Breaking Point (1/?)    

by Kimberly Blackwell

Earth Labarre, France Two years after Generations'   

 He stared out at the sunny vineyards, reflecting that he probably would miss this place when it was gone.  But just as the sight saddened Marie every time she looked out, reminding her of Robert, of Rene, the vines could never bring him happiness again either, not since . . . He turned away abruptly.  Amazing how, after all this time, thoughts of her were still so close to the surface of his mind . . .    

The doorbell rang and he frowned bitterly.  Why doesn't she leave me in peace? he asked himself as he went to the door.  He didn't try to mask his despondence; it was wasting useless energy in the company of his expected guest.  There was no point.  But then, there was no point in anything anymore, nor had there been for a very long time.    

 "Good day, Deanna," he greeted her, gesturing her to enter.    

 "It's wonderful to see you, sir," she replied, favoring him with a bright smile.    

 Despite himself, Jean-Luc Picard managed a small smile.  "Thank you, though I'm not sure why."  To divert her attention from that statement, he asked the question, though he'd been told in several communiques: "When are you due?"    

 "One more month," she answered, patting her rounded belly.  "At least according to Dr. Ogawa, but I think the little guy will be out sooner than that.  It's Will's baby, after all."  She smiled, but realized quickly she had made a rare error at voicing the doctor's name.    

 Picard's face had darkened.  "Yes, well, all the best," he murmured.    

 "Captain--"    

 "It's not 'captain' anymore, Counselor," he cut her off sharply, then cursed himself for being so rude.  She wasn't to blame for his long-done actions, was she?  "Forgive me."    

 Deanna waved it off, quickly changing modes from old friend to professional psychologist.  "I have something to deliver to you, Jean-Luc,but I thought perhaps we could talk awhile."    

 He stood stiffly.  "Counselor, I don't think that would be such a good idea."    

 She brushed past him anyway.  "Do you mind if I sit down?"    

 He wavered, but his ingrained sense of courtesy took over.  He certainly didn't want to deny a seat to a pregnant woman.  "If you'd like. May I get you something to drink?"    

 "No thanks."  She watched him take a seat. 

 "How are you feeling, Jean-Luc?"   

  Picard sighed.  "If you must know, the same as I have for the last eighteen months."    

 Deanna Riker studied his face.  It had shocked her somewhat to see what eighteen months of those feelings had done to him.  He had aged, the lines on his face becoming more pronounced.  He didn't look as though he'd smiled since that time.  She knew that if he didn't get it out, he would just waste away . . .

 "Everyone else believed that you were retiring at the pinnacle of your career," she said quietly.    

 "But you knew better?" he said, without a trace of mockery.    

 She shook her head, then dared pronounce the name. 

 "I knew that it was Beverly.  I knew you were shattered by her death.  What I didn't know, and don't know, is why you feel so guilty."    

 He laughed, but it was a harsh sound.    

 "She didn't suffer in the accident, and you weren't to blame."    

 Nearly choking on his next breath, he glanced up at her dark eyes and the intensity in his, suddenly burning, shocked her as much as the mental outpouring that statement provoked. <My God,> she thought, <it's so close to the surface, there's so much guilt,> and his thoughts were so strong that she actually sensed them as words. <You know nothing, you know nothing of my guilt, it was all my fault and she died because of me,of my cowardice, of my failure . . .>    

 "Jean-Luc," she breathed a minute later, leaning forward, "this is killing you.  Whatever happened, you can't keep it all inside, you have to take control.  If not in me, then someone else.  But don't continue living like this."    

 His eyes were empty now, the flaring of emotion under that tight control he had, but he stood up and walked to his desk.  For a long moment he hesitated, but then worked up his courage and pulled a padd off of his desk.  "Do you recognize this?"    

 She made a guess.  "Is it the padd Gul Madred gave you after the treaty ceremonies were concluded?"  She knew that it was after viewing that that the despair he'd felt since his recovery had nose dived to a point where no one could recover him.  A day later had come his resignation. She'd always wondered . . . but he'd never confided anything.    

 He nodded, though the action was a while in coming.  "Yes."  More reluctance.  Finally he held it out to her.  "Deanna, you don't have to watch, I understand.  If you do. . . please mute the sound . . . I can hear it in my sleep, but please don't play it out loud."    

 Her face tightened in curiosity and apprehension as she accepted the padd, but knowing this was vital to helping Picard.  She touched the "view" button, and glanced up in shock at the sight --                  

 *    *     *

Deep space Somewhere between the Cardassian neutral zone and the Enterprise-E Eighteen months earlier    

 "These shuttles are so cramped!" moaned Beverly Crusher as she maneuvered herself out of the co-pilot's seat to stretch.  "Especially overlong periods of time."    

 "What, are you getting tired of my company?"  Picard asked neutrally.  He busied himself making course adjustments so she wouldn't see the wry smile on his face.   

  She made a face at his back, then fell back onto the couch at the rear of the shuttle.  "Mmm, I think I'll decline to answer that one, Captain,on the grounds that it might incriminate me."    

 He threw an amused look in her direction, but she had closed her eyes and was relaxing.  For a moment, he let himself watch her.  It was a pleasure to see her truly relaxed, as she always pushed herself so hard on her job.  He was proud of her, of course; her hard work had paid off in many ways for her career and she was one of the most respected physicians in Starfleet.  And yet, she was also the woman he cared most about, and he wished sometimes that she would take time away, take care of herself.    

 He had to admit some selfish motives in persuading her to take time off and attend this conference with him, once Riker had called it to his attention.  Ever since that experience on Kesprit, nearly every moment he spent with Beverly was full of more meaning for him.  He was comfortable around her, his best friend, more so than with anyone else, and welcomed every chance to be near her.  

