Chapter Text
In the middle of nowhere- literally- Q"s delighted laughter echoed through the void.
"Finally!" Q declared, throwing up his hands. "I thought you"d have figured it out ages ago."
"Perhaps I should have," the Doctor murmured, shaking his head. "But I couldn"t quite bring myself to consider it… not until the Borg"s collective knowledge showed me this place. A layer of reality, superimposing itself over another. A newer reality, the universe of the Federation… and, underneath it, something older, scarred, hidden. This."
The Doctor"s hand swept out expansively, gesturing to the silent radiance that surrounded them on all sides. Q, for his part, just nodded along agreeably, studying their surroundings as if he were intending to build a summer home there.
"I brought Jean Luc here once," Q chortled softly. "Told him it was the Afterlife. Little did he know how literal I was."
The Doctor could only stare at their surroundings; somehow, he had always thought that that a universe annihilated would have been blackness, but this made a sick sort of sense. With no matter in all existence, energy reigned supreme, illuminating every particle of the void in its eerie glow.
This place was limitless power, yet barren land all the same. Not a speck of matter would ever form here of its own accord, life would never take independent form. Not even energy would concentrate or coalesce, remaining uniformly distributed throughout all existence, for all eternity. The universe the Doctor had experienced, full of stars and species and ships, had been built upon this incomparable graveyard, knitted over the emptiness like a bandage shrouding a wound.
"Afterlife," the Doctor murmured, "After life… so, you actually did it. The Final Sanction. This universe"s Doctor couldn"t stop you."
"Oh, this universe"s Doctor completely failed to stop it from happening," Q replied mockingly, throwing up his hands. "It was really the most pathetic thing, failure on every conceivable level… it"s only great kindness on the part of the Continuum that it isn"t chortled about during polite conversation."
"Like you"d have any place to do so," the Doctor snorted, glancing sharply at him. "I"d imagine he was a better man than any of you lot."
Q smiled, but this was one seemed a bit more subdued. "More sanctimonious, I think, but better"s pushing it."
The Doctor"s eyes tore themselves away from the void, focusing on the smug entity who was even now leaning against his TARDIS.
"All that," the Time Lord murmured, "out there, the Federation, the very universe… where did it come from?"
Q shrugged, spreading his hands in a mockingly apologetic gesture as he circled the TARDIS, studying it with clear interest.
"Just renovations on our part," he replied idly. "It didn"t take long for a universe of complete emptiness to get really boring, so we decided to stretch ourselves, see what we could accomplish with out newfound omnipotence."
"Not very much, it would seem," the Doctor snapped. "These new races you cobbled together? What about the Silurians? The Sontarans? Countless species that existed before, could you not have restored them?"
"Impossible," Q replied, waving a hand dismissively. "Even for the Q. The Guardian itself couldn"t even tell you about what "Was," not for this universe, as it was completely wiped from all existence. Our omniscience didn"t extent to the way things used to be either. Besides, even if we just copied from another, intact universe like your own, we couldn"t bring back every race that had existed; too much time, too much work to coax a billion different worlds on the same paths they used to travel. We just let life largely develop as it wanted, for the most part."
The Time Lord"s head bowed as he absorbed that, but his head started to shake, denying it, a hand lifting and finger extending towards his smug host.
"But not humans," the Doctor said sharply, "There are still differences, big ones, but mankind is still here, in many ways similar to how it once was, at least as far as the twenty-first century. How can that be?"
"Oh, just a pet project, really," the omnipotent entity replied, chuckling, and yet the laughter seemed almost bitter. "Even getting one race to develop in more or less the same way required an enormous amount of effort… we had to create an entirely different progenitor, the Preservers, boost Earth"s technological development by flinging a time ship into its past, so much work to get things as close to right as possible. One of my colleagues, may he rest in peace, was specifically assigned to helping your precious Earth develop just… right…"
The Doctor continued to pace, faster now, fingers flexing, hands clenching and unclenching as his hearts pounded. He tried to think of some angle, some proof he could present… even with the evidence of the Continuum"s- of his own people"s- crimes laid bare, some part of him still sought to deny it. And then it sought to prevent it, to stop it, to somehow go back and undo what had been done.
But he couldn"t. This was the old universe, what was left of it; everything, at every point in time, had been irrevocably annihilated. There was simply no way to travel to the Time War, because in this universe, the Time War- and the races involved- had never existed.
And even if he could… he"d just be consigning the Federation, and every other race in this new universe, to its own destruction.
"And the differences?" the Doctor asked, voice hollow. "The Federation?"
"Well, we tried," Q responded, sounding a bit exasperated. "But after humans got out into space, the universe was too different for them to develop as they once had, so the more interference arose from outside races, the more things spiraled off the track. The Eugenics Wars, for one, would never have happened without the meddling of that one extraterrestrial idiot, Gary Seven. Besides... we might have created a convincing substitute, but they"re not the humans you know and love."
