Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

”Didn’t you ask for this?”

The cleanly cut vegetable hung in the air off of Melissa’s fork, suspended in time. Just like her. She couldn’t bring herself to eat it.

The familiar voices and faces were dim around her at the dinner table. She could only find herself studying her hand, so delicately clasping the fork.

”Motherboard?” A voice called, suspiciously close to her husband’s.

The name, her name, stung to hear. She felt like a stubborn old fool, hanging on to the past. When she could truly say she felt like a mother. Slowly, like she was enveloped in syrup, she lifted her head and mused on each one of the angry faces at the table. Watched her fantasy shatter. Her beloved - Matt, Jackie, Inez, Digit, Marbles, Antoine, Ada…and Hacker. She felt as though she could look on at them like they were the ones frozen in time. Each precious face wrinkled and twisted in anger. Most of the eyes were on her wayward son.

She smiled ruefully. She could understand. Such a situation was impossible to expect to turn out well - a dinner party with each of her family members in peace.

Yet she’d tried anyway, painstakingly planned and prepared.

This was her fault.

Their discomfort and unhappiness, all a result of an empty dream.

Now those eyes looked to her, but she couldn’t bear to see the souls inside. Her eyes fell to her hand - oh, but it had dropped the fork, the metal clattering to the ground. She reached to pick it up, only for glistening tears to drip on the floor instead.

‘Didn’t you ask for this?’

There was only one person sitting at the table capable of cutting through her soul so cruelly, yet so truthfully.

She wiped the tears away, but they just kept coming. No, she hadn’t wanted this, but to anyone else’s eyes, this was the only outcome. And she should stop trying.

Melissa mumbled an apology and tried to hide her flushed, messy face in her hands as she swept herself out of the room. Only when she’d safely exited did she allow herself to sob. She needed space to clear her head.

She didn’t hear the footsteps behind her until a hand grabbed her shoulder, halting her in her tracks. “Wait!”

Looking at his face would hurt. Slowly, she forced her eyes open.

Hacker grabbed her hand, expression full of regret so open that she was shocked to see it on his face.

“I didn’t mean it,” he said quickly.
She swallowed and took a quivering breath to answer, but before she could he was kneeling in front of her. “I’m sorry. Please, it’s my fault.”

“Hacker-“

”I’m sorry. Come back to dinner, Mom.”

A long sigh pushed out of her chest, and it was like a weight was lifted from her shoulders. She let herself down slowly, sitting on her knees. Her other hand gently came over Hacker’s. “I’m not sure I feel like eating, son.”

The shame etched into his face doubled, but she stopped him before he could say anything. “But I am so glad you came to apologize. I must say, it hurt quite a bit. But it hurt because it was so close to the truth - all these arguments are my fault.”

The green hand holding hers tensed. “No-“

”Yes-,” she shushed him- “it is. I’m trying to rush everything, and make everyone heal, so I can be happy. When really, these things will take so much more time.” A small smile came to her face as she caressed his cheek. “You know that better than anyone else, don’t you?”

Hacker gave a heartless chuckle. “If I’m being honest, I know I wouldn’t give my best effort to heal things if I didn’t get a little…push.”

Her smile widened as it felt like clouds lifted. “Your new friends are doing well for you Hacker. And- this isn’t all your fault, either.” She paused. “Your deeds were awful, but now, some of the earthlings and others are…antagonistic, I’ll admit.”

Hacker’s slight nod confirmed this. She sighed again. “I’ll talk to them about it, I promise.”

Hacker stood, and in turn helped her up gently. He hesitated to move or speak, but she already knew what he wanted.

“Are you ready to leave?”

Hacker nodded sheepishly. His social battery must’ve been drained by the negative commotion.

Motherboard patted his arm. “You may.”

“S-see you later.” The borg strode towards the exit of the housing sector.

Motherboard watched him leave, grateful she could smile through the pain. While these moments stung so badly she could just fall apart sometimes, she didn’t think Hacker understood just how much he’d grown.

“Mother B.!”

The woman turned to see Jackie marching up the hallway. “Did he leave without saying goodbye?”

”He’s on his way. You might be able to catch him if you hurry.”