 But still that ache existed in his chest, from when she had turned him down with those words, "Or perhaps, we should be afraid . . ."  He still hoped that someday, she might acknowledge the love he felt, that she surely felt as well . . .    

 He sighed inwardly.  "Well, it's only a half-hour more," he assured her.     Crusher opened her eyes and moved back to the front of the shuttle, checking over Picard's shoulder to confirm his reading.  "Just making sure," she told him with a wicked grin.    

 Picard laughed.  "She doesn't want to be around me, and she doesn't trust me," he complained to thin air, setting the shuttle on autopilot. "Where did I go wrong?"    

 She patted his shoulder.  "I probably shouldn't answer that question either."  She offered her hand to pull him out of his chair and they shared an affectionate smile.  As they settled next to each other on the couch, she adopted a more serious tone, bringing up a subject she had dropped the day before.  "So, do you think you're ready to go into these negotiations?"    

 The smile left his face and he sighed.  "I don't know," he admitted. "I've dealt with the Cardassians many times, of course, since my . . .abduction.  But since Admiral Nechayev forwarded the list of people I'll be dealing with . . ."    

 "I meant to ask you about that," Beverly said, concerned.  "You seemed upset when you read it yesterday before the day's events.  Who's going to be there?"    

 It was still hard to even pronounce the name.  "Gul Madred."    

 She understood immediately; her eyes widened in dismay.  "Oh, Jean-Luc."    

 "He is to be Gul Dikir's chief aide.  To her credit, Admiral Necheyev tried to change things, but she was not able to."  Picard glanced down at his hands, clenched together.  "I assured her I was perfectly capable of dealing with the situation."    

 "But you're not entirely sure of that," she observed, an edge in her voice.  He knew the anger was directed at the Cardassians.    

 "No."  It was a difficult admission to make, even to her.  "The measure has been made to intimidate me, of course, as the primary Federation representative.  I cannot let it do so.  Whatever control he exercised over me a year ago, he will not now.  And yet, the memories are still there, and I have no doubt he will exploit that at every opportunity."    

 Crusher leaned forward, her blue eyes intense.  "Jean-Luc, you have beaten him already.  He was never able to break you."    

 Picard didn't respond to that.  She was correct, in a sense: he hadn't ever given up his mental control and told Madred there were five lights when there were really four.  But he also remembered, as he looked her, the time when he'd been offered his freedom in exchange for her safety.  His choice to stay with Madred so she would not be tortured was one he had never confided to her, but in that instant he had been broken. He broke out into a light sweat now, recalling the shadowy dream of the night before brought on by the day's revelation.   

  "Jean-Luc?"    

 He realized she had said his name twice already, and he managed a reassuring smile, laying a hand on her forearm.  "I'll be perfectly all right, Beverly, don't worry."    

 "I am worried," she countered frankly.  "I'm worried you're going to let this man -- no, this person so much less than a man -- affect you again, when this time you're the one in control.  You have to remember you won.  He should have no basis for intimidation here."    

 "I know."  His voice suggested he didn't.    

 She raised his chin until his eyes met hers.  "You *will* be fine,Jean-Luc, I know that.  You're the strongest man I've ever met.  You just have to go into those meetings and be resolved not to let one comment he makes rattle you, okay?"    

 His smile was real now.  "Yes, sir."    

 She nodded firmly.  "Good." 

 She squeezed his hand where it still rested on her arm, and for a moment he just enjoyed the comfort that simple touch gave him, and his hazel eyes locked with her blue ones, communing silently.    

 The comm signal beeped from the front of the shuttle, breaking the moment.     Picard exhaled quietly, stood and moved to the cockpit.  "It's the Enterprise," he told her as she came up behind him again.  His tone changed as he answered the call. 

 "This is shuttlecraft Oneida," he said into the speaker, his voice cool and professional.    

 "Captain," came Riker's voice, "we wanted to confirm your ETA."    

He glanced down to see how much time had passed.  "We read it as 1730, Number One."    

 "Very good, sir.  I trust you and Dr. Crusher enjoyed the conference?"

 "Oh, indeed, Commander.  It was quite an educational experience."    

 "I look forward to hearing about it," Riker said.  "We'll see you soon, then.  Riker out."     

 He felt Beverly's presence against his back as he broke the connection.  "That was an interesting choice of words," she said innocently.    

 "What do you mean?" he asked cautiously, glancing back at her over his shoulder, sure he was getting set up here and not knowing how.    

 "Educational experience,'" she reminded him.  "Jean-Luc, the conference was on Lytellia, a forty minute ride in planetary shuttles from Risa.  How exactly do you suppose Will Riker is going to interpret a comment like *that*?"    

 His face colored slightly.  "I'll grant you that might not have been the best word to choose to describe it," he smiled.  "I never thought about it, but he might have had an ulterior motive in suggesting the two of us go off to it."    

 "You never thought about it," she repeated skeptically, raising an eyebrow.  "Good.  Because I didn't have any ulterior motives in agreeing to go with you."    

 He became aware of how close they were to each other.  "Do you think we should tell them nothing happened?"     

 The corners of her lips curved upward.  She loved his voice, that endearing English accent.  "What?  And spoil whatever lurid pictures they've conjured up?  Jean-Luc, we can't stop the rumors now, I bet they're just getting interesting."    

 He couldn't resist suggesting, "We could add some substance to them."     Beverly sensed the mood change, but tried to keep her tone light. "Oh really?  How?"    

