Swallowing hard, Beverly stares into Jean-Luc’s expectant expression. “Look, Jean-Luc, right now you’re healing. Your memory may return as your brain begins to repair the damage, but I can’t anticipate when or how that may happen. I don’t want you to feel…overwhelmed right now. You’ve gone through a significant trauma.”
“I want to know who I am,” retorts Jean-Luc simply. “I need to remember.”
Reaching for his hand, Beverly fights the tears stinging the back of her eyes. “Let’s just give it time. Tonight, you need to rest.”
Conceding, Jean-Luc settles his head against the pillow.
“I’ll be back. I have to step out, but I won’t be long. If you need anything, just call and the nurse will help you.” Patting his hand, Beverly stands off of the bed.
Silent, Picard nods stiffly.
Crossing the room, Beverly glances over her shoulder remorsefully, simultaneously heart-broken, defeated and frightened.
“I don’t know what to do, honestly,” sighs Beverly heavily, pacing in the kitchen area of Wesley and Marta’s cabin. “He has questions, but the last thing I want to do is overwhelm and put pressure on him.”
“He’s not the only one with questions,” Wesley points out, gripping the back of one of the chairs at the table. “The boys were worried about him.”
Grimacing, Beverly exhales deeply. “I don’t want to tell them everything. It would be so hurtful.”
“Beverly, you’re trying to take this all on yourself. Relax and let us help,” begs Marta, laying a hand on Beverly’s shoulder. “Talk to Deanna, the other doctors, get a second opinion. You’re not in this alone.”
Nodding, Beverly grimaces. She feels pulled in so many different directions she’s nauseated.
The sound of footfalls draws their attention, where they see Maurice padding across the room in his pyjamas and slippers. Marta had put the twin eight year-old boys and four year-old Claire into her and Wesley’s bed, with the intention that she and Wesley would sleep on a retractable cot in the nursery they were still building for the new baby they are expecting in just over four months.
Turning, Beverly smiles sadly. “What’s wrong, honey?”
Pouting, Maurice scurries over to his mother, his hazel eyes droopy. Beverly wraps her arms around his back, dropping a kiss to his crown.
“What’s wrong with Papa?” demands Maurice hugging Beverly soundly.
Ruffling his light brown locks, Beverly tries to smile optimistically. “We’re just keeping him in Sickbay right now to watch him as a precaution. He should be fine. Not to worry.”
Appraising her skeptically, Maurice draws back. “I want to see him.”
Stroking his cheek with her thumb, Beverly bobs her head. “Soon.”
Pouting, Maurice hangs his head.
“Come on,” Beverly urges, nudging her son forward. “It’s late. You should be sleeping.”
Rotating his neck, Maurice pauses and looks up at Beverly. “Mama, tell Papa that I love him and want him to get better and come home soon.”
Hand on her eight year-old son’s shoulder, it takes all of her strength to will back the tears pooling in her eyes. “Yes, sweetie.”
Surveying Jean-Luc thoroughly with her eyes and her tricorder, Beverly is pleased with the scans. “You look a lot better today.”
“I feel well,” remarks Jean-Luc sitting upright on the biobed. “My headache has disappeared.”
“Good,” replies Beverly passively as Alyssa Ogawa hands her a PADD.
“Here are the scans you ordered, Doctor Picard. Can I get you anything else?” Nurse Ogawa inquires.
Eyes dilated, Beverly manages to shakes her head robotically at Alyssa until the nurse disappears with a somewhat bemused look.
Jean-Luc leans forward on the bed, staring expectantly at Beverly. “Well, that answers one question, Doctor Picard,” deadpans Jean-Luc, lifting his left hand up to display his wedding band to Beverly.