After the Borg

He smiled to himself as he looked out of the window, muttering under his breath.

"Our Galaxy..." he began, "Is a wholly remarkable thing. We are not alone , never have been alone and no one is ever alone. No one is ever alone amongst the stars."

Ever since his encounter with the Borg, and the transformation into Locutus, Captain Picard had struggled to tell people how he really felt, withdrawing into himself. He could be moody at times but the pure fear he felt , the terror ,the nightmares that stopped him from sleeping for days on end, no one knew really how he truly felt. Heck, Beverly had made him attend all of the sessions with Deanna, but being the captain , he had simply discharged himself from her care, and along with the other losses felt on the ship, he had simply slipped through the cracks. People needed a captain , Starfleet needed an ambassador. The nightmares never left him despite what everyone said , every single night he awoke shaking, still imaging he was on the table where they had stolen his humanity and replaced it with the cold, hard cybernetic implants whose scars were still blood red on his pale skin.

Becoming part of the Hive had made him weak , and he was damned if he was going to show that weakness. No one was entitled to see it , therefore why should he show it to them.

The crying had stopped long ago, but the grief for a time without having lost what he had never really left. Picard channeled himself into his work, often taking extra shifts on the bridge, helping in engineering even if he had to. Sleep was rather a luxury he lamented to himself, that he "simply can not achieve any more."

And that was how Dr Beverly Crusher found him one night, sat in his captains chair on the bridge , watching the stars in the sky, sobbing quietly to himself.