What is it, Number One?" he asked gruffly. He was embarrassed to have been caught napping in his ready room and even more annoyed at himself for falling asleep in the first place.

"I just wanted to let you know we're reached Kelvor, sir," Will replied calmly, keeping his expression bland. "We were finally able to establish communications. Apparently a series of hurricanes damaged some of their power relay stations and it severely disrupted planet-wide communications. There are some areas where the relays still aren't repaired. The island where Beverly is staying is one of them. I could send an away team if you'd like."

"That's not necessary, Number One. I'll be beaming down myself in a few minutes."

"I don't suppose you'd want some company.?" Will asked hopefully. "I've never been to Kelvor."

"By all means. Why don't you and the counselor join me. You can determine the extent of the damage and offer assistance if needed. Coordinate with Mr. LaForge and Worf. I'll find Beverly and we'll all report back here at 2100 hours."

"It's really not necessary for you to return to the ship, sir." Picard held up a hand to stop the rush of words.

"I never said we'd be reporting back to the ship, Number One. But we will report back to get a status report. If Beverly is needed, she won't be content to sit on the beach any more than I would be."

Riker had to concede that the captain was correct. He simply nodded and gestured for the older man to take the lead.

*****

"Quiet!" Carin hissed, her hand firmly pressed over Beverly's mouth. The older woman tried to resist, but simply didn't have the strength with her hands shackled and her body held down by the younger woman's. After a few more vain attempts, she lay still, her anger and betrayal clear in her eyes.

"I'm going to let go now, but you must stay quiet. If the guards hear..." Slowly Carin rose, moving the length of her body off of Beverly's before finally removing her hand from the doctor's mouth. "Please try to calm down, Beverly. I wasn't trying to hurt you. You were dreaming." She carefully brushed a strand of hair away from Beverly's face. "Better?"

Slowly Beverly nodded. She lay still, studying the younger woman, trying to reconcile the vision (dream?) she'd had with the reality. Carin was of average height and build for a human female. She had wavy hair that was usually pulled back into a ponytail, although strands were usually hanging loose as they were now. She was soft-spoken and tended to walk and sit with a slouch. Even now she seemed almost fearful that Beverly would cause them both to be disciplined. This was not the woman in her vision, she was certain of it.

As Beverly relaxed, Carin relaxed, offering a nervous smile. "I brought you some food, but I didn't have the heart to wake you. Then you started having a nightmare and I was afraid that you would cry out and alert the guards." She looked towards the door uneasily. "There's strict orders about you. I'm not supposed to be bringing you real food, just scraps. But some of the guards are my friends and they let me past. So long as I don't let you cause problems."

As she spoke, the woman prepared Beverly's sponge bath. At first Beverly had been disturbed by the forced intimacy of it but now it was purely a comfort, soothing and reassuring. She pushed aside the few rogue feeling that were aroused knowing that it was an unconscious response to stimuli. Carin never seemed to notice anything and her touch was always gentle and innocent.

"I brought you some fruit today. Just a few grapes, but they're fresh. I know that you had a meal earlier so I didn't think you'd be too hungry. There's a half piece of bread with butter and some cheese too. As soon as you're all clean I'll bring it over."

Beverly closed her eyes, relaxing with the gentle caresses. She was almost asleep when she heard Carin gasp.

"Quick. They're coming this way. I just need to..." The rough fabric of her tunic was dragged across her tender flesh and fastened quickly. The last of the water was wiped away and Carin quickly wrapped the contraband soap and shoved it into a dark corner of the room. She slipped one of the grapes into Beverly's mouth as she helped the woman sit up, and as soon as it was gone, she shoved the second one in after. "Hurry up, swallow it."

Beverly barely had time to swallow the second fruit before the footsteps ended outside her cell door. She was trembling, and beside her she felt Carin shaking as well. The door was pushed open and her tormentor strode in flanked by two guards.

"Well, look who's awake." He turned cold eyes on Carin. "Get out. Go back to your room." Carin hurried to obey, but as she was passing the man he grabbed her wrist and swung her towards him. "I hope you weren't being foolish. I would hate to have to remind you how to be obedient." Without waiting for her answer he dropped her wrist and dismissed her. "Go."

"Now, my lovely doctor. I have decided to give you one final chance to assist us... willingly." He stepped into the room fully with his guards and the door swung closed behind him shutting out most of the light. Beverly shivered uncontrollably and closed her eyes.

*****

Picard squinted his eyes against the bright light, slowly turning to survey the damage. It was far worse than he had imagined, with most of the buildings leveled or too unsteady to search for survivors. What must have been a pristine beach was now littered with debris ranging from tiny fragments to person-sized wreckage, some of it half-submerged in the rising tide. What he didn't see disturbed him the most as he searched with his eyes. Where were the bodies?

"This is the right island, Number one?"

"Yes sir. This is where the medical conference was taking place. The ferryman," Will gestured to a distraught young man seated under a tree nearby. "He said he remembers seeing many people out here just yesterday."

"Any readings?" Picard asked, indicating the tricorder.

"Nothing. Just those few hotel staff we found when we first arrived. They were injured, but the doctors believe they will all survive. Unfortunately, none of them know where the missing people are."

"The Enterprise scanned the ocean?"

"Readings were inconclusive. Geordi is working on a scanner modification that should offset the false readings given off by some of the sea-life."

"Good." Picard looked away, towards the trails that led into the woods. So far, scans had been negative, but he couldn't resist the urge to look for himself. "I'll just take a short walk."

"We both will, sir. There's nothing for us to here at the moment anyway." Picard nodded, no reaction permitted while he wore his captain's expression. Leaving Data in charge, they strolled towards the nearest trail, giving the ruined hotel a wide berth.

*****

There was nothing like it - the feel of cold metal against naked flesh. Beverly flinched, trying to contract herself, to move away from the forbidden touch. The restraints held her immobile. Her eyes were open, she was sure of it, yet the images that flooded her brain were distorted, unreal. There were colors, smells, sounds, none of which made sense to her hyperaware brain. She understood it, of course, even as she fought to deny it.

She was being prepared for assimilation.

One small and traitorous part of her reveled in this, the rightness of returning to the collective. She knew that she was so much more as Locutus than she would ever be as Beverly Crusher. Why save a few lives when she could save millions? Assimilation was the one true path to salvation. And she would be its harbinger.

With a sigh, she relaxed into what was happening, even as her conscious made one last attempt to remember before. It meant nothing. Defeated, she retreated inside herself, waiting for the inevitable.

*****

It was a small blip, barely noticeable. To the two men it was the first sign of hope they'd encountered since arriving on this island. Silent, they waited, Will Riker carefully adjusting the tricorder settings, his movements overly precise as he struggled not to react. Another blip, this one larger and a bit closer.

As one, they turned and hurried towards the reading, taking care to watch their surroundings. There was debris everywhere, mixed with thick vegetation. Several meters up the path deep in the brush they found it. Perhaps it had been a man once, but the form that lay sprawled before them was barely recognizable for the phaser burns. The face was turned away from then and what might have once been a beard lay melted and charred against the mottled flesh.

With an unsteady hand, Riker reached down and moved more of the vegetation away to get a better look. There was no mistaking it; the clothing was Starfleet medical issue. Most disturbing of all was the glint of dark metal. It covered one hand, extending halfway up the forearm. There were bits of leaf and brush covering it but the design was unmistakable. Borg implants.

Riker turned to Picard, horrified by the sight and the implication. Beside him, the captain had gone bone white, his jaw clenched tight and his eyes dark.

*****

It was dark. At least she thought it was. She wasn't trusting her senses much these days. Not here. The coldness had penetrated her, wrapping itself around her bones. It hurt with the kind of lingering ache that made tears rise too easily. Another reason not to trust her vision.

She thought she was alone. At least she couldn't hear anyone else, yet she had the sense that there was something... someone.

A warm breath of wind brushed against her hair, caressing her right ear. It was almost... musical.

Another breath, this one across her cheek, then another over her chest and then lower, across her exposed midriff. She trembled at the sensation. It moved back to her ear, rustling her hair, sliding over her lips...

"My love."

More warm air caressed her, moving downward again, coming to rest just above her abdomen. The sensation changed, moving towards her hip, then stopping abruptly. Just as she relaxed, thinking the strange invasion was finished there was a sharp stabbing pain. It tore into her lower body, all sensation concentrated in one small area. She tried to move, to do anything, but the pain held her immobile, unable even to cry out.

Just as suddenly the pain was gone, leaving an achy sick feeling and a trail of tears lining her face. She closed her eyes, desperate not to give in to the sobs that tightened her throat. *Help me,* she pleaded silently. Please.

"Such despair. Such pain." She knew the voice even before she turned her head. She would never forget the sound of that voice or how it called to her so often, disturbing her dreams and fueling her nightmares.

She was so close that Beverly could smell her, that mixture of organic and synthetic that sent a shiver of dread down Beverly's spine. She moved closer, her voice pitched low and seductive as always, but also holding a hint of pleasure or perhaps amusement.

"You struggle so. Why? This is a moment to savor." She stood pressed against the metal table now, leaning down into Beverly's line of sight. With a gentle, insistent touch she moved her hand over Beverly's face, drawing her attention first to her face, then downward. "You see, Locutus. We have reason to be joyous."

For emphasis she ran one hand slowly down her rounded middle, the advanced state of her pregnancy obvious beneath the formfitting outfit she wore.

Horrified beyond the ability to react, Beverly lay still, staring. Knowing.

"We are bound together forever now, my Locutus. You created this child that I carry. Together we will raise her to be the next queen of our people."

Deceptively strong, the Borg Queen's delicate hand lifted Beverly's, pressing it to the rounded midriff as she leaned down and kissed her fully, swallowing Beverly's screams.

*****

He wanted to scream. Data was still talking, explaining the medical teams finding, elaborating on Selar's initial report. Before that it was Geordi and scanners, and Deanna's psychological impact report. Only two pieces of information actually penetrated the captain's numb panic; the implants were not actually Borg but a mixture of technologies from Federation to Romulan. And Beverly was still missing.

One fact chased the other through his mind leaving him immobile. He didn't know what to do.

"Captain?" Will Riker spoke loudly, drawing the commanding officer's attention back to the display on the wall panel. "Sir, I agree with Data. We'll have to go in strong and fast. A small well-armed team will beam directly into this holding area." He pointed out the large room in the southwest corner of the underwater complex. "A second team will start here." He pointed to an area on the opposite side of the map. "Re-enforcements will be waiting in transporter rooms 3 and 6 for beam down into these areas." He pointed out the other areas scanners showed as having few or no lifesigns.

