In Voyager's Sickbay, the mood ranged between amazement, confusion, and outrage as the full, deviously deceptive nature of the Doctor's recent actions came to full light. The holographic Doctor, for his part, was looking rather like a small child who had been caught lying… maybe even a little hurt that someone he had been getting along with so well had all but tricked him.
Still, in the wake of this revelation, things suddenly didn't appear so bleak.
"He expected to be captured," Picard muttered, head shaking. "His insistence on going alone, his offhand command hoping that their transwarp drive was functioning... he planned to be taken by them."
Janeway's eyes widened, but in her case, it was entirely outrage. "He's insane."
"Yes," Picard could only agree. "Completely."
They fell silent again, Seven and the EMH waiting for the Captain to come to a decision on how to proceed, and Picard simply marveling at the Time Lord's sheer, unbridled cheek.
"I never should have let him leave the brig," Janeway growled, tapping her commbadge and trying not to sound as if she were prepared to maim. "Janeway to Bridge."
Chakotay's voice piped through, sounding a bit cautious at her tone. "Bridge here, Captain."
"Reverse course," she instructed crisply. "Take us back to where the Sphere went to transwarp."
There was a pause on the other end, and when the First Officer spoke next, he sounded more than a little surprised. "Captain?"
"I'll explain when I get up there, Janeway out," she insisted firmly. As the lights dimmed and the ship's status shifted to red alert, Janeway turned towards the CMO, gesturing to the cluttered components. "Doctor, when will the omicron emitters be ready?"
"They should be calibrated within the hour," the Doctor replied, clearing his throat. "I apologize for not having told you what was being done, but the Doctor had told me he would be infor-"
"It's all right," she interjected, lifting a hand and turning towards the door. "You're not the Doctor I plan to have words with. Prepare sickbay for any casualties afterwards, and Seven, I want you on the bridge once this is finished."
"Aye, Captain," the relieved hologram replied, turning back to the emitters with Seven.
Stepping out into the corridor, Janeway was a tightly coiled ball of fury. Picard, falling into step slightly behind her, seemed to be flickering between amusement, irritation, and more than a little worry. Neither spoke a word as they entered the nearest turbolift, except for Janeway, who barked for them to be taken to the bridge. The turbolift began its journey, and the next few moments passed in stony silence.
Finally, Janeway burst out; "Why the elaborate act? Why didn't he tell us his plan?"
Thinking very carefully about how to phrase his reply, Picard licked his lips, clearing his throat. "Perhaps because if we knew that he was planning to essentially feed himself to the Collective, you would never have let him leave the brig… and I would never have let him leave the TARDIS."
"Well," Janeway growled, "I guess I'll know better for when I throw him right back in."
The Queen was lost in the cold, dark silence of oblivion; the voices she had come to rely upon so much, the comforting din of the Collective, had grown all but silent. She could hear the faintest murmurs, muffled, in the air, but she could not hear the words, feel the drones… it was as if she had been sealed in a tight, padded room, locked away from the world outside.
She staggered, slumped to the ground as her own mechanical body ceased to respond to her commands, and opened his mouth to speak, but a sound of pure, unintelligible despair was all that passed from her lips.
"I'm sorry," the Doctor murmured, his tone mockingly concerned as he approached her. "Are you feeling a little lonesome?"
With the Queen's voice silenced, the nanoprobes in the Doctor's body had slowed to a near crawl and the drones had been quite reasonable in releasing him… he had regained much of his strength, though he knew sooner or later they would complete the job.
"What…" the Queen's head twisted, from side to side, scanning the room with such confusion. "What have you done to me…"
"Given you a little break," the Time Lord murmured conspiratorially, leaning a bit closer. "I had a very hard time breaking your security protocols enough just to access the forcefields… I knew you remodulated the encryptions surrounding the Collective's primary subroutines far more quickly than I could crack it. I wouldn't have been able to decode them quickly enough, not with a tricorder, not even if I had my sonic screwdriver."