Jackie didn’t break her pace, speaking as she passed Motherboard. “I can’t believe Matt exploded like that! Then everybody else just jumped on the wagon! Then he said that to you. Ugh!”

”All will be well, Jackie. And I’m fine, really.”

“I’m glad you’re okay now, Mother B. But he’s leaving without even saying goodbye! What a butthead, I hate him,” she grumbled, and was soon also out of sight.

No, she didn’t do anything wrong, and it wasn’t all her fault. She simply overestimated everybody’s patience, and overstepped a boundary. She would have to adjust, like the rest of the bumps they’d run into.

They say time heals all wounds. She wondered if this one would ever be able to heal, or if it did, would it leave a terrible scar?

Chapter Text

Chapter 1:

“Motherboard!” 

The cyber ruler looked up from the classic Earth writings of Anne of Green Gables . Ada’s call came through a crackly speaker. She’d have to put replacing the ancient speakers on the to-do list. 

She clicked the reply button. “I’ll be right there.” There was no need to ask what Ada needed; Faith was only about a year old and Ada was a brand new mother. Unfortunately she wasn’t as much of a natural as she wanted to be and often required assistance from her more maternal friend, which Motherboard happily gave. It was lucky that her day was less booked than usual other than a meeting at three o’clock. Dr. Marbles was visiting Hacker in Factoria’s top psychiatric facility, Shifting Angles, and couldn’t help her either. 

As she walked through the halls of the housing sector she gave a small prayer that Hacker had been faring better than the last time she’d visited. The borg had, under mutual agreement, been admitted for psychiatric evaluation after being rid of Abaddon and the list of issues they’d found had made her cry the first time she’d seen it. Inferiority complexes, superiority complexes, narcissistic qualities, sadism references, PTSD, and many other things made the list terribly complicated and almost impossible to make sense of. The team of psychiatrists had acknowledged this case as difficult to decipher and that he only showed these signs - nothing would be concrete until they’d done extensive research due to his long history and the dark influences on his life. While at first Hacker worked with the team of psychiatrists and with his creators (his only visitors), he’d grown depressed and combative - extremely difficult to even talk to. Her last visit had been the biggest roller coaster of negative emotions she’d ever had the experience of. 

Sometimes she wondered if, truly, this was the right choice, or if she and Marbles would have to watch their son fall all over again. Digit, Matt, and Antoine were certain he would and Motherboard couldn’t deny the logical side of herself that agreed.

She wasn’t sure she could handle it a second time. 

For these reasons, these recent stresses, she’d been incredibly grateful to distract herself with her duties and with her sister-in-law and niece. 

She didn’t bother knocking as Ada was sure to have her hands full and opened the door to their sector. She smiled when she walked into a pleasant scene of Ada laying a blanket over Faith’s sleeping form on the couch.

“I’m afraid I called you here for nothing,” Ada whispered, “she simply refused to take a nap, but I put my foot down like you said, and it tired her out.” 

Motherboard closed the door gently and crept next to Ada. The pair looked down on the tiny borg in satisfaction. Faith had taken a lot after Ada - the same shiny blonde hair and green eyes. The subtle cool blue tint in her skin could only be Dr. Marbles’, though. 

“When will your meeting with the president of Evohaven be?” Ada asked in a lowered voice. She turned, taking Motherboard’s hand as they meandered into the kitchen that connected to the living room.

“Three. I have some time to kill,” Motherboard said with a chuckle. 

“The kids are coming to visit Radopolis today, no?” 

A sigh pushed out of her chest. “Yes - I’m afraid Jackie is very nervous. Before Mr. Edwards makes his decision about her adventures, he wants to see cyberspace for himself and get familiar with it.” Ada, in the middle of pouring a cup of tea, gestured to it. Motherboard shook her head. Ada continued pouring while glancing in the Borg’s direction. “Well, their adventures should be quite a bit less now.”

“True,” Motherboard noted, “but I’m not sure that Nathan knows that.” She stared at the counter space by Ada’s tea. “I don’t think Jackie’s told them much at all.” 