The Doctor wanted to laugh at it, the absurdity, that things could have changed so irrevocably over one little difference in the timeline.
"Why?" the Doctor asked, voice rising. "Why all the effort, then? If you could only make a "substitute," why even try?"
"A favor," Q finally said. "To the man who made all this-" a sweep of his arm towards the white, empty space, "-possible."
The Time Lord fell silent, head bowed. His hands were slowly clenching into fists, and though he tried to calm himself, tried not to do anything rash- for once- he could feel a helpless, undeniable rage building higher and higher. Every moment in this echoing emptiness was mocking him, and he could almost hear the voices of countless lives that would never, ever be.
"It"s time for you to go back," Q was saying, turning towards the TARDIS and resting his palm flat on its surface. "It won"t be long before the others think to look for us here. I"ve imbued your ship with enough power to go back where you came from. You can stay in this one as long as you"d like, we won"t force you to leave… but I think you and I both know that this universe has lost its luster, hmm?"
Q was just starting to turn back around when the Time Lord all but charged into him, slamming the entity back against the TARDIS with a loud "SLAM." Q was surprised, irritated, but obviously unhurt, and he made no attempt to break the Doctor"s hold, rolling his eyes slightly at the infuriated Doctor"s hands clenched in the fabric of his Starfleet uniform.
"Who were you, Q?" the Time Lord"s lip curled, and he gave the thoroughly unconcerned omnipotent a brief shake. "The Master? Rassilon? Your people are immortal, you must have been part of it, must have joined in, maybe pulled the switch yourself, so tell me, who are you?!"
His last, shouted words echoed in the ether as Q stared down at the Time Lord. All trace of mockery had left his face, any amusement long since faded. In its place, there was pity, and though the Doctor didn"t see it, deep in the entity"s gaze lingered no small amount of shame.
"Come on," Q said quietly, lifting a hand until it was between his and the Doctor"s face. "Haven"t you figured it out yet?"
Q"s fingers snapped together, sharply.
And the TARDIS" doors swung open in response.
The Doctor"s eyes widened, slowly, as he released Q, stumbling back a few staggering steps. His hearts felt squeezed, prepared to burst, and his breath exploded in a gasp. His mouth opened to speak, but no sound came out, and all at once the Time Lord felt caged, trapped here in this empty, silent graveyard.
He had to go.
He wasn"t paying attention to the pitying look on Q"s face, not seeing anything as he stumbled into his TARDIS and slammed the doors shut, leaning against them as he locked the deadbolt.
As the Time Rotor began to grind to life of its own accord, it almost drowned out the Time Lord"s furious scream.
* * *
The TARDIS had fled from that pure, white emptiness the moment the Doctor had stepped inside, seeking the relatively soothing expanse of space; it had been an instinctive move, a revulsion of the blank slate she had been stranded in. They were still in this alternate universe, however, having yet to make the final leap that would return them to the Doctor"s own reality. Q had told the Doctor it would be simple, completely safe no doubt… all the Doctor had to do was set the course.
But he couldn"t move. Standing at the TARDIS" doors, he hadn"t shifted from that spot since he"d entered. He could only stand, fists clenched, forehead resting against the door.
The Guardian of Forever had been right, so very right. This was an answer, a truth that he wished he had never found. Had he the capability, he would have stricken the knowledge from his mind… lacking that ability, he could only wallow in it, anger, disgust, and misery mingling.
Finally, his head lifted, and he brushed aside tears as he climbed up to the control platform.
It was past time he went home.
Shifting towards the control console, he began to input the course Q had somehow programmed into the TARDIS" knowledge banks. The power required was far greater than the TARDIS should have been able to provide… but he suspected the omnipotent entity would imbue his vessel with whatever energy was needed to let it reach its destination.
But just as he was about to pull the lever and return to his own universe, an errant thought struck him. Something he had read, a tragedy that had been learned of only in passing.
He hadn"t been able to save this universe, far from it. But perhaps there was still something that could be salvaged.
A favor to repay. A friend to help.
Jaw setting, the Doctor entered a new set of coordinates. Two little detours.
It didn"t take long for the TARDIS to reach the 31st Century, appearing about halfway between Saturn and Jupiter in the Sol system. Powering down the Time Rotor, the Doctor then began to potter about, packing scattered tools away and generally preparing for the return trip home while he waited for his presence to be noticed. And he had no doubt it would be; his arrival had probably set off every temporal sensor in the system, and it was only a matter of time before someone responded.
It took longer than the Doctor expected, but when he eventually turned to find a familiar Time Agent standing in the TARDIS" control room, he realized the likely reason for the delay.
"Daniels." The Doctor turned, arms crossing over his chest and a small, less-than-friendly smile spreading across his face. "They must have gone to a lot of trouble to bring you all the way back home."
