This is an alternate story based on "Only Human" by Alara Rogers (aleph@netcom.com), although it isn't in her continuity. I got sufficiently obsessed by the story "Only Human" that I wrote an alternate set in this universe. Alara's permission has been secured for this. Also, this story contains sex, so if that sort of thing bothers you, you might want to skip out now. PropinQuity by Mercutio (mercutio@europa.com); based on "Only Human" by Alara Rogers Q stood in his quarters on Starbase 56, trying to rid himself of an unwelcome guest. It had never been a problem for him before. By now, his reputation was doing it for him. But this one, a certain Naomi Allen, had arrived a half hour before and would not leave. "I don't want you here." "Sure you do," the red-headed programmer replied levelly. "You just haven't gotten used to the idea yet." "I know what I want." "Absolutely. For us all to leave you completely in peace while being present at all times to entertain you and be tormented by you." "I'd settle for the first part," he said dryly. "Nah. You'd eventually go looking for the rest. Think of me as your personal punching bag." "You want me to *hit* you?" "Would you?" "No." "Well, then I'm going to be eternally disappointed, now aren't I?" "What are you here for?" Q asked finally, unable to put up with a mystery for too long. He hadn't bothered to ask before, being more concerned with just being left alone. A twinkle in her eye, she went down on her knees before him, showing him the back of her neck. "To swear service to you. To be your liegeman. Your personal human at your beck and call." "I don't want you." She looked quizzically up at him. "It doesn't intrigue you even in the slightest, that a human would put herself completely in your power?" "Haven't you heard? Not only am I human, but I don't have any powers anymore." "That old news. No," she shook her head, "I meant your personal power. You may not be omnipotent anymore, but for a human, you're still extremely powerful and intimidating." The idea fascinated him. Someone who respected him for his power. He could like the idea... if it weren't a trap. "No." Naomi stayed on her knees. "Would you like me to beg?" "As much as the thought fascinates me endlessly, no." "Cry? Talk dirty to you?" Q was getting interested, despite himself. She wasn't like the others. Maybe... "All right." She smiled suddenly at him. "Let's see. It's been a while since I talked dirty to anyone, so I may be a little rusty." Q held up his hand. "No, please don't. You can stay." "Do you want me to swear allegiance to you now?" "Why? You wouldn't mean it." Her expression turned serious. "Oh, I believe I would." Naomi pulled the paper from her pocket. Paper was archaic, but still necessary for certain contracts, and carried a cachet all its own. She handed it to him. He took it, and read it. "You got Commodore Anderson to sign this?" "Yes. I wanted my responsibilites -- and my loyalties -- spelled out clearly from the start." In it, the commodore agreed that Naomi would not be forced to spy on Q, or report his doings to the commodore, unless such were about to cause the immediate demise of the station or someone on it. Q looked up. "So you'd be reporting my suicide attempts." She was still on her knees, even though they were going numb. The gesture was melodramatic, but it suited the man she was trying to convince. Naomi shrugged. "If you're dying, I'd certainly feel obliged to notify sickbay." "And if you just caught me trying to kill myself?" "What do you want me to do?" "Let me." She shook her head. "Nope. I'd try to stop you. But I wouldn't tell anyone about it, unless it was necessary to save your life." He studied her carefully, while pretending to read the rest of the paper. He was having a live-in companion foisted on him, someone who explicitly said they wouldn't spy on him, and wouldn't tell on him. Yeah, right. Still -- it was one step up from a security monitor. "How do you feel about Klingon baiting?" "Depends on whether I get killed afterwards." He shook his head. "I've got a lot to teach you." She smiled broadly. He'd decided to take her on. It had been by no means a sure thing, and while she was prepared to withstand the worst insults he could throw at her, she wasn't prepared to force herself on him. "So are you going to sleep across the door, and protect me from bad guys?" "I'd planned on sleeping in a bed, but that was the general idea, yes." "You're simply an advanced form of security monitor, you know that. An invasion of my privacy. A human watchdog rather than an electronic one." Naomi shook her head. "I'm not here to keep an eye on you. I'm here for you to take things out on." That was a novel concept. "Did dear Eleanor actually agree to send you here for me to abuse?" "Actually, I begged for the honor, but basically, yes." She sounded serious, she looked serious -- she couldn't possibly be telling the truth. "I don't believe you. And I don't believe anyone human would want to do such a thing." Naomi couldn't take the strain of kneeling anymore, and rolled her legs out from under her, sitting on the ground like an earnest child. "Yep. That's what I'm here for. Not so unbelievable really. Commodore Anderson readily acquiesced after I explained to her that it might be more efficient for you to take out your feelings on one person than on every person you meet." Actually, the commodore had been rather hesitant to try her plan at all. Not that Anderson had thought she was a danger to Q -- her security record was clean -- or that Q would hurt her -- the commodore felt that anyone stupid enough to deliberately hang around Q got what they deserved, but Anderson did feel that if she were Q's protector, that Q would