"I'll be leading the first team. Our job is to divert attention away from this area." He pointed to the area near the second drop point which they believed to be a laboratory or operating room. "The second team will attempt to recover any or all Federation citizens found in this area and get them back to the ship. Mr. Data, you'll lead this team."

"Yes, sir."

"Counselor, I'll need you in cargobay 4, helping Selar. Find out what you can about what was happening to these people. We'll need to get this information to Starfleet as soon as possible."

Deanna nodded as Riker directed his attention to Geordi.

"You're coordinating the transports, Geordi. I want all transporters ready, including the auxiliaries. If we have to we'll beam everybody up into a holding area and sort them all out later."

Riker paused and looked around to make sure there were no questions. As expected, everyone was ready to get started. Riker nodded once, then deferred to the captain.

Picard stood, dismissing them to tend to their assignments, reluctant to face the fact that his task was to sit on the bridge and wait.

*****

"We must wait." The man insisted, his voice low but urgent. "We've lost the last three people we tried to implant. The chance of rejection is too high!"

"Then get more 'volunteers'."

"We can't. We've already put this entire operation at risk by taking so many doctors from the conference. No one will believe they were all killed in the storms."

"Then find another solution. I will not have my plans ruined by your incompetence."

He watched his leader go and wondered, not for the first time, why it had taken him so long to realize that she was insane.

*****

"Beverly? Beverly, wake up."

She came to awareness slowly, her consciousness reluctant to leave the safe nothing that she'd retreated to after that last nightmare.

She saw Carin first, then the bright light, mercifully directed away from her face. It came back to her suddenly and she went ice cold.

"It's all right. They didn't...." Carin assured her as Beverly struggled against the restraints. "No implants."

Beverly flinched as Carin's hand brushed against hers while the restraints were unfastened. She ached all over and felt nauseous.

"They injected you with something. You're probably a bit fuzzy. I'll get some water." She was handing the half-full glass to Beverly when the lights went out.

"Damn." The glass was torn from Beverly's hand and tossed aside where it shattered. A hand found her wrist, gripping it hard, and she was yanked forward off the table.

"Come on. Move."

Carin pulled her along, mindless of the precarious state of Beverly's stomach. They stumbled down a corridor in the twilight dark of emergency lighting. Twice they were passed by small armed groups hurrying in the opposite direction. There was the distant sound of weaponry and a slight odor of ozone.

"Here." Carin pushed her off into a small room and shut the door. The air was stale and smelled like antiseptic. A storage room.

Beverly leaned against the wall and slid down to sit on the floor. She was too overwhelmed to do anything more than rest her head on her knees and breathe.

Carin whispered for her to stay there and slipped away into the corridor.

For the briefest of moments an odd vision filled her head and Beverly smiled in spite of herself. How absurd to think of Finn now.

She raised her head, holding up her hands to see them in the dim light. She loved how he drew her hands. She remembered that odd stomach-fluttering feeling she sometimes got when he was watching her so intently; half fear, half something she didn't want to think about. She wasn't attracted to him, not really, but his intensity was compelling and she was sure that he had feelings for her that had nothing to do with his political views.

Her stomach knotted as she remembered seeing Jean-Luc as their prisoner. No more fantasies; no more word games. No more Finn. She had seen his death coming and had spoken only one word, half warning, half plea. He had looked at her, his eyes focused on her face, and a lifetime of meaning passed between them in those seconds before the fatal blast took him away. He was gone before his body crumpled to the floor.

She had no idea how she really felt about any of that, even now. Deanna had counseled her, of course, and after a few uncomfortable days, Jean-Luc had stopped avoiding her. So she had stopped thinking about it, filing the experience away as she had so many others in her life.

And then the Borg came.

She shuddered at the memory of her most recent nightmare. Even now she could feel the ache in her abdomen. Reflexively she slid one hand down her side to the place where she had been injured. The stabbing pain made her gasp.

Horrified, she tried to stand, grasping at the shelves for support. Her heart was racing and she was almost gasping for breath.

It was a dream, she reassured herself. Just a dream.

A glint of dull metal caught her attention and she picked up the dirty basin, using her tunic to wipe away the grime. Using it like a mirror she lifted her tunic slowly, half-fearful that she would she what she expected to see.

The angry puncture wound was there low on her pelvis towards the right hip. Blood had dried there, sealing the wound and she fought the urge to wipe it way. Instead she lowered her tunic and returned the basin to its shelf.

When she turned around Carin was there, just a hint of amusement curling her lips. Before Beverly could be sure, the smile was gone and Carin was dragging her into the corridor again.

Silently they went, weaving past running people following a dizzying path through rooms and corridors until Beverly was sure they were going in circles. There were shouts and weapons fire in the distance. Sometimes close, sometimes far away.

"In here," Carin said at last pushing Beverly in front of her through a doorway into a brighter room.

"Stop!" a voice commanded from behind them, and for a second Beverly thought it was Will Riker. She hesitated and Carin slammed into her, causing Beverly to fall.

"Get up. Get up." Carin was pulling hard on her arm,

"Stop." The voice shouted again and Beverly was sure it was Will.

"Will." She called, startled when Carin punched her.

"Shut up, you stupid b**ch." She was hauled upright and something hard was pressed into her back for emphasis. "Now move while you can and keep your mouth shut."

They hurried through the room towards a door at the far side and just as they reached it a phaser blast scored the wall beside them.

"Drop the weapon, put your hands up and turn around slowly."

The object stopped pressing against Beverly's back and seconds later something metallic clattered to the floor. With a sigh of relief Beverly started to turn around only to see Carin holding a hypospray against her own neck.

"Don't come any closer," Carin warned, her voice rising in hysteria.

"Carin, it's all right. These are my friends. They're here to help us." Beverly held her hand out for the hypo and slowly Carin lowered it, her eyes watching Beverly.

She was so absorbed in reassuring Carin that Beverly barely registered the sound of the door opening until a hand gripped her arm. That split-second diversion was enough to make Beverly look away.

Just as Carin brought the hypo down against Beverly's hand and released the contents.

*****

"Wake up, my love," the soft voice commanded. She opened her eyes slowly, her motions languid, she felt as if she was floating in warm syrup.

She savored the vision of her beloved queen, reaching out to her, basking in the love she felt. She rose, leaving their bed and accepted the soft gown to clothe herself. Her mind embraced this, and her body complied by taking the place that was offered, curled into her queen's embrace.

She could feel the baby's movements and turned to watch, a distant longing, like an old wound pricking at her heart.

"Don't be sad, my love. You will carry the next one." The Borg rested one hand on her own swollen abdomen and the other on Beverly's flat one. "I will make you happy."

Overcome, Beverly, closed her eyes, feeling herself be pulled into the seductive haven her queen created. Time meant nothing here, and the longer she stayed the harder it was to remember that this wasn't real. It was harder still to remember that she didn't want this, that she hated the Borg and what they had done to her; hated the queen most of all. It was hard to even remember what hate felt like.

She accepted the caresses, the gentle touches, and the more insistent ones that followed. She accepted the love that was offered, and returned it with her own.

Footsteps interrupted them as a drone arrived bearing food and drink. It was not necessary, of course, feeding tubes would provide what they needed. But the queen denied herself no pleasure, especially the sensuality of feeding and being fed.

Beverly watched as the drone moved forward, setting the tray on a small table and removing the covers from the dishes. It was only when she straightened that Beverly understood the tightening in her chest.

"Carin."

She half-rose from the sofa before the queen stopped her, drawing Beverly back to her side. Without speaking the Borg dismissed the drone, waiting until she was gone before speaking.

"One of my lost children. Like you, my love, she wished to come home."

Her mind reeled, but her body numbly obeyed the queen, obediently accepting the food she was fed. Much later, when the queen beckoned her towards the bed, Beverly finally found the will to resist, pulling away from the queen's grasp.

Losing her balance she fell backwards, unconscious before she could realize that there was no floor to stop her descent.

*****

"I'm sorry, sir. There's been no change."

Picard accepted Alyssa's statement, trying not to see the shadows under the nurse's eyes or hear the catch in her voice. Every time he asked she gave him the same answer, twenty eight times in 2 days. How much longer would they survive like this?

He nodded silently to Alyssa, indicating that she could leave. He took her place beside the unconscious doctor and began to speak.

He told Beverly about the day's events, how they had rescued all but four of the missing doctors; leaving out the fact that the others were dead. He spoke of this visit to the brig where her abductors were being held in separate cells until it was decided what to do with them. He smiled when he told her that the storms had stopped and that Geordi and his teams were helping the people rebuild. And when he finally ran out of things to tell her he just sat, treasuring the feel of her hand in his and praying that soon she would open her eyes.

*****

There were no dreams now, not even nightmares. Even the queen's whispers were silent, leaving Beverly alone in a terrifying place. She might have been walking, or floating, or not moving at all. It was too dark to see anything and none of her other senses seemed to be able to help.

For a while she thought she was dead, but this was too much nothing even for death. She had always believed that death of the body led to something different. But surely not this.

Her body no longer hurt, which she considered a good thing at first. But by now she would have been happy to have felt anything, even pain.

If only she could see...

The sudden brilliance stunned her, leaving her unable to do anything other than think of closing her eyes and turning away. Not that she was sure she still had the parts necessary to do that.

To the left there was a low humming and she moved towards it carefully. The light seemed less bright now, almost what she was used to on the Enterprise.

The thought brought up outer thoughts - of Wesley and her friends. Of Jean-Luc. Her vision blurred and she moved to wipe the tears away, impatient with herself for such weakness.

The humming grew louder as she moved, until it felt as if it were in her head, surrounding her, filling her. Her breathing attuned itself to the undulations of the sound and it filled the space where he body should be, carrying her forward.

She surrendered to it, allowing it to cover her, moving upward over her chin, then lips, filling her ears and finally her head. She felt warm and comforted without understanding why. Accepting the feeling she relaxed and was rewarded with a sweeter tune. It seemed as though a chorus of many were humming now, new voices joining in twos and threes, tempering the sound, making it more lush and compelling until she floated on it, weightless. No longer caring that she recognized those voices as those of the Borg.

*****

Riker exploded out of his seat, face red with anger and determination. "She's not going anywhere."

Across the table Deanna leaned back in her chair and regarded the First Officer with that stubborn expression that warned wiser souls to give in now and save time. Riker didn't budge.

Between them at the head of the table sat the captain, who had heard enough. His voice dangerously low he suggested that Riker return to his seat, then leaned forward, his manner implacable.

