Trade Your Heroes for Ghosts
Summary:What if Picard died on the Titan like he should haveinstead of Shaw?
Characters: Seven of Nine, Liam Shaw
Rating: Teen
Warnings: Major character death
Words: 2,880
It had happened so fast that Liam Shaw didn't absorb the reality until Riker was on the shuttle and flying free, Picard with him. Sort of.
Hansen glared at him. "You should have gone too."
"This is my ship." He ducked at another volley of phaser fire. "My fucking crew."
"Starfleet will want-"
"Later, Hansen! Hello, Changelings! Borg crew!"
She rolled her eyes but gave him covering fire as he darted across to her side of the corridor. He didn't relish fighting to get his ship back and cursed the fact he'd skipped the last training exercise. Too sure of his impeccable record. Too proud to admit he wasn't Starfleet's best shot.
He could still hold his own and did so, his phaser set to maximum stun. Hansen would yell at him for that, but he wasn't killing his own crew no matter what. No matter that they were assimilated. He swallowed hard at his worst nightmare become reality.
In the moment of quiet, he, Hansen and Musiker ran back up the corridor. They were going to retake the bridge. Get their kids back. Save the galaxy. And then deal with the fallout from the death of Admiral Jean-Luc Picard.
o O o
Much, much later... Liam stood at the window of a room on Starfleet Command well away from the chaos and tried to get his thoughts in order. It wasn't happening. Everything was in danger of falling apart. Too much had happened. Too much depended on Starfleet not crumbling because it had lost one of its heroes.
A chime sounded. He sighed and braced for another round of headless chickens.
"Come."
The figure reflected in the window glass was Hansen. No, Seven of Nine - he'd made the most of the confusion and slipped in a change of name when no one was looking. He turned and sighed again at the lost expression on her face.
"Computer, seal the door. I'm unavailable for the next..." He eyed Seven's pale face and red-rimmed eyes. "Hour."
She frowned at him, yet clearly fighting to hold back her emotions. He walked over and huffed at her wary glance. He stopped in front of her. There was a new pip on the collar of her uniform. Dear God, they'd actually paid attention to his recommendation. He was on a fucking roll.
"Congrats on the promotion," he said, keeping his tone mild. Their relationship had always been contentious and he didn't think Picard's loss would change that. It might even make things worse. But she was a captain now. They'd give her a new ship. The thought stung, but it was what she deserved.
"Thank you for recommending me." Her voice was quiet. Flat. "I was... surprised by the passion of it."
"Hm." He considered her for a moment, then decided the regulations and proprieties could go fuck themselves. She gasped as he pulled her into a tight embrace, but then her head ducked down and rested against his chest. "I've got you, Hansen. Seven. I mean Seven. Sorry - bad habit."
Her hands crept around him. His jacket tightened as she fisted it, clinging to him. He pressed his cheek to her head. Rubbed her back slowly. Inch by inch she relaxed until she was leaning fully against him. That was fine. He could hold her up. Hold her together.
"I'm sorry," he said, and that seemed to break the dam because she was sobbing and shaking. "Shit, Seven."
Then he fell silent. There was nothing he could say to ease her pain. Nothing he could do to soften the loss. His eyes stung. He might not have liked the legend, but the man had been okay after he'd got used to him. It had been a shitty way to die and yet so very Jean-Luc Picard. Out on a blaze of glory. There'd be statues. Ships with his name on them. Hell, there might even be songs.
Eventually, Seven's sobs slowed and then stopped. Liam didn't let her go. She pulled her right hand around and laid it on his chest.
"I've soaked your jacket," she said, voice husky with tears.
He gave a soft laugh. "It'll dry."
Her hand crept higher. She hooked it around his neck. The touch of her skin on his short-circuited his brain for a few seconds. He'd realised something in that fire fight. When he'd seen Picard go down and known he could be next. That Seven could be next. It was too new a thing to put a name to, but he'd a suspicion as to where it was going. Though now she was captain, she'd have her own ship. Fuck knew what he was going to do.
Pine, probably.
"The memorial is in the morning," Seven said. "Are you going?"
Liam hadn't intended to. Not due to a lack of respect - Picard had earned that in the end - but the overwhelm of emotion didn't appeal. It'd be a grief-wank. He tilted Seven's face up, took one look at the plea in her eyes, and revised that decision.
"You need me, I'll be there."
He didn't mean just the memorial.
Seven's mouth curved and God she was so beautiful when she smiled. It was small and fractured, but it was for him. Coupled with the soft emotion in her eyes, he was either onto a good thing or a very bad one. His career could go hang. He really didn't give a shit anymore. Hers, though? Well, there'd been reasons for his recommendation. Another for keeping her name out of his reports.
