Crusher tapped the door panel on Picard's quarters and got no response. "Computer location of Picard?"
"Picard is in his quarters."
"Medical override. Crusher five seven one gamma white." As the door opened she noticed the room smelled of booze and vomit, and she found Picard lying on the floor with a large mostly empty bottle of Romulan ale in one hand and a PADD in the other. An empty bottle of red wine and a wine glass was on the table next to his computer terminal. She looked at the screen for a second and saw he'd been reading the causality and damage reports from Wolf 359.
She shook his shoulder to try to wake him, noticing the PADD in his hands listed the ships at Wolf 359, with the number of dead and assimilated on each. When he didn't respond to her, she checked his vitals, wishing she had a med kit, and immediately noticed they were abnormal, she then called for emergency transport to sickbay for both of them, while putting the PADD in her pocket.
Once she stabilized Picard, she tapped her combadge to contact Hanson about the PADD. They met in the conference room a few minutes later, and she handed him the PADD.
"What is this?"
"I'm not entirely sure, but my guess is that it's updated causality statistics from the sensors on the Borg ship. Picard wrote it. I presume it's for you."
"Why didn't he bring it to me then?"
"He's in sickbay comatose from alcohol poisoning. I found him unconscious, barely breathing, with that PADD in one hand and an empty bottle of booze in the other. I doubt he remembers writing it."
"Is he going to be alright?"
"Physically? Yes, I stabilized him before I brought that to you. Psychologically, I don't know. Failure has always been the one thing he doesn't handle well."
Several hours later Picard woke up squirming and screaming. "Jean-Luc, calm down, you're on the Enterprise in sickbay." Crusher said.
"I feel awful."
"I know. You had alcohol poisoning. I couldn't give you the only thing that's been effective for your nightmares because it would interact badly with alcohol. I gave you something to quickly drop your blood alcohol level, which is going to give you a nasty hangover."
"Worst hangover I've had in many years."
"What the hell were you thinking? Were you trying to kill yourself?"
"What happened?" Picard asked somewhat confused.
Crusher shook her head, "I found you on the floor of your quarters comatose from alcohol poisoning, with an empty bottle of wine on the table, and an empty bottle of Romulan ale next to you on the floor. If I'd checked on you a half hour later, you'd be dead."
"I wasn't that drunk." He replied.
"You had a blood alcohol level of .42. You were unresponsive and barely breathing. What I don't understand is how. You've been drinking for 50 years now, it's not like you can't handle your alcohol. It didn't occur to you to stop drinking after you puked on the carpet?"
"I was sober when I puked on the carpet. The alcohol was helping with the nausea. The more I drank the less I wanted to puke."
Crusher shook her head, concerned. The sedatives had been helping with the nausea, and it made some sense alcohol would do the same. "Why didn't you call me? I never should have tried lowering the dosage of the sedative I've been giving you, you clearly weren't ready. I told you to call me if you were having trouble with that. If you wanted something for stress induced nausea, I could have given you something safer and more effective."
"I wasn't so miserable drunk. I could even think about it for a moment."
"It's clear why you did this. You were in intolerable pain, and you just wanted the pain to stop. You should have asked for help. If you were that desperate, I easily could have given you something safer and more effective that would make you comfortable for a few hours."
"That's just it, I don't want the pain to stop. I don't want to stop caring..." He said, starting to cry. He wiped a tear off his face and continued, "I don't think I recognized that I didn't want to be in pain until I was already drunk."
Crusher nodded, "It seems you updated the causality list while you were blacked out."
"Good, that needed to be done. Can I go back to my quarters now?"
"Not alone. This is the second time in under a week I've treated you for life threatening self-inflicted injuries. I don't want you left unattended until I can be sure you won't hurt yourself."
***
"I can't believe Crusher hung up on me." Toddman said.
"You realize what she's been doing for the last week or so? At this point, if there is one person who has done the most to clean up this mess, it's her."
"I presume she's just doing this illegally now."
"If that's what you think, feel free to send a complaint to Starfleet medical."
"Starfleet medical would just send such a complaint to Gleason, who's in on it."
"Yes, they would. If two of the most well respected doctors in Starfleet agree on something, who are you to think you know better? Your medical training extends to what, basic first aid? Crusher is right about the law too. It is legal when it is medically necessary. Don't you think enough people are dead already? Do you really think this is a good time to interfere with the medical staff?"
"If they're doing something illegal, then it's our responsibility to do something about it."
"If you're so convinced it's illegal, take it up with T'Lauran."
"She hates me." Todd said.