He turned around to face her directly, reached for and found her hand without his eyes ever leaving hers.  She felt her pulse begin to race;she tilted her face up to meet him as he leaned into her and kissed her gently.  She returned it, surprised at the intensity of her reaction, for an instant before he pulled back.  Beverly caught her breath again, and whispered, "That's one way, I suppose."    

 Picard broke into a smile.  "Beverly, will you join me for dinner tonight?"     Impish now.  "Just dinner?"    

"We'll have to see about that."    

"I'd love to."    

 After a pause, Beverly rubbed a finger on the inside of his palm and then took a step back from him and slid into the copilot's seat.  She dropped her eyes to the panel and slipped into professional mode.  "We'll be dropping out of warp in forty seconds," she reported.    

 He took his own seat reluctantly.  "Very good.  Checking impulse engine status . . . all clear."    

 They waited in comfortable silence.  Forty seconds later, they decreased speed and came upon the Enterprise-E.  Beverly glanced over and Jean-Luc and noted the way he regarded his new ship: always with immeasurable pride in her, and a certain awe at the technology that was his to command.  He loved his job, she knew, more than anything; he respected the responsibility that had been given him with this new ship and he had infinite trust in the people around him to hold that same respect. She smiled for an instant before looking back down at the panel.  "Ready to begin docking procedure."    

 At that moment, their world changed.    

 The proximity alarms began clanging, and Beverly looked up in confusion.  "What--?"   

  But Picard had already taken in the familiar-shaped ship that had appeared to port. 

 "Merde," he cursed. "Cardassians.  Oneida to Enterprise--"    

 Captain, this is Riker.  This ship isn't scheduled to be here. I'm hailing them . . ."    

 The Cardassian vessel began to fire at the tiny shuttle.  "Initiating evasive maneuvers!" Crusher shouted, moving into action.  One bolt hit the shuttle, causing a panel to explode in front of her and her hands jerked away for an instant.  "Shields are down!  Inertial dampeners failing!"    

 "Riker, can you beam us out?" Picard demanded.    

 "Trying . . . Calloway! We need emergency beam out, now!"    

 Jean-Luc grabbed Beverly's arm and pulled her out of her seat back to the transport area.  They could hear the voices from the comm panel:     "There's too much interference, sir, I only have a lock on Dr.Crusher."    

 "Get her out of there, Calloway."  To Lieutenant Garza at weapons:"Fire on that vessel as soon as she's out."    

 Crusher looked at Picard, sudden fear in her eyes, for a timeless instant.  He nodded as reassuringly as he could, bracing himself against the wall as the shuttle pitched.  He reached for her arm to help steady her as well, but she was already faded from view in the transporter glow.    

 "Sir?"  It was Calloway, panicked now.  "Sir, the signal's gone!"    

 Picard's stomach knotted instantly.    

 "What do you mean, gone?  Get it back!" Riker shouted.  "Increase power to the pattern buffer--"    

 "Will, do you have her?"  Picard demanded, not bothering to mask his horror.    

 "Commander, she's gone, sir, the pattern fell apart with the interference."     Riker swore feelingly.  "Can you lock on the captain?" he tried.    

 At that instant a Cardassian soldier beamed into the shuttle.  Picard fell back against the comm panel and grabbed for his phaser.  "Will," he shouted, "they've boarded the shuttle--" He tried to get his arm around for a shot in defense, but he wasn't quick enough.  The intruder fired, and he fell, and his last conscious thought was, <not beverly please no>    

 "The Cardassian ship is breaking off," Garza reported.    

 "Ensign Chapier, set course to pursue on my mark," Riker ordered immediately.    

 "They have sent one message: We will contact you soon.  Any attempt to follow will result in Picard's death," Garza added.  "They've jumped into warp, sir."    

 Riker whirled around furiously.  "No," he said, frustration and horror burning in him.    

 Deanna Troi placed a hand on his arm.  "We can't take that message lightly," she said.  "They've captured the captain before; they'll make good on that threat."    

 Riker stepped away from her, his face falling into a mask, then turned away.  "Data, get me a secure comm link to Admiral Nechayev in the captain's ready room.  Now."    

 She saw him reach out for her but the transporter claimed her first. When she felt herself standing on her own weight again, she immediately started to call Riker to ask about Picard.  A hand stopped her cold, tearing off the communicator from her light green sweater.  She looked up insensibly before realizing quickly she wasn't on the Enterprise . . . "Oh God," she whispered.  Then the hypospray pressed to her neck brought darkness.    

 When she was awakened, her arms were bound behind her back and she was led to an empty room.  The guards spun her around to face the door again and she stumbled, but the muttered curse at them died on her lips as a new Cardassian entered the room.  The two guards gave him a wide berth and she surmised quickly that he was in charge.    

 For a moment he studied her, and she suppressed a mental shudder at the hardness in his eyes.  "Doctor Beverly Crusher," he said finally, with a cultured, intelligent voice.  "It's a pleasure to meet you."    

 "I'm sure it is," she said flatly.  "Who are you?"    

 "Oh, come now," he replied.  "I'm sure Picard has mentioned me in passing."     Suddenly she knew, recalling the name from the painful, terrified accounts drawn out slowly from Picard over the long weeks and months,and from their conversation not an hour ago.  Her eyes flashed with long-stifled anger at the man who had tortured her best friend.  "Gul Madred."    

 He smiled, but it was not a pleasant sight.  "Very good, Doctor."    

 "He's here, then, too."  Her face was now devoid of emotion. "You've brought us both here.  Why?"    