"Thank you," she murmured.
o O o
Picard's memorial was as maudlin as Liam had expected. There were speeches. A freaking lecture on the man's legacy. And, yes, songs. Liam's parting thought was that the old man would have been sad about not getting the opportunity to wax lyrical himself.
He stood - or sat as proceedings dicated - next to Seven. Every now and then, her knuckles brushed his. He knew it wasn't accidental, that she was assuring herself that he was there, but he didn't mind. Hell, he'd hold her hand if it wouldn't get her into trouble.
Beverley Crusher was down at the front, Jack beside her. His father's death had eclipsed the lad's involvement in the chaos of Frontier Day. Liam was glad of that, at least. It hadn't been his fault. No more than Wolf 359 had been Picard's. He stared up at the enormous picture of Jean-Luc's face and finally forgave him.
Towards the end of the service, a woman stood on the stage and, in a sonorous voice, read out the names of those that had died alongside the admiral. She reached T'Veen's name and Liam flinched. Seven grabbed his hand and hung on tight. He glanced at her, pale but stoic. The way she swallowed hard even as her nails dug into his skin. He squeezed back and her gaze flicked to his face.
"I've got you," he said, voice pitched for her ears alone.
She squeezed back. When the names stopped, she slipped her hand free. Liam let her go. But he did not leave her side. Not through the torturous meet-and-greet afterwards, or the wake, or when she lost it altogether.
He put an arm around her waist and took her to his quarters. Away from the stares and sympathetic gazes. He took off her jacket and sat her on his bed. That she didn't fight him told him everything he needed to know how her state of mind. He pulled off her boots and got her to lie down. In the drawer of his nightstand was a hypospray filled with a sleeping sedative. For when the nightmares wouldn't quit. He pressed it to her neck, then leaned in and kissed the injection spot.
"Go to sleep, Seven," he ordered. "I'll be right here."
Her eyes closed. Once her breathing evened out, Liam covered her over and then stripped down to his t-shirt and boxers. He lay on the other side of the bed, on his back, and stared at the ceiling. The future was more uncertain than it had ever been, but he’d already spoken to Tuvok. Laid his case out clearly and firmly. The Vulcan had agreed - as long as it was Seven doing the asking.
Liam turned onto his side. Her hair fanned out from her too pale face. She'd lost weight. Her grief was absolute, but he knew it wasn't just Picard. There were deeper, older wounds. Ones he could learn if he delved into her records but he wasn't going to do that. She either told him herself or he wouldn't know.
He ordered the lights down. In the darkness, he found her hand and held it. Then he closed his eyes and finally fell asleep.
o O o
Liam saw Seven occasionally over the next few days. As Starfleet got back to its feet and returned to some sense of normality. They both had to give verbal statements. His first, being the captain, then hers. He hoped to God that she'd followed his lead and kept her involvement to a minimum. He'd wring her neck otherwise.
Nights were a different matter. Why she sought comfort in his arms rather than Musiker's, he didn't know but he wasn't about to complain. anyway, nothing happened. She simply curled up next to him and held his hand while she slept.
Only... only, the fledgling thing in his heart grew bigger each time. Formed wings and a sharp beak that stabbed at him whenever she cried. He knew he was falling. Knew how hopeless it was. If she didn't request what he hoped to fuck that she would, then he'd retire. He couldn't captain another ship without her at his side. Being on Earth without her would suck as well but at least there'd not be an XO that wasn’t her.
Then almost two weeks after Picard's memorial service, Seven didn't flee the moment that she woke up. She used his bathroom and joined him as his table. He made her pancakes for breakfast. Black coffee for them both.
"Liam, sit down," she said when he continued to fuss. She'd never used his name before and the shock of it got him into a chair more than her frustrated order.
"What did I do now?"
One eyebrow winged. "I wasn't aware that you did anything other than be... a very good friend."
Oh God, it was gonna be that conversation. Was it too early for alcohol? Liam propped his elbows on the table and buried his face in his hands.
"Go on," he sighed, resigned to the inevitable. "Get it over with, Hansen."
The name he'd not used in weeks. A shot across her bow before she shot him down. It was underhand and pathetic, but he'd said it and couldn't take it back.
"Liam," she said again, and it was ever so soft. "They've given me a ship."
"I know," he mumbled through his hands.
"They gave me the Titan, though they also changed her name."
"The USS Picard." He wondered if they would have renamed it Shaw if he'd have been killed in Picard's place. Probably not. They'd definitely not have called it USS Seven. His mind jerked away from the image of her dead on the deck. "Better than the Enterprise, I suppose. Weird how many people will serve on a ship with that albatross of a name. Like calling a ship Titanic."
