This is an unbetad piece of work after not writing for a long time. I lost my own mother earlier this month, so the finale of ST: Picard gave me an absolute gut punch with its focus on family, parental relationships and a lot of thoughts about the nature of family and trauma. I am not sure how long this will be but it will be at least a few chapters to help the grief out of my system.
Thank you for your indulgence and please be forgiving of silly mistakes.
The Long Walk
As soon as they fully materialise in the transporter room, the ship lurches off at speed, barely giving them a moment to grab a handrail and hold on for dear life. Each of them holds their breath as the ship pitches hard to starboard, and tips even harder to port before pulling a manoeuvre that feels like it has the potential to become a barrel roll. The aggressive piloting from the Bridge causes every part of the ship to shudder and strain as they make their escape from the collapse of the Borg Cube, while a nerve-wracking rumble emanates throughout the hull as debris and fire are repelled by the ship's shields.
When he closes his eyes, everything fades to white noise, and Jack can feel her at the edge of his awareness. For the briefest of seconds, he feels pity. The fear, desperation, loneliness, suffering, and all-consuming darkness that have enshrouded him by proxy from the Borg Queen feel like they are receding as the flames engulf the remains of the collective. An inexplicable sadness ripples through him before there is a final wave of rage, agony, terror, and then nothingness.
When Jack opens his eyes again, he knows she is gone.
Snapping out of it, Jack can see that they are so close to making it, and yet the seconds feel like an eternity as the ship shakes even harder. There is nothing they can do except hold on and have faith in whoever is pulling off the fancy flying on the decks above them. Even as the thought passes through his head, the ship gives another violent turn, and Jack feels Picard buckle next to him. He has to remember that this living legend is an old man who can be easily hurt. He impulsively reaches out to steady his father and shield him from injury. Encased as he is in a thick exoskeleton, Jack's willing to bet that he can take a few hard knocks without much injury, and he's willing to take it.
It's the least he can do for his old man.
Feeling the grip of his son's arm pulling him close, shielding his head, and acting as a buffer between him and the hard surface of the deck, Jean-Luc Picard looks his son in the eye with an unreadable expression on his face. The same expression he had after helping to pull Jack out of the collective, disbelieving that such a thing was possible.
He expected to die there, with you. Jack's brain unhelpfully provides. You felt it. He didn't think you would be strong enough to leave the collective. He wasn't. No-one is.
Although his mind felt less... crowded. The intrusive thoughts remained, and Jack forced himself to listen to the cacophony around them rather than risk becoming trapped in his own mind again. As he listens, there's a point where it seems to be building up to a crescendo, and the anxious part of him wonders if the ship is about to shake itself to pieces and blow them all to hell. As soon as the idea forms in his head, he can feel the ship already stabilising and can hear the others audibly let out those breaths they had been holding. As soon as it's clear that the ship is back on an even keel, they bring themselves back to their feet, and the admiral gives a cantankerous curse in French.
"I'm getting too old for this." Jean-Luc grunts, breaking the silence with an exaggerated sigh and a shake of his head, which is met with a dry chuckle from Riker. Worf makes do with a barely perceptible nod and has been strangely silent this whole time while both Jack and the admiral hold back awkwardly.
It feels a lot like they are sizing each other up at least in Jack's mind, that is the most comparable feeling. There is a lot they both want to say, and there is a lot they need to say after their connection in the collective, but this isn't the right place or time.
A moment in the collective doesn't mean they aren't strangers to each other.
While Jack helps his father, Worf and Riker are quick to step off the pad and hail the Bridge in a quietly emotional exchange as they confirm that all four of them—Worf, Riker, Picard, and Crusher are safe and on board. Before Beverly can interject to even ask, Riker focuses on Jack and beckons him over with the air of an experienced parent and a quirk of an eyebrow, indicating that this is the time to say something to reassure his mother about his condition. With a wave of guilt, and swallowing the lump in his throat, Jack realises that she is probably anticipating the worst and expecting to find her son an expressionless Borg drone.
Which you were, Jack's mind laconically provides. At least, there is one positive he can take from this episode, he can be sure that at least that depreciating voice in his head is his own. A thought that perhaps isn't as reassuring as he would like it to be given the circumstances.