"Inferior technology," came the sneered- and predictable- reply, the Time Lord mouthing along to those two words in perfect sync as he rolled his eyes. The Queen had stopped trying to move, and settled instead for looking haughty and formidable… something difficult to accomplish, given she was on the ground.
"I needed a faster interface," the Doctor continued as if she hadn't interrupted, smirking even as a single finger tapped his temple, ignoring the soft tug at his mind as she once more tried, and failed, to wrench back control. "As it so happens, you lot were kind enough to provide me with one."
The Queen's eyes widened, flickering to his head, understanding and horror slowly dawning.
"Bingo," the Doctor murmured, grinning with dark delight as he shrugged. "A Borg Cortical Node. Operates, quite literally, at the speed of thought, and connects a freshly assimilated bloke directly to the Collective. Normally, you can drain the knowledge from him and copy it to your databanks-"
"The same will be done to you," the Queen insisted stubbornly.
"Oh, but no," the Doctor murmured, looking all but manic… and, of course, very pleased with himself. "See, the link functions both ways… and once I was able to input data at your pace, well, it was actually embarrassingly simple to rewrite the Central Plexus' base encryption and disconnect you from it, lock you out much in the same way I myself was locked out."
Of course, it wasn't so simple as that- it never was- for even as the Doctor was inputting his own data into the Collective, the Borg's Hive Mind continued to try and subjugate his own will, their innate instinct to assimilate too deeply ingrained for him to completely neutralize. He was able to fend them off, keep his individuality, but the concentration required was immense. He wouldn't be able to keep the effort up forever, and when his focus faltered, his mind would be lost to the Collective.
The Borg Queen, largely helpless, glanced towards the two drones that had brought the Doctor in. She desperately, frantically reached out towards them with her mind, trying to command them to help her, to move, to do anything.
"The Drones don't listen to you, mum," the Doctor murmured as he spread his hands wide, eyes hidden by the shadows cast across his face. "I decided that it was high time your Collective got accustomed to the commands of someone a little less melodramatic, and besides… who wouldn't want to be King for a Day?"
The look he received in reply was one of pure venom, unable even to move her own robotic body.
Ignoring her entirely now, the Doctor turned away and crossed to the far end of the room, his head lowered, eyes closed as he clearly seemed to be concentrating on something. He could hear the Queen, of all things, vocally commanding the pair of drones to assist her, and when that proved futile, she finally turned her ire back to its cause.
"What is it you intend?" The Queen demanded, jaw tight. "Our destruction?"
"I need to borrow your monolithic hive mind," he replied distractedly, waving a hand distractedly over his shoulder as his eyes slowly flickered shut. "I knew you would be only too delighted to offer it yourself, but I find hijacking far less socially awkward than asking a stranger…"
She seemed about to speak again, but could only shudder; even though she had been stripped of nearly every connection to the Collective, she had enough awareness to feel the Time Lord's influence spreading across the subspace link like a digitized plague, infecting ship after ship, bending loyal drones to his own will. Never before had she felt so helpless, so inadequate to the task of preserving her Collective…
"You will fail," she spat at him.
"Maybe," the Time Lord admitted, his eyes distant, and then slowly closing. "Time to find out…"
The Doctor's mind plunged into the Collective, influence spreading faster and faster over the subspace links that bound every ship together. It was so much more than a cold, calculating exchange of binary; he could truly hear every voice, sense every captive mind and the wealth of knowledge buried in them. The nearest vessels were used as launch pads to fling his influence further and further from the Unimatrix, and within mere moments, he had spread himself out along their sprawling network and become their King.
And as his mind intruded on the Collective, their incalculable ranks began to grind to a halt.
On a dozen worlds under siege, on thousands of Borg vessels and occupied systems, for several long minutes, millions upon millions of drones halted their activities. Maintenance, disassembly, assimilation, all were stopped at once as each and every drone lifted their head upwards. One last, whimsical command had the monotonous, sonorous voice of the Collective utter one word through that incomparable Hive mind.