 He wasn't going to answer her directly.  "You've had a long history with Picard, haven't you?" he asked rhetorically.  "First associations came more than twenty years ago, when your husband and he served together. Then your husband died.  You didn't see Picard for a long time, but now you've been together on the Enterprise for several years.  I wonder, Doctor, what's happened during these last few years?  I imagine the two of you have become quite close."  He was standing at arm's length in front of her.     She stared at the wall over his shoulder, her mind barely grasping where the direction of Madred's words were leading to.    

 "Did he ever tell you that I gave him a chance to go free in the middle of our interviews?"    

 She remained mute, but the confusion must have shown on her face.    

 "He didn't?  I can't say I'm surprised.  Allow me to tell you, then. You will recall that he had no way of knowing that you and your Klingon had escaped from our little ambush.  I decided to play on that gap of knowledge, Doctor.  I told him he was free to go, to return to the Enterprise if he wanted.  The only condition was that I had you in custody and if he left, you would be the next to be interrogated.  He chose to stay,Doctor."    

 Her eyes darted to Madred in silent shock, mind coming to terms with everything that statement implied.  He could be lying, but what would be the point?  It didn't take a genius to figure out that Madred had discovered at that time exactly what it would take to break Picard.  Her. That thought by itself was enough to send her thoughts reeling.  Why her? She'd seen all the physical and emotional scars left by this man, knew how terrifying the torture had been.  If he could have left it behind . . . She finally managed, "He would have done the same for any crew member."    

 But would he have?  With almost anyone else, he would have rationalized that he could better serve them by working from the Enterprise toward their rescue.  With anyone else, he would never have continued to be subjected to the pain.  With anyone else . . . But with *her* . . .    

 Madred was voicing her thoughts.  "I don't think so, Doctor.  And that is why I have brought you here along with him.  With the power to back up my intimations of harm coming to you, I believe I have found the key to my adversary."    

 It was all she could do to keep from shaking in rage and fear. "What do you want?"    

 "It's not difficult," he smiled at her discomfort.  "I want him to make a confession admitting to a plot by ten named senior officers to invade the Cardassian Empire."    

 "But that would mean war," she protested, her voice sounding distant to her own ears.    

 He shrugged.  "If you can persuade him, we won't need to harm you."    

 She snapped out of her shock.  "You're going to kill the negotiations, throw away months of work because of your need for revenge on him," she pointed out sharply.  "You couldn't deal with the fact that in the end, he had more integrity after being beaten down and tortured for days than you ever had in complete control."    

 The gray countenance stared at her coldly.  "Fortunately, my goals and Cardassia's coincide quite nicely at this junction," he informed her. "Your concern for . . . the negotiations," he emphasized the words,knowing she was protecting Picard first, "is not necessary."    

 "Why?"     He shook his head. 

 "Enough questions.  I believe a demonstration is necessary for you to understand what will happen if you do not persuade Picard to make this confession."  He motioned to the guard beside him.    

 "No," she said quickly, but to no avail.  The guard approached her,surveyed her body with a lecherous grin on his lips, and shoved his face into hers.  She gagged as he forced his tongue into her mouth and groped her chest with his hands.  She tried to back away and pull her hands out of their restraints, but neither movement was open to her.  Finally she jerked her knee up into his groin and he pulled back in surprise and pain, slapping her hard across the face before stepping back behind Madred at his gesture.     Crusher felt blood welling up on her cheek as she spat on the floor in disgust, letting a few shudders of revulsion pass through her.  Then she looked up at Madred, who was watching her carefully. 

 "I will *not* be subjected to that," she informed him in a low voice.    

 "Oh, there are other options, of course," he replied.  "I'll show you one more.  You never witnessed firsthand the effects of the device I used on Picard, did you?"  He gestured to her chest, but she refused to look, as if even that much compliance with the bastard was too much.  But she was suddenly aware of the cut in her shirt, in her skin . . .    

 She felt a searing pain in her stomach, in her head, and the air left her lungs in a convulsive gasp at it.  Pain, more than she'd ever thought was possible to endure at once, filled her body, and she tried to lean over to alleviate it somewhat.  But Madred's hand pushed her shoulder back against the wall and forced her to stand straight.  Just when she thought she would collapse at the agony, he stopped what he was doing to her.    

 Her breath came in short gasps as she bowed her head.  He grabbed her chin and tilted her face up, studying it impassively.  "I think it will be harder on him, actually," he assessed.    

 Beverly managed to stop the moan that wanted to escape her lips,instead saying, "Let go of me."    

 He did so, in no hurry, to remind her it was because he wanted to and not because she had ordered him.    

 She swallowed once, her heart still pounding against her ribs.  "I want to see Picard."    

 "You will, in due course.  Although he cannot help you unless he signs this confession."  His hand produced a hypo from somewhere and he continued, "I'm sorry, but we have to fix that scrape on your face and this is really the easiest way."    

 Beverly had craned her face away, but was unable to avoid him as he pushed the hypo into her neck.  "Jean-Luc," she cried thickly, and then she passed mercifully into unconsciousness.    

 "You abducted me in full view of my ship, Madred, and the negotiations are scheduled to begin in two days.  You will not get away with this."  Picard was furious and, to some extent, scared at facing the Cardassian in front of him again; he had only felt so helpless as when taken by Madred one other time in his life, when he had been assimilated into the Borg collective.  The man had assaulted his dignity, his humanity, in some long days of torture.  He had attacked him physically, but much, much worse, he had attacked his mind.  And he had nearly won.  Picard had been shaken to the core of his soul at that, and recovery had been a long, painful process.  Yet now, Madred could not possibly believe he had the upper hand.  What Picard was telling him was true: the Enterprise had seen Beverly killed, heard him being taken, would not allow it to happen.  Why,then . . . ?    