Feeling self-conscious, all eyes are on Jack in the transporter room, and he can sense rather than see the expectant look from the Admiral at his side as he works on building himself to say something. For the first time in his life, Jack Crusher doesn't know what to say or do, for that matter.
"Hello, mum," is the best he can manage, and he internally kicks himself as his tongue stumbles over the words. Jack's heart clenches in his chest as he hears the shuddering gasp and a quickly stifled sob of his mother over the comm. The earlier jubilation he had felt from seeing a ship come to rescue them and surviving certain death was fading fast once he realised he was going to have to live with the aftermath. Jack can dimly hear the Admiral taking over as his voice- in a dark twist of irony- fails him, and he feels dread in the pit of his stomach as his mother responds.
"We'll be waiting."
As they leave the transporter bay, there is little small talk. For now, it seems that all of them are processing what has just happened in their own respective ways, leaving Jack feeling like an interloper. He barely takes in his surroundings and just allows himself to be directed. As the adrenaline continues to wear off, the first thing that hits is how raw every part of his body feels. Jack's physical senses are returning, which also means sensation and the uncomfortable awareness of what feels like hundreds of implants and other modifications all over his body making themselves known.
His body aches, even if his mind feels at peace for the first time in a long time. As cliche, as it sounded, it felt like a weight had been lifted that he hadn't even realised he had been carrying for all this time. A presence that had always been at the edge of his mind, feeding his fears, inadequacies, and anxieties that were amplified in order to break him and render him vulnerable.
It's a disconcerting realisation to discover that you have been essentially groomed from birth to serve the purpose of a monster. That there had been a window to Jack's soul that he never even realised was there. Even though he feels more present and grounded in a way that he had been desperate for, Jack can't help but feel vulnerable and anxious about having his need for acceptance and connection so publicly on display and having it be so easily exploited.
Jack's brain feels like it's going into overdrive as he starts trying to understand the past 24 hours. How could you resist if you didn't know you were under attack? Unbidden, Jack feels memories that he has buried deep down from his childhood start to bubble up as imaginary friends from childhood start to fall under suspicion, and again he has to work on grounding himself in the present.
With every movement, Jack now feels the thick rivulets of blood trickling down his torso underneath the thick plating of the Borg exoskeleton and into his boots. The chemicals and nanoprobes that induced an almost euphoric, submissive haze were starting to lose their potency, and with that came the visceral reality of what Borg assimilation means. The textbooks didn't do it justice; it's a complete violation of body, mind, and soul to achieve complete submission, and to do it, they literally carve and hollow out everything that is you.
As he dazedly follows his father, who keeps pausing in his steps to make sure he is still with them, Jack is trying to figure out what's been done to him as his eyes run over the thick armour that covers him. With each step, Jack was increasingly certain that the wires and tubules he wrenched clean from his body had torn skin and muscle, and the nanoprobes in his system were starting to make him feel like he was coming down with the worst flu of his life.
He's not sure if it's his imagination or reality, but it feels like an invader is in his bloodstream, clawing and biting at him just with its presence, leaving him feeling raw. Even with the Collective being gone, he wants every trace of them out of his blood and body. His instincts feel on edge; part of him feels like a calculating predator is just out of sight, waiting to pull him back under the surface.
Although Jack had a rough outline of what the process entailed from Starfleet ship's logs, his mother, and textbooks, those descriptions had been clinical and sanitised. The lived reality was a much more agonising and bloody experience than many would have realised. He was of a generation where the Borg had been space boogeymen rather than a real threat. Most people in the alpha or beta quadrant had never set eyes on the Borg. They had been a ghost story to share around the bars of spaceports across the quadrant. Captain Shaw's voice echoes in his head.
Setting the world on fire...
Trying to avoid thinking about it, Jack concentrates on just putting one foot ahead of the other as they move through the corridor of the ship. Despite his best efforts, his mind takes him back to the feeling of drones cutting into flesh and grafting metal to bone in what felt like a macabre robing room. It feels like he is back with her as the hot flush of nanoprobes coursing through his blood makes his body sing with an artificial peace. The Queen's seductive whisper rendered him completely at her mercy as his body became compelled to obey her demands. A siren song tempts him to a fate worse than death. After resisting for so long, the submission had been like a soothing balm to worn nerves and intense raw emotion that felt like it had been building up to a crescendo his entire life.