simply get worse. That he'd have a bully boy to hide behind, and that he'd be more obnoxious than ever and both of them would end up in Sickbay. Naomi'd had to talk fast to get around that one. Although she wasn't much of a protector. Certainly no one was going to offer her a Security position. "And you think this will work? Are you some sort of counsellor?" She shook her head. "Nope. Programmer, actually. I..." "You what?" "Got tired of watching you be pushed around, and generally treated like dirt. We've spoken before, although you probably don't remember. I found it invigorating." "I must have been having a bad day." She ignored that. "At the risk of having you throw me out immediately, I care about you." "You were right. Out!" Naomi looked up at him. "Going to throw me out? Physically, I mean?" He looked distastefully down at her. "Actually I was planning to have Security do it for me." She didn't look threatened. "What?" "You didn't read the whole paper. No security interference between the two of us, unless we were actually trying to kill each other, was one of my demands." "Great. So now you're going to try to molest me in my sleep, and I can't get rid of you." She shook her head. "Actually, I was thinking more of you trying to get Security to torment me, since from all appearances, you dislike physically tormenting people yourself." "I could make an exception for you." With a start, Q realized he was enjoying himself. This woman had managed to pierce, if only for an instant, the heavy veil of depression that sat over him nearly always. Maybe making her go was a bad idea. Then the depression set in again, more deeply. She'd leave eventually, and when she did, it'd hurt worse. And if she stayed, she'd have countless ammunition to humiliate him. "Ah, but then you'd have to exercise, and that'd mean sweating. I don't think you want to do that." "Why would it mean exercising?" "'Cause you'd have to catch me first, and I think I run faster than you do." "Since I don't run, that's not particularly difficult." "My point exactly." "I want you to leave. I don't like you and I don't want you around me." "Do you like anyone?" "Unimportant. I am rapidly conceiving an intense loathing for you, however." "Why don't you give it a week or two first?" "Why? So you can spy on me, torment me and then trot back to give your superiors a complete report on just how far Q has fallen? I don't think so." Naomi pointed to the paper. "Whether or not you believe me, that's why I got that paper and had it signed. So that the commodore would not be able to force me into doing just that." "Still doesn't stop you from doing it." "I don't expect you to trust me, would be highly surprised if you did, in fact, but that paper is a olive branch if it were. Something to show you that I am behaving with as much respect to your interests as I can, and still be the intrusive invasion on your privacy that I also am." Q agreed with the invasive bit, and with the part about him not trusting her. "So you expect me to hold still while you rape me?" "It would make things easier, yes, but I wasn't expecting it." She kept him off-guard, and he admitted to himself that she wasn't boring him. Perhaps he shouldn't be trying so hard to get rid of her. "You can stay until you bore me." "How about I stay until you can get rid of me?" "I can't. The commodore ordered you here. You were forced on me. They'll take away something I value if you leave," Q said bitterly, his past experience weighing heavily on him. Naomi shook her head, knowing she was about to hand him a weapon against her, knowing that no one else would, and knowing instinctively that what he needed most of all were weapons against the world. "The commodore didn't order me here. I've been reassigned, yes, so I can be near you, but I had to beg, plead and browbeat my way into this. If you can convince me to leave, no one will be angry with you or try to get you to take me back." "Really? You're lying. No one would ever tell me something like that. It's an open invitation for me to tear you into emotional shreds and discard you in the trash." She shrugged. "Yes. It is. I thought you might like having someone to kick around." "So it's coddle the gimp day, is it? I don't take charity." "I admit other people are probably more fun. But you didn't seem to be getting a whole lot of pleasure out of it. And it's getting you beaten up." Secretly, he agreed with her. Targets he controlled had always been more fun. In the old days. Q suppressed the thought immediately. "You don't know me." Naomi got back on her knees. Time for a melodramatic gesture again. "Since you don't seem to plan on asking me, I'm going to do it anyway." "What?" Q asked warily. "Pledge my allegiance to you, of course." "I'm a flag now?" "No, you're my liege lord. Now be quiet for a minute, okay? Wait to make fun of me until after I'm done." Which implied she wanted him to make fun of her. He hated doing what other people wanted him to do. He hated her. Naomi went on. "I swear not to talk about you to other people. I promise to do my best to be interesting and intelligent. I swear I won't make fun of you or humiliate you in any way -- at least not deliberately. I swear that, to the best of my knowledge, my allegiance is to you alone." "That I don't believe. What's Starfleet getting out of this?" "I convinced Commodore Anderson that it would be more efficient for you to harass one person all the time than to try to find people to do it. And that it would be easier for her if she only had to worry about one person's health and welfare instead of everybody's." "So you're going to be my babysitter." "Wait til I'm done. I also promise that, as much as possible, I'll do my best to serve you