"The agency prefers to keep things simple," Daniels replied, stepping up onto the control platform. "You and I already have such a good rapport, seemed a waste to send somebody else."
"Mmhmm." The Doctor gestured to the Time Agent with one hand. "My congratulations for your wonderful protection, wasn"t bothered by a single twenty-ninth century busybody during my time on Voyager."
Once again, Daniels seemed quite fascinated with the control column"s layout, and he didn"t reply right away, seeming far more interested in studying- without outright touching- the innumerable switches, buttons, levers and faucets.
"Thank you, though it didn"t seem necessary," Daniels finally said, tone quite conversational. "You vanished from Voyager, and your presence there was wiped from the timeline soon after; temporal shielding was the only thing that preserved our memories, and it almost wasn"t enough. But we didn"t detect the cause of your disappearance. Still, I take it you found what you were looking for?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact I did."
"Wonderful." Nodding, Daniels stepped forward, hand extended. "Please share."
The Doctor only chuckled.
"Afraid not." The Time Lord"s lip curled a little. "My price has just gone up."
Daniels froze, hand still extended. "We had a deal."
"I lied," the Doctor replied quietly, shrugging. "Been known to do that. I have the information you want, and I"m willing to share it- though, believe me, you"d be better off not knowing- but I"m not delivering it out of the goodness of my heart. There"s something I need from you lot, a very small thing, but you"re not getting the information I"ve gleaned until you provide it."
Daniels began to circle the central control pillar, running a hand across its surface as, facing away from the Doctor, he asked quite casually. "Where is the information?"
"It"s in my mind," the Doctor replied, tapping his temple. "My people have some limited telepathic ability, I could share the knowledge with you… it would hurt quite a bit, you might end up with a broken nose if my aim"s off, but you"d learn everything I did. And better yet, you"d know for certain I was being honest, rather than having to take my word for it."
Daniels" head tilted as he turned towards the Time Lord; his expression quite neutral, but eyes gleaming dangerously. "We have telepaths too, you know… we might just extract it ourselves."
"Oh, certainly, you can try and take it by force," the Doctor replied, shrugging a little as his head tilted. "But I"ll fight the attempt with my dying breath, and any damage to my wonderful mind that is made in the process might just wipe the information you want."
The gleam was replaced by frustration as Daniels shifted from foot to foot. "What do you want?"
"I want your help," the Time Lord replied quietly. "Your clever assistance. I know you lot can shield temporal changes from detection, to an extent at least, it"s the only way you lot can keep from having your passage through time set off every alarm in the twenty-ninth century. You used those tactics to hide my presence on Voyager, least til all memory was wiped from her crew-"
"We"re very curious as to who did that," Daniels interjected, but the Doctor rolled right over him.
"-and I want you to use those same skills to hide a deliberate change I intend to make." Lifting a single finger, the Doctor"s brow quirked. "Just one little alteration to the timeline, the damage would be quite minimal… and maybe even beneficial to the thirty-first century, in the long run."
Daniels" mouth twisted, clearly not remotely pleased with the demand, but he didn"t refuse outright. Still, after a few moments his head began to shake, doubt clear on his face.
"It wouldn"t be easy," Daniels explained slowly. "And there are changes that would just have too drastic an effect on the timeline to hide. If you"re thinking of saving the Alcheron colony, or even Kirk-"
"No," the Doctor replied, shaking his head. "I know that it would alter too much, make too much… noise… for it to ever be hidden from your predecessors. The change I have in mind, I believe you"ll agree, is much smaller, and will have a much more limited effect on the timeline. Again, beneficial, but not so easily noticed."
Daniels" lips tightened as he shifted from foot to foot, clearly considering it. The Doctor, for his part, remained motionless, hands in his pockets, brow lifted. He wouldn"t be moved on this; if they refused, he would do everything in his power to leave them without the information they wanted. If they tried to press the issue, he"d quite willingly die before letting them extract an iota of truth from his lips, or his mind. Whatever it took to get this done.
Fortunately for everyone concerned, that wasn"t necessary.
"All right," Daniels finally replied, nodding slightly. "If it"s at all possible, we"ll hide the change from our predecessors. Where do you plan to make this change?"
Eyes glimmering with purpose and mischief, the Doctor smirked.
"Oh, just a little house in Europe."
* * *
Picard stumbled as the bright, white light of Q"s power faded, leaving him in relative twilight. Staggering forward, he let out a muffled curse as his knee banged into something heavy, teetering backwards and nearly falling over entirely. He had just regained his balance when a voice chimed in, a disdainful, irritatingly familiar voice.
"Oh, please, it"s painful just watching you.."