It had felt like a homecoming, that he was wanted, It was serene whilst also unsettling, and it had felt like he had found his kin, but at the same time, his instincts knew that he was in a place that he should be fearful of, along with a hundred other conflicting feelings and emotions at once.
As the thought passes through his mind, Jack can't help but glance at his father, who remains at his side, a man who knew all too well the trauma of assimilation and who he had once believed had rejected him and his mother. He's still in awe of what just happened. It doesn't seem possible that this man, who was weary from age and jaded from duty, would have been willing to risk death and assimilation in order to save him. It was a far cry from the sting of rejection he had felt as a teenager in an LA dive bar all those years ago.
Even though Jack has had the most explicit confirmation possible from their connection in the Collective that he is both loved and deeply wanted by his father, he doesn't think either of them is quite ready for the deployment of the Dad moniker. For now, it's probably a step too far, and there is still an awkwardness there.
As they near the turbo-lift, the hairs on the back of Jack's neck prickle in horror as he finally catches sight of what he looks like- what Vox looks like- and he stops short at the reflection he sees staring back at him. Picard, admiral, no, his father, he internally corrects, he's earned that, comes to a stop with him, his weathered face concerned as he takes in Jack's expression reflected back at them both from the glass of the EPS panel. Jean-Luc's lips tighten to a firm line. Sensing the tension, Worf and Riker keep their distance.
For a moment, Jack is lost again as he takes in his reflection. His flesh is blackened, bloodied, and it's unmistakable what's happened to him. It feels like a ghoulish children's fairytale from centuries past. He remembers from his childhood stories where an unwary traveller or child is enticed away from the safety of the path or village into the web of the beast. Jack had embraced death itself before he had even stepped foot on the cube, Now he has a chunk of tin currently hanging off his skull to ensure anyone who sees him will know who he is, and what he has done. Jack had naively assumed he had escaped the worst, some cuts and bruises are nothing a dermal regenerator can't handle, but it's clear what he is to anyone who has sight of him.
There is no hiding from the truth.
He is Vox.
She broke him. Took him apart and invaded his mind, making him doubt his own sanity and then rebuilding him in her image. Even as Jack stares at his reflection in the dark glass of the EPS panel, he feels the chill of realising that she has been with him all his life. From childhood to adolescence to adulthood, she used the voice of his own mother to make him hers.
Jack catches Jean-Luc's concerned expression in the corner of his eye, and his stomach takes a swoop that makes his knees feel like he's taken a misstep out of an airlock at his next thought. His actual flesh and blood mother—not the disembodied voice or half-dead queen in the collective—is waiting to see him on the bridge, and she isn't going to see her son, but the face of Vox staring back at her.
He can't do that to her.
"I can't see her, not like this," Jack whispers, appalled by his own reflection and his hand gingerly reaching up to the Borg cranial implant that was embedded into his flesh. He tests how firmly it's fixed to his skull with a grimace. Fighting against the urge to try and tug at it, the tightness of his facial muscles hints that trying to wrench himself free might not be the best course of action.
Jean-Luc's brows furrow, and he takes a moment to take in what Jack is seeing for the first time in the sheen of the EPS panel. In his son's face, Jean-Luc can see the same horror and trauma that had haunted him and had come to define and dominate his life. The same destructive cycle threatened to engulf Jack, and Jean-Luc sensed that this was where he needed to intervene as a father. He calls Jack's name until his son blinkingly focuses on him.
"I can assure you, all your mother wants to see is that you are alive and whole. This can all be removed and healed but I am afraid it will take some time and more medical equipment than we have on this ship." Picard said with a watery smile.
Jack's eyes flick ahead, swallowing down nausea, to where Worf and Riker hang back at a respectful distance ahead of father and son, the turbo life remaining on hold until they are ready to move on. Jean-Luc's voice lowers, and it's clear that he is feeling out of his comfort zone as he pulls his son close in reassurance.
Comfort zone or not, Jean-Luc Picard is going to try.
He chooses his words carefully "When I was forced to become Locutus, it took a long time for both my physical and mental wounds to heal." Jean-Luc starts cautiously, trying to placate his son before he's interrupted. "You warned me. You warned me what she could make me do. I didn't listen." Jack closes his eyes to ward off the angry tears that threaten to fall, his voice turning ragged. "All those people, what we did, what I made them do I-I thought I was strong enough. I'd held her off all my life. How can I...?"