"The woman remains in the brig, Counselor. Under round the clock observation by both a security guard and a med tech. She will not harm herself while on this ship." He raised his hand to stop Deanna before she started. "However, she will be given adequate medical and psychological care. In the brig. Under guard. No exceptions."

"Mr. Data, do we have any more information on these people and what they were trying to do?"

"Very little, sir. Many of them are mercenaries. Hired guns if you will, sir. They know only that they were to kidnap and detain certain individuals. Most of them were aware that there was medical testing being conducted but they do not know more than that."

"Counselor?" Picard directed the conversation back to her, happy to see she was back to her usual placid self.

"Data's assessment is correct, sir. Those men are not the ones who can tell us what we want to know. There are several men that were identified as those who gave orders. So far none of them are talking. Speaking with the kidnapped doctors reveals little information also. Most of them were abducted and held in the cells where we found them. They were not hurt, not were they asked to do anything. It seems that the one person that all of them came in contact with is Beverly's assailant."

"Have you found any information on this woman, Mr. Data?"

"Yes, sir. Her name is Carin Carson, a doctor from Delvinor Prime. Her specialty is biomechanical implants. She's published several papers in medical journals. Apparently she has been working on a way of reducing rejection factors associate with the implants."

"Sound like it fits right in with what these people were doing."

"It would, if that's what these people were really doing. Captain, I've spent some time with each of the men thought to be in charge of this organization and none of them fit. The common factor in all of the kidnappings was the doctors' research work on bio-rejection. And then there's Beverly, who has not only done work on this, she's also been a Borg. Suddenly these people are trying to recreate the Borg assimilation process. Why?"

"Power. Control," Riker stated.

"That still doesn't make sense. If this were truly a covert operation, they would have been much more subtle. Their base had the barest minimum of shielding. They were working on a planet where much of the raw materials they would need had to be imported. And, they went around kidnapping nearly a fourth of the attendees at a high profile medical convention. This is not the way a carefully planned operation works."

Deanna paused and leaned forward, knowing that Picard would not like the next part of what she had to say. "I had Alyssa and Dr Selar run a level three micro-cellular scan looking for regular patterns of deformation or alteration. Of the ones we scanned there were only two that met the criteria. The one is a mercenary, who says he was wounded by a pulse-rifle. The damage is consistent with that caused by a pulse rifle."

"The other individual is Carin. Ms Carson has a unique form of cellular damage. There is only one thing known to cause that type of damage."

Picard knew the answer a second before the others realized. In horror he whispered it aloud.

"Assimilation by the Borg."

*****

It all made a terrible kind of sense, Picard realized later, sitting beside Beverly, watching the machines care for her. She was being fed, having her muscles stimulated, even being helped to breathe all while she lay motionless in the critical care ward in sickbay.

He looked around at the dull walls and neutral carpeting, thinking once more how he hated this place. How much of his life had he spent here already. How much more time would he have to spend. How much longer would he have to wait?

Dr Selar explained things to him, her calm unemotional voice listing off horror upon horror as he listened, desperately wishing he could cover his ears and make it all go away.

Beverly had lost weight, had suffered abrasions and contusions; had even had tissue and other samples taken. They had injected her with a variety of drugs, some of them hallucinogenic. But that wasn't the worst of it..

As part of her conditioning process, Beverly had been injected by a very specific type of nanites. Modeled after the ones use by the Borg, they were designed to prepare her mind for communication with the collective.

Because Beverly's brain bore the traces of her unique assimilation as Locutus, Carin's nanites had the opposite effect, altering Beverly's brain not to be more receptive, but to be more resistant to the Borg communication. The final injection was the equivalent of nearly 2 weeks worth of treatments causing an overload that effectively shut down her conscious mental processes.

And nothing anyone could do would bring her back.

*****

He fell asleep at her bedside again, his body scrunched into an uncomfortable position and his head heavy on his neck. His slumber was troubled and restless, filled with dreams that he wouldn't remember. Except for one...

She was radiant, wrapped in shimmering translucent fabric that floated around her as she ran ahead, calling for him to follow.

He ran as fast as he could, but it was never quite fast enough, letting her stay just beyond his reach.

Still she kept calling, so he followed, until suddenly she stopped and turned toward him, her profile backlit by a gorgeous orange sun. The fabric did little to conceal the fullness of her breasts, the slight curve of her stomach and down to those incredible... She held out her hand to him, drawing him close and half turned into the shelter of his arms. He touched her, sliding one arm around her waist while the other she took, bringing it to her lips for a kiss, then sliding it down to trace the curve of her breast, then down again to her flat stomach.

He looked up to see moisture glittering in her eyes.

"Beverly?" he whispered, his heart twisting at the sight of her tears.

She let go of his hand and ran, leaving him to wake up alone with the sting of tears in his own eyes.

On the sickbay bed she lay motionless, those beautiful eyes closed, tears glittering on her pale cheeks.

*****

Deanna's report lay on his desk, surrounded by crew reports, transfer requests and the minutia of daily living on a starship. He resisted the urge to recycle it all.

The report said exactly what he'd expected. Carin Carson had been abducted and assimilated by the Borg when the starship she was traveling on just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. They had minimal defensive weaponry. The Borg took then in less than 2 minutes.

Carin had been one of the last of the passengers to be assimilated, just before the Borg reached the resistance at Wolf 359. Her physical assimilation had not been completed and she had been able to get away and find a transporter like device. After testing it, she set the controls for what she hoped was a safe area on a nearby habitable moon and transported. She was found a few hours later and taken to sickbay where she was treated for exposure. She told no one about the assimilation and since there were no visible signs, no one thought to ask.

A few days later she slipped quietly away on a trader vessel.

According to Deanna's analysis, the initial injection to introduce nanites into her system had been completed, creating the necessary neural pathways to respond to the Borg, but the second injections, and subsequent alterations never came and so Carin was left as if on an open comm channel, endlessly waiting for someone to answer her hail.

Dr Selar had examined the young woman and the prognosis was guarded. It was possible that therapy and surgery might repair some of the damage, but because so much time had passed, it was unlikely that a full recovery would ever be possible.

Still, given the right supervision, Carin might live a fairly normal life. It was a better chance than Picard had expected.

If only Beverly's future was as hopeful.

*****

It was day 7 when the thing that had been bothering Picard finally made itself known. The machines.

Without consulting the nurse on duty he locked the door and quickly began shutting off the machines, removing many parts that attached to Beverly's body. When he was finished he shoved everything as far to the corner as he could and prepared for the onslaught.

Releasing the lock just ahead of Selar's override, he watched as the emergency team flooded in. He blocked their access to the machines, standing firm until they would listen to his explanation.

It made sense, they conceded, and Selar agreed to discontinue using the machines for one day unless there was an emergency.

Three hours later Beverly awoke.

*****

Something was scratching at the door, trying to get in. With supreme effort she moved her head, the scream in her mind coming out as the softest of whimpers. The scratching stopped, then started again, softer this time, but more insistent.

She thought she could feel it, the pressure against her skin, over and over. She was sure she was mad.

"Not mad, Doctor," a voice assured her. "Not even a little crazy. Just not finished yet." The scratching resumed, along with that odd stroking pressure.

She was silent for a while, considering until she could stand it no longer.

"Who are you?" she whispered fearfully.

"You need not ask, Doctor. Open your eyes and see."

Surprised, she willed her eyes to open and they complied. The light filtered in gray at first, then sharpening and resolving itself into contrasting shapes; light and dark and finally a ceiling, a wall, and a face.

"Welcome back."

It was Finn's voice, as she'd feared, sure that the assurances he uttered were proof of her derangement. The scratching resumed this time, accompanied by a stronger, more sensual pressure.

"I never had the chance to finish." He help up a clipboard and pencil for her to see the half-finished sketch he was working on. It was her, a full body nude in perfect proportion.

"Here, let me..." and as she watched he completed her left arm, carefully darkening the lines until it was just right. "Now try," he urged, and she was able to lift her left arm.

"I don't understand," she whimpered. "What are you doing to me?"

"Hush and let me finish. I didn't have time before."

She let her arm fall back to the surface she was laying on - bed, floor, she didn't know what it was. She couldn't really feel it but she knew it was there. One traitorous part of her wished for a vision of the Borg queen to replace this. At least that she understood.

"You don't understand," Kyril Finn stated, almost as if he was reading her mind. "Of course I am. I always could. Why do you think I loved you?"

The scratching stopped and she felt warmth wrap itself around her hand. "It wasn't your fault, you know. Those people would have died anyway. You couldn't have prevented that." The scratching resumed and then stopped again. "You're wrong about your captain, you know. He wasn't really angry, you know. He was afraid for you. I could see that as soon as I saw you together."

I don't want to think about this, she thought.

"Too bad," he answered. "You conjured me up, Beverly. Now you'll listen to what I have to say. I didn't want to die. I didn't sacrifice myself for my cause. And," the scratching resumed once again, louder. "I wanted to thank you for trying to warn me."

"It wasn't enough," she thought, surprised when she actually heard herself speak.

"You tried. Beverly, look." He leaned forward into her field of vision and she felt his hands on her shoulders helping to lift her to a sitting position. "Nothing would have saved me. You tried. That is enough. Nothing would have saved those killed by the Borg, either. But you did what you could. It was enough. You must learn to accept that. There are some who never will."

"Carin," she thought, not able to speak the woman's name. The image of her as Borg drone was clear in her mind, although Beverly was quite sure she'd only seen it in a nightmare. Her thoughts closed in around her, pulling her down until Finn rescued her again.

He was kneeling beside her now, his arms around her, helping to guide her to her feet. She accepted the help, and his touch, no longer frightened by his presence.

Once she was steady he stepped back, allowing her time to observe her surroundings, startled to see sketches of herself covering every wall. None of them were complete. Some showed her hands, her eyes, her face, her knees, her torso, every part of her was there, but only the drawing at her feet was finished.

Finn returned to her side with a blanket and she allowed him to wrap it around her, surprised to feel disappointed in his lack of interest in her nudity. He laughed, startling her.

"I've seen you, all of you, worshipped your every pore. Now it's time for me to leave." He reached down and picked up the completed drawing. "Please let me go."

She touched his face, her vision blurring with unshed tears. She didn't understand any of this, but she felt her heart aching. She knew he had given her a precious gift, but she didn't know what it was. She kissed him softly on the lips. A graceful farewell. He didn't return it.

"Your captain needs you now, Beverly." He pressed the drawing into her hands. "It's time to go home."