"That's like claiming the computer terminal hates you. How?" Bennet said, trying to hold back laughter.
"She admitted as much publicly when she was defending Gleason. Said she did not consider herself impartial enough to judge the case after he saved her mother's life."
"He studied medicine on Vulcan didn't he?"
"Yes. T'Sara didn't elaborate, claimed the entire matter was highly classified."
At this point Bennet was half laughing hysterically, and having trouble staying in his chair. "The irony is anyone else in JAG hearing her say that would likely be far more prejudiced than she would have been. Isn't her mother the deputy director or Starfleet intelligence?"
"She was until she was elected to the Federation council last year."
"Vulcans are very private regarding their health. I have no idea what happened, but there's no way in hell any of them would publicly discuss it even if it wasn't classified. Especially in any field of medicine where he would be better qualified than most Vulcan doctors. I'm surprised she even admitted it."
"In what areas of medicine would he be more qualified than most Vulcan doctors?"
"Likely something involving reproductive health or psychiatry."
"You're right, there's no way in hell either of them would discuss that."
***
"I don't remember." Picard said, repeating that for the third or fourth time. Shelby rolled her eyes looking annoyed.
"Tricentronal." Troi said under her breath.
"What?" Hanson asked.
"Captain, do you remember waking up from surgery?"
"Yes."
"Can you tell me what you remember about that?"
"I was in a lot of pain. You were there and Crusher was there."
"Was anyone else there?"
"I don't remember."
"Do you remember anything you or anyone else said?"
"No."
Troi nodded. "Crusher gave you medication to help prevent forming invasive memories."
"I think I remember now. Didn't she say she was going to give me a lower dose so I would still remember?"
"Yes."
"Then why can't I remember so much?"
"Sometimes when the memories are sufficiently traumatic, your psyche can suppress them itself, especially with even a little help of the drug."
"Captain, do you recognize this?" Hanson asked, handing him the PADD he'd written the day before.
Picard quickly glanced at it, and replied "No," as he pushed the PADD away.
"You wrote it." Hanson replied.
"Is that the PADD I wrote before being brought to sickbay for alcohol poisoning?"
"It is."
"I was black out drunk and have no memory of that."
"Can you confirm any of that while you're sober?"
Picard glanced at it again, started gagging and ran over to the bathroom holding his mouth. Troi followed him, finding him leaning over the toilet vomiting with tears running down his face, his breathing was still extremely fast and shallow, with his lips tinted slightly purple. Seeing him in that condition, Troi tapped her com badge to call Crusher, then sat down next to him trying to comfort him.
"You're dismissed, Commander." Hanson told Shelby, before he followed Picard and Troi.
When Hanson got there, Picard was in a ball on the bathroom floor sobbing, with Troi sitting next to him telling him to breathe.
"Is he alright?" Hanson asked Troi.
Troi shook her head, "I already called Crusher."
A few seconds later Crusher walked in. "What happened here?"
"They gave him the PADD he wrote earlier, to ask if he could confirm it while sober." Troi replied. Crusher rolled her eyes annoyed at how stupid that had been.
Picard met her eyes for a second then turned away sobbing, still unable to catch his breath. She loaded a hypospray and gave it to him.
As the drug took effect, he suddenly took a deep breath and looked up at Crusher, acknowledging her presence for the first time, "Beverly?"
"Are you in physical pain?" She asked. He nodded, and she gave him another hypospray. "Is that better?" He nodded again.
"What am I doing here?"
"What's the last thing you remember clearly?"
"I was on the bridge of the Enterprise, our shields were failing."
"That was ten days ago." Crusher said, sounding very concerned, "Do you remember anything since then?"
"I feel like I should but I can't."
"You were kidnapped by the Borg. They did horrible things to you. You're suffering from severe physical, mental, and neurological trauma. You were having a flashback accompanied by a severe panic attack. I gave you something to stop the flashback, and it can occasionally temporarily impair short term memory, but it's not supposed to do anything like this."
"Is that why I was in so much pain earlier? Or why I feel so weak?"
"Yes. You've said the pain has gotten a lot better over the last few days."
"If that's the case, how bad was it earlier?"
"Bad. This the first time you've been lucid enough for someone to try debriefing you. You've been on strong pain killers, feverish and in out of surgery for most of the last week." Picard nodded, "I want you to come to sickbay with me," Crusher said, helping him up. "I need to do a brain scan to make sure your memory loss isn't caused by some kind of physical damage, and I think you should get some sleep. It'll let the drug wear off and help reorder your memory."
Hanson turned to Crusher and Troi as they were leaving. "Is it going to be possible to debrief him without harming him?"
