O Captain My Captain

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek. :(

A/N: Was reading Walt Whitman's poem O Captain My Captain and it made me think of this scene. Please, please, please read and review!!

Things are looking grim. Picard has been taken hostage by the Borg and the Enterprise is almost out of power. However the away team I sent over to the Borg ship to retrieve Picard did manage to sabotage there warp drive which buys us a little bit of time. I hear the lift doors open and turn to look. I see Mr. Worf, Shelby, Data and Beverly get off, not a good sign. I sent them over to the Borg ship for one task, to bring back Captain Picard. By the look on there faces they didn't succeed. Still, I have to hear them say it, just to make sure.

"The Captain?" As I hear myself say it I see them exchange distressed glances. No one offers up the information so I look at Data. He steps forward and explains.

"We were unable to retrieve him Sir. The Captain has been altered by the Borg." Altered? What does he mean? I ask him as much and it is Worf who angrily responds.

"He is a Borg." With those four words I feel my world start to crash. A Borg, Jean Luc is a Borg. Shelby's desperate voice breaks me out of my shock.

"We'll go back. I need more people. We'll need to retune the phasers again. We'll get him out of there." I try to think of our next step when Geordi calls to me. I turn towards him and hear more bad news.

"Commander I'm reading subspace field fluctuations from within the Borg's ship. Looks like their regenerating, restoring power. They could be capable of warp any minute." I ask the question that I don't want to know the answer to.

"Is the deflector ready?" Geordi looks at me knowingly.

"It's ready." In my peripheral vision I see Beverly step up.

"Will, he's alive. If we could get him back to the ship I might be able to restore him." No! I don't want to hear her; I don't want to know he could be saved- because I can't do it. I can't allow them to get away, not even for Picard. Never have I felt as forlorn as I did in that instant.

"This is our only chance to destroy them. If they get back into warp our weapon is useless." This is what Picard would do; he would say that the good of the many outweigh the good of the few. He would be the first to put his life on line for the ship.

Shelby is nearly hysterical now she leans towards me and says; "We'll sabotage them again if we have to." But I know we can't.

"We can't maintain power. We don't have the time." I turn my gaze from Shelby to Worf, and tell him to prepare to fire. I barely finish my command before I hear Shelby again.

"At least consult with Star fleet Command." She looks at Worf and tells him to contact Admiral Henson.

"Belay that order Lieutenant." I look back at Shelby, hasn't she been listening? there is no time. I can't allow the Borg to regain warp. We have to end it. I hear a familiar beep and Worf informs me that we are being hailed by the Borg. I order him to open the frequency while I make my way back to the front of the bridge. When the view screen flickers on I see Picard- he is a Borg. As he walks towards the front of the Borg ship I find myself in shock. Then I hear my Captain.

"I am Locutus of Borg. Resistance is futile. Your life, as it has been is over. From this time forward you will service us." So it is true, he has been assimilated. My Captain is as good as dead. In that instant I hear myself utter the words that I know will haunt me till I die.

"Mr. Worf, fire."

O Captain my Captain! our fearful trip is done,
The ship has weathered every rack, the prize we sought is won,
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up--for you the flag is flung for you the bugle trills,
For you bouquets and ribboned wreaths for you the shores a-crowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head!
It is some dream that on the deck,
You've fallen cold and dead.

My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
The ship is anchored safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;
Exult O shores, and ring O bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.