Now he did kiss her, just once, a tender kiss on the cheek. Without looking back he walked away, vanishing just as he reached the wall. Behind him, all the sketches fluttered downward and were gone.

*****

She heard scratching again and feared opening her eyes to see Finn, or something worse. A faint sniffle changed her mind. It was Jean-Luc, half crouched over something, his eyes red-rimmed and his expression pitiful.

She reached out for him, rendered mute in her sorrow. "Please," she thought. "Let me help you."

He looked up, startled, dropping the object he held in his hurry to touch her.

"You're awake," he said, his voice breaking as he pulled her up into a tight embrace.

"Jean-Luc," she managed to utter, tears flowing down her face, and then she ran out of words. There wasn't a sound that could come out of her mouth that would express the pure joy of being alive and in his arms.

A medical team arrived just then, led by Alyssa. They stopped at the bedside, surprised and pleased to see their boss awake. Picard retreated quietly, allowing them to scan Beverly. When they were done he took Dr Hill aside and spoke to her for a long time. At last she nodded her head and left, returning a moment later with a small bio monitor.

"What's going on?" Beverly demanded as Hill fastened the device to her wrist.

"You're getting sprung for good behavior." The doctor raised her head to give Picard a stern look. "But you'll be back in the morning. As promised."

"Yes sir," the captain responded smartly, smiling when Hill let out an exasperated sigh and walked away.

Moments later they transported into the middle of their cabin. The place showed signs of neglect, with discarded dishes and clothing scattered about. Beverly thought it the most magnificent thing she'd ever seen.

"Are you hungry?" Jean-Luc asked, his tone of voice betraying his hope that she wasn't. She shook her head, holding out her hand to him, and soundlessly leading him to her bed.

They undressed each other carefully, with lingering touches on bared skin, then took even longer to help each other into sleeping attire. They would not make love while she wore the monitor, but they could hold each other, and feel the warmth of a shared embrace.

They slept as though they hadn't rested in weeks.

*****

"I still can't believe you convinced Cora to release me last night." Beverly smiled. "I can imagine that she wasn't very happy."

Jean-Luc smiled across the table at Beverly. "Captain's privilege."

"Well, you'd better not try that on me. It won't work."

The doorchime interrupted the forced lightness. They shared a look before Picard walked to the door and pressed the release.

Deanna entered wearing the blue dress that served as her counselor's uniform. Beverly took it for the not-so-subtle hint that it was.

"We're just finishing breakfast, Deanna. Come join us," she offered, hoping to put off the inevitable counseling session.

Deanna looked to the captain for permission before agreeing, laughing as she caught sight of the quantity of food.

"I guess someone was hungry this morning," she teased.

"Oh just eat something," Beverly said, taking up her fork and skewering a piece of omelet.

"I'm due on the bridge.,Beverly," Jean-Luc stated quietly. "I'll leave you in the Counselor's care. You can break out the chocolate as soon as I've gone." Walking over to Beverly, Jean-Luc gave her a gentle kiss on the cheek. "You'll be all right?"

Beverly nodded bravely, feeling her stomach tighten as she watched him walk out the door. Annoyed at herself she turned back to her plate, another piece of omelet halfway to her lips before she realized she no longer felt like eating. She carefully returned the fork to the plate and took up her coffee cup.

"Do you want to hide behind that cup a little longer or shall we start?" Deanna wanted to know.

"You're not even going to allow me some caffeine before you start the head shrinking?" Beverly asked, the humor falling flat when her voice quavered. Reluctantly she set the cup down and rose. She started to clear the table but Deanna stopped her.

"That will wait, Beverly."

Letting her hands fall away from the dishes, she nodded, her head. Deanna started towards the door and Beverly followed along slowly. When they entered the turbolift and Deanna asked for deck 12, Beverly was surprised.

"Aren't we going to your office?"

"That's after you go explain to Dr Selar what you're doing out of sickbay. She was most agitated," Deanna said, molding her face into a bad imitation of Selar's usual emotionless expression, then ruining it even more by laughing at Beverly's scowl.

"Careful, your face might freeze like that," Deanna warned, pleased to see Beverly's scowl twist into a half-smile. Their amusement carried them down the hallway and through the doors to sickbay.

"Doctor Crusher," Selar acknowledged. "I have been waiting for you." She waited for Crusher to proceed her to the nearest private room, leaving the counselor to wait in the CMO's office.

Climbing onto the diagnostic bed, Beverly was struck by a wave of fear. She slid her hands under her legs to resist the urge to ball them into fists. She couldn't meet Selar's steady gaze.

"I shall conduct the exam first, doctor. And then we shall discuss your injuries. You may remain seated if you prefer."

The tricorder hummed as Selar brought the scanner. Panic flooded Beverly's brain and she bit her lip hard, letting the pain and the metallic tang of blood ground her. This was real. She was in sickbay. She was safe.

She swallowed hard, trying to clear away the blood, along with the sudden realization that what was once her domain had become her damnation.

The wall seemed to close around her and her breathing quickened, tightening her chest. So absorbed had she become in trying to hide her fear that the sound of Selar's voice startled her.

Wordlessly Selar handed Beverly the tricorder. She waited calmly while her commanding officer read the results, then scrolled through the past weeks worth of her scans.

*****

In the CMO's office, Deanna waited, knowing most of what was going on in the examination room by Beverly's emotional state. Right now the doctor was fighting to accept the information Selar was giving her, the list of injuries sustained and current status. As expected, one particular reading caused a mixture of anger and despair.

Deanna had expected that. She knew that the entire kidnapping experience had been traumatic, but this devastating piece of news was most likely to haunt Beverly.

Standing, she took several calming breaths before walking towards the examination room. She would give Selar another minute, perhaps two, then she would take over.

*****

Carin waited, watching as the guard exchanged small talk with the med tech. There was an attraction there, perhaps a budding romance, and she was delighted. What a perfect distraction.

She had been on her best behavior since being taken into custody. She had not objected to being kept in the brig, nor to the testing and counseling. A model prisoner.

She leaned back against the wall, watching her guards while trying not to be obvious. She wanted them to think her docile, subdued, a victim. Suppressing a smile she casually brushed her hand over her abdomen.

She could be patient for now. She had time.

*****

"We are running out of time," Will Riker insisted, leaning closer to the display as if his proximity would somehow change the readings.

"Look, Commander," Geordi offered tiredly, "We've scanned the entire complex. We've found what we are going to find. What you're looking for was either destroyed or moved somewhere else."

Beside him Data concurred. "To remain viable, human tissue samples and genetic materials must be kept in specific conditions. As we have found no trace of the samples taken from Dr. Crusher it is logical to conclude that the material has been destroyed."

Riker squashed his unwarranted annoyance at Data's Sherlock Holmes impression. "And you are sure that the material was not transported from the base?"

"As sure as we can be," Geordi stated. "There is a possibility that someone was able to preserve the material for transport and then get out of there before we arrived, but given the conditions down there when we arrived, no one was getting anywhere fast. And since then only seven ships have left the planet and the occupants all check out. "

Geordi shifted in his seat and suppressed a yawn. "Transporting that kind of material is tricky under good conditions and these are not good conditions. But, " he paused fighting back another yawn, "There is a possibility that someone was able to preserve and transport those samples. I think the real question is what do they want it for?"

"And why did they not take samples from anyone else."

The three officers exchanged an uncomfortable look, each of them knowing the answer to that question.

*****

"Just answer the question."

The silence stretched uncomfortably as Deanna waited for Beverly's response. She knew these silences were hard for the doctor and that sooner or later she would fill them. All Deanna had to do was wait.

"You always do this," Beverly said at last, turning away from the viewport in annoyance. "You already know how I feel about this. Let me ask you the question." Beverly turned to face the counselor, "How would you feel if this had been done to you?"

"I don't know. I don't have to know. It didn't happen to me." At Deanna's response, Beverly turned away in exasperation. After another long silence, Deanna tried a different approach.

"Are you and the Captain trying to have a baby?" Deanna asked the question carefully, watching as the color and emotion drained away from the Doctor. She slid down into the nearest chair as if she no longer had the strength to stand.

Deanna could feel her friend's struggle as clearly as she could watch the emotions play across her face. For a fragile second there was a sheen of tears in her eyes, and then the barriers came back and Beverly straightened, drawing strength from that place where she always seemed to find it, especially when she was in pain.

"I don't think you can really call it trying to have a baby," Beverly admitted, her voice growing stronger as she spoke. "We both know the chances are slim, and not just because of our ages." Beverly's voice hardened at this reference to her violation by the Borg and for a moment it seemed as if she had said all she would on the subject, but then she added, with a hint of strained humor, "I guess you could say that we've stopped trying not to have a baby."

"So you're not using contraceptives?"

Beverly leaned back in the chair and blew air through her teeth. "Okay, let's just get this over with," she said at last, leaning forward quickly, almost threateningly. "I wouldn't object to a child, neither would Jean-Luc. Although I will admit we both have our concerns. But we all know how likely it is to happen. Age would have taken care of that in a few years, but thanks to the Borg and those b**tards I don't have to wait that long." She talked right over Deanna's attempts to interject a comment. "With all the eggs they harvested between them there's precious few left for me." She laughed harshly and rose from her seat, drawn back to her usual place by the viewport. "There could be dozens of children out there grown from my eggs, Deanna. But not a one of them will be mine."

The sound of the Borg queen promising to let her carry the next child rang in Beverly's ears, taking that last bit of resolve she had left. Tears slipped silently down her cheeks but the reflection in the viewport showed her only a fantasy - herself, gloriously pregnant, and happy.

If she could have, she would have smashed the transparent aluminum, removing the image and her pain forever.

*****

"She's been in there forever." Jean-Luc told himself, fighting the urge to ring the door chime and let the Counselor know he was there. Instead, he stalked down the corridor again, thankful that there were no other people around.

It wouldn't do for them to see their captain pacing.

He turned around sharply just before the intersection of a cross corridor and paced back up the corridor. This time he was determined to announce himself. The opening door saved him the effort.

"You don't have to wait out there," Deanna told him, her placid expression barely masking a smile. "Beverly's waiting for you."

Picard knew it was bad when Beverly didn't turn to greet him. Instead she remained staring out the viewport, her back rigid and her shoulders tense. He motioned for Deanna to give them a moment and she complied, slipping away into the small office off to the side of the counseling area.

"We're alone," he told Beverly, moving to touch her. She shied away, resisting his comfort.

"I can't," she whispered brokenly. "Not until this is over."

