Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Jurati, what’s your status?” Picard’s voice sung through the comm’s. He sounded fraught but Agnes couldn’t form a response.

“Agnes… Agnes…” She was too preoccupied in shutting out the menacing voice, circling her mind, chanting her name. “Agnes- Agnes… join as one… we could be more…”

“Jurati?” came Picard’s voice again, louder this time, enough to shock her into action. She got a grip over herself and choked out a response, “I’m in position.”

“Good. We’re ready when you are,” came Picard’s reply.

Almost immediately, Agnes felt a warm arm wrap around her shoulder, a stark contrast to the ice-cold cuffs shackling her wrists. She opened her mouth to say something but thought better of it. There was no need to worry. It was only a figment of Agnes’ own imagination, giving physical form to the voice inside her mind. The queen even had legs now. Obviously the image of a floating torso and head wasn’t something Agnes needed adding to her confusion. Instead, she was happy to focus on the comforting, albeit imaginary, pressure of the borg queen’s hand around her. The human nature of it was oddly reassuring. If this was all having the queen inside her mind involved, Agnes figured she could get used to it.

“Captured on purpose. Clever little plan,” the borg queen praised. “I do miss Locutus,” she added.

“I’m 100% sure he doesn’t miss you,” Agnes responded playfully, turning to look the queen in the eye with a small smile.

“Picard to Jurati,” Agnes’ comms buzzed again. “The line is moving. I need you to speed things up.”

“Copy that,” Agnes responded. “Uhhh, give me 60.” A minute to knock out the guards, escape her handcuffs, and hack the system. It would be tight, but maybe a chance to impress the borg. She folded her legs to conceal a piece of very-much-not-21st-century-technology before releasing the valve and successfully rendering the guards unconscious. She smiled brightly in delight, it had worked! Once again, she turned to the borg queen, though her expression didn’t match Agnes’ own.

Instead, the queen responded, “The key is in his pocket.”

“I know,” Agnes replied, somewhat confused. She hesitantly looked at the borg queen but she gave no impression of elaboration. Rather, she stared with her captivating onyx black eyes into the back of the slumped officer. Agnes, realising she’d need to shuffle her way to the key to unlock herself, repositioned her hands and shifted her weight forwards in an attempt to drag the metal chair along the ground. The borg queen was nice enough to withdraw her arm, giving Agnes more room to move. Regardless, their progress was slow.

“You probably should’ve waited until he was standing a bit closer to you,” the queen critiqued. Agnes ignored the jab and continued persevering, hearing a beep as Rios’ denied ID popped up on the security feed. She let out a groan, willing the chair to just move.

“If you’d like to give me a little more control, I could help you,” the borg offered. It was tempting, but if Agnes was anything, it was stubborn. This was her body, her mission, and she would be the one to execute it.

“Jurati! We’re out of time,” came Picard’s voice.

Slumping back into her chains and distinctly ignoring the pleased smirk on the queens face, Agnes relented. “Fine, I give up! Help me.”

The borg queen simply instructed, “Pull,” before disappearing.

Agnes sighed but obliged, jerking her hands up. Surprisingly the cold metal of the cuffs gave immediately, breaking easily at the display of strength so distinctly un-human that it sent a shiver down Agnes’ spine. But now wasn’t the time to reminisce, she needed to upload the false ID’s so that everyone else could enter the gala.

Surging towards the work-bench, Agnes inserted her pre-coded USB. “ID’s uploading,” she informed Picard, swiping her hair out of her face.

As the ID’s were accepted, she breathed a sigh of relief.

“Better late than never, but I knew you could do it,” Picard encouraged.

The validation was sweet, but it wasn’t really Agnes who had accomplished anything at all. Without the queen she would still be in cuffs, futilely sliding across the floor, icy metal digging into her wrists as she groaned at her ineptitude. So close to the key, yet unable to perform the final step and reach it. Was that how the borg queen had felt trapped aboard La Sirena? So close to all that power yet hopeless in reaching it? It wasn’t an idea Agnes was fond of.

As though summoned by her thoughts, the queen appeared beside Agnes once again. “You’re welcome,” she offered.