 "Of course I will.  Not only will I get away with it, but you will help me.  You will sign the confession."  Madred spoke with an utter certainty that made Picard extremely uneasy.    

 "What makes you so sure?" he asked cautiously.    

 Madred smiled at the expression of doubt on his subject's face.  He turned away from the man and started pacing slowly, showing his complete lack of concern for any threat Picard might pose him, in every way asserting his control.  "The last time we met, you and I," he began, "I found out much about you."  Picard stiffened.  "I found out about your family, I found out about your ship.  And--" he stopped now and leaned close to Picard's face to whisper the words, "I found out what will make you break."   

  He froze, remembering all too well what Madred was alluding to:that moment, when he turned around, turned to stay in the desperate hope that Madred wouldn't harm her.  But she was dead.  He said so,mechanically.     "Willing to bet her life?"  This was said with a smile, a cold, cruel smile.    

 <God, no.>  "What have you done to her?" Picard demanded, his voice deathly quiet.    

 Madred pulled back, satisfied that he'd indeed been right and pleased with the reaction.  "Oh nothing, Picard.  Not yet.  But I can't promise that she'll continue to be unharmed, if you refuse to sign this confession."    

 Picard sat there, in shock at the implications of this remark.  "You son of a bitch," he breathed hoarsely, and then looked up, eyes blazing. "You son of a bitch -- you wouldn't."  He stood up, feeling the blood rush to his head.  He grabbed the weapon out of his surprised guard's hand and shoved Madred back against the wall in one short, violent movement.  The other guard shouted at him and raised his own blaster, but Picard ignored him and pushed the barrel into Madred's throat.  "You," he said, his voice still tightly controlled, "will let me contact my ship and release both Dr.Crusher and myself."    

 "I will do nothing of the sort."    

 "Then go ahead and shoot," he challenged.    

 "I don't have to," Madred answered, unsteady yet trying to keep his voice even.  His eyes focused on the blaster Picard had pressed into his neck.  He swallowed once and raised a hand so Picard could see.  "I can use this."  He saw the horrified recognition in the man's eyes at the device,and knew he'd won.  "I don't think you want me to hurt her because of you."    

Slowly, Picard stepped back and dropped the weapon.  It fell with a clatter onto the floor that seemed too loud in his ears, breaking the silence. He felt, distantly, the guard slam him across the face with the recovered blaster and push him back into the chair he'd been in.  Pain ballooned along his left cheek and eye, but he took no notice, knowing that it was nothing compared to--    

 Madred had swallowed again, regained his composure.  "Of course,if you don't sign the confession, I will have no qualms about using it."    

 He wouldn't.  Picard was certain of that.    

 "Would you like to see her?" Madred asked pleasantly.  "I imagine that, independent though she is, she's probably feeling quite alone at the moment."    

 Picard felt a surge of anger at the gibe, but cooler thoughts prevailed.  No matter that Madred was taunting him -- he had offered him the chance to see Beverly, and he needed to.  Picard nodded once, his face ashen. thinking with increasing dread over what would be done to them . . .to *her* . . .

 "Beverly"    

 It was the voice which pulled her back to consciousness, first. Before she even opened her eyes, she became aware of the fact that she was lying uncomfortably on the ground somewhere -- why?  As she started to shift her weight, a hand touched her arm.  Suddenly remembering where she was, she jerked away, until she saw the worried face of the man kneeling beside her. 

 She relaxed visibly."Jean-Luc, I thought you were--" she let the thought trail off, but not before she saw him wince.    

 He reasserted his hand at her elbow and helped pull her to a sitting position, then embraced her hard, as if needing to know he could still hold her.  She leaned into him, suddenly feeling the fear that had caught her at the"interview" session bubble up in her throat, and she closed her eyes and returned the hug, feeling the same need.  After a moment he let his arms fall away and his eyes searched her face. "He hasn't harmed you?" he asked anxiously as she raked her hands through her hair and took a few deep breaths to clear her mind.    

 Beverly was unable to stop the grimace that passed over her features, but denied it. "No.  At least, nothing beyond the standard prisoner mistreatment," she affirmed.    

 But his eyes were drawn to the cut on her chest: the confirmation of Madred's threats, the torture device that had hurt him so much two years before.  He reached out and lightly ran his fingers over the scar; she closed her eyes at the goose bumps that arose on her skin, feeling pained. "This is not  nothing,' Doctor," he said tightly, letting his hand fall, clenched now. "I'd expected the truth from you" It was as though he were reprimanding a junior officer for a misdemeanor.    

 Far from being an awe-struck ensign, she stared at him, mind not processing the fact that his anger was directed at Madred. "Didn't want to make you anymore worried than you already are," she bit off, then added a sarcastic"sir"   

 "I am quite capable of keeping my worries under wraps," he frowned. "The concern is wasted on me here"   

 "Right," she said. "I forgot, you're always in control, aren't you"   

 "Beverly, I only want to know what he's done, so I can--"   

 "So you can what?" she shot back. "Stop him?  Stop him from using this damned device or stop the guards who want to grab at my body?"    

 Picard flinched as if struck physically, and she instantly regretted it. "Oh God, Jean-Luc, I'm sorry," she apologized, reaching out a hand to his shoulder, relieved when he didn't recoil.   

 "No," he said quietly, his genuine exasperation with her already faded. "No. You're right, of course.  There is nothing I can do"  He suddenly looked very tired, and only then did she notice the long bruise emerging on the side of his face. "You've heard my options"    

 Not asking about the bruise, somehow sensing what must have happened, Crusher let out a breath. "Yes"  A pause. "Jean-Luc, I know it's the only thing you can do, I know. 

