The door opened and Jack jumped to his feet. It was chivalrous, of course, to stand in the presence of a lady, but it was also defensive. He wanted to be able to storm out if and when the time came.
Deanna Troi entered the room. In the late afternoon light, which steamed in from the sitting room's south-facing windows, the soft curls of her dark hair framed her face like a halo. Her presence was entirely gentle and unassuming. Jack's entire body tensed at the sight of her.
"Hello Jack," she said softly.
"Counselor," he replied.
"Thank you for allowing me to visit," she said, taking a step towards him.
"Yeah, well," he demurred as he casually took a step backward. "You and my mum are such good friends. I didn't want things to become awkward."
"That's quite thoughtful," Deanna said as she approached one of the chateau's ancient, upholstered armchairs. Jack watched her sit in it like a rabbit watches a dog.
"Oh, this is not a comfortable chair, " she said. "I wonder why Jean-Luc keeps it."
"His mother reupholstered them herself." Jack explained. "He said he loves to see them, but guests should sit on the settee."
"I think I'll take that advice," Deanna said. "Unless you would like to sit there."
"No, please, " Jack said, motioning that the settee was open. "I'd rather stand."
"Thank you," Deanna said, smiling at him, grateful. "Oh, yes," she said as she eased herself onto the settee. "This is much better."
"Glad you're comfortable," Jack said.
"I don't have to be empathic to see that that was insincere," Deanna said with an annoying, understanding smile.
Jack didn't smile back.
The counselor sighed and let her smile slip. "When I asked if I could speak with you, I really expected you to say 'no'," she started.
"Well, like I said, you're such a good friend of my mother's."
"Be that as it may," Deanna continued. "The way I left you on the Titan was . . ."
"Unprofessional," Jack spat, "Destructive, cruel."
Deanna continued to look up at him with her sad brown eyes, "I suppose all those things."
"If you think I'm going to forgive you," Jack said. "You're wrong."
"I understand that you're mad at me," Deanna started.
"You are an empath, after all," he observed cooly.
"Perhaps I should say that I know that your anger is justified. What I saw in your mind frightened me and, in my agitated state, I made a poor decision."
"A poor decision?" Jack scoffed. "You forced your way into my mind, unleashed a monster, and abandoned me."
"All that is true," Deanna said. "And I am so, very sorry."
Jack had known she was going to apologize. If she was even a tenth as ethical and empathetic as his parents seemed to think she was, she would want to apologize. But he'd expected her to defend her actions, point out how dangerous he was, or how right she'd been to warn everyone. But she just sat there, accepting the worst description he could come up with. She gave him nothing to argue against, so he wasn't sure how to proceed.
She must have realized he didn't know what to say, because she continued speaking. "I've thought about it a lot since Frontier Day," Deanna said, "I've wondered what would have happened if I'd made the other choice - if I'd decided to stay with you and guide you through the revelation instead of leaving you. If we had tried to make you feel accepted despite the genetic anomalies, instead of rejected because of them, would you have stayed on the ship? Would a little more time, and a lot more care, have made a difference?"
"Are you saying all of it was your fault?" Jack asked.
She smiled ruefully, "I can't take blame for all of it. The Borg Queen spun an elaborate web, and worked for years to coordinate this attack. Vadic and her fellow changelings also worked extremely hard to infiltrate Starfleet so completely that the entire fleet could be assimilated in an instant. My mistake, however bad, does not diminish their malice and planning."
Jack stared at her, bewildered. It was obvious that the attack was the Borg Queen's fault, and the Changelings who helped her. There was no denying that their animosity had caused the pain and suffering. But, a nagging voice in his conscience said, isn't it my fault as well? After all, hadn't he been Vox, the voice, who had to be listened to and obeyed? And why didn't Troi feel guilty, since her blatant mishandling of his psychic evaluation drove him straight to the Borg Queen?
Perhaps the thought was obvious, or perhaps she was reading his mind, because she continued: "I do feel guilty. From the moment you were born, the Borg Queen set in motion plans to use you like a weapon. From the moment Vadic knew of your existence, she planned to use you like a weapon. They never saw you as a person. And then, when it mattered the most, when your personhood – your empathy, and intelligence, and individuality – was our bulwark against her evil– I treated you like a weapon."
She looked up at him, tears in her eyes. "I am so sorry, Jack," she said. "When you needed me to see you, support you, I looked away and abandoned you."