and to please you." She looked up at him. "I'm done now. Go ahead, shred away." "If you want to please me, then leave." "No. Everything but that." "Do you have no ego?" "Well, the counsellor said I do, but I'm not entirely sure I agree with her. She's a quack." He stared suspiciously at her. "You don't like Counsellor Medellin?" "I hardly think someone who despises her patients is a good counsellor." "She doesn't like you?" Naomi shook her head. "Not anymore, anyway." "What did you do to her?" Q asked, fascinated. "She grilled me on why I'd want to do a messed up thing like put myself at your mercy, and basically told me that she hated your guts. So I told her I thought she was a bitch and probably just mad because she couldn't get you to sleep with her." "And then?" "Then she told me I deserved you." Naomi looked up at him. "I think that was meant as an insult, but I said 'Thank you' and left." **** Q let her move in, unsure what else to do, since his worst insults went unnoticed, and Security really wouldn't interfere with her. His quarters had been enlarged to give her room, so in a way, he had already benefited from having her there. Not that he cared. That night, he awoke with a light head, and a horrible swirling ache in his stomach. He was awake anyway, despite the sedative he'd taken. He stumbled to the replicator and ordered something to eat. The first thing that came up was breakfast. He ate the eggs, but even as he did, he felt more and more pain. His throat ached, and his head didn't seem to be connected to his body. Li was totally unsympathetic to him in Sickbay, and this was probably some other human thing that would only get him laughed at. He went into the bathroom, intending to look at his reflection and see if he looked as bad as he felt, then doubled over, his snack and his dinner coming up and out. He lost all track of the time he'd been there, endlessly retching. Gods. He'd done this before on the Enterprise. Was there anything more miserable in the human experience? He half-kneeled, half-laid on the floor, miserable, but too weak to move himself. He seemed to have puked out all his energy along with his food. Suddenly, there was someone behind him, and he cringed inside, knowing who it must be. Naomi didn't say anything to him, just looked at him and left. Part of him was glad that she'd left, that she had taken one look at him and gone. Another part of him felt sure she was in the other room howling hysterically. Either way, he despised her even more right now than he did himself, if that were possible, which it wasn't. Then she was back. She dropped a towel over the vomit, hiding the repulsive smelling pile. Until she'd done that, he hadn't known how much looking at it was making him more ill. She tugged him up, into a sitting position, then pulled his pajama top off of him. He was thin, almost to the point of emaciation. His large frame slumped, and she could see old bruises and scars over most of his exposed skin. She wadded the vomit stained top up and tossed it away. Q didn't resist, merely sat there passively, unable to muster any physical defenses against her. "Are you morbidly interested in my body?" "If I were morbidly interested, I'd have to wait until you were dead," she said off-handedly, hardly registering his weak comment as an insult at all. Naomi sat him on the edge of the shower, and then pulled his bottoms off of him. His skin was hot, much hotter than it should be. "Now I understand," Q said acidly. "You waited until I was weak to take advantage of me." "Absolutely," Naomi said deadpan. "You got it in one." She turned the shower on, tested the water temperature, and then helped him into it, supporting him when it was obvious he was too weak to stand. He let her put him in, but tried to fight her when he realized how cold the water was. She held onto him though, getting soaked in the process. The water didn't feel cold to her, but then she wasn't the one running a temperature. She only kept him there a few minutes, long enough to clean him off, then shut the water off. Q stood there on his own, shivering, the struggle having given him strength. She pulled another towel out and handed it to him, and then took a second one to help him. He pushed weakly at her hands, but gave in and let her have her way. Naomi got him reasonably dry, then tugged him out of the bathroom and back into his bedroom. On his bed was a fresh set of pajamas. She helped him put them on, then laid him into bed. Q looked up at her. "I'm hoping this is all a very vivid hallucination, you know." Naomi nodded solemnly. "Oh, it is." He closed his eyes, and fell asleep without another word. She left the room, and immediately called Sickbay, changing into dry clothes as she spoke. "Li, he's burning up, and he threw up all over the floor." "Probably tried to eat some Klingon food again. He's just faking it." "No. He's not." The doctor sighed. "If you're so sure, something's wrong, bring him down." "He's sleeping now, and I don't want to wake him. Can't you come here?" "If it were an emergency..." "Do I have to break someone's bones before it's an emergency?" Her voice carried a clear threat in it that she'd consider breaking someone's to get him there. "Oh, all right." Ten minutes later, a grumbling Li came through the door. "I can't believe I agreed to this. I haven't made a house call on Q in all the time he's been here. That man makes hypochrondriacs look well." Naomi stared him down. "I'm not him. And he didn't call you. Come and take a look at him, but be quiet about it." Q was asleep, although only just barely. He heard voices and tried to understand what they were saying. "He's just faking it." "Scan him then. And then tell me nothing's wrong." "Nothing's