 I won't blame you.  I would never ask you not to sign this confession for my sake.  You can't"  She ran her hand down the side of his face gently.    

 He reached up to take her hand away and squeezed gently, cheeks burning with shame and eyes full of anguish. "Even if I did make the confession, he wouldn't free us.  And I don't know that the Enterprise will be permitted to take notice of this"  He chose not to say that they didn't know she was here at all.   

 "For God's sake, why not?" she demanded, tapping a new source of anger.    

 He made a gesture of frustration with his free hand. "Politics. It's taken so long to get the Cardassians to the table that they could do everything short of take over Deep Space Nine and we would have to overlook it.  I don't know what else we can do.  Beverly, you know I'd do anything possible if I could"   

 "Yes," she said again, her blue eyes sad, talking about something different entirely. "Madred told me about that.  Oh, Jean-Luc, why didn't you ever tell me?"   

  He shook his head, unable to answer at first. "Tell you what? That I was manipulated even more by feelings I couldn't even admit that I had?  That the knowledge that you could be tortured scared me more than anything?  That sacrificing myself was the only way to save you"  His voice trailed off. "I could never admit that to you.  I buried it completely: the emotions I had when I learned you were safe and I knew it had just been one more lie . . . I would do it again," he said with conviction. "But he won't let me take your place, this time"   

 "I wouldn't let you, Jean-Luc," she countered, once again overwhelmed with the knowledge of what he had done for her. "But . . thank you"    

 He raised his eyes to look at her.  For an instant they read into each other's gazes, divining thoughts with almost as much clarity as when they'd been linked telepathically on Kesprit.  For two with as long-standing a friendship as theirs, words were unnecessary.  What she perceived in him was a dread, a profound horror at the reality of the situation he'd been forced into, and a deeply personal concern for her safety.  Even if they could survive, he would never forgive himself. And he saw behind her brave front and knew she was terrified at what had to happen, remembering what had happened to him. 

 Involuntarily his hand tightened on hers and she broke eye contact first, looking at their hands. "I won't blame you," she repeated, quietly. "You can't make a choice like this"    

 Abruptly his features slipped into a mask. "I shouldn't have to," he muttered. "Madred should never have done this, to either of us"  He rocked back off his knees and stood up, pulling her along with him.  In a lowered voice, on the assumption that the Cardassian was listening in on their words, he asked,"Have you had a chance to see if there's any possible way out of here?"   

 "To where?" she was going to answer, but suddenly her breath was gone, stolen by the searing pain in her chest.  She gasped and pitched forward into Picard's arms, feet twitching spasmodically in the induced seizure.  She heard him saying her name over and over again in horror as she might hear in a dream, but she could only focus on trying to force air into her lungs and stop the pain.  She wanted to pass into unconsciousness but couldn't, and she remained aware of every shock of pain.    

 And then it was over, and Beverly buried her head in his shoulder, tasting sweet air in between sobbing breaths.  Jean-Luc pressed his mouth into her hair gently and noted with bitter irony that it smelled of the same soft fragrance as it had some hours ago, in the shuttlecraft, before . . . before.  He stroked her hair comfortingly until she calmed down, and they remained in silence for several heartbeats. Finally he whispered into her ear, in a choked voice,"I'm sorry.  I ever wanted you to have to experience what I did"    

 She drew in a shaky breath. "I know"   

 "We'll have to hold on as long as we can"    

 But she could feel that his resolve was almost gone. "We will"    

 At that moment the door behind Picard opened and they drew apart, quickly, turning as one to see Madred stalk in; he'd been directly outside the door.  He dropped the force field, glanced at them measuringly, then motioned to the guard behind him. "Get the woman," he ordered, turning away to exit.    

 Picard shoved Beverly behind him immediately and started to back up. "Beverly, stay back," he said in no uncertain terms.  To Madred:"Leave her out of this.  You can do what you want with me,but you will leave her alone"   

 "Jean-Luc, you don't have to--" she tried.   

 "That's not the way it works this time, Captain," Madred answered, pivoting calmly to face him.    

 Beverly stepped back into the corner, but Picard still tried to push further, to get away from the nightmare in front of him.  He had to try again, had to risk it even though he lacked every option except the one he couldn't use. "You've done enough for one day, haven't you, Madred?  Let her sleep for the night"     

 "Enough?"  Madred smiled without sympathy. "Captain, I'm afraid we're just getting started"  He called off the guard with a gesture, then pushed a button on the control in his hand.    

 Beverly jerked convulsively against Picard's back and made an inarticulate groan. *God, not again!*  He spun around to catch her as she fell, shaking, her eyes unfocused. "Beverly!" 

 She bit her lip,doing her best not to scream in pain for his sake, before the Gul shutoff the machine.  The guard reached out to pull her away from her now less protected position but Picard held on to her waist, supporting her, and moved them both a step away. "Stop this! That's *enough!*"he shouted.     

 Beverly looked at him for an instant, knowing what he was saying, before she dropped her forehead onto his shoulder, her breath still ragged.  She wanted to speak, tell him she would be fine, that he couldn't give in now.  Somewhat to her shame she found she could not; her body was still too stunned by the successive attacks to protest. She wanted this to end now, and so she leaned against Picard and listened to his words.    

 Picard looked up at Madred, the rage seething in him . . . and broke.  All the consequences, all the reasons they had agreed he couldn't speak were not enough.  He suddenly knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he could not be the one responsible for her torture, no matter what the repercussions. "I'll do it"    

 Madred raised an eyebrow; he had not expected him to make this admission so soon.   