"Then let's finish it." He wrapped his arms around her resisting form. "How can I help?"

Eyes full of misery, she finally looked at him. "You can't."

*****

They followed her script perfectly, unwittingly doing exactly what she wanted them to do. The only hitch had been the empath but Carin had solved that quickly enough by screaming in terror every time Troi walked into the brig.

All that planning and waiting had paid off much better than she could have ever hoped. She'd set up her base on that godforsaken mudball of a planet to snatch a few doctors and scientists. Instead, Locutus herself had walked in. It was as if it was meant to be.

Swallowing her self-satisfied smile, Carin continued moaning and rocking on the bed. It was time for the next phase of her plan and she could not implement it while stuck in the Enterprise brig.

Again, they cooperated, bringing in the medical team, and then the human counselor. Finally, after days of refusing to eat, refusing to talk, of screaming and scoring her skin with fingernail scratches now she was ready.

She raged, and cried and ranted until finally she fell into the counselor's embrace and confessed.

"It's my fault, all of it," she sobbed. "I hear them. The Borg. They're in my head all the time. They never leave me alone. They kept telling me to take those doctors, to do those terrible things. And then the men started taking over, Klon and the others. They took advantage of me, forced me to do things." She rolled her eyes up into her head and moaned. "I tried to help. I didn't let them hurt the others. I brought Dr Crusher food and treated her wounds. Please, please help me." With one final shudder she went limp, her full weight falling against the counselor's body, startling the man.

Minutes later she was being transported to sickbay. It was all Carin could do to stop herself from laughing out loud.

*****

He heard laughter as the door opened admitting him to his quarters. He smiled at the sight that greeted him; Will Riker in apron and a white chef's hat busily fanning the blackened remains of what might have been their dinner.

"Experimenting again, Number One?" Picard asked, frowning at the clutter of equipment and food filling the dining table.

"Beverly said she likes her meat well done. I was just following her orders."

Picard raised an eyebrow at the smoking mess, watching as Will shoved it into the recycler then took up another unidentifiable object and placed it in the pan.

"I think I'll stick with the salad," the captain decided.

Beverly was at his side now, giving him a quick kiss then stepping back just enough to be proper in front of their guest. Still too thin and pale, Picard decided. But she did look better in her casual sweater and leggings than she had in her sickbay pajamas.

"How are you?" he asked carefully, allowing her to interpret the question as she chose.

"Fine," she responded neutrally, looking away.

"Much better," Will announced, breaking the sudden tension in the room. He was referring to the platter laden with exotic fruits that the replicator produced. "Why don't we start with this. Deanna should be here soon."

On cue, the door chime sounded and Picard called for the person to enter.

"Did he burn anything yet?" Deanna wanted to know after greeting everyone and joining them at the table. Will made a disgusted sound that had the other three struggling to hide their laughter.

Despite the failed first attempt, the dinner turned out well, and the four friends enjoyed it and the conversation that accompanied it. Content, they left the table for the more comfortable sofa and chairs. They were just deciding whether to play a game or not when the emergency call came in.

"Carstairs to Troi. Emergency in the brig, holding area 6." They all shared a worried look; Carin's cell.

"Troi to Carstairs. I'm on my way." Deanna hurried out with Will Riker at her side. Picard watched them go, aching to go with them but knowing he was where he was needed.

Beside him Beverly rose abruptly, gathering up the dishes quickly, the china and silver clattering. She shoved it all in the recycler and then started clearing the dinner dishes.

"What a mess," she said, fussing needlessly as she cleaned. Jean-Luc let her, hoping she would work this out of her system. After several long moments it became clear that she wouldn't, or couldn't stop. He went to her, standing close to offer her comfort, but not touching her.

"It was nice to spend time with Will and Deanna," she offered at last, her voice betraying the fact that she knew she was grasping for things to say.

"Yes, it was. Beverly..." He touched her with a single finger, letting it curve around her wrist, using that fragile connection to draw her near. She went into his arms willingly.

They didn't speak for a while, just letting themselves be held. When at last they broke apart, Jean-Luc kept her within his relaxed embrace.

"Are you angry with her?" he asked at last, not realizing that Beverly might not know if he were referring to Deanna or Carin.

"I'm angry at them both," she admitted at last, continuing the thought when his brow crinkled in confusion. "Deanna, because I hate being asked questions with no answers, and Carin because..." she paused in mid-explanation and reassessed. "No, that's not right. I'm not just angry at Carin. That's too small for what she did." She looked into her lover's eyes. "What kind of emotional price do you put on someone who did what she did? Who took so many precious, irreplaceable things?"

"I don't know," Jean-Luc admitted honestly. His conscious weighed heavily on him and he knew he had to atone for what he had done all those days ago when he had been upset by the universe and had taken it out on her. He led Beverly to the sofa, then sat, waiting until she was settled too. He told her as honestly as he could about the storage room and his anger, and his discovery of the sketches.

When he was done he left her side, returning a moment later with Finn's clipboard in his hands. Beverly took it carefully, as if afraid it might break. She examined the sketches, slowly turning over the pages until she came to the last one. She hadn't seen these in nearly a year and yet she remembered them so clearly. Idly, to hide her nervousness, she turned the final page and discovered more sketches, some small, others scratched out or half-complete, nearly 20 in all.

"Did you...?" she asked in confusion.

"Yes. Beverly, I... I know that I can never atone for what I have done. But please believe me. I love you now and forever. That will never change."

After they kissed, she leaned back, the sketches still in her hands.

"Jean-Luc, there's something I need to tell you..." and she proceeded to tell him about Finn and the dizzying mixture of emotions that were associated with him. She also told him about the nightmares and her odd visions of Finn during her captivity.

"I think I understand..." Jean-Luc leaned forward slightly and took the clipboard away, then gave her his hand to hold instead. "I wanted to destroy those sketches when I first saw them, Beverly. Because of Finn and the way he looked at you. But then I realized that he had seen things in you in just a few days that I had never seen. When you were in sickbay, unconscious for so long, I started sketching you. To see if I could see what he had." Jean-Luc looked down at the sketches in his hand. "I think it worked. At least a little."

Shyly he lowered his head. He had never been comfortable with sharing his artistic talents with others, particularly after he'd asked Data's opinion of a painting Picard was working on.

"They are lovely, Jean-Luc." Beverly leaned over and kissed him soundly. When she moved away, she remained close enough for him to feel her breath on his cheek. "I never could draw. What little artistic talent I have is for dancing, I suppose. But I've always wanted someone to draw me. " She pulled back and shrugged one shoulder, the way she often did. "My bid for immortality."

"I would grant your wish if I could, my lady," Jean-Luc said, speaking formally as he sometimes did when his heart was so full of love for this woman. "But you deserve the talents of an artist and I am but a poor apprentice." He spread his hands apart and managed to look like a lost orphan.

"You judge yourself too harshly," she chided, taking up the game and his hands. "These are the hands of an artist. One with many talents. Perhaps you need only be reminded?" She placed her hands over his, guiding them along the curves of her body. When he responded with pleasure, she stood, still holding his hands against her, using that connection, she turned and led him towards the bedroom.

*****

There would be no sleep tonight, Will decided, regretting that late night poker game he'd hosted. He ran a hand down over his beard and decided not to think about the fact that he wasn't as young as he used to be.

Deanna was still in the isolation ward, observing while the doctors and counselor tended to their patient. She had already spoken to and dismissed the security guard and med tech that had been on duty in the brig when Carin had her breakdown. She would review their reports later for more information. Right now, Riker knew, she had more pressing concerns.

*****

"May I speak with you, Mr. Carstairs?" she asked the counselor as he emerged from the isolation ward. He looked weary and distressed.

Deanna led him to an unoccupied room and waited for him to take a seat before speaking again. She chose to remain standing.

"Are you aware of the captain's standing orders in regards to Carin Carson, Mr. Carstairs?"

"Yes, sir," he responded nervously. Although his work with patients had been exemplary, he had left a planet-bound practice and joined Starfleet service in his mid-thirties. He still had problems with the chain of command, especially when a patient was involved. "If I may, Counselor?" he asked, gesturing for her to sit. Deanna remained standing. "Very well." He forced himself to straighten out of his habitual slouch and meet her hard gaze. "It was in the best interests of the patient that she receive care in sickbay. Being imprisoned in the brig was only exacerbating her instability. It makes no sense to offer to help her while engaging in practices that only serve to contribute to her problems."

Defiant but a little shaky, Carstairs let out a breath and pressed himself back against the chair, lifting his chin and pushing his shoulders back. Deanna was not impressed.

"Lieutenant, I appreciate your concern for the patient. However," her voice lowered an octave and she took on the mantle of rank she possessed but rarely wore. "The captain was and is fully aware of Carin Carson's condition. His actions take the welfare of all the patients into consideration. Yours do not."

Carstairs looked down, embarrassed and ashamed. In his concern for Carin, he had forgotten about Dr Crusher.

"Consider this a warning, Mr. Carstairs," Deanna said, her voice back to its normal register, but with no less steel in it. "I want a detailed report of this event, including your comments on how it might have been handled differently on my desk by 0800 tomorrow. Dr Fancher will be responsible for Ms Carson tonight. You may resume your counseling sessions with her tomorrow. Dismissed."

Deanna watched the man leave, his stride and posture a little less sure than usual. He was a gifted counselor but could be too single-minded. She would give him the rest of the night to think things over and then meet with him again in the morning. She was quite sure he would be more careful about following orders in the future.

Now all she had to do was make things right with the Captain.

*****

"Just right," she practically purred as she observed her new surroundings. "Now to see if this works." She cast one more look around, satisfied that there was no one observing her at the moment. With the confusion about her sudden relocation in the middle of the night, security had not yet been assigned to watch her. There was one half-asleep medtech just beyond the door but he was paying more attention to the padd in his hands than to her.

She reached up under her hair to retrieve the two small clips. They were too blunt and easily broken to inflict any harm so she'd been allowed to keep them. In fact, no one had paid them much attention - just as she'd planned.

Fools.

She pressed a hairline seam on the one clip, then repeated the movement with the second. Fitting them together she twisted the device until she heard another soft click. Perfect. Casting another glance at the medtech to make sure he was still distracted, she palmed the tiny object, popped it into her mouth and swallowed.

*****

"Delicious," he murmured, already lifting another spoonful to his lips. She smiled.

"I told you I could cook when I wanted to."

"Yes, and I've tasted what happens when you don't want to cook." He made a face and she laughed, leaning over to swat him.