"Geronimo."
The Borg King began to gather the Collective's knowledge, and it was vast; the Borg as they were now had not existed for more than a handful of centuries, their rise to power meteoric as a result. But although they were for all intents and purposes an infantile race, the species that they had assimilated over the centuries had been far older, and far wiser, and the wealth of their wisdom was stored, unused, in vast databanks throughout the Collective.
The Borg King compiled it all; faster and faster the data flowed, star charts mingling with sensor records, gravitational studies, subspace analysis from millions of assimilated scientists and researchers. The subspace link that comprised the Collective had never before been so active, so full of the din of voices, all knowledge flowing towards Unimatrix 01. The Guardian had said that it would take ten thousand minds ten thousand years to find the answers, but the King had at His command billions, if not trillions, all unified on a single purpose.
And throughout that din of information, the King worked like a conductor, organizing and driving the work, throwing every ounce of His own considerable brilliance into the task as the Borg began to analyze the information assembled. The strain of it was slowly building, as even His mind was close to being utterly overwhelmed by the endless cacophony of reports, figures and calculations that bombarded him from all sides, but He did not waver, only pushing the Collective to greater and greater speeds, forming a mathematical model of reality itself as the minutes stretched into hours...
And then, there it was. So much chaos, so much confusion, crystallized into a single, perfect Truth that shocked him to his very core. For the first time since he had reached this universe, the King understood exactly what had brought it about… and, as the Guardian had predicted, he wished dearly that he had never gone looking for it; what he wouldn't have given, at that moment, to strike it from his memory...
Horrified, revolted by what he had seen, the Borg King commanded the entire Collective to rest, to enter a regeneration and diagnostic cycle all at once, and then he withdrew, leaving behind the endless tapestry of voices and knowledge, and returning to the darkness.
Gasping, the Doctor staggered as his consciousness thudded back into corporeal form, brushing the sweat from his brow and wincing as a metallic implant scraped across his skin. Tears stung his eyes, not from physical pain, but from an emotional and mental distress that was beyond words, beyond expression… his next breath was a slow, shuddering one, a sharp clearing of his throat restoring some semblance of equilibrium.
It was then he remembered he had an audience. Slowly, he turned towards the Borg Queen, and all the superiority in Time and Space didn't prevent her from shrinking back, just a little, when he approached.
"I should destroy you and your lot," the Doctor murmured, lip curling. "Set the reactor of every Borg ship to self-destruct, and command every drone to shut itself down. But you still have purposes to serve, and believe it or not you will bring benefit to those you'd sorely wish to destroy. Your time is coming… I've seen it written."
The Queen managed a cold smile, eyes glittering. "If that were the case, such foreknowledge will be all we need to avert that fate."
"Oh no," the Time Lord replied quietly, and a hand lifted, the tips of his fingers pressing, almost gently, to the waxen skin of her forehead. "See, I have no intention of letting you keep it."
What he did next was a violation; not of the body, but of the mind and spirit as the Time Lord broke through the Queen's barriers, filtered into her thoughts, and bid her to sleep. It was a kindness, perhaps, for as her mind shut down for a diagnostic cycle, he ripped all memory of their encounter from her thoughts, stripped the Collective of even what little information the Borg had compiled on him. Everything that could have led her to him, anything that would have even suggested Voyager's complicity in his assault upon her, all was seared from her consciousness, irrevocably destroyed.
As she lay on the deck, unconscious and not to awaken for many hours, the Doctor finally pulled his thoughts away. Drawing a deep breath, he winced as he felt a sharp pain, in his chest… the nanoprobes, not entirely subservient to his influence, were still working away in his body.
Though his new access to the Collective was able to slow their process, it took an enormous amount of concentration… he wasn't sure how much longer he could keep control over the Cortical Node. Or, more importantly, how long he could keep it from controlling him.
Time to leave.