 "I said I'll make the confession," Picard repeated, louder this time. "You must stop this"    

 Crusher tried to find her voice. "Jean-Luc, no," she pleaded almost inaudibly.    

 The Cardassian nodded thoughtfully. "Well, I must say you have caught me by surprise.  I thought it would take considerably more for you to abandon your principles.  And yet, at the same time, I thought not.  Hence this exercise"  He smiled."How simple . . . if I had captured her the first time you would have broken then as well. Interesting"   

 "So now you have what you want," Picard snapped, ignoring the words. "Get it over with and return us to my ship"    

 The superior smile again. "Ah, that was never part of the bargain," he reminded Picard. "And you will note my reference to this as an exercise"    

 Beverly raised her head and stared at Madred in shock; Picard's grip tightened on her waist as he came to the same realization she had.  As he had feared, this would not be the end of it.  A sick feeling twisted in his gut.   

 "Yes, Picard, this was another test.  I had to make sure I had found the right key to you, and I have"  Madred's voice revealed his utter satisfaction before it turned harsh again as he turned to leave."Now," he spoke to Beverly,"you can come voluntarily or be dragged from here, it really makes no difference to me"    

 Beverly met Jean-Luc's agonized hazel eyes and stepped away from him slowly, but the irony didn't fail to strike her -- she was avoiding use of the device to get her to move so she could be taken elsewhere where the device would be used, oh God . . . her mind recoiled in base terror at the thought of more pain, of more violation,and she wavered where she stood.  The guard grabbed her arm again and pushed her out of the room.  She raised her head with what remained of her pride and took measured steps to leave under her own power.  Picard's heart ached at the sight -- what she was doing was pointless, they would take it all away . . . but he didn't say anything to her, merely watched.   

 "Damn you, Madred," he whispered with cold fury as the door shut. "Why her?"    

 The malicious look the taller man gave conveyed the answer already burned into his own mind: because of him.  It was all because of him.     They forced him to watch.  Tears fell down his cheeks in rivers as he heard her screams; he pounded on the glass and demanded her release.  He wasn't listened to.  He began to suspect, as the night wore on, why it was happening, what the objective of the torture was.  And he knew he couldn't stop it, would never be able to, and that hurt as much as the immediate reality of his friend's suffering.    

 His head was resting in his hands when they brought her back to the cell, and he jumped up from the bed where he'd been sitting for about twenty minutes.  She stood immobile for a moment before the forcefield snapped on behind her and the guard turned away.   

 "Beverly," he whispered, approaching her carefully.    

 She seemed surprised that he was there, her blue eyes taking seconds to focus on him.   

  He touched her shoulder and she jerked away. "Don't touch me!"    

 The tears stung his eyes once again. "I can't do anything,Beverly," he said desperately. "He won't let me do anything, I don't know why, I can't stop it"     She turned away from him, beginning to shake.    "Oh, God, Beverly, I'm sorry"    

 She looked up at him, and he stopped.  Her control was so tenuous, her emotions so close to the surface that she would lose it now if she let him touch her, in any way.  She couldn't deal with his realities, with his pain, with his love.  She couldn't face him lest her conviction that he was not responsible, succumb to hatred and blame. But she said,"I know"  Her blue eyes were shining for an instant as she met his eyes, and then she dropped her gaze and turned again. "I know.  Just leave me alone for now"    

 He reached out a hand to her, a tremendous ache in his chest, but nodded to her back.  Whatever she wanted, he owed her that much, because he couldn't do anything else for her.  And Madred wouldn't let him take her place.  Not this time.   

 "I'm sorry, Jean-Luc," she whispered.  She sank down to the floor in a corner of the cell, her knees drawn to her chest, her head bowed on her arms.  But she didn't protest when he rested beside her, his arm around her shoulders.  Her breathing soon slowed to an even rate and she slept.    

 She wouldn't remember her nightmares.    

 Though the residual feelings of pain left her body flushed hot, she was shivering.  Beverly pulled her knees closer to her chest and avoided looking at Jean-Luc, across the room, whose eyes followed her every movement, wanting to do something for her.  He knew something she didn't, she could tell from looking at him that he was hiding something -- maybe it was to protect her.  Anger suddenly flashed in her and she thought, he couldn't do a much worse job of protection if he *tried.*  She didn't know how much more she could take, although she did know it wasn't up to her.  They would continue to use her long past the breaking point if necessary, and she couldn't give them anything to make it stop.  Because they weren't interested in her -- only in using her to get to Jean-Luc, for what they still hadn't said.  Why couldn't he love someone else? she raged.  Why hadn't he just called that bastard's bluff and left, two years ago?*I never asked you to sacrifice anything for me*    

 There was still the inner voice, after three long periods of the torture -- hours, days, she didn't know how long it had been -- that reminded her why he couldn't do anything, that she had in fact told him to give it up, that she understood and wouldn't blame him.  And she knew it was killing him -- but hell, it was killing her too.  She wanted to lash out at somebody, anybody, and he was closest.    

 Her shivering worsened as she tried to suppress all the conflict within her mind.    

 She was surprised when he spoke, his dry throat pushing out words. "I'm going to put an end to this.  Whatever it takes, just so he releases you"     Beverly sat silently, hugging her knees, and then tried to distract him.  She knew she had to or she would explode in accusations. "What did you . . . think about when he had you like this,Jean-Luc?" she asked.  It was the most she had said to him since the first session.    