This was not the apology he had expected. He was shocked that she had seen the root of his pain, a pain that was buried so deep he hadn't been able to describe it to himself. He thought he'd been furious at her because she'd left in the middle of a session without explanation, extremely unprofessional – but ultimately forgivable. But she was right, it was so much more than that. She looked at him closely, and saw a weapon.
"At the moment in my life I needed to be a human, you told everyone I was a Borg," Jack accused.
"And at that moment, I failed you completely," Deanna said. "I am truly sorry."
Jack took a shaky breath. His heart was pounding, and he felt vaguely nauseous. He stepped into the circle of chairs and sunk into an old rocker. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and rubbed his hands across his face.
"The irony is," Jack said, "You were absolutely right."
"I wasn't," Deanna said.
"I was terrified of losing myself," Jack said. "But in that moment I didn't even know what 'myself' was. If I had listened, and waited, maybe you could have helped me find it. But, instead, I chose to go to her."
"No one blames you for rejecting my help," Deanna said.
"Oh, here, no one blames me for anything," Jack said wryly. "Everyone's just thrilled I'm alive. We don't dwell on what happened."
"That's not all bad," Deanna said. "Dwelling on regrets can block growth.
"I've spoken to your parents," she continued. "And I know Jean-Luc regrets the way he confronted you. He made the same mistake I did, and I'm sure his betrayal hurt you even more. And Beverly feels awful that she was with you, every day, for most of your life, and she never realized that there was an outside force causing you pain.
"We all have regrets. We've all asked ourselves 'what if I'd done this, or said that, could I have stopped it?'" She laughed dryly, "Even Will asked me if I thought things could have been different if he'd made a point to connect with you. But the fact is, there's no way to know. We cannot change what we did. We have to live with it."
"That's easy for you to say," Jack told her. "Your decisions hurt my feelings. My decisions killed thousands."
"Jack, you can only accept the blame for the decisions you made," Deanna said forcefully. "They were reckless and ill-advised, but the act of leaving the Titan did not kill anyone. Don't make the same mistake I made. Don't assume you are a weapon."
"What do you mean?" Jack asked.
"Did you decide to assimilate all the young Starfleet officers?"
"No," Jack said, horrified.
"How about attacking the space doc?"
"No."
"Did you choose which population centers to target on earth?"
"I didn't . . ." Jack said. "I didn't really know that was happening. I was . . . it was like I was somewhere else."
"Somewhere else?" Deanna asked.
"Like heaven," Jack confessed. "Or nirvana. No pain, no fear, just this deep sense of belonging. I didn't decide, I didn't even know . . . I wasn't in that moment."
"And do you feel guilty about that?" she asked.
"I don't know," Jack said slowly. "When did this stop being an apology and become a counseling session?"
"It's not meant to be, honestly," Deanna said. "But your grief and shame are palpable – for me at least. And, knowing how my actions influenced your decisions, I would like to unburden you as much as I can."
"How about I just blame you for everything that happened after I left the Titan?" Jack proposed.
"That's an option," Deanna admitted. "I don't think you'll find it intellectually or emotionally satisfying – but if it helps you move forward, then you should try it."
For a moment, Jack did try it. He looked at the old woman in front of him and tried to believe that everything was her fault. Her heartless incompetence had driven him to the Borg. Of course, he couldn't resist assimilation. It was futile. No one had ever resisted assimilation. Except me, he realized. The moment he'd encountered his father's presence in the collective, the moment he'd felt real, genuine love, his assimilation had ended. That was a decision he'd made. And he had the power to make that decision, he realized, because he'd been fighting assimilation his entire life.
The Queen had pushed her thoughts and her feelings into his mind since before he could remember. He'd done everything he could to reject them. He wouldn't believe the world was hopelessly broken – he would try to fix it. He wouldn't be lost in his loneliness – he would anchor himself to a person who loved him unconditionally. He wouldn't despise the individuality that caused conflict – he would manipulate it to alleviate suffering.
Jack's entire body started to tingle, then started to tremble. He felt dizzy and short of breath. He had to get out of that room.
"I'm done," he said, standing up abruptly and rushing towards the door without giving the counselor another glance.
In the hallway, away from her, he felt like he could breathe easier – but his mind still felt too full and his body too weak. He needed to think – alone.