Turning his thoughts to the very same ship that had brought him here, the only vessel in the Collective he hadn't forced into a regeneration cycle. A single thought beamed him aboard that ship, and another bid the vessel to jump back into transwarp, returning the way it had come.
Voyager had returned to the Sphere's last known coordinates a little over six hours ago, and had been waiting ever since for any sign of activity. Though the first couple of hours had been tense, each subsequent one had been replaced with fatigue and a growing sense of hopelessness.
Picard had been excited by the revelation of the Doctor's alternate plan, as it had infused him with fresh hope that the Time Lord would prevail. But each subsequent hour made that hope dimmer and dimmer, and though he had started out sitting on the edge of his seat, he was now settled back against it, almost slumping as he stared at the viewscreen.
"Mister Kim?" Janeway asked, for perhaps the seventh time since they'd arrived.
Kim shook his head. "Sorry, Captain. I'm not picking anything up on sensors."
Janeway only nodded, no longer seeming even surprised.
Seven, who was operating the auxiliary console directly behind the Captain's chair, spoke up. "At transwarp, the Sphere would have reached Unimatrix 01 seven hours ago."
Picard spoke up next; "We know that he was expecting to be captured, however."
"We do know he was planning to be assimilated," Janeway replied through gritted teeth, fingers drumming on the arm of her chair. "But we can't be sure that he was able to carry out whatever plan he had after that. He could have underestimated the Borg for all we know, and whatever trick he intended to use might have failed, in which case they'd have finished his assimilation by now... another ship might be on the way to assimilate us, as we speak."
"I considered that possibility," Jean Luc admitted, "but-"
"Captain, with all due respect," Janeway murmured, "you haven't encountered the Borg's central intelligence. Though I promised not to reveal too much that would contaminate the timeline, I can tell you that if anyone had the willpower to subdue the Doctor…"
Picard frowned a little, but only nodded, unable to find a proper reply. Janeway, in the meantime, turned her attention back to the viewscreen stoically; the crew had been on duty for nearly eleven hours, but as long as they remained so close to a conduit's exit, she wasn't willing to relax their guard in the slightest. Still, she made a private decision that if they saw no signs of activity in the next half hour, they would have no choice but to assume the Doctor had failed and-
Her thoughts were interrupted as the Ops station gave a sharp chime, signaling a sensor lock. The entire bridge seemed to swivel towards Kim's station at once, and Kim himself was completely focused on the new readings.
"Captain," he said, excitement mingling with anxiety. "I'm picking up a surge in tachyons, it might be a transwarp conduit opening."
"Mister Tuvok," Janeway barked, "Ready weapons, target the center of the emissions."
"Weapons standing by, Captain," Tuvok replied.
The moments stretched into small eternities all their own as the bridge crew waited… and then, with a shimmer of green radiance, a Borg Sphere burst into view, decelerating to a halt just off Voyager's bow. The chaotic, yet oddly uniform design of Borg ships made it all but impossible to determine if this was the same vessel that had come before…
"Mister Kim," Janeway murmured, "Analysis?"
"No sign they've powered weapons, Captain," Kim replied, but before he could continue, his console chimed again. "We're being hailed. Audio only."
"Open a channel."
The audio signal on the other end was filled with laborious, gasped breaths, and several moments passed before the man on the other end even spoke.
"Captain…" the voice was slurred, rasping, but it was most certainly the Doctor. "I once more ask for permission… to come aboard."
Janeway glanced towards Picard, who could only shrug, before eyeing the Sphere on the viewscreen. "Doctor, we had good reason to believe that the Borg were able to capture you… why did they return you here? Were you able to escape assimilation?"