“If you don’t shut up, I will find a way to destroy you,” Agnes replied, equal promise and threat.

“I beg your pardon?” Picard’s voice rumbled, appalled at Agnes’ outburst.

Agnes clenched her jaw, awkwardly turning away from the borg queen. “Uhh- No, sorry, not for you,” she replied to Picard with a cringe before turning off her comm’s. She didn’t need another similar incident and it didn’t seem like the borg would be leaving her in peace any time soon. Better risk missing a message than have everyone hear her talking to the not-so-dead borg queen herself.

“Let’s go,” the queen instructed, ready to lead Agnes away from the still incapacitated guards. “They’ll be waking soon with some short-term memory loss, and I’d like to get back to enjoying my…” she stopped and corrected herself. “Our evening.” The borg queen offered Agnes a ghoulishly human hand. Agnes just stood there, blinking a few times, and looking the queen up and down. This was humanities deadly enemy, willingly offering Agnes her hand. But that wasn’t true, she was also a part of Agnes herself now. Before she had time to change her mind, Agnes took the borg’s hand and marched confidently back into the gala- seemingly alone, but in reality thrillingly connected.

Chapter Text

Jazzy music played, led by a saxophone, as Agnes downed another drink.

“Who are we tonight Agnes?” the queen asked teasingly, her expression one of vigour. “I like it.”

Agnes put down her glass. “There is no 'we'.” It was a lie, but maybe if she repeated it enough then she’d be able to convince herself.

The queen obviously didn’t believe Agnes either. “I believe that’s the proper pronoun for when one shares one’s body with one’s new friend,” she replied with a devilish grin.

The assonance and unruly smile on the queen’s face as she hissed ‘friend’ put Agnes more on edge than she’d care to admit. The fact that ‘being on edge’ was becoming a constant also worried Agnes more than she’d care to admit.

“We are not sharing,” Agnes stated cruelly. “You are a house guest.” The retort wasn’t nearly as cunning as she’d intended, but it was enough to remove the apparition of the queen from her view.

Although Agnes found herself physically alone at the table, the queens voice still taunted her. “You just couldn’t let me die.”

No, she couldn’t. And Agnes was being reminded of that every time the queen talked, every time she caught herself thinking about how nice it was to feel connected, seen, known. But the downside of having a permanent house guest in your brain was that they could sense all your thoughts and emotions and consequently knew just what buttons to push to get you worked up.

“You are not the one I was saving,” Agnes replied irritably. The Queen appeared again.

“Now we’re splitting hairs.” She paused, once again shooting Agnes with her roguish grin. “Oh, but it was fun lying to your friends. Especially the one you had intercourse with.”

Agnes went to make a face before realising she was surrounded by people who, as far as they were concerned, thought she was alone. She settled for a malicious tone instead. “It wasn’t fun at all…” Pre-empting the borg queen’s next comment she continued, “no, not the intercourse, that was…” she shook her head in frustration. “I hated lying to my friends.” God, she thought, mental bickering could be exhausting. “It was an impossible choice. I couldn’t let the cop die but I couldn’t kill the one thing that could get us home either.” She considered her options again. “It’s the best thing for everyone.”

“Keep telling yourself that dear.”

“Will you stop talking,” Agnes replied, all humour gone from her voice. She’d thought over the event countless times, the shot echoing in her mind menacingly every single night since the incident. Then came the memory of the pain, of her brain tearing itself apart, of the borg queen dying and leaving Agnes alone in her agony. But she really did think it was for the best. After all it was the only logical solution; one might say she’d been embracing her inner Vulcan. For if Agnes hadn’t shot the queen then the policeman would have died causing a butterfly affect. And if Agnes hadn’t let the queen into her mind then her entire crew would be stranded here. And once again she’d be truly alone. She tried not to think about that part.

Tired of the silence as Agnes considered her choices, the borg queen declared, “Enough shoptalk, let’s play.” She grabbed Agnes’ hands, dragging her towards the floor.