His parents, Laris, and Riker were on the patio enjoying cheese and wine as they anxiously awaited the results of the therapeutic apology. He turned the other way, walking quickly through the Chateau's maze of halls, into the cellar, and through the tunnels. There was one that ran nearly a quarter mile, and would lead him to the edge of the vineyard. He could go there and not break the promises he made to his mother to stay on the property until he was fully healed. But it was an uncultivated spot, almost-wild, infested with red squirrels and occasionally visited by deer. No one would think to look for him there. He could sit in peace while he reckoned with his decision.
As the sun began to set, Jack watched the warm south wind shake the leaves of the grape vines even as he heard it rustle the leaves of the white oak above him. He'd been sent to Chateau Picard to recover from his assimilation in a quiet, peaceful setting. Surrounded by the fresh and verdant growth of late spring, it was easy to feel rejuvenated. Being on the earth, doing the things that, apparently, his ancestors had done was part of the point – it was 'humanizing.'
So, when he disappeared into the copse of trees at the edge of the vineyard, he wasn't hiding. Not from his mother. Not from father or Laris, nor from their guests. Definitely not from Deanna Troi. He was healing.
There was a general bustle in the chateau as the rest of the guests arrived. Jean-Luc insisted it was not a party, just a casual gathering of friends. Laris said if you invite twelve people over and insist on serving them a traditional French four-course dinner with carefully considered wine pairings, it's a party. So, she had gotten out the good plates and set the long table in the formal dining room. Jack had spent the morning carrying heavy wooden chairs up from the basement to seat everyone. Meanwhile, his father was in the cellar, selecting a progression of wines to match each course and hovering around the chief in the kitchen instructing him not to skimp on the butter.
Jack was happy to attend a quiet dinner, with his father and Laris; even more-so when his mother joined them. But this meal, with his parent's old crew, all laughing and reminiscing about things that happened years before he was born, was not appealing. He may have been welcome, he told himself, but he couldn't help but be an intruder. The guilt and shame that he felt when he remembered that he'd assisted the Borg Queen in attempting to kill them all and everyone they loved had little to do with his desire to hide.
Not 'hide,' he corrected 'recover.'
It was, after all, only a month since Frontier Day. Though, it felt like a lifetime ago. So much had changed. He let his mind drift back to the moment on the bridge of the Enterprise D – the perfect moment. His father and mother by his side, both of them so glad he was there, glad he was alive. Then they opened a line to the Titan and he saw Sidney, Alandra and Seven of Nine. They were safe and whole and human. Jack didn't really know what had happened, but he knew everyone he cared about was okay.
Then things got hairy. The anatomic fluids the Borg used to cool their cybernetic parts started leaking into his bloodstream. He had a seizure in the turbolift on the way to Sickbay and had to be transported directly into a medical status pod. Of course, he didn't remember any of that. When he woke up, a week later, all of the Borg enhancements had been removed. The Queen, it seemed, had been aggressive in her assimilation, and destroyed over a third of his internal organs as she connected him to the cube. The euphoria he remembered was, undoubtedly, a result of the flood of pain-killing endorphins needed to keep him conscious while his body was being disassembled.
Once he was stable and could wake up, he was informed that he would be moving to Chateau Picard for a period of convalescence. Since he had no idea where he was, moving didn't matter. At first he slept about 20 hours a day and his bedroom in the ancient house was nearly indistinguishable from a room in a hospital. But, on sunny days, Laris would open his window, and he would feel a breeze and hear the birdsong. His mother would visit, and they'd sit by the open window, and then on the patio, and eventually walk through the grounds. It was a wonderful day when she said that his new stomach had developed to a point where he could eat solid foods again, and they'd had strawberries, fresh baked bread, and old hard cheese. It was, by-far, the most delicious meal Jack had ever eaten. Jean-Luc had gotten out a special bottle of wine, but had been told to put it back because Jack's kidneys were not as far along as his stomach.
As strength returned to his body, he found the energy to be curious. While it seemed a whole generation of Starfleet officers were plagued by their memories of assimilation, Jack had very few. He read everything he could find on the Frontier Day massacre, trying to put together the pieces. The Borg Queen had used the last of her resources to create a sort of antenna that amplified Jack's ability to control people - but more than control, assimilate. Apparently that ability was limited to those with developing brain matter who had used Starfleet transporters in the past four months, a small minority by any calculation. But under the circumstances, a surprisingly powerful minority.