A pair of fingers snapped, and the overhead lights flared to life, revealing the room around him; unfamiliar Starfleet living quarters, with a couch, two chairs, food replicator, desk… the bulkheads, adorned with paintings and three large viewports.
And there, sprawled on his back across the couch, was Q, hands behind his head, peering up at the ceiling.
"Q," Picard snapped, one hand gripping his throbbing knee. "What happened? Where are the others?"
"Oh, Mon Capitaine," Q replied, waving a hand about. "The dear Doctor"s departed, and as for Voyager, they"re in the Delta Quadrant, just beginning the trip home… to avoid complications, had to wipe your little visit, but I decided to let you, and only you, keep your memories of it. We both know how very responsible you are."
Picard climbed to his feet, glancing about the cabin; it was fairly large, but nowhere near as big as his own aboard the Enterprise. The décor, the very shape of the bulkheads and viewports, suggested he was on a completely different ship.
"And where am I, then?"
"You"re on one of your charming little space boats," Q replied idly. "The Far-something. I took the liberty of skipping you past the boring stuff and stuck you in your timeline after you"d finished picking over what was left of your beached whale of a ship. You"re on your way back to Earth for what is sure to be a really exciting three weeks of court hearings. Always fun when you lose a ship, isn"t it?"
Being cheated of that last look at the Enterprise was more than enough to send a wave of fury rolling through Picard, but as always, he clamped down on it. When it came to Q, even the option of throwing a satisfying right hook was essentially useless. Instead, he drew in a deep, calming breath.
"Does anyone know about my departure with the Doctor?" he asked. "My disappearance?"
"As far as they"re concerned," Q explained, "there was no disappearance. You were found on the planet, joined them in salvaging what was left of your ship, even had a disgustingly philosophical chat with Riker on what used to be your bridge."
Picard couldn"t help but wonder what the discussion had been about, but he wasn"t sure he"d be able to ask Riker without arousing suspicion. Though he was eventually going to tell his senior staff what had happened, there were… time-sensitive… elements that he"d have to edit out, to prevent contamination of history.
The knowledge that Voyager was, even now, stranded in the Delta Quadrant, eventually to be declared lost… the secret would be a terrible burden, and he couldn"t help but wonder if Q permitting him to retain his memories was intended as a kindness, or some cruel joke.
"And what are you doing here, then, Q?" Picard finally asked, glowering. "Come to gloat, perhaps?"
"I"m surprised at you, Jean-Luc," Q said, brows lifting as he shifted onto the couch. "I"d have figured you had all sorts of annoying, big, life-changing questions to ask me. "Why are you here?" is really the most boring one I can think of."
"I"d ask the more interesting ones if I thought for a moment you"d provide a useful answer," Picard replied through teeth gritted, his fists clenching at his sides.
"Well, try it!" Q"s arms spread wide, gesturing to a nearby chair. "I"m an open book. Ask me anything, I might be inclined to answer."
Picard hesitated, half-expecting it to be some kind of trick. But considering there were, indeed, innumerable mysteries he wanted solved, if there was even a chance Q would be up front, he really couldn"t pass up the opportunity due to his own pride. Knowing he might only get one chance, he selected the question that had been bothering him for the longest, even as he settled onto the offered seat.
"Were you responsible for the Doctor"s arrival in this universe?"
Q applauded, so very slowly, staring up at the ceiling. "Oh, well done, Jean-Luc, I"m quite impressed. Yes, it was me."
"Why?" Picard demanded, "why put him through all of this, why toy with him in such a manner? Is it not enough to bully the denizens of this universe, you now have to begin abducting residents of other realities to assuage your boredom?"
Q actually looked insulted at that, his lips twitching with displeasure as he sat up a bit to look at Picard. His reply was oddly defensive, as well.
"It was necessary," Q snapped. "He needed to be shown the truth, for his own good."
"For his own good?" Picard retorted, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Like when you exposed us to the Borg?"
Q looked ready to clash horns with Picard, per the usual, but something stopped him just as his mouth was opening to make his usual arrogant reply. His eyes flickered with something strange, subdued, and he slumped back down onto the couch so abruptly that Picard almost thought he was looking at a different person.
"He didn"t tell you the sort of place he was in before he came here, Jean Luc," Q replied, and his voice was so muted, so lacking its usual flamboyance, that Picard actually found himself listening. "The mindset he had reached. Hopeless. Helpless. Pathetic. If he had stayed as he was, continued down that road, he would have been gunned down on a beach, gone without a whisper."
Picard couldn"t remember the last time he had seen Q so open, so strangely unassuming. When he had lost his powers, perhaps, and had tried to reach out half-heartedly… something Picard had interpreted as his usual deceit. But this time, not even his usual distrust could keep the Captain from suspecting that this unpredictable, thoroughly aggravating entity had come looking for someone to… confess to.
"You"re saying that there were those, in his universe, who were going to kill him?" he asked.