“N-No. There’s no play- no playing!” Agnes scolded. She hated the way her voice hitched an octave. “I told you, I have a mission to accomplish.”

“I’m just saying all of these stress hormones aren’t good for us,” the queen responded frankly.

As far as Agnes was concerned, stress hormones were like oxygen just more destructive. In other words, she couldn’t remember living without them.

“I don’t mind a little shot of adrenaline with a norepinephrine chaser,” the borg continued. “But I’d say we’re past the optimal amounts of cortisol here.”

The queen wasn’t wrong, even relative to the rest of Agnes’ life, the past few days had been a trainwreck. She was somewhat surprised at her capacity to endure them and maintain her act of being perfectly fine.

“But whatever you say Agnes,” the borg queen quipped cheerfully, “you’re in control here.”

Agnes’ brow furrowed slightly at that last line. Of course, she was in control. This was her body. Her life. Not something anyone else had the right to control. The borg queen thinking differently sparked a new sense of anxiety in Agnes, eating away not only at her mind but also at her soul.

Chapter Text

Despite her own ubiquitous shortcomings when it came to self-esteem, Agnes had to admit that she looked great in her dress. It pronounced her curves while highlighting her slim waist. And plus, the colour made her amber-green eyes and soft blonde hair pop. She pointedly ignored how similar it’s crimson was to the blood she’d been washing off mere hours before. It was not a memory she liked to dwell on, though the new presence in her mind acted as a somewhat-constant reminder of the event.

“I’ve noticed we’ve been getting some attention tonight.” It was as though the borg queen had read Agnes’ mind. Then again, perhaps she had.

“It’s the dress,” Agnes responded, examining her own cleavage as she looked down.

The queen didn’t miss a beat, challenging Agnes’ statement. “It’s us. Together. You’re showing your potential.”

For the moment, Agnes couldn’t care less about her potential. She just wanted to drink her 4th, or was it 5th? glass of champagne in peace. She resisted the urge to turn to face the queen and scream at her to leave. As the borg had so kindly pointed out, they were already drawing attention. Agnes didn’t need to add more. Plus, there wasn’t really anyone to yell at because the queen wasn’t really real. Well, the queen’s consciousness was real, but her physical form was simply Agnes’ own imagination trying to visually comprehend her brain’s new house guest.

Agnes was shocked from her thoughts by a tap on her shoulder. Had she accidently cursed the queen aloud? Or were the guards back to collect her again? Surely they were no longer unconscious. But the short-term memory loss- they shouldn’t be able to recognise her? She’d looped the security feed and everything to remove any trace of her.

In the end, Agnes’ worry was needless. It was only Rios. She quickly hid her shudder by plastering a small smile onto her face and acting pleased to see him.

“Is your communicator down?” Rios asked. “Picard’s calling you.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Agnes responded, trying to keep the nerves out of her voice. She internally cringed remembering the threat targeted at the borg queen which Picard had happened to hear. Safer to just turn off her comms and not risk them hearing her talking to no one. She hadn’t quite got the hang of talking to the presence in her mind mentally rather than audibly just yet. Awkwardly looking to the side, the apparition of the queen was nowhere to be found. Agnes unsteadily turned back towards Rios. “I-I think we, uhh… I must have accidently turned it off.”

Rios scrunched his eyebrows in concern. “Are you doing alright?” he inquired, his quizzical voice revealing he clearly didn’t think she was.

Agnes instinctively shook her head before forcing herself to nod, smile widely and hum in affirmation, though it sounded false even to her own ears. She doubted Rios was convinced either, especially given she’d begun nervously fiddling with her hands and trembling slightly. She needed to get herself together.

“Do you want to sit down?” Rios asked, gesturing awkwardly to a table. He definitely hadn’t bought Agnes’ excuse. “You can lean on me.”

This time Agnes’ smile was genuine. “I know,” she responded, eyes unconsciously darting to the ground as she was overcome with nostalgia. “You were great that way.”