“Oh dear,” Ada said, pulling out a stool from underneath the counter. She smoothed her skirts underneath her and perched on the stool, lifting her tea. “I suppose that’s for the best. Since Hacker could… er, we have no idea what other villains might try to take Hacker’s place.”

Motherboard said nothing, her eyes still set on the now empty counter space. Nathan had been very polite, but she could relate to the worry behind his gaze every time they spoke. The idea that he could’ve possibly lost his only daughter was eating him alive. 

“What do you think will convince him to allow Jackie to keep assisting cyberspace?” Ada mused before sipping her tea. 

Motherboard responded before she could think, surprising herself. “Nothing but what he thinks is best for Jackie will convince him.” She paused. “And I don’t blame him,” she added quietly. 

“Well, we should at least give him a good introduction? First impressions are worth a good deal.” 

Motherboard wanted to agree, but something held her back. What was best for Jackie? Hopefully the threat of any danger was much more rare, but it would never go away completely. She couldn’t trust herself to give an unbiased opinion. But…she understood that deepest fear in every parent’s mind. That they would lose their precious child. And she could understand the immense pressure that both Nathan and Joyce must feel. 

Finally, she simply smiled. “I think that we have nothing to hide. Cyberspace is both a wonderful and deeply flawed place like our sister universe. We can only show him the reality.” 

Ada shook her head. “Whatever you say, love. I still think we should dine them at Happily Ever After…Or perhaps Gollywood.” 

Motherboard chuckled. “That’s not out of the question.” 

Marbles could appreciate the cleanliness. That was about it. The recess lights embedded in the ceiling bathed the hallways in cold white light - paired with the mind-numbing gray concrete walls and floor, it made for one of the most depressing atmospheres he knew of. His shadows might not have followed him or his quiet footsteps as he trailed behind the nurse, but there was no mistaking the smothering despair. These walls were drenched in misery. 

The nurse swung his keys in useless circles as he stepped up to Hacker’s room. The word cell was more accurate - Hacker was kept in a high-security area. He patiently waited as the nurse - or guard - punched in a code and inserted a key, well used to the routine. 

Marbles did not immediately look at the borg on the other side of the inches-thick glass, but he could feel the stare boring into the side of his skull. He struggled to still his anxious foot-tapping as he seated himself in the small office chair provided in the visiting section. 

He smiled wearily, already on guard for some nasty remark. “Good morning, son.” 

An ugly sneer painted Hacker’s face in harsh shadows from the bright lighting in the cell. He regarded Marbles with the same amount of enthusiasm as a student has during a principal’s lecture. 

Marbles tried to ignore the way the visible exhaustion and stress etched into his son’s face made his gut twist. Yes, the magic-induced age regression had forced him into a smaller frame - but the doctor knew that skin wasn’t supposed to stretch that much over bones. During the past few months, the reports had noted growth physically; it seemed that Hacker would soon be as he was before the incident. 

“Do you enjoy gawking this much?” Hacker snapped. 

Marbles lowered his eyes, his hand wavering in the air in a half-hearted plea. “Hacker…you know I don’t come here to amuse myself.” 

Why did he come here? Once a week, every single week, for months. Why did he come here to a person seemingly dedicated to misery, and stand to be berated like some mutt? 

He’d done so well the first few weeks. Now, the doctor could see that that was a premature assumption. He’d rapidly spiraled back into a resentful borg. 

Hacker huffed, and offered no other means of conversation. 

Marbles searched his hands for something to say. Finding no secret to ease there, he resorted to surveying the cell. 

Marbles assumed that Hacker was allowed no ‘extras’ in his cell, whether that be to possible self-harm or means of escape, he wasn’t sure. From his observations, there was just the bare bones of a room - a mattress attached to a wall on a secured, metal frame (padded with soft material), a sink and lavatory area, and a slot in the glass allowing for a food tray to pass through. There was a door on the other side of the cell, by the mattress, probably lead and inches thick as well. Marbles absently thought that he would also do poorly if he was in a cell with this little stimulation, especially for a faster-paced mind. But that’s what this place specialized in, peace and different therapeutic exercises.  

And then there was Hacker, who sat on the mattress, leaning heavily on his knees. 