wrong." She stared at him, tightlipped. "Scan him." The doctor scanned Q, and shrugged. "A fever. So? I give him a hypo and he'll be fine." "I hope you wouldn't be this casual with everyone, *doctor*." Her tone made the word an insult. "You might make them think you like people to be sick, and wish they'd just stop complaining so you'd have better things to do like carry on with that nurse of yours." He glared at her. "There's no need to be insulting." "So don't be." Q could hear the conversation, and although it was more like an oddly realistic dream, he was heartened by her support of him. How he'd wanted to ream Li that same way! But the doctor was impervious to everything he said. The doctor gave Q a hypo. "Now what?" "Now he should get better." "How soon?" The doctor shrugged. "With someone like Q, who knows? He complains so much, I can't tell when he's really ill or when he's just cut himself shaving." Her voice was icy. "Is there anyone I can get a second opinion from? Someone professional, perhaps?" **** The second man was not precisely a doctor. An intern, actually, but he was respectful of her, and that was what counted. Apparently he was more wary of her reputation than Q's. "Ordinarily, something like this would be more than just a minor ailment, but hardly dangerous. But to someone in Q's weakened condition, it could be very serious indeed." The intern looked at her. "You quite possibly saved his life." She nodded. "Li ignored it. Gave him a hypo and that was going to be it." The intern shook his head. "I haven't seen many people in his physical condition. I was at Bajor for a while, and I'd have to say that people just out of Cardassian prison camps don't look as bad as he does." "What do you recommend?" The intern shook his head. "Rest. Fluids. More antibiotics. He'll have to be watched closely though. As weakened as he is, a secondary infection is what I'd worry about most." Naomi nodded. "Thank you." He smiled at her. "Any time." She went to sit on the edge of Q's bed. He lay curled in on himself, face drawn and edged with pain. Silently, she sat vigil throughout the night. There was no need to keep a deathwatch on him; it was hardly like he was going to pass away before her eyes. But she felt like he might, that her watching was the only thing keeping him from being taken. Not that he'd thank her for staying there if that were true. She knew well enough that he had been and probably still was actively suicidal. Everyone seemed to go out of their way to pass gossip on about him. They hated him, but he was still their favorite topic to trash. Q woke in the morning, well after his usual time, and was not pleased to find her curled up on his bed. "Have you taken to sleeping with me? I knew you women were sexual predators, but I had no idea my body was so attractive to you." Naomi stirred at his first word, and focused in on him by the second sentence. She'd apparently fallen asleep sometime in the night. "You have no idea," she said softly. He groaned. "You're making me feel like vomiting again. Could you please not do that when I'm feeling ill?" "Do what?" "Talk about sex. It's so... repulsive." "You brought it up." "Did not." "Did too." Q waved a weak hand. "I said I didn't, so I didn't." His glance was challenging, although he could hardly lift his head. "I guess you didn't," she said blandly. She jumped off the bed. "Want something to eat?" He shook his head. "No. Definitely not. And you can't have anything either. It'd make me feel nauseous." She nodded. "Okay." She went over to the replicator. "What are you doing? I just said..." "I agree with you. But I don't think something to drink would be bad, now do you?" He considered it. "Anything would be bad right now." She got two glasses of something vaguely disgusting looking from the replicator and came back. Pulling up a chair next to the bed, she perched in it, and held out a glass to Q. "Here's yours." "I don't want it." "Of course not. But if you don't drink it, you can hardly complain about me trying to poison you, now can you?" Q looked at her grumpily. "I can complain anytime. Haven't they told you yet?" "But it won't be nearly as much fun if it isn't justified." He didn't answer immediately, and she took that as a grudging assent. She set the glasses down, grabbed a pillow and propped him up enough to drink but not so much it put pressure on his middle. She put the glass in his hands, and looked at him expectantly. Q sighed and took a sip. Then another one. "For poison, it doesn't taste that bad. Remind me to use this the next time I want to kill myself." She nodded. "Good point. Poison does usually taste bad, doesn't it? Bad marketing strategy on the part of the manufacturers, don't you think?" Q glanced warily at her. "Why aren't you calling Security?" Naomi looked at him, puzzled. "Why would I want to?" "I just said I wanted to kill myself." He threw that out, like a challenge. It'd been something of a personal risk to say it at all, but it was worth it as a way to get rid of her before it was too late. "And?" Q took another drink from the glass, hardly aware he was doing it. It seemed to soothe the burning pain down in his stomach. "And you're supposed to put me on suicide watch, ban me from the replicator permanently and threaten my computer privileges." "What fun would that be?" She took his glass from him, since he seemed to be done with it, then took his hand. He resisted the tug slightly, but allowed the familiarity. He was so weak. As soon as he felt better though, he was going to toss her out on her ass. No question. She held his bony hand in hers, warming it. "As much as I am an invasion in your privacy, I don't feel like giving yours up that easily. It also seems