"Because that's what she, the Borg, compels you to do." Jean-Luc firmly interrupts before his son can dig himself deeper into remorse. "The Collective consumes you and uses you to consume others. You are not responsible, any more than I was as Locutus. "It will linger, it will hurt, and there will always be regrets, but this isn't on you."
Jean-Luc takes a deep, bracing breath before reaching out to rest his hand on Jack's neck, one of the few areas of skin not encased by the Borg exoskeleton. Gently, he brought Jack's despairing face back to look him in the eye. "You have to learn to live with it," Jean-Luc said, echoing the advice of a brother long dead.
At the time, Jean-Luc had barely understood what his brother had meant, but now he has a son who is at risk of living a half-life. Just as he has, and the thought is unbearable.
Jack's body is still, but his eyes don't move away from his father. "No matter how you choose to move forward from today and everything that's happened. You said it yourself. You are not alone in carrying this burden. Remember it." Jean-Luc's hand flexes in gentle reassurance as he cups his son's face. "You are among friends and family who can help you find that path."
Jean-Luc hadn't wanted this conversation to happen in a derelict ship corridor, but he could feel the internal agony Jack was enduring and marvelled again at the strength of his son, who had been able to endure a lifetime of manipulation and coercion by the Borg Queen for most of his life. Self-doubt and fear are what prevented the great admiral from pursuing a life outside the safety of Starfleet. But he knows now that his son needs convincing of his strength, and it's going to take time.
"I should have been able to see what was happening." Jack grits his teeth, his hands clenching at his sides. "That I was being manipulated. How? How could I not have seen it?" The anger and frustration radiate from him in waves, and Jean-Luc nods in understanding.
"Jack. These are all things I've asked myself day and night for the past thirty years, but truth be told, there is nothing else you could have done. She did things to you that no one has endured, in a way none of us knew or understood. How could you fight back?"
Jack isn't mollified by this answer, and his expression confirms it as he scoffs. "No one is going to buy that. I wouldn't."
Jean-Luc wisely remains silent. In Jack, Jean-Luc can hear all the questions he had asked himself over the years since the night he was reforged as Locutus. All the feelings of anger, frustration, and fear that he was weak. That assimilation was a personal failure. His isolation had been a penance for his failure in not being able to stop the Borg. It feels familiar, and again, he feels like he is watching his own struggles play out again in Jack.
Jack curses under his breath and moves to run his fingers through his hair in frustration before he realises the thick armour restricts his mobility. "Resistance is futile," he grinds out bitterly.
"Jack, look at me," Jean-Luc coaxes, and he places a hand on each of his son's shoulders to make sure he is heard. Jack, as he's noticed, has a tendency to avoid eye contact when emotions are involved. "There is no one in this world who understands more about how you are feeling right now than myself."
Jack's eyes self-consciously dart to where Riker and Worf are standing, and he feels like he's under scrutiny. Jean-Luc waves that off and continues; his son needs to hear him, it doesn't matter if there are others who can hear him.
"Vox is the past, Locutus is the past, and now She is the past, don't let it consume you as it did me. You still have a full life to live." Jean-Luc clapped Jack's shoulder, his expression solemn. "You are not alone, and I will tell you as many times as you need to hear it. You have a father who will help you avoid the old mistakes he made and a mother who has always been one of the most selfless people I have ever known and who will never deny you."
Jack huffs out an anxious laugh. "What about all the new mistakes I've made? How do you move on from this?"
Jean-Luc weighs up his response. "I've been where you are. You know about Wolf 359 and what Locutus did there. You have also met Seven, who has had to fight for her own humanity. There is always a path back, you just need to hold your nerve if you want to travel it."
Jack looks like he's mulling over the logic of Jean-Luc's argument and he paces out his agitation before turning back and looking at the admiral.
"Seven wasn't bloody kidding about those poetic drivebys," Jack grumbles while his father looks perplexed at the reference to a conversation he wasn't privy to. He recovers well and quirks his head at his son, smiling good-naturedly "It's a son's prerogative to make mistakes," Jean-Luc offers, his chin raised defiantly. "But I've always been a believer that it's possible to make no mistakes and still lose." Jean-Luc grins, and his voice takes on the mischievous tone Jack had last heard on the Titan's holodeck. "Conversely, it's possible to fuck up and win, so there may be hope for you yet."