"Escape?" the Time Lord murmured, then stifled a grunt. "More like delayed…but these nanoprobes are persistent little things… I have minutes at the most, too little time… to extract surgically… please, just let me… beam to Sickbay… you lot can toss me back in the brig afterwards, if you'd like…"
Janeway's jaw tightened; lowering shields to allow transport would leave them dangerously vulnerable. If the Doctor were lying, the Borg could send dozens of drones to Voyager in mere moments. On the other hand, if he were telling the truth, every moment that they delayed gave the Collective that much more of a chance to absorb his knowledge and abilities…
Finally, realizing they had little choice, she murmured; "Lower shields."
The Doctor's chuckled wearily, relieved, even as Tuvok moved to comply. "Much obliged… recommend… you get well clear… once I come aboard… boom…"
As the audio channel shut off, Janeway and Picard climbed to their feet and moved towards the rear of the bridge. Voyager's Captain barked over her shoulder to the conn, even as Tuvok joined them in the turbolift.
"Mister Paris, get us clear of that ship, best speed."
"Yes, Ma'am."
They were halfway to Sickbay when the Bridge called.
"Bridge to Captain Janeway," Chakotay's voice sounded through her communicator. "The Borg ship has self-destructed. It looks as if it set its own reactors to overload."
"Understood, Commander," Janeway said as she, Picard and Tuvok emerged from the turbolift. "Resume our previous heading, maximum warp."
"Do you think that we can expect the Borg to dispatch new ships?" Picard asked, worried.
"I don't know," Janeway replied tightly. "But I'm not taking any more unnecessary risks."
When they finally reached Sickbay, a pair of security personnel were waiting outside. The doors had been sealed shut, and the air tingled with the suggestion of a containment field… enough, thankfully, to protect those outside from the deadly rays of the omicron emitter.
As for inside… there was screaming, the Doctor's, sounding clearly even through the sturdy sickbay doors; resistant to the radiation, perhaps, but it was clear that the exposure was still agonizing to him. Even furious as she was, Janeway winced at each sound, turning her attention to the security staff.
"Our Doctor is in there as well," one of the guards informed the captain, glancing towards the door. "He said the radiation wouldn't affect his mobile emitter."
Picard's jaw clenched as he eyed the doors, flinching as the Time Lord emitted another bellowing scream.
"How long is it going to-?"
His question was cut off as the doors finally hissed open; the holographic Doctor looked slightly surprised to see so many people outside waiting, but he stepped to one side, gesturing for them to enter. Janeway instructed Tuvok and his security team to remain outside before she and Picard entered Sickbay.
The walls of the medical sensor were streaked with dark burns here and there, a few of the unshielded consoles shattered by the violent radiation surge. Several of the lighting bars had failed, leaving the room in near twilight, and towards the back of Sickbay, there was a shadowy figure slumped on the ground, propped up against the side of main diagnostic bed.
"You can't approach yet," the holographic Doctor advised when Picard began to advance. "He is still radiating trace amounts of omicron radiation… for safety, I erected a forcefield around the diagnostic bed."
The former Captain of the Enterprise nodded before turning back towards the slumped figure, drawing nearer. His breath caught in his throat when he saw that the Doctor's hands were covered with burns, his body sporadically shifting and twitching as he seemed to be paying no attention to the activity in front of him, but his head was lowered, his face not visible.
"Doctor," Picard murmured, kneeling in front of the forcefield, trying to see beneath the Time Lord's hanging brown bangs, "are you alright?"
"Captain…" the Time Lord stifling a cough. "Jean-Luc, sorry."
"No offense taken," Picard murmured, "though you could have let us in on your plan."
"If I had," the Doctor mumbled, "whatdyou think you'd have done?"
Picard considered that for a long moment before deadpanning. "Advised Captain Janeway to keep you locked away for the good of the universe."
"Pfft…" the Time Lord snorted, finally lifting his head; his eyes were heavily lidded, the implants on his cheek and forehead replaced with puckered, red burns. "Alarmist."
The holographic Doctor passed through the forcefield and administered something from a nearby hypospray, passing his tricorder over the slumped Time Lord. Finally, the Chief Medical Officer nodded grimly and glanced up at the others.
"The radiation has cleared."