"Stop that. We've got work to do." Quickly he shoveled the last of the food into his mouth, putting up a mock fight when she tried to take the spoon away. "You're impossible," she scolded, softening her words with a kiss.

"Now that you're no longer faint from hunger, do you think we can finish this. I've got Mokbur'ra class in less than an hour. It will be enough going in there with no sleep. I don't want to make it worse by being late."

"Yes ma'am," Will saluted her impudently, then put on his best good little officer expression. Deanna thwapped him again for good measure as she reached for the padd.

"Ow. Stop that." He took the padd away from her. "These are the final orders as far as Starfleet is concerned. We're to turn everyone, including Carin Carson over to the planetary security force tomorrow at 1600 our time. Starfleet is sending Admiral Satie and her advisors to represent Beverly and the other Starfleet personnel. They should be here by 0900. There will be a briefing with the senior staff, then the Admiral will want to interview Beverly and the prisoners. As soon as the transfer is made we'll be returning to our previous mission."

"Has Beverly been told yet?"

"The captain is doing that now," Will answered. It was clear he didn't envy the captain this task.

"She will be all right, Will. Staying here for the trial wouldn't help her, it would only delay the healing, make things that much harder. She needs to move on."

"I know that, Deanna. But you know what's happening, don't you? The rumors have started up again at headquarters. About Beverly and the Borg." He slammed the padd down on the table. "Damn it. Deanna. She was just getting her life back and now it's all going to start again; the rumors, the attempts to force her back to Earth. She doesn't deserve this."

Deanna took him into her arms, fighting back tears. "I know, Imzadi. I know."

*****

"I don't know," he answered quietly. "It wasn't my decision." He placed his hand on top of hers to stop her from digging her nails any deeper into her own flesh. Beverly had gone quiet and he was worried.

Although she had fallen asleep easily, exhausted from their lovemaking, it had been an uneasy rest. After tossing and turning fitfully, she had finally wakened, her eyes shadowed by frightening dreams. He was already awake and waiting to comfort her, taking her in his arms and soothing her. There had been no more sleep after that. Instead, they had taken to the sofa with tea and a good book to carry them until morning.

It was just before breakfast that he told her, having withheld it in the hopes that she would have a restful sleep. But when the communiqué arrived from Satie, coded eyes only, he knew he couldn't put it off any longer.

She took it well, considering how frightened and angry she must be. Jean-Luc knew her too well to be fooled by her words. He had thought she might rage, or cry, perhaps even throw things as she had done on more than one occasion in the past. Instead she sat quietly, her voice soft, her manner compliant. The only sign of her true emotions was her hands, clenching into fists, nails digging again and again into her palms, then releasing, only to repeat the motion over and over until he was sure she would draw blood.

"Please don't," he pleaded, using his hands to open her fists, to hold them to stop her from hurting herself more. It tore his heart in two to watch her do this.

She nodded, meeting his gaze only briefly before looking down at the injuries. She would stop. For him. Drawing on the strength he gave her she straightened. She could do this.

"I'll be all right, Jean-Luc." She brought his hands up to her lips and kissed them both. "Thank you. All I have to do is answer a few questions and things can get back to normal." She quirked a smile at him. "Whatever normal might be." She stood up, still holding his hands.

"Come on. Let's get this day started."

*****

It took a while for the acid in her stomach to eat away at the coating on the device. Carin sat patiently, waiting, feeling the odd butterfly in the stomach feeling when it started to work. She was rather proud of this invention, having found a unique use for a bit of borrowed Romulan technology she'd gotten from a Packled.

It was simple really. After the acid in her stomach removed the protective coating she used to mask the real properties of the "hair clips," it would then activate the device and serve as a tracking device. Now all she had to do was get to the agreed upon meeting place and wait for the fun to begin.

*****

"This is fun," Geordi muttered just loud enough for Beverly to hear. She stifled a laugh and tried to look interested as the captain and admiral conducted the formal welcome. It was rare that an admiral insisted upon such formality, and now Beverly knew why. How much longer could it take just to beam a few people on board and greet them.?

Twenty minutes later she had her answer. She was preparing to make her escape with the rest of the officers when the admiral's aide stopped her.

"Dr Crusher, if you would wait here a moment. The Admiral wishes to speak with you."

Beverly waited, resisting the urge to fidget. Her feet hurt from standing at parade rest for so long and she was feeling the effects of the long night with too little sleep. She watched Jean-Luc speaking with the admiral. The discussion was too quiet for her to hear but she could tell that Jean-Luc wasn't happy. Another minute and he was dismissed and the admiral turned away coldly. Beverly felt her stomach churn as the door closed on his retreating form.

There were four of them; the admiral and three aides. None of them looked like they knew how to smile. She took the seat that the aid eindicated and sent out a wish that this would be over with quickly.

*****

"It all happened so quickly," the young med tech stammered. "She was screaming and there was blood. I called the doctor and then shut off the security field. By the time I got to the door she was gone. Next thing I know she's right there in front of me. I don't know what she hit me with, but that's all I remember."

Picard nodded, thanking the young man and moving aside so the doctor could continue treating him. On his way to the turbolift, Will Riker joined him.

"Nothing yet, sir," he said by way of greeting. "Geordi's making some modifications to the internal sensors and Worf's got teams searching every deck. "We'll find her."

"Did you send a security escort for Doctor Crusher?"

"Yes, sir. And Worf doubled the number of security personnel guarding the prisoners."

"Good. Have Data scan for ships in the area. I want to know about anything that comes within transporter range. And make sure all the shuttlecraft and escape pods are secured."

"Yes sir." Will Riker hurried off down the corridor while Picard took the turbolift to the bridge.

*****

"Bridge," she said, leaning tiredly against the wall of the turbolift as it carried her upwards. She was bone weary and wanted nothing more than a weeks worth of sleep. But this could not wait. Jean-Luc had to know what was happening.

Barely acknowledging anyone on the bridge, she went to the ready room as quickly as her tired body could move. The few seconds wait until she was admitted to the captain's office seemed interminable.

He was speaking to someone on the viewscreen, and from his expression Beverly knew she was too late. It had to be Satie.

She sank down onto the sofa, letting her head fall back against the cushions. She could hear the admiral talking, but couldn't distinguish the words from this far away. For his part, Jean-Luc seemed to be filling in the pauses with monosyllables. Never a good sign.

At last he ended the communication and tabbed off the viewer, leaning back with the manner of someone who's just been run over by a transport. He stretched, the vertebra in his back making popping sounds, then stood, ordering two cups of tea before joining Beverly on the sofa.

"That was the Admiral," he said needlessly, filling the silence with words as he organized his thoughts. "She wanted me to know how uncooperative you were. She recommended disciplinary action." He took a sip of tea, allowing her time to protest or explain. When it was clear she wasn't planning to do either, he prompted her. "Care to tell me about it?"

She sighed. "There isn't much to tell. I refused to answer some of the admiral's questions. She was not happy." Affecting a careless attitude, Beverly took a sip of her tea. Jean-Luc watched her, not fooled for a minute.

"Would you care to tell a friend about it?"

Another sip of tea. A long silence. Then, finally, she spoke.

"I don't see what connection my living arrangements have to my kidnapping. Nor do I care to answer questions regarding the personal nature of my relationship with my commanding officer. The admiral took offense when I informed her that she was welcome to ask any questions she would like related to the kidnapping but that was all the information she was entitled to. I also informed her that all of the information relevant to my having been assimilated by the Borg was already in my file and I would not waste her time by repeating it."

"Oh," Jean-Luc said quietly, blowing the word out through his teeth. "That would explain some of the admiral's remarks."

"I'm sure it would," Beverly said, a hint of anger in her voice. "I will not be treated as if I were a willing participant in my assimilation or in this kidnapping. There is no reason for her to ask those questions unless it's to satisfy her morbid curiosity."

"I suppose you told her that too," Jean-Luc said slowly, already knowing the answer. This time Beverly looked the smallest bit contrite.

"I'm afraid so." She quirked an iron smile at him. "Not good?"

He gathered her into his embrace, drawing her head down onto his shoulder. "Not good," he agreed just before kissing her forehead.

*****

"Very good," she murmured to herself. She made it to the transport area with time to spare. Now all she had to do was wait another few minutes and she would be free. She ignored her protesting stomach, unsettled from a combination of nerves and the device. It wasn't doing much for her digestion but it was a perfectly functioning transponder, with the added side effect of distorting her bioreadings just enough to make tracking her with standard sensors tricky.

She felt a grudging respect for the Enterprise security teams. They'd almost caught her several times. It made things more exciting. Maybe a little too exciting.

There were voices, moving closer, and she tensed, readying the heavy cylinder she'd claimed as a weapon. Lifting it higher, she tensed, shifting into a crouch, preparing to attack.

And then the tingling icy cold feeling came and the room around her vanished.

*****

"What do you mean 'vanished'?" Worf demanded.

"It wasn't your standard transport beam, sir," the ensign offered quickly, eager to get out of his superior officer's sight. "One second she was there, and the next she was gone, like turning off a light. That quick."

The Klingon made a noise far back in his throat and glowered at the two junior officers before dismissing them. Resolutely he turned and marched towards the turbolift, tapping his communicator as he walked.

"Worf to Commander Riker."

"Riker here, Worf. Any luck?"

"The prisoner has escaped, sir. She transported from cargobay 12. It was not a standard transport beam."

"Acknowledged. Worf, you'd better check with the brig. Let's make sure no one else escapes. Riker out."

Almost growling, the Klingon cut the communications link.

*****

The communicator chirped, and Beverly sighed. She removed herself from the captain's side. "That's probably the admiral again. I'd better get to sickbay. Selar wants to poke and prod me some more."

As Beverly left, Will Riker entered. "I hope I'm not disturbing you?"

"Not at all. What can I do for you, Number One."

"One of the prisoners has transported off the ship." Riker waited for the captain to react, then added, "Carin Carson. A security team found her in cargobay 12 but before they could apprehend her she vanished. According to the report, it was not a standard transport beam."

"Anything on the sensors?"

"No sir. The admiral's ship is the only one within transport range." Riker took a breath, then continued with the bad news. "Two of the admiral's aides transported at approximately the same time as Carson did. Geordi's analyzing the data now, to see if there was another transport signature piggybacked onto ours."

"Has the admiral's ship been scanned?"

"The same results as before. Whatever kept our scanner from finding Carson on board the Enterprise is having the same effect on that ship."

"Have you tried motion scanners?"