Touche, old man.
The tension breaks, and Jack laughs weakly in spite of himself as his father smiles at him knowingly. "You are alive, and in time you will thrive. In the meantime, the least we can do is remove this. If I still remember how." Jean-Luc gestures towards the Borg implant welded to Jack's skull. Jack doesn't need to ask how his father knows how to remove Borg tech and before he can even agree Jean Luc is already looking up and down the corridor to get his bearings and muttering to himself.
Without either of them noticing, Worf approaches them both and offers Jean-Luc a small, worn leather case. "For the task ahead." he offers as a brief explanation.
Nonplussed, Jean-Luc needs a moment to understand what Worf is cryptically offering him, and he peels back the worn material to find a micro-laser and plasma cutter, along with other implements that could be useful. This older Worf was full of surprises, and he felt a surge of gratitude that was difficult to put into words.
"Thank you, Mr Worf."
Worf doesn't say anything further but returns to take his place on the opposite side of Riker, who has observed the whole exchange with a bemused expression and looks like he is about to ask Worf a question until the Klingon closes his eyes and appears to descend into mediation. Much to the consternation of Riker, who rolls his eyes and leans back into the bulkhead with his arms folded.
"I see you're still a skilled conversationalist." Riker huffs sarcastically. Worf's expression doesn't even flicker, as he folds his arms over his torso and inhales deeply through his nose while Riker gives a despairing look at Jean-Luc who is already starting to look for a room suitable for what they are about to do.
Again, Jack finds himself following his father, and as they turn a corner, he can't help but shake the feeling that there is something familiar about this ship. It's a relic, but Jack feels like he should know this place, his reverie is interrupted as his father beckons him forward.
"I believe this deck was crew quarters," Jean-Luc is talking to himself as they walk into what is a very spartan suite. "Ah, yes, this will do." The lights are set to ambient, casting the room in a soft glow. All signs that someone lived here are long stripped away, leaving it an empty shell, but there is a mirror, and what looks like it would have been a washroom judging by the few fittings that remain. As soon as they step into the small room, an obnoxiously bright light stutters on, and Jack sees his full reflection with perfect clarity for the first time.
Seeing it in full colour rather than the black sheen of the EPS panel is worse than seeing it for the first time. Jack winces as the glare of the laser sight catches him in the eye while Jean-Luc prepares what he needs on the wash basin counter, testing to see if they have a water supply as he goes. Thankfully, they do, and Jean-Luc internally praises Geordi for his meticulous attention to detail. He feels tense next to him as he takes in the laser cutter and the other tools on display. His son's eyes cloud over, and Jean-Luc is in no doubt as to where his mind is going as he interrupts the silence.
"Ready?"
Jack twists his neck in the suit, feeling it chafe the sensitive flesh of his throat. The constriction is starting to bother him, and he just wants this to be over. He knows his father is well-meaning, and doesn't want to cause him any further pain, but he wants everything Borg gone, starting with the metal currently drilled into his temple.
"Ready. Jack echoes, kneeling down so his father doesn't need to stretch over him.
"I warn you, this will not be painless." Jean-Luc cautions. He's as much playing for time in case Jack changes his mind as he is reluctant to hurt his son. "It might be better to do this with pain relief?" This was going to be difficult for both of them, and he lifted the microlaser in preparation to start. "Are you sure?"
There is a flicker of doubt that crosses Jack's face before he takes a deep breath, his whole body stiffening as he gives his father a curt nod. "Do it," he grinds out, closing his eyes, not wanting to know when it is about to start. He'd know soon enough, and his hands clenched on his knees as he worked to control himself - one wrong move and he could have a concentrated laser to the eye. Frankly, given the week he has had, Jack doesn't fancy his luck and is cautiously remaining as still as possible.
Jean-Luc's right hand is steady, and with the other, he firmly holds Jack's face in place. He doesn't want to risk slipping, and he takes a deep breath to quell his own nerves. "I'll be quick," he promises, and Jack bites his lip to stop screaming out as he feels the burn from the instrument a second later.