"Computer, drop the forcefield," Janeway barked, and once the wall of energy flicked off, both she and Picard move to hoist the Doctor under the arms, grunting as they hauled him up onto the biobed. "Doctor, will he be all right?"
"I'll be fine," the Time Lord mumbled, stubbornly keeping himself propped up into a half-seated position.
"I'm not so certain of that," the holographic CMO countered, jaw set as he firmly pushed the Time Lord down. "The omicron radiation may have faded, but you've suffered significant organ damage. I'm also picking up traces of a new energy signature in your cells… I'm uncertain as to its nature, but it appears to be saturating your genetic code."
"Oh, damn…" the Doctor coughed, and lifted a hand, squinting; he could have sworn, for just a moment, that he saw a golden glow.
"Thought I could take it… and I'd just… gotten used… to the steering…"
"What do you mean?" Picard asked.
"Bit of a long story," the Time Lord replied, and then began to giggle quite deliriously. "Really long story. Really, really, really, really, real-"
The rest of what was probably going to be an unending litany of 'really's was interrupted as Sickbay was suddenly filled with a brief flash of white light, and a very familiar chime. As one, the security team, the holographic Doctor, and both Captains whirled around towards the source, mouths agape at the intruder.
The intruder who leaned so casually against the doorway to Sickbay, arms crossed over his chest, dressed, of course, in a Starfleet uniform..
The intruder who answered by that one, damnable letter.
"Q?!"
"You sent Q?!"
"Yes, what about it?"
"Do you seriously think that, of everyone in the Continuum, he's the one who should be dealing with this?"
"He's the one who's been keeping an eye on the anomaly since it arrived, and he insisted that he'd be able to handle it. Besides, you have to admit, he'd be uniquely qualified to get it under control."
"Control? Q can't even keep his own son from terrorizing half the galaxy! How could you possibly think he was a suitable choice, Q?"
"Q, I know he's had a long history of rabble rousing, but you're the one who decided to restore his powers and rescind his excommunication from the Continuum, remember?"
"Yeah, and he started a civil war afterwards. Brilliant move on my part."
"Let's just give him a chance."
Both Janeway and Picard had blurted the intruder's name at once, and both glanced at one another when they did; Picard with considerable surprise, and Janeway with a bit of a shrug that suggested it was a long story.
"Q, what are you doing here?" the Captain of Voyager finally barked, Picard just too startled by their apparent familiarity to take charge himself.
The immortal, for his part, only shrugged. "What, Kathy, an omnipotent cosmic being can't stop by to say Howdy? And just think of the opportunity! Both of my favorite scowling Starfleet superiors in the same space!"
"Q," Picard snapped, already feeling that familiar headache, "this is not the time for your intrus-"
"So you're the infamous Q."
That was the Doctor mumbled, who, ignoring the Chief Medical Officer's protests, had braced himself against the biobed and staggered to his feet, swaying heavily.
"The one and only," Q replied, sketching an elaborate bow. "Well, sort of. The handsomest one, and only."
The Doctor didn't seem amused, in fact his teeth flashed in a near snarl as he began to lunge towards the immortal. His limbs failed him after only half a step, however, and when he pitched forward, it was only the quick reflexes of Picard that kept the man from toppling facefirst onto the deck.
"Doctor, do not act rashly," Picard cautioned, gripping the slumped Time Lord by the shoulders to steady him… but his eyes widened when he realized that the Doctor's skin was glowing faintly. "What on Earth-?"
"Why are you here, Q?!" Janeway repeated, back turned to Picard or the Doctor, not seeing the glow.
"Oh, nothing to worry about, Mes Capitaines," Q replied airily, waving a hand, but his casual demeanor seemed forced. "It's just that the dear, rambling Doctor here learned a thing or two about us during his little field trip, and has a bone or two to pick as a result, isn't that right boy?"
"Matter of fact, I do," the Doctor mumbled, shrugging away Picard's hands and managing to teeter on his own two feet; his eyes were jaundiced, and the glow was strengthening.