like a lot of trouble to go to, putting you on a suicide watch and all, when you're likely just trying to see if you can annoy me." "You're beginning to bore me." "Really? I'm not so sure I take that as a compliment." "It isn't one. I intensely dislike unflappable people. I especially dislike people too stupid to know what's good for them. And I am definitely not good for you." Despite the mocking tone, Naomi recognized it for as much honesty as he'd ever given her, and responded in kind. "I'm known far and wide on the station as a bitch. Before you came, I had the worst reputation by far. You eclipsed me totally, but nonetheless, I was disliked or feared by a good deal of the station. Unlike you, I have some social abilities, such as backstabbing and schmoozing, that keep people from trying to rub me out, but that doesn't mean I'm well liked." "Oh, great. Emotional Cripples Anonymous." She smiled. "Something like that. Anyway, I was trying to say that I'm hardly unflappable. It's just the things that push my buttons aren't the kinds of behaviors you're known for." "Such as?" "I detest stupid, boring people. Stupid and boring is the worst, but either one is bad. As far as I can tell, you're neither, and not likely to be." Q inclined his head graciously. "Your praise is overwhelming." "I respect intelligence, and I detest the way you've been mistreated." She looked at his hand, knowing it was too soon to say what she was going to say, but knowing honesty was the best defense when dealing with Q. "I wanted to be your friend." "Couldn't get anyone else, so you're going after the poor abused alien?" Q said in a mocking tone. "Thank you for the ego boost." He felt very old and very tired suddenly. Despite the fact that he didn't need or want any *friends*, part of him was intrigued by the brightness she was holding out to him. This was further than anyone had ever put themselves out for him, and he wanted to see how far he could push it. Naomi shrugged. "Believe what you will. You certainly wouldn't believe that I find you a handsome, fascinating man with an overwhelming wit and a certain vulnerability which calls to the woman within me." He couldn't help himself. It had been a very long time, and his stomach still hurt from last night, but he laughed. He laughed hard, and it did hurt, but it felt good too. She smiled at him, and let him laugh. Seeing him happy was a revelation. Years fell away from him, and the pinched, hunted expression left his face. For a moment, he was confident, able, and a man to make her run screaming in the opposite direction. Even as a human, if Q marshalled his strengths, he'd be someone she'd be afraid of opposing, for fear of losing herself in him. At the moment, the danger was small, but if he were whole, she wasn't sure she was woman enough to take it. **** That one moment of vulnerability was not repeated. He recovered his previous slim strength rapidly, apparently a practiced invalid. She nursemaided him rarely; although he enjoyed the attention, he was not a man to take restrictions well, even those meant to ensure his own health. However, from then on, she was a tolerated part of his life, if not a liked one. He seemed to accept her, in the same way someone might accept an allergy to cheese. Part of his acceptance undoubtably had to do with the commodore leaving him alone. His twice daily diatribes from her to straighten up and stop being an ass had dwindled to once a week. While he couldn't help but mourn the loss of someone easy to torment, it was a relief to not be jerked around like a puppet. He had not had to crawl once yet, since *she* showed up. He didn't know how Naomi did it, but somehow she cajoled him into going to the interminable meetings. Of course, since the alternative was being stuck in his quarters with her, the alternative no longer looked as good as it used to. And once he was at the meetings, she made them quite a bit more entertaining than they had been in the past. He remembered the meeting this morning. He had been somehow persuaded to go to it, and it had been even worse than anticipated. That idiot, Dr. Morain, was there, wanting Q to prove his pet theories, none of which could ever have been true even if the universe rode on the back of a turtle. He'd been quite good, calling the man a fool only twice an hour, and insulting his parentage only once. Dr. Morain had insisted the commodore be called. "She'll know how to persuade you, Q. You have to be cooperative. It's in your contract with the Federation. If you're not..." and then he'd smiled. Q was sick of the man, sick of his posturing and disliked his threats, which he'd heard at least once a week since arriving at the starbase. "Go ahead. Make my millenium." Then Naomi'd perched on the corner of the table, sitting cross legged on it. Morain took it as a direct insult. "And you! You don't even have a right to be in a meeting like this!" She smiled. "Really? And you don't even have a right to breathe, as far as I know. Certainly not if you're getting it in return for your contributions to Federation science." He turned purple. "What kind of... I'll have you drummed out of Starfleet!" "Sure you will. Look, doctor. You are a pompous ass. I don't recall reading anything in Q's so-called contract which stated he had to pretend to agree with someone just to get the same rights which you are apparently doing nothing at all for." Morain purpled even further, leading Q to speculate exactly how much taunting it took to cause a human to have a heart attack. He didn't believe he'd tried that yet, although his memory was splotchy on his pre-human endeavors. Naomi hopped off the table. "It's two hours past lunch time. We're going to eat. And you can't join us. If