"Yes, sir, but there are too many false positives. It's almost impossible to track someone that way on a starship." Riker tried to offer a positive. "Data and Wesley are working on something now; a variation of an infrared scanner. They expect to have it working in an hour."

"Very well. Staff meeting in one hour, Number One." Picard stood and straightened his uniform top. "That will give me just enough time to inform the admiral."

"Shall I ask Deanna to tell Beverly?"

"No, I'll take care of it," Picard said, adding one more unpleasant task to his list.

*****

"An unpleasant form of travel." The words rang in her ears as she felt herself become solid again, the weight of gravity bringing her back to reality.

She was shaking violently, unable to move off the transport pad. Triphasic transport was tricky and always dangerous, through a cloaking field it was just short of suicide. But it had worked and that was all that really mattered.

She allowed one of the techs to help her, providing a steadying hand as Carin slowly moved off the pad and towards the door. She trusted this group enough to know that her orders were being carried out, but she still preferred to see for herself.

Besides, trust only went so far with the company she kept.

Her assistant met her as she entered the bridge of the Packled rover. The rest of the crew ignored her, intent on getting the cranky spacecraft safely away. Despite the cloak, they were still too close to the Enterprise to risk a warp jump. This bucket of bolts was just as likely to stop all together as to do what it was supposed to.

Getting a report from the captain, she ordered her to take the craft to the opposite side of the planet's farthest moon and wait. Still shaking, she motioned for her aide to accompany her into the turbolift and down to sickbay.

They rode together in silence, Carin resting her head against the wall of the lift and trying not to vomit. Finally arriving in sickbay she half fell onto the nearest bed.

They fussed over her for a while, all the time treating her as if she were a mordoonebeast; slow and stupid. Had she not felt so terrible, she would have done something about it.

All the while Veryl waited, padd in hand, grim expression firmly in place.

At long last the shaking stopped and Carin was able to sit up. Her stomach was still tentative but at least the ship had stopped doing rollovers. She accepted Veryl's padd, motioning the medics away.

The results were not what she had hoped for.

"The retrieval failed? Twice?"

"The fleeters were in the way and then security arrived. They're all over the place down there. We couldn't get near the place without giving ourselves away."

"We have to get that stasis container. Without those samples we can't move forward." Carin realized her voice had gotten louder and she was drawing unwanted attention. Moving carefully, she slid off the diagnostic bed and moved towards the door.

She didn't speak again until she and her assistant were in the turbolift headed towards Carin's quarters.

"If our friend on the other ship is doing his job, the Enterprise will be leaving soon and then we'll have no problems retrieving that container."

"And if our friend doesn't do his job?"

"We'll think of something else."

*****

"Not a good idea, Picard," the admiral stated frostily. The conversation had been going against him since the captain arrived with news of Carin's escape.

"If the Enterprise remains here we'll have double the searching capability."

The conversation was interrupted by the arrival of one of the admiral's aides. He handed her a padd and waited for her to read and authorize it before leaving them to continue.

Before he could speak again, the Admiral stopped him, rising from her chair.

"That was a communiqué from Starfleet Headquarters. Your request to remain here has been denied. You will return to the Enterprise immediately where you will prepare your ship to leave orbit in one hour. If you depart so much as a minute late, Picard, you will answer to Headquarters. Is that clear?"

Picard stood stiffly, his anger contained behind his dutiful officer façade. He turned stiffly, ready to depart when the admiral called him back.

"I want to share something with you, Picard. For the good of your future as a Starfleet officer." She selected a padd off the desk then moved a step closer. Although she was smaller than he, she seemed to overwhelm him. Her eyes were cold, as was the hand that brushed his as she handed him the padd.

"You are being watched, Picard. And there are those in Starfleet who don't like what they see. Your relationship with Beverly Crusher is a bad career decision." She looked hard into his eyes and he knew, without a doubt, that she was one of the admirals who had wanted Beverly reassigned to earth. "Think very carefully about the choices you make." She paused and then smiled not at all nicely. "And about the company you keep."

A cold chill went up Picard's spine and he was glad to hear the door slide shut, separating him from the woman inside.

A heaviness settled in his chest as he walked away, the weight of the padd, and its contents threatening to crush him.

*****

"It would be crushed," Wesley argued, reaching past Geordi to tap a different set of parameters into the simulation.

"Not if it has its own forcefield," Geordi insisted. "Look, it wouldn't have to be fancy, just enough protection to keep the container safe from the pressure and any contaminants. It would be the perfect hiding place. Especially if you were planning to retrieve it in say a month or two."

"Just long enough for the excitement to settle down," Wesley added, excited by this new possibility. "So we scan for a low level power reading."

"Wrong," Geordi looked up, waiting.

"A tracking signal. Nothing strong. Maybe..." Wes tapped some more buttons. "Yes! Something like a radio tag used for marine animal research. But just different enough that it wouldn't show up on a standard scan."

"Think you can find it?" Geordi teased. Wes quirked half a smile at him.

"How much you wanna bet?" He dropped into a chair at the next science station and started punching in commands. After nearly fifteen minutes of searching, the computer beeped. "Got it," Wes said excitedly. He keyed in a few commands and the display changed. "There, in the ocean, not far from their base. It's stationary and larger than most of the objects that are registering in that area."

With Riker's permission they beamed the object into a biomaterials holding area in sickbay's auxiliary lab 3. Moments later Data, Geordi and Wesley joined Dr Hill as she was running a biohazard scan. Using electronic probes she deactivated the forcefield after making sure there were no self-destruct mechanisms. After a brief wait, the cylinder clicked open and they were able to rescan the contents.

A hiss of arctic air escaped as the object opened revealing rows of carefully packed and preserved specimen tubes, all neatly labeled.

Geordi turned quickly to Wes, the sudden realization of what might be in there dawning.

"Why don't you go back to the bridge and let Commander Riker know what we found. You can tell him it is definitely biological samples."

Wes had paled slightly, and he willingly left the room.

*****

He walked away slowly, nearer to tears than he had been in a long time. His body and soul ached for her, as he left her alone.

She hadn't raged, or cried. There had been no angry accusations or tantrums. She had listened calmly and quietly to his every word, not seeking clarification nor defending herself. When he had reached for her she had remained still, only her eyes touching him; burning him with her pain.

When he turned to go he went slowly, hoping she would call him back, perhaps throw herself into his arms. Anything other than remain in her seat, expressionless, letting him leave.

He nearly lost his temper when the turbolift arrived and he saw it was already occupied. He was aware of the young ensign's discomfort but couldn't bring himself out of his black mood long enough to put the man at ease. He had wanted privacy, a few precious seconds alone in the lift where he could rest his head against the wall and collect this thoughts.

On deck four the lift slowed and the ensign all but ran through the doors and down the corridor. It was comical, but Picard couldn't muster up the energy to be amused. Instead, he let the lift resume, taking the remaining seconds to muster his reserves so that when the doors opened onto the bridge it was the strong and confident Captain Picard who emerged.

Riker rose from the center seat to greet him, remaining standing as he apprised the captain about Geordi's discovery. Just then Wesley arrived.

S

till a little pale, the young man reported to the officers then turned to take his seat at navigation. Picard stopped him, inviting him into the ready room instead.

Once the door was closed the captain took a seat on the sofa, indicating to the ensign that he could relax.

"I wanted to talk to you about your mother, Wesley." Picard made an effort to sound casual. "Have you been to see her recently?"

"Do you mean today, sir? " At Picard's nod he answered, "No. I tried to visit her last night but... well it was late and I..." He shrugged letting Picard know the real reason he hadn't visited. None of them were completely comfortable yet with Beverly and the captain sharing quarters.

"I appreciate your not wanting to disturb us, Wesley. But I think your mother would appreciate it if you would stop by."

"How bad is she?" Wes asked, his eyes widening, his voice that of a worried teenager rather than a Starfleet ensign.

"It would be good if the container you and Mr. LaForge retrieved is the missing samples."

"Oh." Wesley sighed, leaning back slightly, the weight of what wasn't said hanging between them.

*****

The ship hung there, moving slowly to match the rotation of the planet it was using as a shield. They were still cloaked, but given the condition of the equipment on this tub it didn't hurt to be careful.

On the bridge, Carin had resumed the center seat much to the continued annoyance of the captain of the vessel. They had locked onto the signal and were preparing to beam up the stasis container when the signal faded and was gone.

"Track it," Carin barked, lunging towards the ops station. Knocking the man's hands aside she pounded on the console, trying to make it obey her commands.

"I'm getting a residual transport reading - it's consistent with a Federation transporter," the woman at the rear science station announced. Carin swore and headed for the lift with only Veryl following her.

They rode down in silence, Carin's face flushed with anger as she paced the width of the lift. Barely allowing the doors to open she stormed down the hallway leaving Veryl to keep up as best she could. Stopping at her quarters, Carin retrieved a small rectangular device from her desk. Slipping it into the pocket of her carrysack she slung it over one shoulder, cast a final look around the room and left. Veryl was just emerging from her own quarters with a similar sack.

"Ready to go?" Carin asked, waiting for Veryl's nod before continuing down the corridor.

No one questioned them as the two women entered the shuttle and prepped it for departure. As long a Carin paid their price, she could come and go as she pleased.

Had they watched more carefully, they might have seen the odd expression on her face.

"Are we far enough away?" Carin wanted to know after the shuttle had traveled some distance from the rover. It was a small utilitarian craft but it would keep them alive. As Carin pressed the single button on the rectangular device, she smiled at the thought; that was more than she could say for the rover.

A few seconds delay and where there had appeared to be nothing there was now an explosion of light and debris. She watched it with detached interest for a few minutes before turning away.

Tapping another set of commands into the shuttle control panel, she looked over at Veryl.

"Time for act two." And then she laughed.

*****

"What's so funny?" Beverly demanded, giving her son a "mother" glare. Wesley laughed even harder, tears filling his eyes. Shaking her head in surrender, Beverly began to laugh too. When they settled down again, she conceded.

"Okay, I was being melodramatic." She leaned closer to Wes. "But look who I learned it from."

"Hey. Don't talk about the captain like that," Wes managed to say before bursting into another round of laughter. They were still laughing when the captain himself arrived.

"Looks like I'm just in time for the comedy hour," he said mildly, his spirit lifting at the sight and sound of their mirth.

"We're just sharing childhood memories," Beverly explained, patting the empty spot beside her on the sofa. "Come join us. You can tell us all about your wild ways as a young cadet."

Picard er-hmmm'ed as he took the indicated seat, his arm sliding casually around Beverly. "Why don't I just listen?" he suggested.