“And back to me again,” the borg remarked mockingly. Marbles had found over the past months that Hacker made great fun of the doctor’s inability to connect with him. 

Marbles chose not to respond. Truthfully, the last thing he wanted to do was make some kind of rebuttal, that Hacker would in turn argue with, and return to their circular, frustrating discussions. Their was no logic in these situations, and Marbles’s mind soon became so clouded with emotion and memories that the only path to clarity was to leave. He supposed, that’s what Hacker really wanted. Maybe that was the battle here, one that Hacker always won eventually. 

“I can’t imagine staring at a wall is very entertaining. Surely they give you something to fill your time with?” he asked, hoping to see a shift in Hacker’s expression. 

“Go home, Marbles.” The borg shifted on the mattress, laying down and turning over so his back was to the glass. “Don’t you get debriefed on every little thing that happens here anyway?”

The orders to leave stung, but it wasn’t the first time. Sabotaging his son’s progress was not something he was willing to do, even if Hacker thought he wanted it. So, like every time before, he simply tried to release his expectations from the conversation. Detach from what you want, and focus on what is really happening, a therapist had once told him. “Their words are not your perspective.” 

“You want to hear my perspective? Fine. They treat me terribly here,” Hacker growled, looking over his shoulder. “Nobody thinks the great Hacker can be reformed, so they don’t even want to bother trying. Shall I get into the therapists and the chairs and the-”

“They do want to help,” Marbles argued, before internally kicking himself for interrupting. The advice given to him from the psychiatrists and therapists of Angle Shift Hospital stressed to allow Hacker to express himself, scary and happy things alike. 

“See? You don’t believe me,” Hacker said with a laugh. Marbles’s eyes widened at how…carefree Hacker sounded. “Why did you even ask?” 

“Because I care how you are treated!”

Hacker was off the bed and striding towards the glass in an instant. The doctor pushed down the fear rising in his throat at the closing proximity. “Oh? You care about me? Fat chance. The only thing you care about is keeping an eye on how ‘good’ I am. And now that I’m not behaving like a lackey ready to lie down and take anything they throw at me, you’re ready to tear up that contrived contract we signed!” Hacker’s voice rose steadily with each word. 

Marbles fought to not back away from the glass as Hacker now towered over him, albeit slightly smaller than before. There’s bullet-proof glass between him and I. Hacker couldn’t hurt me even if he wanted to. Does…he want to? 

He hated that he couldn’t tell. It was like staring at an animal whose territory you’ve violated. 

How could he deny it? He did care about how good Hacker was. Why, as the chief technician of all of cyberspace, he had to. He did care that Hacker was reported as having violent outbursts with the staff. That he had shut down in therapy sessions, stopped responding to stimuli. 

“I…I just want to…” he stammered out helplessly. 

“Just leave me alone. Tell them to leave me alone! Abaddon was wiped from my circuitry. No amount of poking and prodding and medicine will satisfy them, him! Just leave me alone, or let me out!” Hacker slammed his palms against the glass, apparently completely unconcerned of the consequences of disruptive behavior. 

Let him express his emotions. Try not to take anything personally.  

The therapist that he and Motherboard had hired spoke these words months ago. They’d played in his head many times during these sessions before. 

Marbles forced himself to swallow the hurt feelings ebbing in his chest. Detach. “Tell me about the therapists, then, Hacker, and I’ll look into it.” 

Hacker stopped short, eyes wide and face blank. 

“I promise,” the doctor added. 

Hacker squinted in confusion, and that’s when some of the cloud cleared away in Marbles’s head. 

Was this all some kind of test in Hacker’s twisted mind? Was he begging for someone to believe him? Should he believe the Hacker yelling at him now for him to leave, or the Hacker that signed the contract signifying his consent to being treated, trusting his creators? 

Marbles took a step forward, placing his hand firmly on the glass, opposite of Hacker’s. “Tell me what’s wrong.” 

The confused expression twisted into disbelief. Hacker shook, wiry fists clenching, teeth grinding - until it all collapsed. He turned away from the glass, shuffling back to his bed. “Ask Dr. Alexander Holeston.”