 He paused, sensing what she was doing, but he answered her honestly. "I thought of all the people I couldn't afford to let down by giving in, least of all myself.  I knew there was no way the Enterprise could come back for me, because of orders.  But I still hoped that somehow, Will or Data or Deanna would find a way, and I had to be*all* here if they came.  I thought about you and Worf, wondered if you had gotten out safely.  I went on the assumption you had, at least until . . . well, I thought about you," he said instead. "Wondered if you knew I loved you . . . I wished I could talk to you, or anybody, so I wasn't alone.  And I thought of my family," he finished, quietly. "He was trying to take away my identity so I remembered what made me who I am.  Robert, Father . . . I just knew I had to keep fighting him,and yet at the end, all I could think of was ending the pain"  He ran a hand over his bald pate, uncomfortable with the memory.    

 She forced down the lump in her throat and rocked back and forth.  Her eyes stung with hot tears. "It hurts so much," she admitted at last. "God, I wish you could make it stop"    

 The gently accented voice spoke again, and she heard the pain evoked by her admission. "I'll try," he promised, standing up, wanting to assure her. "I don't know what he wants, but I'll give it to him.  I only hoped the Enterprise would get us back . . "    

 It was a lie.  Somehow, she knew it was a lie. "No, you didn't. You never hoped that"    

 He frowned, distinctly uneasy now. "Beverly, what -- what do you mean?"   

 "Damn you!" she burst out, pushing herself up to face him;"don't even try!  How long have we been here?  We've got nothing left -- nothing!  And you're lying to me somehow, you know something so that you don't believe you *can* stop this.  What is it?" She pushed her long red hair out of her face and went on, almost screaming with pent-up emotion. "Maybe you think it will help me if you don't say -- well, who the *hell* are you to decide?  This is all your fault, Jean-Luc, and you're the only one who can make it stop,somehow I know you can!  And I want you to, I want this to end so badly, and I don't want to look at you like I am and think what I'm thinking.  I don't want to hate you, goddammit, I said I loved you! Why are *you* the one who's hurting me?"  She was crying now and held her hands to her face, trying too late to stop the dam holding her emotions.    

 He moved to her, stopping directly in front of her, and took hold of her wrists gently.  She shuddered and jerked away, turning to the wall. "A week ago we were having breakfast on the ship -- God, I'm hungry now . . . Three days ago we were at a conference.  Why are we here now?  Why does he hate you so much to do this to us?"    

 Jean-Luc Picard felt utterly helpless, especially knowing that she was right -- it was his fault, all of it.  But he couldn't stop it, no matter what she thought.  He only knew how it was going to end, and he wanted to spare her from that reality, keep whatever hope there was alive, so he offered no answers.  He watched her body shake in front of him and then wrapped his arms around her, fighting her protests for a moment until she relaxed into him, sobs racking her.  He rocked back and forth gently, feeling the tears choke him as well, and guided her gently back to the bed so they could sit down.  He stroked her hair, her back, her arms for what felt like hours while she railed against the pain and indignities the Cardassians had subjected her to.    

 The silence of the room began to close in on them, broken only by her shuddering breaths, as time passed.  He didn't say a word to her, and she knew it was better that way.  So she took comfort not only from him but from the silence.  Though the light level always stayed the same, providing a disconcerting sense of timelessness, her exhaustion began to tell and she felt herself drifting off.  She fell into a thankfully dreamless sleep, drawing warmth from the arms that held her tightly, feeling -- if only in that moment -- safe.

 Picard had hovered between wakefulness and an uneasysleep for several hours before Beverly stirred against him. Immediately he shifted to try to make her more comfortable, butshe was already awake, lifting her head from his shoulder toregard him sleepily.  His expression relaxed, and the warmth in his eyes was evident though he couldn't quite bring himself to smile.  "Beverly."    

 She answered the unspoken question, her voice hoarse. "It's not as bad."    

 He nodded once and then looked away, remembering all too well the ever-present soreness and lingering pain . . . Her acknowledgment of the pain she was in from the night before would not be repeated, he knew.     

 "Jean-Luc."  He met her clear eyes.  "How long has it been?  Since we came here," she clarified.    

 "Perhaps two days.  Why do you ask?"    

 "The negotiations are beginning today."    

 "Yes," he acknowledged reluctantly.    

 Beverly swallowed, still trying to clear her throat, but her gaze held him fast.  "If the Federation hasn't postponed them because of us, we'll never get out of here, will we?"    

 She was challenging him to tell her what he knew, going about it in a more subtle way.  He played ignorant, taking her words at face value, praying she wouldn't press him further. "There's a way out of everything," he admonished her quietly,rubbing a hand over her arm.  "We have only to find it."    

 When she realized he wasn't going to answer her, her tone changed, sounding slightly bitter now, though she didn't move away from him.  "I don't know anymore, Jean-Luc."    

 He saw the accusation on her face and relented.  He would tell her the truth, no matter how harsh . . . but it was too late.  The door slid open to admit Gul Madred, flanked by two guards.  Picard's lips drew into a grim line as he assessed the men; he suddenly had a sense they weren't coming for Beverly now -- they were coming for him.  And not to take her place,which he would have done willingly.  No, today would be the day that . . . His mouth was dry.    

 "Come with me," Madred ordered Picard, displaying the control device in his hand when Picard seemed reluctant to move.    

 Slowly he let his arms slide from around Beverly and stood, even as he said, "I won't leave her."  She stood with him, eyes fixed on Madred.     Madred understood that Picard knew what was going to happen. 

 "I'm afraid you have no choice.  You see, though the negotiations have been postponed a day or two, you are still the chief representative, and Starfleet has been calling for your release.  I am obliged to meet this demand today.  You," and now Madred smiled, "will be obliged to meet mine within the next few days.&qu