"Worse," Q replied, snorting. "He was going to let them. Just lie down and accept it."
Picard"s brow furrowed; he hadn"t known the Doctor for long, but considering what little he had seen of the man, the thought that the Time Lord would "let" anything happen seemed outright preposterous.
"Why?"
"Because," Q explained, not even sounding exasperated by Picard"s confusion, "he decided that staying and fighting it would do more harm than good, and that ultimately there was nothing he could do to escape his fate. That if he just gave up, stopped trying, everyone would be all the better for it."
Picard shook his head slowly, realizing just how little he knew of that madman in a box who had come essentially crashing into their lives. Counselor Troi had hinted to some sadness, some fear of death, but in all this time, he had never thought to press the issue. Perhaps he should have.
"Well," Picard finally said, "what were you trying to do?"
Q"s lips quirked in a small smile. If Picard didn"t know better, he"d almost have thought it was sad.
"Show him what happened when he stopped trying," the omnipotent entity replied, shrugging and lifting a finger upwards. "At that one moment he should"ve tried even harder, no less. Even for time travelers, there are decisions that can"t be taken back, moments that can"t be rewritten, by anyone, or anything. Myself included."
Picard couldn"t say anything about that, the very prospect of time travel still one he had trouble wrapping his mind around. Q didn"t seem to need him to say anything, however, and the silence that passed was almost companionable. It was the omnipotent being who finally broke it, giving a dry little chuckle as he glanced at the former Captain of the Enterprise.
"Don"t worry," the omnipotent said, though Picard wasn"t feeling particularly worried. "You won"t see me again, Jean Luc. It"s why I"m here. One last visit before we part ways, for the better." Looking back up towards the ceiling, he frowned pensively, adding, "Not to say I"m entirely done with this little slice of the universe… more ships to visit, after all."
"Like Voyager," Picard murmured distractedly. "Captain Janeway."
"Hell of a mortal," Q said with a cheerful sigh. "Gives Vash a run for her money… though not saying much, Vash was always running for her money. Still, can"t let the wife hear, not unless I want to raise little Junior all on my own."
The thought of Q procreating was beyond terrifying, and the idea that somehow had wanted to mate with him almost unimaginable, but Picard didn"t rise to the obvious bait, jaw tightening as he settled instead for glancing out the viewport. Realizing he wasn"t going to get a rise from his old rival, Q climbed to his feet and began to dust himself off, clearing his throat and making a big show of preparing to depart… clearly waiting…
As it turned out, he didn"t have to wait long, as Picard finally spoke again.
"Q."
"Yes, Mon Capitaine?" The omnipotent turned back to him, brow raised.
Picard"s hands spread, a bit helplessly. "…why all this effort to help him?"
"Why, Jean Luc, don"t you know?" He waggled a scolding finger, and a trace of that roguish grin crossed his face. "I always look out for myself."
A snap of the fingers and, with a blinding flash of light, Q was gone.
* * *
Picard sat there, in the dark of his cabin, for an immeasurable amount of time, shifting restlessly in his chair. Somewhere, far in the back of his mind, he knew the implication of those words, knew what was being suggested. Guinan had told him, eventually, of the Doctor"s tale on how he had been forced to destroy his own people, all to save the universe from his own people. a race driven by the desire to become gods at the cost of all life. He knew that the Time Lords had been trying to become… and knew now that, in his reality, they had clearly succeeded.
But his mind avoided the full brunt of that conclusion. Rather than grasp the terrible extent of Q"s involvement in the single greatest act of mass murder imaginable, rather than admit that everything Picard knew was built upon the bleached bones of an entire, gutted universe, he simply let his mind go blank.
As he did, he could feel memories filtering into his thoughts… the hours between his time on Veridian III, and his appearance in his cabin. He was aboard the Farragut, he realized, one of the ships Starfleet sent to retrieve the crew, and he felt relieved, even a little grateful, when the memories of his last moments aboard the Enterprise"s bridge gradually took form.
He wasn"t certain how long he sat there, in the dark, trying so very desperately to hide from the truth and focusing instead on these newer, less devastating memories. But when the comm speakers in his cabin chimed, he jumped slightly.
"Bridge to Picard." It was Hathoway, the Farragut"s first officer. "There"s a subspace call for you, from Earth."
Clearing his throat, Picard moved towards the small monitor on his desk, feeling his joints and muscles all but creak in protest. "Thank you, Commander, please send it down here."
His mind was still distracted by what he had learned, all that had happened. Even though he had gained the memories of those hours he had missed, some part of him still wanted to check on his senior officers, to ensure they were all right… whatever Admiral was seeking to contact him would have to settle for a short talk.
All thoughts of dismissing the caller flew from his head, however, when he saw who was on the other end.
His lips, disbelieving, murmured a single word; "Robert…?"