About twenty percent of Starfleet officers had been assimilated. Of the remainder, about a quarter had died. Most crew members found ways to barricade themselves in shuttles, Jeffries tubes, even holodecks. Having witnessed the fate of the Excelsior, all of the surviving engineers had been trying to disconnect their ship from Fleet Formation before they let the surviving security officers attempt to retake it.
Only the Titan, with the cloaking device he'd procured and helped install, was able to mount a defense of Earth. As Jack considered his role in the most effective and devastating attack on Earth in Starfleet history, he hoped that small contribution was a mitigating factor.
The aftermath was a massacre of a different kind. The young, assimilated officers were traumatized. There were not enough counselors, nor doses of the anti-PTSD drugs. Half of them quit. Spacedoc was horribly damaged, as was the Titan. Many other ships had taken damage as well, both inside, from fire fights, and outside, from Earth's defense systems. With over twenty percent of their crew gone, and all of their ships damaged, Starfleet was weaker than it had ever been.
His thoughts were interrupted by the drone of a shuttle flying low overhead as it approached the Chateau for landing. Riker and Troi had arrived early via shuttle, which was parked on a gravel patch on the east lawn. Accordingly, this shuttle must have belonged either to Worf or La Forge. Jack didn't know either of them well enough to feel obliged to greet them. So, he stayed in his shady spot under an ancient white oak on the edge of the vineyard, letting his mind wander. The birds were singing and the wind rustled the vines on their fences as the sun slowly approached the horizon. It was beautiful and serene, the perfect place to be on a warm spring evening. He was definitely not hiding.
Presently, a figure appeared on the far side of the vineyard, near the Chateau, which started ambling through the vines in his general direction. This didn't concern Jack, as there were a hundred reasons the staff or field hands might go into the vineyard at the end of the day. If he was wanted for dinner, his father would call him on the chateau's comm.
But the closer the figure got, the less familiar it looked. With the setting sun behind them, it was difficult to tell for sure, but the approaching silhouette was feminine and slight but with a youthful, determined stride. Jack leaned forward, puzzling over who could be approaching. Then she called out, "Jack!" and waved her arms, apparently unaware that he was staring at her.
Jack suddenly wished he'd put more effort into his hiding place.
"There you are," Sidney La Forge said, slightly out of breath, as she passed the last of the vine fences and approached his spot under the tree. "You're gonna miss dinner."
"I'm not hungry," he said dismissively. "What are you doing here?"
"Well, I was going to have a traditional French dinner at an historic chateau," Sidney said. "But, now, I guess I'm hiking through a vineyard at sunset."
"There are far worse occupations," Jack mused.
"What are you doing here?" Sidney demanded.
"I was watching the sunset," Jack said. "But now you're in the way."
"You want me to move?" she asked.
"No," he said smoothly. "You're prettier than the sunset."
"You can just stop that train right now," Sidney snapped.
"Right," Jack said, chastened. "I'm sorry."
Sidney sighed, "I didn't mean . . ."
"After what I . . . what you . . ."
Sidney sighed again – obviously, things were not going as she planned. "Is there room for me down there?"
"Be my guest," Jack said, scooting himself over slightly so they could both sit with their backs to the tree trunk and watch the lingering golden rays of sun paint an orange-pink ombre sky.
They were quiet for a moment. Jack waited anxiously, for Sidney to explain her presence. After all, she must have requested leave to take this trip. She must have asked her father for a ride on the shuttle, and asked Jean-Luc if she could be included as a dinner guest. And, finally, she chose to go out into the vineyard and find him but not, apparently, bring him back. She must have had something she needed to say. After what had happened, Jack felt he owed her all the consideration he had – and would not rush her, or distract her as she worked up her courage.
Eventually, she broke the silence. "So, have you read the civilian reports of what happened?"
"Yes," Jack said softly. "Most of them."
"They don't mention you."
"They don't mention a lot," Jack observed.
"The Starfleet reports don't mention you either," Sidney commented. "I mean, if you dig you can find that Picard and Riker convinced the Titan to help Beverly Crusher and her son, who were being attacked by the militant changelings. But that's just a footnote in case people were curious why two retired officers were already off-world. No one seems to care that the changelings were looking for you."
She paused. Jack wasn't sure what to do with the information he'd been given. "I, ah, didn't know that," he said.