you're so upset by our attitudes, I suggest you write your theories down and submit them by computer. If you *can* write, that is." She held out her hand to Q, and he took it, bowing extravagantly to the doctor. As they left the room, she said to him, "Now I'm going to get in trouble instead of you. A novelty, I'm sure." "This time." The commodore did indeed call her in, and was not happy with her. "You're just encouraging him!" Naomi shrugged. "The man was a pompous ass, and apparently stupid besides. You know Q won't put up with that." "I'm afraid he has to, if he wants..." "If he wants the almighty Federation to permit him the right to go on living. Doesn't that seem somewhat inhumane to you? To insist he be a performing bear?" Naomi thought about it for a second. "It's nothing less than enforced prostitution." Commodore Anderson sighed deeply. "You're too involved here. He is not a normal person." "You're treating him like he's not a person at all. He can't decide who he sees and doesn't see. He's not even supposed to tell them that they're idiots, which some of them apparently are." "He tells everyone that they're unworthy of being in his presence!" She shrugged. "Look, if it were up to me, I'd let him choose." "It's not." "Well, at least then restrict the worst pudding heads to computer only. If he doesn't have to actually talk to them, he can't be nearly as insulting." The commodore considered it for a moment. She wanted to say no on principle. This was just another way for Q to get out of his responsibilities. But on the other hand, it could keep her from having to soothe quite so many offended sensibilities... "Okay, you've got yourself a deal." "Great." Q was unmoved by the efforts she'd wrought in his behalf, and the risks she'd run. If she didn't have a computer where her heart should be, it would have bothered her. Or if she'd expected any kind of grateful response from him. That'd be the day. **** Naomi was up late, running a program. Contrary to what she'd told Q, she was still working on her old job. Just not all the time. Certainly, he didn't need or want her around constantly. Heck, he said he didn't want her around at all. But she was there, much to the amazement of them all. Q tossed on his lonely bed, unable to sleep, and unwilling to take a sedative with her in the room next door. He wanted to be able to wake up, to know what she'd done, if she was going to do something. So far, she'd never harassed him, but you never knew with humans. Part of him, deep down, was beginning to trust her. She had never mentioned the vomiting incident again, or commented on his appearance that evening. He'd overheard several conversations people had tried to start with her about him, and heard her turn the questions away, refusing to discuss anything even remotely personal. In some ways, he was grateful to her. He'd just woken up from a disturbing dream. An erotic dream, one in which she'd played a part. And he'd liked it. Oh, god. He turned into his pillow, holding it against him, trying not to cry. He wasn't weak. He didn't need anybody. He certainly didn't need anybody like *that*. But the yearning was so great. He wanted... sick things, things so depraved he couldn't stand himself. A whimper escaped his throat, then a sob. He buried his face in the pillow, trying not to let it out. He was so weak. As a human, he was a pitiful wreck. A hand touched his shoulder, and he jumped. "Go away!" She settled down next to him, turning him gently around, and settling his head on her lap. "No problem. I'll get out of your way." He curled into her body. He didn't want her to see him like this, but it felt good to be held close. He wanted to push her away, wanted to reject her, but his traitorous body said something different, and in the middle of the night, with as many of his defenses down as ever went down, it didn't feel nearly as wrong as it should have. She stroked his dark hair, liberally laced with gray, away from his temples. His forehead was damp, and she thought he'd been crying. It would explain the sound she'd heard, the one that had enticed her out here. "Want to tell me about it?" she asked gently. "No! Not you!" She stroked his hair softly, trying to comfort him. She was tucked into the curve of his body, and against her hip, she could feel... She closed the door on that line of thought fast. Q didn't have sexual feelings. Or did he? He certainly claimed sex was the most repulsive activity that an already repulsive race engaged in. But that didn't stop him from engaging in many other repulsive acts that he needed to do to survive. Only from doing those that would have made his survival bearable. His determined avoidance of all pleasure was one of the things that puzzled her the most. Every time she thought she'd succeeded in making him laugh or giving him a moment of happiness, he pulled back further from her. He was pressed up against her, and he could feel her hand on his head, and smell the delicate rose fragrance she always wore. His body was thinking things he definitely didn't want to go into. Perhaps talking would help. "I don't want to talk about it, you know." "Talk about what?" "The dreams I have." "You have dreams?" she asked, affecting a slight amount of surprise. "What kind of dreams are they?" That wasn't a question he wanted to answer, although he desperately wanted to be able to tell her. "Horrible, disgusting dreams." "Erotic dreams?" she asked. "Yes. But I didn't like them. And I don't want to talk about them." "Of course not. They must disturb you greatly." "They do disturb me. Why shouldn't they? They feature me doing things I have no wish to ever do and never ever will." "But you want to." "I didn't say that." "If you didn't