"No." Troi replied, "This is the last thing you want to do at this point in his recovery."
Hanson looked at Crusher, "Any medical intervention to facilitate something like this would be ethically questionable at best. Troi's answer is final."
"Can the two of you get me a report saying as much and I'll bring it to Starfleet, recommending we end this."
"Yes Sir." Troi replied.
***
"How's the Captain?" Troi asked several hours after they failed to debrief him.
"Sleeping." Crusher replied.
"I'm worried about the fragmentation of his memory."
"As am I." Crusher replied, "The neurological tests all came out clean, meaning his memory issues are almost certainly psychological."
"What do you want to do with that? It's clearly a protective mechanism, I'm unsure how much we should push him to remember."
"He needs to be desensitized to it enough to function around people talking about the Borg. Keeping these memories suppressed is a recipe for causing panic attacks when he is forced to remember."
"I'll work with him on that." Troi replied, "How has he been doing physically?"
"Much better." Crusher told Troi. "His fever has been gone for three days now, and his immune system is starting to behave normally. At this point the worst of it is psychosomatic. When I lower the dosage of the psychotropic sedatives enough that he's fully lucid, he's vomiting from stress so often he needs intravenous hydration, and is having panic attacks so bad he's having trouble breathing semi-regularly."
"He's so disgusted by what they did to him that the flashbacks cause severe nausea." Troi replied.
"I know." Crusher replied. "I've tried anti-nauseants, but the only things that are even mildly effective have significant side effects including compromising judgment, which isn't that unusual when the cause is psychosomatic."
"There are some things I can try to help him with that. Has he been sleeping any better?"
"He still can't sleep without quadtriptonal. I tried using something milder and he woke up two hours later vomiting from stress."
"I'm going to need your help to induce a dream like state to help him practice lucid dreaming."
"Let's plan for that tomorrow afternoon. He's still complaining about pain in his eye, but the nerve block seems to be working perfectly, and it won't respond to local anesthetics either." Troi nodded, "The real problem is the only way to medically treat that kind of psychosomatic pain has a lot of negative long term side effects. We need to address the cause, not just the symptoms."
"I can work with him on that." Troi replied.
Crusher nodded, "He freaked out when I tried to give him an anesthetic eye drop. He said they put a needle through his eye while he was incapable of closing it."
"Thank you." Troi replied. "Knowing that it was triggered by a specific event will help."
"He doesn't need to be off all the psychiatric medication to return to duty, and that will likely take months, but he needs to be off anything that's consistently impairing his judgment. I wouldn't mind giving him a hypospray for panic attacks, but he would need to excuse himself if he needs it, and the panic attacks need to be rare enough he doesn't need it constantly."
"Is he off the painkillers?"
"I've largely been able to reduce them to a safe level for long term use. The only thing that's still causing real problems is his eye, which only responds to the stronger pain killers."
"Let me spend the next few days with him and see if I can coach him on coping with this."
"I don't know how much further he'll be able to recover without accepting this wasn't his fault." Crusher said. "Until he accepts he isn't responsible for this, I don't trust him not to harm himself. The psychological stress from blaming himself for this alone is enough to make him seriously physically ill."
Troi nodded, "I know."
"I don't know what to do. I can't just keep him so drugged he can't think about it."
"I'll work with him on that."
Crusher nodded, "If I can't get him stable off the drugs strong enough to impair judgment, we should start considering options for longer term rehabilitation."
"I don't think we're there yet." Troi replied, "I haven't had nearly enough time with him, and he's just starting to get over the shock and physical injuries. Being in a familiar environment surrounded by people he trusts makes a big difference."
***
"I'm looking for Jean-Luc Picard's juvenile psychiatric record." Troi said to a man on the view screen.
"He never authorized realizing it." The man with a strong French accent replied after checking his computer, "What is your relation to him?"
"I'm the ship's counselor on the Enterprise, I'm treating him for his recent injuries, and those records may be very helpful."
"I'm not authorized to release them to anyone other than him." The man replied.
"He isn't well enough to ask for them." Troi replied. "Do you know anyone who might be able to make an exception?"
"Our lead medical officer may be able to do so, but only under extraordinary circumstances."
"Can you please transfer me?"
"Give me a moment."
"I hear you're looking for a patient's juvenile psychiatric record."
"I am."
"To start, I'll need to verify your identity, and to do that, I'd prefer to see you in person."
"I can beam down immediately." Troi replied.
Troi walked into the building, and confirmed her identity with a palm and iris scan.
