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


"You're just fine, Naomi," Li said.  "You can leave Sickbay
anytime you like."

Naomi's own injuries, gruesome as they were, consisting of
deliberate starvation, repeated beatings and a broken arm, had
been minor in comparison to what Q had received, and easily
treated.  

They were lucky to have survived.  When the Dilkinen had
kidnapped her, Naomi had been certain she was going to die. 
She had no value as a ransom victim, only as a hostage to hold
over Q's head.  And once he had been lured onto the Dilkinen
ship by scenes of her being tortured, she had known her life was
worthless.  

And it had been.  The Dilkinen had left her to die at that point,
giving her no medical attention or even food.  Q had been
dragged off for his own brand of torture, an electrical shock of
some sort.  The only reason either of them had lived was that
the Dilkinen had, for motives unknown, relented and left them
to drift in a lifepod.  Due to Q's efforts to make the rescue
beacon work, they had been located by Anderson.  Against all
odds, they had survived.

Naomi darted a quick glance at Q, who lay still unconscious on
a bed, barely visible under the medical equipment surrounding
him.  Naomi suspected Li of deliberately keeping Q sedated so
as not to cause problems.  Not that Li would sedate a patient for
malicious reasons, but if Li could find a good medical excuse to
do so, he'd probably take it.  She looked back at Li.  "As much
as I'm grateful to be up and about, what about Q?"

Li shrugged faintly.  "Q's condition is still guarded.  What
happened to his nervous system is far reaching and difficult to
repair entirely.  A day, possibly a week."  The Dilkinen had
short-circuited Q's nervous system, causing intermittent
interference in all his physiological processes.  Li had been
beside himself trying to cure Q, and still was not entirely sure
that the fix had taken.

A week?  "How long until he's conscious?"

Again, that faint shrug.  "Soon."  Li grimaced.  "Not that
anyone is looking forward to it."

Naomi smiled slightly.  "Yes.  I understand that.  I guess that
means I won't be leaving Sickbay after all."

Li's eyes lit hopefully.  "You won't?  I mean, I think I could
arrange that."  He turned away and grabbed an orderly,
speaking urgently to him.

Naomi watched in amusement as the news ran through Sickbay
and heads turned to look at her.  Q must have been a complete
bastard the last time he had to stay here.  That was hardly
surprising to her.  Q hated any limits on his freedom, and being
physically confined and constantly under observation would
drive him to new heights of inventiveness.

She hopped down off the bed, and moved over to observe Q. 
His face was relaxed, causing him to look even older than
normal, his features lacking in sleep the animation and character
that gave them life and vitality.  Although he was technically
older than she could even begin to imagine without computer
assistance, he was physically somewhere in his forties, although
right now he looked even older, his face careworn and tired.

A chair was set behind her, and Naomi sat in it.  Moments
later, a computer terminal link arrived, but Naomi hardly
noticed as the Sickbay staff scurried around her, doing their best
to make her comfortable and ensure she'd want to stay and keep
Q happy.

****

Q woke slowly, fumbling his way out of disjointed dreams to a
dimly lighted consciousness.  There was something pressing him
down at the chest, holding him flat.  Dimly, not quite awake, he
tried to sort out where he was.  Not his quarters.  There had
been some sort of trouble, and he and Naomi had... something
very bad happen to them, and then... the lifepod.  He
remembered the lifepod.  He'd rigged a beacon without having a
hope of it working, and then gave himself up to death.  This
wasn't death.  If it were, his fellow Q would undoubtably be
there, ready to gloat and hold it over his head that he hadn't
even been able to survive an encounter with a race as backward
as the Dilkicretins.  He must still be in the lifepod.  A wave of
depression swamped him, as he accepted that as true.  Even
dear Eleanor didn't have a chance of finding them.  The
beacon's range was limited and... wait.  He remembered talking
to the commodore, remembered...

Q opened his eyes, to see a very familiar place indeed. 
Sickbay.  He was in the Sickbay on Starbase 56.  Relief hit him. 
He was alive.  

"Hello," a voice said softly.

Q tried to turn his head to see her, and found he couldn't.  He
was totally immobilized.  He panicked, and started to try to get
up, but he couldn't do that either.  Apparently the only
functions under his control were the littlest movements, like
blinking.

Knowing it wouldn't do any good, he struggled anyway, trying
to force his unresponsive muscles to work, straining against
whatever it was that held him.  But it didn't do any good.  He
was held fast, trapped here.  Was he paralyzed?  Had he
permanently lost the use of his body?  Human medical
technology was pitifully primitive; it could be true.  Fear
overwhelmed him.  He could imagine nothing worse than losing
his mobility.  He had already lost his powers, his mind laid
naked and exposed to anyone with even a fraction of telepathic
ability.  To be reduced to lying in a bed, dependent on the
kindness of others, would be the greatest obscenity of all, a final
joke on him for the Continuum.

Naomi stood up, and moved to where he could see her, placing
her hand against his cheek.  She'd forgotten what Li had told
her about Q's treatment.  If she'd remembered, she would have
been where Q could see her to start with.  She could see the
terror in his eyes, and although she didn't understand it, she felt
sorry for him.

As Naomi moved into his field of vision, Q closed his eyes
again, hiding the moisture that came to them.  She was all right,
perfectly fine, not a mark on her.

"You can't move, Q," Naomi said, wanting to explain his
situation to him.  "What the Dilkinen did to you disrupted your
nervous system.  To fix it, Li basically shut it off and is
rebuilding it from scratch.  He thinks he can fix it completely."