"Doctor, what is happening to you?" Picard demanded, and when Janeway finally turned to see for herself, she instinctively stepped back.
"Oh," Q said dramatically before the Doctor could reply, throwing up both hands, "surely you don't believe that I'm going to let you find that out, Jean Luc? He's about to go through a very private moment, so if it's all the same to you-"
"It is not all the same to me!" Janeway snapped, but Voyager's crew, and Picard, began to back away from the Time Lord as the glow began to turn into a searing, yellow light.
"-I'll be taking him somewhere a little less crowded." Eyes glimmering, Q lifted a single hand and, before anyone could protest, snapped his fingers.
The world was flooded by pure, white radiance and a single, echoing chime.
"Uh oh."
"What?!"
"Q's… well, he's disappeared."
"Disappeared?! Disappeared where?!"
"Well, if I knew that, I wouldn't have said disappeared, would I?"
"Leaving him and the anomaly alone is NOT the way I wanted this to go, Q!"
"Well, then, stop ranting and help me find him!"
The Doctor's senses returned gradually, and he awoke to find himself sprawled in a seated position. His eyes opened slowly, squinting as bright light flooded his vision. Even when they adjusted, it was only a little easier to see… he seemed to be surrounded, on all sides, by light, with no signs of walls, ceiling, or even a solid floor on which he cast a shadow.
Turning, he saw that he was propped up against the base of his own TARDIS, the blue box closed and locked. Climbing to his feet, he grunted, expecting pain… and a little startled when he felt none. Glancing himself over, he could find no signs of bruises, burns, not even soot stains… he was dressed in his full suit and bowtie, crisp and clean as if it had just been washed and freshly ironed.
A pat at his pockets confirmed he had his sonic screwdriver, his heat-sensitive glasses, psychic paper, all the things he had left behind on Voyager. Another, more hesitant pat at the top of his head confirmed his hair was even brushed… more importantly, it was the hair he'd always had.
Without a mirror, he had to settle for pawing at his own face, but it still felt… well, familiar.
Had he not regenerated after all?
"Oh, look who's awake."
Whirling around, the Time Lord's eyes narrowed when he saw Q standing a few feet away, hands folded behind his back and overall looking quite pleased with himself.
"I suppose I have you to thank for this," the Doctor said, gesturing to himself.
"Oh, just a little tailoring service that I'm only too happy to provide," Q said magnanimously, idly curling his fingers against his palm to examine his nails. "As for the medical care, I finally got to know you, bit of a waste if you went and changed on me all over again."
The Doctor moved in a slow circle around the void, glancing about… he could feel no sense of time, space, it was as if they were quite literally nowhere. Although unnerving, it was only a brief distraction, as he turned his attention towards his TARDIS, running a hand across her surface.
"Picard?" He asked, expression studiously blank. "Voyager?"
"All returned to where it should be," the immortal replied, chuckling softly. "I was very good about making sure that Janeway and her loyal band of misfits've completely forgotten you showed up on their doorstep. I'd do the same to Jean Luc, but sometimes it's just more fun watching him struggle with the ethical quandary of knowing the f-"
"I know what you are."
Q paused mid-word, brow lifting at the interruption… but he didn't seem surprised. "Do you now?"
The Doctor's lip curled just a little as he growled; "Yes. What you once were."
The Starfleet-uniformed entity's head tilted as a snap of his fingers summoned a comfortable chair. With a content sigh, Q plopped onto it and propped up his feet, gesturing towards the silently furious Doctor.
"Oh, do go on then," Q drawled, brow lifted. "What, oh great savior of the cosmos, did I used to be?"
The Doctor's eyes were little more than chips of ice as he drew closer to the thoroughly unconcerned immortal, staring down at him in silence. When Q gestured again, mockingly so, the Doctor finally spoke, two words spat out in unrestrained disgust.
"Time Lord."