"All the rest of it is there – at least as far as I know," Sidney continued. "The changelings stole Picard's body, they extracted Borg-receptor DNA and modified transporters to implant it in Starfleet crew members. The Borg queen was hiding in Jupiter. When everyone was in-range for Frontier Day, she used the Borg receptor DNA to assimilate everyone under 25. That allowed her to use the Fleet Formation technology to control all the ships as one and attack Earth. Only the Enterprise D – which was too old to be connected, and was crewed by geriatric officers, was able to attack the cube and save us all."
"Right," Jack said.
"And where were you, Jack?" Sidney demanded. "Picard's biological son, who can control people with his mind, and ran off all alone to kill the Borg queen?"
"I was the first assimilated," Jack said truthfully.
"I know, technically, the Assimilation Amnesty Act means I shouldn't ask you what happened when you were assimilated," Sidney asked. "But, Jack, eighteen hundred people died."
"I'm aware," Jack said, his eyes wandering up to the sky above the horizon, which was quickly turning from pink to purple. He could feel her staring at him. She was too smart to accept a redacted truth. Besides, she deserved more. "I don't know . . . I mean, how can you apologize for something like that - something so massive?"
"So, you are responsible?" Sidney said. "She couldn't have done it without you?"
"No," Jack admitted softly. "She couldn't have."
Sidney was silent.
The day had reached its end and the sliver of burning-white sun sunk beneath the horizon. It was perfect and beautiful, but neither Sidney nor Jack noticed. Their minds were filled with dark, horrible memories.
"Can you still control me?" Sidney finally asked.
"No," Jack said. "The transporter cure has removed the genetic receivers."
"Can you try?"
"What?" He asked, turning to look at her, horrified. "No!"
She met his gaze with furious determination. "Try!" she ordered. "I have to know."
He swallowed hard, and nodded, and met her gaze. "Punch me," he said.
Sidney laughed dryly, but didn't move.
"Punch my face," he insisted. "Break my nose."
"Did . . . did your eyes just glow red?" Sidney asked.
Jack's concentration broke and he looked at her, puzzled. "How would I know?"
She sighed and shook her head, "Must have been a reflection from the sunset. Are you sure you're really trying?"
"I am," Jack said.
"I don't have a good stance here, let's stand up."
She pushed herself away from the tree and stood in front of him - feet shoulder width apart, hips turned, left foot forward, right foot back, knees slightly bent, arms limber, palms open – the classic Starfleet self-defense pose distilled from the starting position of multiple traditional human martial arts. "Last time you moved with me," she pointed out.
"I don't think I have to move with you," Jack said, keeping his seat. "Every other time, I just had to say something. Not even say, I just had to want it."
"We're doing this," Sidney ordered. "Stand up."
He acquiesced, getting to his feet and mirroring her stance. He was mindful to keep several meters between them. He was willing to take a punch, but he did not want to risk hitting her in return.
"Punch!" Jack said, swinging his right arm.
Sidney didn't move.
"Kick!" Jack ordered, shifting his weight forward on his left foot and quickly propelling his right foot upward. If they'd been closer, it would have made contact with her chest.
Sidney remained still.
Jack planted his foot and stepped out of his fighting form. "I swear I tried," Jack said with a shrug. "And I can't."
Sidney exhaled and nodded. "And what about what happened in the turbolift?" she asked. "When you touched my hand?"
Jack glanced down. "That was . . . confusing."
"Reading my mind?"
"I didn't know I could – that was the first time," he stammered. "I mean, for all I knew, you were telepathic and intentionally projecting thoughts."
"Really?" she asked skeptically.
"I swear I didn't know what was going on," he said. "But, I did decide to take advantage of it. And, I'm sorry for that."
"What am I thinking now?" she asked.
Jack took a deep breath and tried to look into her eyes, but the spreading twilight put her face in shadow. He recalled what it was like the first time. In the turbolift he'd been hyper aware of her physical presence. Practically his entire being had been trying to tune into her. Under the rustling leaves of the white oak, he tried to do that again – fill his mind with Sidney; notice her smell, and the warmth coming off of her body, and the subtle message of her body language. All he could sense was defensiveness covering a sense of betrayal.
Eventually she prompted, "Well?"
Jack shook his head. "You're inscrutable."
She gazed at him skeptically.
"I'm sure you're thinking something absolutely outrageous that I, no doubt would react to," Jack said. "But I don't know what it is."
"Ok," Sidney said, relaxing slightly. "At least I know we're on even footing here."