The admiral is true to his word, however, and as painful as the process is, within minutes Jack feels the implant loosen enough for Jean-Luc to be able to hook his fingers underneath the warm metal and pull it free from his face with minimal urging. The wires connecting it to the exoskeleton fall away, and Jack gives a relieved, shuddering exhale to feel his face unencumbered again.
His temple, jaw, and ear ache, and the migraine he has will probably last for days. He can feel the faint trickle of a little blood and the smell of burnt flesh- the laser has helped cauterise the wounds- but it's off, and Jack feels like he can almost breathe again. There is a dull pain in his mouth, and he realises that he has bitten the side of his cheek and tongue while trying to keep it together while the implant was removed. The metallic taste is overpowering, and he spits blood into the sink and faintly hears his father make a noise of concern.
As he reclines back again, his teeth still uncomfortably tasting of copper, he feels Jean-Luc is already dabbing away the gore with what he can. It's comforting, and Jack can't help but feel like a young child having a parent patch up a skinned knee as Jean-Luc works to clean up his skin. Jack hears him murmur under his breath about getting him in a fit state for his mother, and he's grateful. This is not a side that any ship's log or holodeck has been able to show him of the great Captain Picard. His father is gentle, almost reverential, and as Jack watches him work in the mirror, he can't help but wonder somberly what it would have been like to have him around in his younger years.
Jack's musings are brought to a close as his face is rinsed with cool water. Satisfied with his work, Jean-Luc rinses his hands, takes a look at his handiwork, and turns to their shared reflection in the mirror. "I think that is the best we can manage, given the circumstances. Better?"
Jack gives a weak smile in return. "Better," he agrees.
They straighten up and Jean-Luc gathers up the tools to return to Worf; the cranial implant is cast aside and left for now. Jack takes a last look in the mirror at the bloodied outline of where the implant had been. It's not perfect, but it will do and his mother is still waiting for him up on the Bridge. Just as they turn to leave, Jean-Luc abruptly catches his son's arm, his face turning pale, and Jack feels a jolt of fear go through him before his father clears his throat. "Just a thought, but perhaps it's best we don't tell your mother about the, the, uh amateur field surgery?" There is a slight nervous stammer in the Admiral's voice.
Jack's eyes widen, and he shakes his head vigorously. "Oh, oh. Absolutely not. I'm in enough trouble as it is." He agrees puckishly, his face lighting up with his boyish grin at the aghast look on his father's face.
"Right, well. So long as we are agreed."
They fall silent, imagining Beverly Crusher and her likely incredulous and angry reaction to what they've done, and Jack has to suppress a snicker at the thought of the admiral fearing the reaction of his mother. As they leave the room again, and return to the turbolift, Jean-Luc is surprised to see that both Will and Worf have waited for them. Worf breaks himself out of his meditative state while his former first officer straightens up from the bulkhead he had been leaning on as they approach. "All set?" Riker asks, his eyes running over the cuts and bruising on Jack's face.
"All set," Jean-Luc confirms, and he lets Jack step in first, trepidation clear from his body language as he gives himself a shake and focuses on what he has to do for the next few minutes. Riker and Worf follow, flanking him, and Jean-Luc gives the command to be taken to the bridge.
Jean-Luc smiles at his son, who is determinedly staring at his feet and its the first glimmer of the old captain for a very long time. As the turbo lift travels through the ship, Riker's eyes slide from Jean-Luc to Jack, and he can't help but smile at his old captain, who is watching his son. Like a new father keeping careful watch over a sleeping newborn. Sensing he is being observed, Jean-Luc finally tears his eyes away and catches Riker's eye as he watches him.
In Jean-Luc's head, he hears again the words that Will spoke to him and lifts his chin in an imperceptible nod as the lift comes to a halt.
You know, I know.
He thinks he knows now, too.
And as Jean-Luc steps through the doors of the turbo lift, he can't help himself from beaming with joy at Beverly, who looks like she is about to keel over from worry. He holds back as Jack embraces his mother and waits for them to turn to him. He doesn't wait long, and Jack pulls him in, and Jean-Luc's heart feels impossibly full of something unknowable and powerful that he would have been scared to contemplate once.
Waiting to die alone.
He remembers his words to Jack in the collective, and after a deep breath to compose himself, Jean-Luc Picard finally says the words that part of him has always longed to say to a son of his own but thought the chance was lost forever.
"Welcome to the Enterprise."