"Jean Luc." His brother gave him a critical eye before pronouncing disapprovingly; "I heard your crew managed to steer into a planet. You look terrible."
"I…" His hands reflexively shifted to grip the edge of the desk; had he not been seated, he might well have fallen. "Robert… how… you should be… it"s not…"
"Get knocked on the head?" Robert asked, brow lifting, still trying to look quite haughty. "Or has something got you by the tongue?"
"The…" Picard drew a deep, shuddering breath, trying to get his thoughts into some semblance of order. "The fire…"
Robert"s eyes widened with surprise. "How did you hear about that?"
"Starfleet… contacted me…" Picard cleared his throat, briskly, shaking his head. "How did you survive?"
"Survive?" Robert snorted, eyes narrowing. "Your Starfleet must"ve told you a fanciful tale for you to ask that. Was only a little fire in the kitchen, Mon Dieu. Far more damage was done by that hooligan who vandalized the house-"
"Hooligan?" Picard leaned forward. "What hooligan?"
"How am I supposed to know?" Robert snorted. "Bloody madman, he seemed. "Swhat woke me up, this lunatic running around outside, singing Gilbert and Sullivan at the top of his lungs while throwing stones through my windows… bit fortuitous, suppose, cause when I got up to chase him off that I found Rene had left the oven on, careless child. Fortunately, I was able to smother the fire, and all we got"s a singed counter-top to show for it."
"Yes," Picard echoed numbly. "Very fortunate. So you never saw the vandal?"
"Just a glimpse "fore he ran off yodeling," Robert replied, snorting. "Not enough to give the authorities much to go on, though mark my words, I ever see him around my vineyard, I might well throttle him. Dressed so very oddly, like the tutor Papa hired to educate you, one of those hideous tweed jackets, and some bizarre accessory around his neck."
"A bowtie?" Picard suggested dazedly, mind reeling.
Robert shrugged. "Whatever it was, looked ridiculous. Suited the loon nicely."
Picard didn"t have anything to say to that, and could only sit there, staring blankly at his brother"s face. It seemed that a thousand thoughts flickered through his mind, but nothing stuck for long, just an unending din as his jaw hung slack. Noticing his brother"s odd behavior, Robert leaned forward a little.
"Jean Luc?" The usual gruff exterior had faded, replaced by clear concern. "Are you all right?"
"I…" Clearing his throat, Picard nodded, regaining his composure. "Yes, of course, Robert, I"m fine. It"s just… it"s been a hard few days."
"Hrm." The gruffness returned as Robert snorted. "Well, that"s what happens when you surround yourself in all that space-faring nonsense. Lose touch of the simpler pleasures in life. Fine food, fine wine… since your starship"s little more"n a rubbish pile, I assume you"ll come looking for a place to stay?"
Picard opened his mouth, automatically, to refuse becoming an imposition, but hesitated.
"Well," he finally said slowly, "If you wouldn"t mind…"
Robert grunted ill-naturedly. "I"m certain we could find some way to accommodate you, for awhile, long as you don"t eat us out of house and home…"
Picard nodded, swallowing past the lump in his throat. "And… Rene…?"
"Oh," Robert muttered, "don"t think he"s forgotten about your little trip together. All I hear about now is Starfleet Academy this, Starfleet Academy that, can"t wait until he gets it over with so he"ll stop asking when you"re coming to vi-"
Picard wasn"t going to be able to keep himself contained much longer; he could barely see the terminal screen now, his brother"s face little more than a blur.
"Robert, I have to go," he interjected, voice rasping. "I"ll contact you again in a few hours, if that"s all right."
Robert looked a bit surprised at the sudden dismissal, but nodded.
"Oh, all right, big important things to do, eh?" The mocking tone faded as, for a moment, Robert Picard nodded. "It will be good to see you again, Jean Luc. It has been too long."
"Yes. Far too long. Goodbye."
Cutting the channel, and unable to keep it back any longer, Picard rested his head in his arms and cried.
Only a short time ago, in his quarters aboard the Enterprise, he had sobbed at the news that his family, the last of the Picards- his precious nephew among them- had perished in a fire, one that had gotten so out of control only due to his brother"s blind loathing of the very technology that might have detected, and suppressed, it. He had felt shameful even letting those emotions flow, feeling the misery overcome his impeccable control, and had done everything he could to stifle them.
Now, in his temporary quarters aboard the Farragut, he sobbed again, louder than before, his body bent over the desk and his head hidden by his arms as his shoulder shook with heavy, unrestrained sobs. But these tears were far more welcome than those that had come before, and he did nothing to try and stop them. Tears of joy were a kind far rarer, and never to be dismissed so readily.
In the darkness of his cabin, Picard thanked the very stars the Doctor hadn"t stopped trying.