want to do those things, then the dreams probably wouldn't be happening." "*I* don't want to! It's my body that wants to!" "Uh-huh. So why not just don't do it?" "I haven't. I won't. You can't make me." "Did you want me to try?" His head had been turned away from her all this time, but suddenly he looked up at her, and his eyes were wild. There was something of desperate pleading in them, and a good deal of fear. "No," he said quietly, with no conviction behind his words at all. "Are you afraid of being intimate?" "Who wouldn't be? Who'd ever want to be intimate with me?" She looked at him, smiling ever so slightly. "Obviously only a very warped individual." "Exactly," he said, his body slumping. "Q. I didn't mean that." "I did. Look at me. I'm unattractive, selfish, inexperienced and even evil to boot. You'd have to be warped." He was practically begging, in her book. But she suspected he'd run if she tried anything. He wasn't unattractive by half, although she didn't think the scarecrow look was ever going to catch on, no matter how fashionable he tried to make it look. She leaned down and kissed him lightly. He jumped back slightly, startled. "What did you do that for?" "Did you like it?" "No. Not exactly." "How about this?" She put her hand inside his open pajama top and stroked his chest. He shivered. "You're making me cold," he complained. "That's not cold." She repeated the gesture, unbuttoning his top slightly to stroke up and down his entire chest. He trembled, and there was a great heat in his loins. This was the kind of thing he dreamed about, only they usually looked like mating toads during it. "Maybe not." She pushed him back gently on the pillows. He whimpered a little, torn between looking lost at her leaving him, and wishing she'd go and not continue this final humilation. She didn't go, and he felt a flood of relief. She stretched out beside him, opening her own robe, and putting his hand inside, on her side. "Go ahead, it's all right. You can touch me." "Do I want to?" "Yes." He stroked her hesistantly. Something, some instinct buried in this body, said that this felt good. He never touched anyone very much, never like this at all. She pulled the edges of his top open, leaving him exposed down to his waist. He cringed, expecting her to pass some judgement on him. He never let anyone see him unclothed. He even wore makeup on many occasions, to improve his appearance. Appearance was everything to humans. She didn't seem to notice. She leaned over him, hair spilling on his chest in a fine cascade, caressing and tickling him all at once. He held onto her as she kissed her way down his chest, each lip print seeming to burn. When she took one nipple in her mouth, he thought he'd been bitten, and squealed. She stopped and looked up at him questioningly. "Didn't you like that?" His nipple felt cold now. He didn't know what she'd done, but the burning in his groin was greater now, if that was at all possible. "I'm going to burst something, I just know it," he said petulantly. She looked at him, eyebrows arching with interest. "Really?" "You should be more concerned. I'm in a delicate condition. I could injure myself." One of her legs brushed over his, and a sudden image from his dream burst through his head, where he pulled those legs apart and thrust inside and then... then in the dream, she laughed at him. He pulled back a little, trying to reestablish his tattered dignity. Her hand drifted down his body, over his clothed legs, brushing very lightly the source of his tension. He jumped as if he'd been struck, and screamed. "Did that hurt?" She'd taken her hand away. "Do it again." She complied at once, stroking him through the light material of the pajama bottoms. His hips rocked in time with her stroking, and he felt himself wanting to cry again. This was his dream precisely. Wanting to... to do something, and never ever being able to. She kissed him lightly on the lips, and this time he responded, urgently wanting something, but not sure what, or if it was wise to even want this thing. Her hand never left it, although she'd stopped inciting him. He felt closer to exploding than ever. It was uncomfortable. He had frequently had this reaction to women, and every time, lived in deadly fear that someone would notice. No one had, until now. "Do you want me to make love to you, Q?" He stared helplessly up at her, in his eyes something of the trapped animal, pleading with her. Naomi nodded. "I know you're going to hate me in the morning for doing this, for introducing you to the repulsive pleasures of the flesh." He nodded ever so slightly, and his mouth drooped. "I... I don't want you to do it now, but I can't seem to stop." She kissed him again, savoring the feel of his mouth against hers, and trying to give him a little of the warmth he'd been starved of for so long. He met her and matched her passion, clumsily trying to return what she was giving him, perhaps the first time he'd tried to reciprocate anything in any relationship. She rewarded him with another kiss, this time feather light on his forehead. "This is going to shock you. It might even seem like it hurts a little. But try to enjoy it." The warning did nothing to reassure him. Naomi smiled comfortingly at him, then slipped down the bed, slowly pulling his pajamas off of him, revealing his legs, and the straining piece of flesh that lay between them. She stroked his legs as she removed the pajamas, caressing the inner part of his thighs, and causing him to jerk upwards, wordlessly begging for her touch. Then she pulled them down over his knees, kissing the sensitive insides as she went and making him shudder. Then down over his feet. And he was naked. She knelt at the edge of the bed, and