"Oh no," Beverly and Wesley both protested. "You're not getting off that easily."

He was searching his memory frantically for something not too damaging he could reveal about those days. He was very glad when his communicator chirped.

"Captain Picard to the bridge," Riker requested.

Picard shared a look with Beverly. Rising, he tapped the pin.

"What is it, Number One?"

"We've found the ship we were searching for, sir. It just exploded."

*****

"What?" Satie exploded, moving dangerously close to Picard. She brought herself under control almost too quickly, as if someone had pressed a control and turned off her outrage. In a much more controlled voice she continued.

"No ship's crew is capable of this level of incompetence, Picard. It is clear that your priorities are not what they once were." She stepped back and looked daggers at him all the while maintaining the cold, neutral façade of a judge. "One might think it was the company you keep."

She turned slightly and activated her communicator. "Satie to Merris. Is the prisoner transport complete?"

"Yes, sir," came the prompt reply.

"Very well. I will be returning to the ship momentarily. Tell the captain I will be moving forward with the planetside hearings as soon as the Enterprise has left orbit. I will need the prisoners prepared and the security personnel briefed. Satie out." And she closed the channel without waiting for a confirmation.

"Once I have beamed out, it should require no longer than ten minutes for this ship to leave orbit. If the Enterprise is still in orbit one minute past that time, captain. you will be court-martialed. Is that clear?"

She didn't wait for an answer before sweeping out of the room.

*****

"Don't you want to hear what I have to say about this?" Veryl asked, annoyed. They has just transported down on the planet, two disruptors and an empty stasis container between them. They were just at the edge of a glacier spring, in a remote area of the northernmost island on the planet. They weren't really dressed for the weather but they wouldn't be there long enough for it to matter.

"All I want to hear from you is that you've found the container."

Veryl sniffed, annoyed at Carin's dismissive angry manner. She'd been behaving even more erratically than usual since her rescue from the Federation starship. The fleeter's discovery of the primary stasis container just made things that much worse.

The hand-held scanner breeped. She'd found it. Good, now maybe things would be better. If Carin hadn't been her best friend since childhood she'd have walked away long ago.

She retrieved the container first, examining it, relieved and glad to find it intact. At the time she hadn't understood why Carin would save some of that woman's tissue samples in a different, container, then go to all the trouble of sending Veryl off to hide it in this horrible frozen place. But since the fleeters found the primary container with the bulk of the biomaterials in it, Carin's extreme measures made more sense.

She set the container down carefully, then stood, turning to call to Carin. The last thing she expected to see was her lifelong friend firing a disruptor at her.

*****

She went to pieces without warning, just a single strangled cry followed by sobs torn from her until she could barely breathe. All the time she was aware of Jean-Luc and Wesley's presence as they tried helplessly to comfort her. She tried to stop, to bring herself under control. But it was beyond her, as so many things.

The medical treatments were almost complete, the last of the nanite changes in her brain were repaired by Selar just hours ago. Now, as her brain processed the changes the enormity of what was happening hit her. She was alone again, this time forever. And although she wanted this, the suddenness of being alone, cut off from the comforting *knowing* that others were there was devastating.

Deanna was called in, bringing her seldom used hypospray full of brain-numbing drugs. And although Beverly didn't want it, she couldn't calm herself enough to make them understand. Even afterward, with her mind and body heavy from the medication she still couldn't stop. Jean-Luc put her to bed where she lay on her back, tears flowing down to pool in her ears before flowing over onto the pillow below.

She could hear them talking although much of the conversation was pitched too low for her to make out the words. She didn't have to guess what was being said; she knew.

Deanna would hold off on an official report pending the results of some extensive therapy. There would be a mandatory leave followed by a return to work on a restricted schedule with no away team privileges. It might take a few weeks or it could drag on for several months.

And there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it.

*****

"There is something you can do, my love."

Beverly opened her eyes again, wondering when she had fallen asleep. Although she hadn't had one for several days, she was quite used to these dreams/nightmares/hallucinations now.

She noticed that her uniform had been exchanged for a flowing white gown. It slid against her sensitized skin as she stretched, cat-like and rose from the overstuffed chaise.

"You can accept what I have to offer."

Her queen waited for her, reclining carelessly in her throne, her leather-clad body slender again. She held out her silver goblet, offering Beverly the tart-sweet wine she remembered so well although she'd only ever tasted it in these dreams.

Obediently Beverly took a drink. She watched as her queen turned the cup around and drank from the same place that Beverly had, her tongue sliding over the edge of the goblet before plunging in to taste the amber liquid.

"Sit beside me, my love. I have something to show you."

Beverly took the offered seat, her hip and thigh pressed against the Borg's. She didn't protest as the queen's arm slid around her, instead Beverly allowed herself to relax into the embrace. *It's not real,* she reminded herself before turning her attention to where the queen pointed.

"Look what I have to offer you, my love." A drone moved forward, carrying something stiffly against its body. As he moved closer Beverly realized it was a baby. Wonderingly she accepted the child, using one finger to caress the perfect human flesh. Loosening the blanket she searched for any sign of Borg implants and found none.

"She is her mother's child, my love. Perfect and human. Conceived of your body, carried in mine. She will remain unassimilated as my pledge to you."

Leaning over the child, the queen kissed Beverly fully on the lips, letting the kiss deepen when Beverly resisted only a little. Moving back at last she slid off the seat and took the baby, moving a few steps away to hand it back to the drone before turning.

"The false one will trouble you no longer, my love. You may return to your ship now and consider; where do you really belong?" She indicated the regal surroundings and then motioned towards the baby being carried away. "Do they have anything to offer you, my love, that can compare to this?"

As Beverly looked at the queen, a feeling of contentment and of pleasure flooded her senses, building in intensity until she cried out wordlessly and collapsed into her queen's waiting arms.

*****

She wrapped her arms around the container, holding it carefully against her. It was finally time. Let the federation idiots with their pathetic Beverly Crusher think what they will. They were so easy to fool, so willing in their own deception.

So unworthy of the Borg.

She cradled the few precious samples, knowing it was more than enough. The rest had been a ruse, convenient if it worked, easily sacrificed if it didn't.

Soon she would be ready to go to her queen, able to offer her these tokens of Beverly Crusher's flesh. It would be proof of her love and devotion, of her worthiness to sit beside her queen as consort. To vanquish Beverly Crusher forever and rule in her stead as Locutus of Borg.

*****

The embrace was warm, and familiar, anchoring her as she awoke, grounding her consciousness until the remnants of the dream drifted away.

Jean-Luc was asleep, still in his uniform, lines of concern etched into his face. She studied them, resisting the urge to smooth them away with kisses. That would wait until he awoke. Right now she needed to think without distraction.

Carefully she eased out of his embrace, moving stealthily out into the living area and closing the bedroom door behind her. Wes was sprawled on the sofa, snoring slightly, his hair and uniform unkempt. She wondered how long she had been sleeping.

Leaving a note where they would be sure to hear it, she finger combed her hair as best she could, using the viewscreen as a mirror. She didn't look her best but it would do.

The chronometer said it was more than three-quarters of the way through the third watch and the corridor was deserted. She arrived at the small holodeck having seen only two people.

Picking a generic earth program she entered the holodeck house and used the facilities to freshen up and replicate new clothing. Once that was done she took a seat on the patio in back and started up at the sky, thinking.

It seemed like years instead of a few weeks since she'd decided to go to Kelvor. The abduction and torture, Carin, the visions of the Borg queen and of Finn, her rescue, the arrival of the Admiral, the return of the samples and finally the destruction of Carin's ship.

Very little of it made sense.

She could understand at least a little of what had driven Carin to such extremes. More times than she wanted to think about, Beverly felt the despair of being separated from the collective. Without her friends she could easily have become Carin, desperate enough to do anything to become Borg again.

Even now the seductive memory of the visions compelled her. It didn't matter whether it was a residual effect of her assimilation or her subconscious manifesting deeply suppressed desires; she was not free of the Borg yet.

Beverly wasn't sure exactly what Carin had intended to do with the biological samples she had taken, but it was clear she believed that Beverly still had some special connection to the queen and the collective.

The image of the baby cradled in her arms flooded Beverly's mind, refusing to be vanquished. She felt the ache of desperate wanting and tried not to think about what might have happened had Carin gotten away with those samples.

It hurt too much.

She grasped at anything to change her current line of thought. Finn. What was that all about? Brutally honest with herself, she admitted that she had felt an attraction to him. Not, she reminded herself, that there ever could have been something between them, even if the circumstances were different.

That the kidnapping had brought out his memory made sense; what wasn't clear was her vision of him later. Unless, she suddenly realized, it had been about trust. She had trusted Finn, somehow knowing that even when he threatened her that he would never really hurt her.

The truth pierced her like shards of crystal.

It was all about trust.

*****

"Why don't you trust him, Beverly?" Deanna asked softly. She was seated on the sofa in her quarters, still in her nightgown and robe with her breakfast growing cold on the table across the room. Across from her Beverly leaned forward in her chair, hands clasped together tightly as she struggled to voice her thoughts.

"I thought I did. But... I was thinking this morning. About everything that happened. He's given me so much; done so much for me, Deanna. How can I not trust him?"

"Maybe it's really yourself that you don't trust."

Beverly leaned back and digested that for a while. After a long pause she slowly nodded. It was a possibility she had never considered.

"So what do I do now?"

Deanna smiled.  "You go home."

With a smile of thanks Beverly hurried to do just that.

*****

"Go home, Wes," she ordered playfully. "I'm saving you from the aspic." Wesley rolled his eyes and stood, draining the last of his coffee. He stopped on his way past to give his mother a hug and she returned it gladly.

"I'll stop by later?" he asked and she nodded, turning to watch as he walked out the door. When he was gone she turned her attention back to the captain.

"You get to eat his breakfast," he teased, moving to take her into his arms. There were tears glistening in his eyes as he hugged her fiercely, never wanting to let her go.

Her mouth found his, exploring it as if they had been apart for decades. Setting the pace, she urged him towards the bedroom, needing to learn him all over again.

Much later they were dressed and seated at the table, the aspic between them like a wilted centerpiece. They ate hungrily, storing up energy for the conversation to come. It wouldn't be easy or pleasant for either of them, but they would survive it, and grow stronger taking strength from each other as they always had. As they always would.

As they took turns feeding Finn's sketches into the recycler, they celebrated each other, sharing memories both pleasant and tender and as the last scrap of paper disappeared, they went into each other's arms ready to face Deanna, Starfleet, and whatever challenges might lie before them.

Together.

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