"Counselor Troi, graduated from University of Betazed with an advanced degree in psychology before graduating from Starfleet academy. Currently assigned to the Starship Enterprise as ship's counselor. Can you tell me why you need the records you're asking for, and why Picard is unable to ask for them himself?"
"I presume you've been following the news over the last few days?" Troi asked.
"Everyone has." He replied.
"Can you tell me what you know about what happened to Picard?"
"You already know."
"I was there, but I haven't had time to follow the civilian channels to find how much data was released to the public." She paused, "I'm unsure how the law against distributing degrading and/or sexually explicit content recorded against the victim's will is being applied here."
"I know he was declared dead, that the Borg somehow used him to further the attack, and that he was later rescued and instrumental in saving Earth despite being badly injured. From you even asking about that law, I'm guessing there is more going on here?"
Troi nodded, "There is a lot more, unfortunately I'm not at liberty to discuss it."
"How bad? Is he suicidal? Incapable of asking for the records himself?"
"Yes." Troi replied.
"Nothing in our records shows anything like that."
"Nor in ours, but everyone has a breaking point. It's not an abnormal reaction given what he's been through. At the moment I'm just trying to do everything I can to help him recover."
"And you think these records can help you?"
"I haven't seen them, so I can't be sure, but it would certainly help to have as much information as possible. We're still trying to figure out how much of this is brain trauma and how much is psychological. Any potentially relevant medical history may be able to help with that, especially if your records don't involve significant brain trauma."
"There was significant brain trauma? None of that was reported."
"He's spent twenty hours in neurosurgery over the last week. Most of the time he's been conscious he's been heavily drugged or in intolerable pain."
"Physical or psychological?"
"Both. That's why he's unable to ask himself. Physically he's been doing better over the last few days, but it's still unclear if he'll need longer term rehabilitation. We're trying to avoid that, but it may be required." The other doctor nodded, understanding. "I can assure you this will stay need to know, and will not be shared with anyone other than medical personnel responsible for his care. I won't even log it into our computer systems without his consent."
"Who needs access?"
"Myself, Beverly Crusher, and I believe she's consulting with Estral Gleason, so we should likely add him as well."
"Alright, I know both of them by reputation." He replied. "Sign here to record I've released these records to you. It's encrypted and copy protected, but you, Crusher and Gleason will have authorization to decrypt it."
"Thank you." Troi replied.
***
"Beverly, have you seen this before?" Troi said, showing her a PADD.
"What is it?" She asked.
"Picard's juvenile psychiatric record."
"I had no idea he had one. It's not in his Starfleet medical file."
"It took a good deal of work to get my hands on this. He never approved releasing it to Starfleet. They only reason they gave it to me after I told them he was extremely ill and it would help in his treatment."
"How did you know to look for this?"
"While he never agreed to release the file, his treating psychiatrist told Starfleet he had no concerns about his mental health. I figured there must have been more to it if he'd been asked in the first place."
"What was he treated for?"
"Dissociative amnesia."
"Why the hell wasn't that in his Starfleet medical record? Tricentronal is contraindicated in people who have a history of dissociative amnesia, as it's almost guaranteed to cause a relapse. From what?"
"Finding his mother dead, and calling the authorities for help because his father was too drunk to do so. When they arrived, they arrested his father for killing her. The autopsy later showed she killed herself because of a treatable mental illness, which she and his father conspired to hide from the authorities, so his father spent a year in prison for negligent homicide. Picard didn't move back home until he was teen and old enough to care for himself to some extent. His father never regained the right to make legal decisions on his behalf, which is how he applied to Starfleet at 16 over his father's objection."
"I knew about his mother's illness and suicide, but not that he found her."
"Based on that report, I don't know if he knows he found her." Troi replied.
"That isn't the first time his parents lost custody either. When he was a toddler, his aunt brought him to a doctor after he'd been too sick to eat long enough that he needed to be treated for malnutrition. His parents were charged with medical neglect and lost custody on the spot."
Troi nodded. "So local social services knew them quite well?"
"Apparently." Crusher answered. "I knew what happened to his mother, but I had no idea he found her."
"I should have seen it before."
"What?"
"You've known him for a long time, has he ever had a long-term relationship?"
"No." Crusher replied.
"Children of dysfunctional families often have difficulty with intimacy, have trouble around children, repress their emotions, are perfectionists and highly self-critical, have people pleasing tendencies, take on excess responsibility, and feel responsible for things beyond their control."
"I've never seen Picard as much of a people pleaser." Crusher replied.
"When was the last time you were on a diplomatic mission with him? Because I've seen that come out in delicate diplomatic negotiations, where it's very useful in ingratiating tentative and hostile aliens to the Federation."