* * *
The TARDIS gave one last shudder, and then grew still as the cloister bell rang… somehow, the sound seemed lighter than usual, almost as if gladdened by the return to a reality far more familiar.
At the controls, the Doctor"s gaze wandered to his surroundings. He could already feel the difference, as if having settled into a hot, soothing bath; he was well and truly home, the unfamiliar, disturbing reality left far behind. He knew he could never return to it.
He also knew he never wanted to.
Without any particular destination in mind, the Doctor let the TARDIS drift in space, settling onto a chair and leaning forward. The chance to save Jean Luc"s family had, briefly, injected a bit of simple joy into his mind, but it had been a pleasure that faded quickly. Somehow, saving them only reminded of the countless that had simply ceased to exist, all because his counterpart had failed them in the worst way possible.
His head bowed, his eyes closed, and for nearly an hour he simply pushed back the bile, the tears, the rage and horror at knowing that he had come so very close to becoming that very same bitter, omnipotent being. What had prevented it?
Perhaps the difference had been the regeneration itself; there was no guarantee a Time Lord would achieve the same form in every reality. Had the Doctor of that time period simply become one less willing to make the difficult choice, one more tempted by the easier option? Had that Doctor simply been wired differently, to have given up in such a way?
Given up…
Fresh shame flooded him. His trip, through the singularity, that insane ride that had preceded his first appearance on the Enterprise, that had been intended as his one, last adventure. He had left Craig Owens" home only the day before that, and had been fully planning to attend that fateful meeting on the beach, to meet his death quietly and with whatever dignity he could muster.
He had been ready to give up.
Head lifting, he considered the Stetson he"d left hanging from one of the control levels. Clearing his throat, he climbed to his feet and picked it up, palm brushing it slowly as he considered the fabric. Not quite a Fez, but he was actually becoming quite attached to it. Tongue prodding the corner of his mouth, he carefully placed it on his head, ensuring it was angled quite rakishly.
"So," the Time Lord murmured to the empty air, tugging the brim of the hat into place as a familiar, but long missed fire began to burn in the pit of his stomach. "The Silence want me dead, do they?"
Jaw setting, the Doctor began to input a series of fresh coordinates, the Time Rotor beginning to whirr to life as the TARDIS lurched into motion. He was going to need information, quickly… and he happened to know an excellent place to start searching for it.
"Let"s find out why."
* * *
Q could feel the Doctor"s departure, as if the universe had released a held breath in relief. All had been returned to the balance, and he had already wiped all the knowledge the 31st century humans had acquired as to the acts of the Continuum. But he had waited until they"d helped the Doctor save Picard"s brother and nephew before doing so, ensuring that this change would remain permanent.
A favor of his own to repay, perhaps.
Drifting near a nebula, formless, the omnipotent entity could only mull over what he had done. Not just bringing the Time Lord to this reality, but what he had done to make that reality possible. In the old days, the Time before this Time, mankind in the twenty-fourth century had remained instinctively a violent, selfish race, still just as likely to quarrel amongst themselves. The humans that the departed Doctor had to protect had regularly sought to betray each other, or force their will upon the races that surrounded them. It had taken thousands, even tens of thousands, of more years to achieve any form of enlightenment.
But not these humans. This iteration of mankind, so lovingly restored from oblivion, was simply… wrong. Because they were far, far too right, far too soon. Independent, clever, and so strangely dedicated to peace; they were nothing like the mankind that had come before, and the fact that they might have been considered objectively superior did not shake the feeling that they were wrong. They weren"t real. Just… artificial copies, poor forgeries.
And so he had tested them. Prodded them. Sought to find some remnant of their savagery, some trace of barbarism that would remind him of those that had come before. To suggest that not everything in them had been destroyed.
But those efforts had been in vain. These humans had beaten every test, overcome every obstacle, when the Mankind that once was would likely have either fallen before the threat, or destroyed one another.
The humans he had known, the men that had come before, were gone. This newest breed was braver, nobler… and a constant reminder of what had been done to the very fabric of Time. An ever-present reminder of his sins, and his One Great Failure.
And so, in the privacy of his own prestigious mind, Q dredged up a memory he had kept buried for so very, very long.
* * *
It was cold… dusty. The Doctor coughed as cloying particles filled his lungs, rolled with a groan… dazed, his eyes flickered open, reluctantly.
Crumbling stone walls surrounded him on all sides. In a flash, he sat up, gasping for breath, eyes wide and flickering from side to side; his memories were a jumble, his mind racing with confusion and panic. Leaping to his feet, he staggered as his legs functioned only reluctantly, slumping against one of the walls. He tried to speak, to make some protesting sound, but the dust filled his lungs again, and he coughed, and coughed…
The memories began to flicker back, slowly, as the coughing subsided. He remembered brutal years of the Time War… the seemingly inexhaustible Dalek fleet, the resurrection of the Master, countless horrors and travesties. And then the worst of it, knowledge of the Time Lords" plan to achieve victory. Their Final Sanction… and his desperate, likely insane plan to stop them.