"You don't have to be afraid of me," Jack said. "I don't expect you to like me, or ever want to see me ever again, but – just, please, don't be afraid of me."
"What would it matter how I felt," Sidney asked, "if I never saw you again?"
"If you were afraid of me it would," Jack took a deep breath and forced himself to put his deepest fear into words. "It would mean that you thought I was a monster – not a human. I can stand being a bad human . . . I mean, I know I am a bad human. But, I . . . would like to be thought of as human."
"What are you if you're not human?" Sidney asked. "Borg?"
"Aren't I?" Jack asked. "I mean, I was born with Borg DNA so . . ."
"Didn't your mom remove it with the transporter?" Sidney asked.
"No, actually," Jack said. "My brain is riddled with Borgy-bits. Attempting to remove them would be akin to lobotomization. But the fact of the matter is, I'm not that selfless. Dying for others seems noble – I really think I could have done it. Losing myself, slowly, for others; I didn't have the nerve.
"Besides, as you demonstrated, it's perfectly harmless now that your DNA is returned to normal. So it seems I get to stay me . . . . whatever I am."
"So, you controlled us with your Borg DNA?" Sidney asked. "Before we were assimilated, you used it to save us. After . . ."
"After," Jack interjected. "She used it."
"She? The Borg Queen?"
He nodded.
"But I didn't hear her," Sidney told him. "I heard you."
"What do you mean, you heard me?" Jack asked. He could feel the blood drain out of his face and bile rise in his throat. "You recognized my voice?"
"You gave the orders, Jack," Sidney said frankly. "You told us what to do and we had to do it. Didn't you know that was what was happening?"
"I guess," he said softly. "I just . . . I didn't realize . . . But . . . why are you here, then?" Jack asked.
"What do you mean?" Sidney asked.
"Why would you ever want to hear my voice again?"
"Because I want to know what happened to me . . . and to you. I mean, we were fighting for our lives together on the Titan. It got to seem like keeping you on the ship, keeping you safe, was the only way to save the Federation from the Changelings."
"Right," Jack admitted.
"And then you chose to leave the ship," Sidney said angrily, catching his eyes with hers. He didn't dare look away. "So, the thing I need to understand," she continued, "The reason I needed to talk to you, and hear your voice again, is I have to know why."
"I didn't know what would happen," Jack said softly.
"You did though," Sidney insisted. "You knew bad things would happen if you left the Titan."
"I thought that was all over when Vadic died," Jack said.
"But we knew it wasn't," Sidney argued. "We all knew she was one of many, we all knew there was something bigger and worse just out there, waiting."
"You're right," he admitted. "We did."
"So why did you leave? And why, of all the places in the galaxy, go to the Borg?"
"I already told you," Jack said. "I'm selfish."
Sidney stared at him for a moment, "Really?"
"Is that so hard to believe?" Jack asked.
"Actually, yes," Sidney insisted impatiently. "The very first thing you did on the Titan was escape the brig so you could surrender yourself to Vadic. Then, when we baited her onto the Titan, you insisted on being on the front line - running for your life. Then, when she took over the ship, you risked everything by going to the bridge, knowing the plan could go sour in a million ways. She could have killed you or dragged you out into space. But you did it to save us.," she continued. "So, why, just a few hours later, did you do the one thing that put us in danger?"
Jack knew the answer – but he didn't want to say it. While he searched for a response that would hurt him less, a pair of owls called to each other across the violet-blue sky.
"Jack?" Sidney prompted.
"I was a Borg weapon," he finally said. "Potentially deadly to anyone who crossed my path. And there are only two ways to stop a deadly weapon. You can disarm it, or you can stop the person who's wielding it.
"Jean-Luc, Counselor Troi, even my mother wanted to disarm me. Take me someplace I could do no harm until all the Borg was gone. Whatever bits of me were lost in that process – well, that's just too bad. But, I was selfish. I didn't want to be disassembled. So, I decided to stop the person who could wield me."
"The Borg Queen," Sidney said softly.
Jack nodded.
"You gave her what she wanted," Sidney accused.
"I thought, maybe, I could charm her. Maybe I could make her tell me everything and then I would kill her and end it all, finally, forever. But, I got there, and I just . . . did nothing."
Jack felt himself start to tremble again as the shame and guilt filled his body. But this time, he didn't want to run away. He wanted to confess. He didn't trust Deanna, but he trusted Sidney.