Crusher nodded, "Come to think of it, when I first met him, he may have fit that description more."
"It's a common trait in people from families where the parents behave unpredictably and abusively, and it's a very useful character trait for a diplomat. As far as his taking responsibility for things beyond his control, he's found himself in a position where he is responsible for protecting a good part of the galaxy. The problem is how much of his sense of self-worth is connected to his ability to help and protect others, and the Borg took that away from him."
***
Picard opened his eyes, relieved to find himself in the Enterprise's sickbay. It was mostly empty, but clearly undamaged as it should be. Once he awoke, he noticed Crusher rushing over to him. "It's good to see you up. How are you feeling?"
"I have an awful headache."
Crusher loaded a hypo and gave it to him. "Is that better?"
"Much." He replied.
"Do you know how you got here?"
He paused and thought about it for a moment. "I'm not sure. Was I having a nightmare?"
"I think you were, but what's the last thing you remember happening while you were awake?"
"I'm not sure. Was I assimilated by the Borg or did I hit my head on the bridge when they attacked us and hallucinate that?"
"That was real." Crusher replied.
"It feels like a nightmare or a distant memory."
Crusher smiled. "I think that's a good thing. Remembering it clearly has been making you ill."
"Wolf 359?" Picard asked.
"It was a disaster." Crusher replied.
"And Earth?"
"It's fine. We rescued you, and you were able to help us hack into the Borg systems and disable their ship. You should go over some of the events with Troi."
***
Picard was finally doing a bit better, and Crusher had agreed to let him go back to work on limited duty. His headache still hadn't subsided, and many of the parts of his head implants had been removed from were still bandaged. He was still on strong medication for nightmares. While he could get through the day blocking most of the memories, that didn't work nearly as well at night.
It felt good to be back in uniform, it made him feel like himself again. He ordered the turbolift to take him to the bridge as he had many times before. "Captain on the bridge." Riker said, smiling, as Picard got off the turbolift. It was Riker's informal way of telling everyone Picard was back in command.
"At ease." Picard replied, "I'll be in my ready room."
"May I join you Sir? I'd like to make sure I left it in good condition for you."
"Of course." Picard said, and they both walked in. After looking around for a moment, he said, "Everything is just how I left it."
"Thank you, Sir." Riker replied.
Picard walked over to his replicator and ordered his favorite tea as he had many times before. He sipped it enjoying the familiar taste. "Can you fill me in on what's happened while I've been out? How has Shelby been working out as first officer?" He asked Riker as he sat down.
"She's been great, she'll be getting a glowing recommendation from me. She's certainly earned her promotion to full commander."
"She isn't staying?" Picard asked.
"No, she's accepted an assignment leading the task force rebuilding the fleet."
"Am I going to need to find a new first officer?"
"No Sir. I've decided to stay."
"Are you sure Will? You've always wanted a command of your own."
"This isn't a good time to change too much around here." He replied. "After everything that's happened, I just want to be with my friends."
Picard smiled, "I'm glad to hear that."
"Earth Station McKinley has advised they're ready to begin refitting the Enterprise." Riker said.
"Have they estimated time for repairs?" Picard asked.
"Five or six weeks."
After he said that, the doorbell rang. Both Picard and Riker said "Come" simultaneously. Picard smiled noticing Will had gotten used to the office.
Shelby walked in. "Request permission to disembark, sir." She said, looking at Riker as she entered, then turning, realizing her request should be addressed to Picard.
"Permission granted." Picard replied, "They've picked a fine officer for the task force, Commander."
"We'll have the fleet back up in less than a year. I imagine you'll get your choice of any Starfleet command, Sir." She told Riker.
"Everyone is so concerned about my next job. With all due respect, Commander, sir, my career plans are my own business, and no one else's. But it's nice to know I'll have a few options."
"I hope I have the fortune of serving with you again, sir." Shelby said, then turned to Picard, "Captain." She said, nodding her head to leave.
After the door closed behind her, Riker said "Course to Station McKinley ready and laid in, sir."
"Make it so, Number One." Picard replied, and Riker left for the bridge to do as he asked.
Picard picked up his tea, only to realize the thought of a taskforce to rebuild the damage he caused to Starfleet made him too nauseous to sip it. He considered using the hypospray Crusher had given him, but he didn't want to relieve himself of duty, as she had requested he do after he took it. Instead, he stood up and looked out the window practicing one of the calming exercises Troi taught him. After a few moments, the feeling passed. He took a few sips of his tea, realized he didn't want to be alone with his thoughts, and took his seat on the bridge.