All Those Stone Emotions
by Nostalgia

When I woke up this morning I wondered how exactly it had come to this. It was all going so well, you were growing, changing. You were becoming more human and less Borg with each day that passed.

Stupid, aren't I? So blinded by what I want. Chasing wormholes, anomalies, driven by hopeless causes. Grooming my pet Borg for the day she reached Earth. Desperate to show her off to someone, to show how clever I was.

I suppose I should thank you, for tearing me out of my self-indulgent shell. For pointing out my hubris. My dark, guiding angel.


I know where I went wrong. I know why I ignored my better instincts. It's only right that I should tell you. I loved you, Seven. I'm not sure how, if it was lust or compassion, but I did love you. I thought for a moment that you might have loved me.

I told myself that you would change, become an individual again. Foolish.


I'm sure the Borg know all about hopeless causes. You've killed enough of them. If I was a god-fearing woman, my saint of choice would be St Jude. Did you know, Seven, why St Jude is the patron of lost causes? It's in that hive mind somewhere, I'm certain.

Jude is such a similar name to Judas, the hated villain of the piece. If you were praying for St Jude to intervene on your behalf, it meant you'd already exhausted all your other options, your cause was, well, hopeless.

Sometimes, I feel a certain kinship with St Jude.

And you were my Iscariot, betrayal and a kiss. Soft skin against mine and then a hand closing around my throat, cold Borg metal scratching at my flesh.

"Resistance is futile," the old catchphrase. I'd forgotten, in my haze of adoration and arrogance, that you were once Borg. That you were still Borg. I'd forgotten that you might try to kill me.


All those stone emotions, dead inside you. Were you ever really human, or were you just play-acting? Did you laugh inside when I offered you friendship? Did my feelings make your implants twitch and shiver?

All those thoughts of death, turning in your mind. All the devastation you brought to innocent lives, all the vengeance you wreaked. That's what you grew up with, that's all you ever knew. Anneka Hansen was dead long before I ever met you. I'm glad she never got to see her replacement.


But I brought you to my home, acted the good Samaritan. I gave you chances, opportunities...

You could have changed, Seven. It wouldn't have been hard. I wanted to help you.


I killed you. I killed you with my own hands. I didn't think I could act with such fury. I thought that all the rage had died in my old age. But when my grip tightened round your neck, it all came back. My sin to counter yours, murdering you in simple self-defence.

I was surprised how easily you died. I felt a little disappointed. I expected so much more from you.

It's over now, Seven. You made me wiser, harder, and I'm grateful for that. But if you returned to life now I wouldn't hesitate to kill you again.

I commit your body to the vacuum. Where it belongs.


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