Seven's hard sigh brought his hands down. He looked at her warily, unsure where she was taking the conversation. He'd been so sure it was going to be "It's not you, it's me," though they’d no relationship to end in such a manner. He didn't think there was a word for what they had.
"Sorry," he muttered.
"Tuvok told me that you intend to retire."
"Yeah."
"Thing is..." She blushed. Seven of Nine actually blushed. "Fuck, I should have asked him to ask you. This is beyond awkward."
"Maybe I'd rather have you ask me," he said softly.
Her lips twitched. "Okay, the thing is... I need a chief engineer. You know the Titan like the back of your hand. With everything that's gone on, I don't know that I could trust someone else with her engines. And-and..." Her face reddened and she stared at her plate. "You did say that if I needed you, you'd be there. I do, Liam. I can't go back into space there without you."
"I doubt that's true." He waved off her protest before she could speak. "But if you want me..."
God, there was a double entendre. His throat closed over and he wrapped his hands around his mug. Anything to distract himself from what he’d said and how it had sounded.
"Look at me," Seven begged.
He did and his heart lurched at the expression she wore. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, and then refocused on him.
"I do want you." She was flushing furiously. "It's not just been grief bringing me to your quarters. You're rather nice to cuddle."
"Glad to be of service," Liam huffed wryly.
Seven gave a soft laugh. "Don't be like that. I-I enjoy your company. It's much easier when we're not arguing, isn't it?"
"Always was."
She sighed. "Liam, I'm sorry. I know-"
"Oh hush. That's water well past the bridge." He sipped at his coffee, then put the mug down and gazed at her. "You want me as your chief engineer?"
"Yes, I do."
"Okay." It was a start. Or at least, he hoped so. "Guess I can put off opening a pizza place for a few years."
Her lips curved. "Was that really what you'd planned to do?"
Liam laughed. "I'd not got a fucking clue what I was going to do. But I like pizza."
Seven shook her head, but the slight annoyance was fond. Her eyes shone as she held his gaze and her cheeks pinked again. "I, um, have to point out that you'd not be a commissioned officer." She fussed with the remnants of her pancakes again. "There wouldn't be, um, a chain of command."
He went still, not sure he'd heard her right. Well, he had but maybe she hadn't meant it the way he was really hoping that she had. He took a deep breath and wet his lips.
"What are you saying, Seven?"
She swallowed a mouthful of coffee before answering. "I think you know, Liam. I've tried not being needy. Tried sleeping alone. It... didn't work. I know it’s not quite enough to build a relationship on, but maybe there’s something to it.” She twisted her hands together. "The both of us have lost so much. We’re both have our ghosts. I think… I think we understand each other like no one else could."
"Sounds like a marriage of convenience," Liam said without thinking. He grimaced. "Sorry."
"I am aware," Seven said mildly. A smile flickered. "Putting thoughts into words badly is something else that we share."
"Fair point."
"Anyway, I'm not suggesting anything so... permanent. I'm just tabling the possibility that we could date if we wanted and not break regulations." She toyed with her mug, her expression sad. "Frontier Day was evidence, like either of us needed it, that life is short. I don't want to pass on an opportunity for something good, Liam."
He reached over and took her hand. Felt the exoskeleton against his palm. He'd not touched any of her implants before. Hadn't known what to expect, except maybe a little revulsion. Whether she could help it or not, Seven was still ex-Borg. He still carried the ghosts of Wolf 359. The more recent scars of Frontier Day.
Yet, the metal was warm and oddly tactile. Truly a part of her. He looked down as he traced the back of her hand with his thumb, curiosity getting the better of him. There were studies. He'd read a few before taking her on as his XO. Right up to the mention of the Borg she'd adopted and what had happened to him. The rest had struck him as too personal to browse. He'd known enough to know she'd be a great first officer and she had been. She was going to be an amazing captain.
"When will your ship be ready?"
"It already is. I'm taking most of the Titan's crew. They need the familiarity." She squeezed his fingers. "I just need an engineer."
"Keeping your ship running and your bed warm."
Seven shook her head, but she was smiling. "Perhaps."
"Hm."
Liam got to his feet without relinquishing his grip of her hand, then pulled her up. Pulled her in. Her smile curved wider as he fitted her to him. Perfect. He wrapped one arm around her waist and cupped her cheek. "In the interests of science, we ought to assess potential" he murmured, then drew her in and kissed her. As they went, it was really very good, but eventually he needed to breathe. "Definite potential."
"I concur," Seven whispered. Her cheeks were flushed and her pupils blown. If that was from just a kiss, then he really needed to see her in post-coital bliss.
"You've got yourself a chief engineer," he told her, like there'd been any doubt. "You need me, I'll be there."
"Likewise," Seven said, and then she kissed him again.