looked at him. He was terrified of her, of what she might say to him. "You're beautiful," she said. "Absolutely beautiful." Then she smiled, and removed her own robe, leaving her naked. She didn't need to be, but she didn't want him to feel uncomfortable. He lay on the bed, prone, helpless, not knowing what to do and knowing that because she did, she was in complete control of their encounter. He hated being helpless. He loved it. She moved up, still between his legs, then laid a silken kiss on the part of him that ached most. He hissed, wanting more. Then the most incredible warm, wet stroking feeling was all over him, and he ached horribly, throbbing, wanting to... to do something really disgusting. He couldn't. He just couldn't. But he had to, he had to. Before he could go crazy, fighting the urge, the warmth went away, and she kissed him one more time. She looked up at him, and saw tears in his eyes. "What's wrong?" "I can't!" He was desperate. "You don't know what I just wanted to do!" "It's all right. Believe it or not, that's what you're supposed to do." "I think I'm going to be sick." She looked at him. He did look nauseous. But one of his hands was wound in her hair, and the other one was stroking her hand where it rested on his stomach. He was more into this than he had ever been into any physical experience she had seen him partake of. "Do you want to stop?" she asked, her free hand stroking his thigh up to his stomach. He wanted her to stop. He wanted this never to have happened. He wanted never to have been made into a human. But if he stopped now, he'd inevitably end up going through this whole humiliating experience again with someone else, and it would be just as scary. If he went through with it now, he'd know, and if he did do it again it wouldn't be so bad. "No," he admitted hesitantly. She crawled up, and kneeled over him, then kissed him, her hair cascading around his face. "It'll be all right. Really." And then she sat on him, and part of him was inside her and even wetter and hotter, and it felt so very good. Until she started to move, and the wanting started again, the needing something to happen. She put one of his hands on her breast, encouraging him to touch it, to squeeze it. He felt an answering tug in his currently female-encased groin, even as he thought about how ridiculous this was and how much he would have laughed at himself a few years ago. How he would have even denied this could ever happen. Naomi rocked steadily over him, and Q lost all ability to think, all of him drawn into that whirling pool of pleasure, needing her, needing this more than he'd ever needed anything, or would ever admit needing anything. And then his world was exploding into the greatest pleasure he'd ever known as a human, something so great and so awesome that it almost, almost made up for the humiliations he'd suffered to get here. He stiffened, and cried out, hands going to her hips, fingers digging in, as the full force of it washed over him. Oh, it was so wonderful. He could do this again. Much better than the urinating thing. And then her weight left him, and he felt cold and alone. He opened his eyes, and looked at her, sleepy and sated. "Are you leaving?" "No." "Too bad," he said reflexively, the words sounding feeble and false in his own ears. She ignored him, her hands going to his shoulders to turn him over. He went with those hands, even though he knew firsthand what too much pleasure would do to him. "I'm not going to be your slave," he murmured to his pillow. "I wouldn't want you to be." Her hands sank into his shoulders, rubbing away the tension that seemed to always be there, soothing the knots of pain that had seemingly sunk permanently into his muscles. The sheer joy of feeling good swept over him. It had been so long since his body felt good. He couldn't quite remember what it had been like to not feel pain, to not be tired or hungry or in need of something. "You're going to take advantage of me with this drug and force me to do what you want." Her knowledgeable hands went to his neck, the source of all of his pain. He could feel her warm breath in his ear as she whispered, "Q, normal people feel like this all the time." "They do not." "Normal people get to feel like this pretty often. There's nothing unusual about feeling good, although..." "Although what?" he asked, suddenly scared and suspicious. He had tensed up. Her hands forced the tension back out, smoothing the places where it had been. "Although it was better, with you." He calmed then, a little of his insolence coming back to him. "Of course it would be. I'm something special, of course." She laughed low in her throat and kissed his neck. "I meant that I feel something more for you than I would for someone else, and that makes it special." He quivered at the thought of anyone caring for him. He wouldn't believe it except that he couldn't understand why else she'd put herself through what she'd gone through with him. It wasn't a joke. And it wasn't to hurt him, as far as he could tell. He could hurt her far worse. He didn't know why the thought of someone caring for him seemed all at once seductive and frightening. She laid down beside him, curling up against him, one arm going around his waist. "In the morning, you're going to hate me, aren't you?" "I think I hate you now." The rebuff would've shaken her, if not for the uncertain tone he said it in. It was almost a declaration of love. She closed her eyes, nestled her cheek against his back, and listened to him breathing. This was the only moment there was, and she wasn't going to worry about tomorrow. She only hoped he was doing the same. He had few enough bright moments in his life as it was to waste this one. -the end-