"That's the part I don't know how to live with," Jack continued. "Every other moment, every other decision, I can see the way fear and desperation drove me – drove all of us – to make mistakes. I can forgive mistakes. But, in that moment of truth, that moment of decision, I didn't make a mistake. I did nothing.
"And the thing is, I didn't know it then, but now that she's gone it's so obvious – I'd resisted the Borg Queen my entire life. So many thoughts in my head and feelings in my gut about the way people where or should be or could be were put there by her. And I rejected them. I couldn't . . . I couldn't feel connected to other people – not the way I was supposed to – not the way they describe in books and holonovels. It was because of her. She crushed that feeling of connection before I even realized it was growing. So I resisted her and held on to the one connection I did feel; the connection with my mother – because it was far too strong for her to destroy. But she subverted it – called to me in my mother's voice. And every time she did, she made me see how broken and hopeless the world was. But, I fought back. I believed I could make a difference. I helped people, saved lives, gave others a hope I didn't have – a hope she didn't let me have.
"When Jean-Luc told me I had always been part Borg, so much made sense. I thought my feelings were Borg feelings – and they were. But they were never really my feelings – they were her feelings, or maybe the feelings she gave me. And as dangerous as they were, and as much as they hurt, I didn't want to lose them. They'd been there my whole life. I'd struggled with them every day, forever. How could I be me without them? And, if I wasn't me – how was that different then assimilation?"
Jack sighed. " I wanted to keep my miserable life. I didn't stop to think about how that risked everyone else's.
"I wish . . . I wish I could say that I went into the cube with phasers blazing until was overpowered by drones, or that I drained the phaser trying to break through her personal force field, or even that I struggled, even a little, against the assimilation," he turned to look at her, tears streaming down his cheeks. "That should have been the minimum, right? Any person who knew the Borg Queen wanted to assimilate him to use as a weapon should have tried not to be assimilated. I'd fought and fought and fought my entire life. And then, when it actually mattered, I didn't fight."
"Oh, Jack," she said sadly.
"That was my decision," Jack said, tears streaming down his face. "And people died."
Sidney met his gaze. He felt like her large brown eyes could see through him. Even if she wasn't afraid of the weapon, he was sure she could see it. "You were alone," she finally said. "You were worn down. And, in the end," she continued, reaching out and grabbing both of his hands in hers. "You're only human."
Jack's breath caught in his throat. He stared at her, bewildered. Knowing what she knew, having heard his confession, how could she accept him, practically forgive him, like that?
"Look," she said, her eyes still searching his. "I don't want to judge you. I just . . . I felt like I needed to know."
"You deserved to know," Jack said, his eyes drifting down to their hands. Her fingers were interlaced with his and he felt like her warmth was radiating up through his hand to his arm, making his heart pound and his head buzz.
"And now that I know," Sidney continued. "I'm not going to tell anyone."
"You don't have to keep my secrets," Jack said.
"It's not a secret," Sidney said. "It's something personal, that you told me in confidence. And you can trust me to keep it confidential."
"Thank you," Jack said, gently squeezing her hands. "I don't deserve your friendship."
"My dad always said, friendship is given, not earned. And we should give it generously."
Jack smiled through his tears. "Wise. And kind."
"He is," Sidney said. "But don't tell him I said so – I don't want him to get a big head and think I'll be taking his advice or anything crazy."
Jack laughed. He felt like a huge weight had fallen off his chest, and he could breathe again. "Noted."
"Look," Sidney said. "It's gotten dark and cold – do you think you can come with me and see what's left of the dinner?"
"I could manage that," Jack nodded.
"Good," Sidney said, letting go of his left hand and turning towards the path that led to the chateau, with its welcoming warm lights across the dark shadows of the vineyard. "Because I am starving. And, hey, do you think we can snag some of that Chateau Picard wine I've heard so much about?"
"I think we could find something," Jack said, relishing the feeling of her hand in his as they wound their way through the vineyard. "Do you drink red or white?"
"I don't care, as long as the wine is good," Sidney said.
"Ah," Jack said knowingly. "I think the 2475 Cabernet. It won Argent at the Citadelles du Vin."
"What does that mean?" Sidney sounded impressed.
"I have no idea," Jack admitted.
Sidney snickered.
"But it won something," he continued. "Maybe drinking it will be a lesson in oenophilia."
"I love to learn new things," Sidney said. "Let's go."