And he had been. Rios had been there for Agnes when she was at her worst; giving her space when required but also offering the physical comfort that she so frequently found herself lacking. Not to mention his steady supply of red-velvet cake (that was a trick he’d undeniably picked up from Raffi). And while Rios had seen her completely shattered, inconsolable, barely able to get out of bed, he’d stood by and supported her without judgement. Agnes knew that he’d faced his own share of loss and desolation which to some degree helped. Familiarity with others was not something Agnes had copious amounts of growing up, so she appreciated Rios’ efforts to connect. And while a lot of time Rios spent with Agnes was helping her recover, that wasn’t to say there weren’t fond moments too. Agnes didn’t think she’d ever forget their moments spent on the bridge, wrapped in each other’s arms swaying softly as Klingon opera played gently in the background. Their relationship was the longest Rios’ plants had ever gone without wilting. However, like most things Agnes was involved in, it did eventually come to a bitter end. But that wasn’t to say that Agnes and Rios no longer cared for each other. There was an eternal tenderness between them, and while they were no longer intimate, their relationship was still one of trust, support, and friendly teasing.

“Agnes, you’ve been through a lot. Just a few hours ago you had…” Rios paused, lowering his voice, “blood on your hands.”

Agnes resisted the pull of the memory and instead tilted her head to the side, smiling sweetly. “Your eyebrows are doing that cute little thing they do when you’re worried about me.”

Rios brought his thumb to his left brow, brushing it slightly. Agnes didn’t think it was fair how he could be so fretful yet so handsome at the same time. He looked as though he wasn’t sure what to say next, but settled with, “I just want you to tell me what’s going on with you.”

She considered denying that anything was wrong in the first place. After all, acting as though she was fine had become a sort of specialty of Agnes’; if only she could add it to her resume. But she knew that Rios wouldn’t buy it. He was already acutely aware of something being off, even if he couldn’t quite pinpoint it. And while Agnes had no doubt that she could continue convincing the rest La Sirena’s crew that she was alright, or at least no worse off than usual, Rios knew her too well. He was the only person who could see through fake smiles, notice her nervous gestures, the borg queen not included. So, while Agnes could have denied it, she took a different approach. “Why?” she asked with a smile, trying her best to keep the shock and fear of her voice. Rationally, she knew that Rios cared for her well-being, but the constant reminders of her loneliness and unbelonging courtesy of the borg shaded doubt onto all her relations, even those that were genuine.

“It’s…” Rios began, eyebrows raising cutely again. “I care about you. You know that.”

Agnes would be lying if she said Rios’ worried expression didn’t make her feel guilty, but she had to push all that to the side. She wanted to tell him the truth, desperately, but lying was the safest option for everyone. Perhaps not the safest option for her own wellbeing, but for everyone else’s at least. Agnes looked into Rios’ eyes, her own smile fading. He cared about her. She knew that. So why was she suddenly filled with so much doubt?

“Don’t let fear get in the way…” Agnes heard the borg queen mutter. “Allow me.”

Before she was even aware of it, Agnes’ brain went fuzzy and her hands where on Rios’ tie, dragging his lips to her own. He pulled back but it was a minute before Agnes regained the ability to release him.

“Wow, that was a… strong pull,” Rios said, straightening his tie.

The colour was steadily draining from Agnes’ face as she was left stuttering, the tickle of unshed tears pricking the back of her eyes. Just as their relationship was rekindling, just as they’d maintained the longest conversation they’d shared in months, the borg queen had to go disrupt it. She knew how important Rios was to Agnes, so why had she interfered with it? And what was that aching numbness at the back of Agnes’ mind? She’d out it down to a few too many drinks but this felt different. It wasn’t her cognitive ability dissolving, more of an inability to reach it. The only true constant Agnes had all her life was her mind. To lose it, if only for a second, was terrifying.

“Umm… That’s- that’s not what I meant,” Rios clarified. It’s not what Agnes had meant either, but she couldn’t say that without raising further suspicions. She just needed to leave.

“No. I’m sorry,” Agnes responded quietly, her voice wobbling slightly and lacking its usual playful tone. “I think… I’m-I’m just not myself tonight.” She quickly turned and walked away, too scared to look back and find Rios’ simultaneously worried, guilty and confused expression trained on her.