The Time Lords had learned of his plans, and he had fled to its building place… but he had been struck before he could escape, wounded, critically so, before the TARDIS had taken him to the place he had hidden the weapon, an old Gallifreyan ruin on the edge of the Medusa Cascade. But even as he had sought to make the finishing touches, he had slumped to the ground, died…
Regenerated.
His hands lifted to brush across his scalp, and he was only mildly surprised to find that his formerly thick, soft hair was now shorter, a bit thinner. His jaw felt more square, his face narrower, and when he climbed to his feet, he was considerably taller than before… but any thought to adjusting to his new body, or even getting a look at his new face, faded as he glanced at the device that dominated the center of the ruins.
It was little more than a bundle of wires, cables and components, salvaged from a half dozen different races. It had taken him months to build, and even now a few pieces lay scattered about, needing to be slotted in. Thanking the fates that he wasn"t missing anything, the Time Lord began to get to work finishing the machine.
Only a few minutes into the task, he paused as a tingle of static energy buzzed through the air. Knowing what was coming, he turned just in time to see ten thousand glittering particles coalesce, forming a massive, semi-transparent head. The projection of President Rassilon flickered, solidified, then looked down at the younger Time Lord.
Rassilon"s translucent face frowned for a moment, confused. "…Doctor?"
"It"s me," the Doctor replied coldly, and even his voice emerged differently, sounding harsher, a bit nasally. "One of your goons shot me when my back was turned, bit of a coward"s tactic."
The President"s expression darkened dangerously.
"Surely you cannot blame him," Rassilon scoffed. "Your intentions for mass murder are-"
"Oh, shut up." the Doctor retorted. "Stop pretending, Rassilon, I know what you"re planning to do. The Final Sanction?"
"Then you should also know that the Daleks are spreading our forces too thinly," the President insisted. "With the Skaro Degredations, the Horde of Travesties, we cannot hold back our foes any longer! The Final Sanction is our only option, the only way to see that justice is done and that we preserve what matters!"
The Doctor only snorted, turning his attention back to the device and starting to plug in a pair of cables. A sudden plume of smoke jetted from one of the nozzles, and he waves his arm to dispel it, holding his breath as best he could as Rassilon"s face drifted closer.
"We have no choice, Doctor," the President repeated, fury brimming just beneath his voice. "For the greater good!"
"And what a lot of good you"re planning," the Doctor scoffed, even as he renewed his work, making the final few connections, slotting the necessary components. "Your grand plan is to pretty much kill every living thing that isn"t Gallifreyan so we can maybe live after everything else is gone?"
"Inconsequential," the Prime Minister echoed scornfully. "Their sacrifice is necessary, crucial, to ensure the survival of our civilization!"
"You"re wrong!" the Doctor snapped, groaning as he turned one last component into place then whirled around to confront his fellow Time Lord. "Rassilon, we"ve been fighting the Daleks to save everything, not destroy it!"
"You naive fool!" Rassilon boomed, "We fought the Daleks to ensure the stability and authority that our civilization has built for countless eons! I will not allow you to send our cities crashing into the flames for the sake of a savage and primitive collection of infantile species!"
The Doctor"s eyes glittered as he crossed his arms, smirking; "Great. Give it your best shot."
Spinning back towards the device, the Doctor approached it… but his steps slowed, the hand that reached towards it grew still. Sending perhaps his foe"s doubts, the projection"s eyes narrowed and its voice grew silky, knowing.
"Can you really do it?" When the younger Time Lord gave no reply, Rassilon continued softly, almost kindly. "Could you perform the one act that will destroy your own kind? Entire worlds, star systems, galaxies, the Medusa Cascade, snuffed out in an instant by that godless weapon you seek to wield, and your people consigned to oblivion for all Time."
"Yeah," the Doctor snapped back, but something in his voice seemed reluctant. "And if I don"t, everything else dies instead."
"You know not what would come after the end," the chiding voice replied. "When the Daleks are no more, when we have once more reclaimed our status and dominance, we can seek to right the unfortunate, but necessary wrongs perpetrated for Victory. Will you abandon this mad quest, Doctor, and return to your people, will you help us reach our greatest glory?"
The younger Time Lord gave no answer, as he had none. He had worked so hard, so long to make this happen, to find the one Moment that could end things. But now that he stood here, with everything prepared, he couldn"t help but question the path he had chosen. For a long, long moment, there was temptation. Temptation to submit, to return to Rassilon and rejoin his people.
Temptation to stop trying.
Gradually, the Doctor turned, lifted his head towards Rassilon, and drew in a deep breath.
And then, he said the word that he would regret for the rest of his endless existence.
"Yes."
THE END