"I can't *move*?" Q asked indignantly, relieved that this was a
temporary rather than a permanent thing even as he was angered
that Li had perpetuated this humiliation on him, forgetting his
annoyance almost immediately with the discovery that he still
had his voice.  He could still talk.  They hadn't taken that away
from him.

Naomi shrugged.  "That's what I was told.  I don't know
exactly what Li did, but apparently any movement is verboten."

"Speak English, why don't you?" Q asked acerbically.  "If I can
talk, I should be able to move."

Naomi grimaced in an expression of ignorance.  "I don't know. 
I was more interested in whether you'd live than the technical
aspects of how Li made it happen.  Maybe it's just large
movements that are restricted, or certain muscle groups."

"Or maybe it's deliberate.  Li would never resist an opportunity
like this to pin me down and gloat over my helpless body."

A slight smirk played over Naomi's face.  "Now that is
definitely not true.  They'd rather do anything rather than have
you here."

"How flattering," Q's ironic tone implied that it was anything
but flattering, which was true enough.  How truly wonderful to
be faced once again with the knowledge that everyone despised
him.

"Yes, it is, isn't it?  But I offered them up myself as a sacrifice
and they're happy now.  As long as I'm here for you to
torment, they feel safe."

"The more fools, they, then."

"Yes, they are, aren't they?  But they seem rather grateful to
me.  And I may be the most foolish of all, sitting here."

He shrugged infinitesimally, the movement more caught in the
expression of his face than anything his body was currently
incapable of reproducing.  "You were a fool to get involved
with me at all.  To end up in Sickbay was the least harmful of
all possible *predictable* results."

"So we're involved now?  I have no problems with that."

"You're a fool to be within the same atmosphere as I am. 
How's that?"

"Call me a fool for love, then, and be done with it."

"Love?"  He sniffed slightly.  "You don't know what love is. 
None of you do.  You paste the label on every self-destructive
behavior involving reproduction and use it to justify your
inexplicable actions."

"Let's see..." Naomi turned to her terminal.  "Love... One, a
profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person,
especially when based on sexual attraction.  Two, a feeling of
warm personal attachment or deep affection.  Three, a person
toward whom love is felt."  She looked up at Q.  "There's a
redundant definition.  I always hate it when they use the word
they're defining in a definition."  She turned back to her
terminal.  "Four, a love affair.  Five, sexual activity.  Six, a
personification of sexual affection, as Eros or Cupid.  Seven,
affectionate concern for the well-being of others.  Eight, a
strong predilection, enthusiasm, or liking.  Nine, the object of
such liking or enthusiasm.  Ten, the benevolent affection of God
for His creatures, or the reverent affection due from them to
God.  Eleven, a score of zero, as in tennis." 

"I like that one."

"A score of zero?  As in tennis?"  Naomi pondered it for a
moment.  "You may have a point."

"No, no.  The other one.  The reverent affection due to God
from His creatures."  Q smiled slightly.  "That describes it."

"Not all love, though."

"The only kind that matters."

"Are we the humble one today?"

"It's hard to be humble when you're omnipotent."

"I suppose you're going to want me to get down on my knees
and worship you now."

"Since I wouldn't be able to see that in my current state of
immobility, that would be less than satisfying."

"True," Naomi admitted.  "But I could sing hymns of praise to
your name."

Q's face took on a real expression of horror.  "Not that. 
Anything but that."

Naomi's eyebrows quirked.  "Well, if you're going to beg, I
can oblige you with a tune or two."

"No.  Please.  Spare me.  Spare us all."  

"I'm not *that* bad."

"You're worse.  I've heard you, remember?"

Naomi tilted her head, thinking.  "Oh, right, I did 'Barges' for
you."  The night she'd gotten drunk after he and Harry had
done the wild thing.  Not that her singing had been intended as
any kind of vengeance, mind you.  It had just seemed like a
good idea at the time.

Q moaned.  "Please.  Talk about something else.  The memory
is very painful for me."

Naomi obliged cheerfully.  She'd rather be debating nothing in
particular with Q than dwelling on her own troubles by herself.

****

Anderson and Azoth sat next to Q's bed, going over one more
point regarding the Dilkinen.

"They obviously have technology far superior to ours, valuable
technology we should take advantage of.  I realize you have
reasons to dislike them, Q, but if we could contact them..."

Q cut the commodore off, his tone dismissive.  "They have no
technology.  They're a backwards race of savages.  Even lower
than the Klingons."

"Q, your taunts are irrelevant.  They have a cloaking device
which kept us from seeing..."

"They have no cloaking device.  All they have are a few
battered ships, and a telepathic power like nothing you've ever
seen before."

"What are you saying?  That they were here all along and we
just didn't see them?"

"Bravo.  Precisely."

"That's preposterous.  Our computer logs..."

"Computers are only as good as the people who look at them. 
And you're not very good.  I suspect if you check your records,
you'll find that your intruders appear there all along."

"That kind of power is im..."

"Don't say impossible.  It happened, didn't it?"

****

Q was released from Sickbay in record time for someone with
his degree of injury.  Naomi suspected that that was on purpose. 
She was aware of the betting pool.  Li had collected on that bet;
not due to cheating so much as that no one had believed anyone
could get out of Sickbay that fast with the kind of extensive
neurological trauma Q had suffered.

But Q was a poor patient, desperate to get up and about, and
that combined with Li's own dislike of having him there, had
worked towards a more speedy recovery than seemingly
medically indicated.

Naomi was less than happy about Q's quick recovery.  She had
been able to suppress her feelings about the Dilkinen incident by
subliminating them into the need to care for Q.  She had terrible
dreams and occasional fearful thoughts, but she could repress
them.  But with Q better, she would had no focus, and Naomi
felt lost.

Neither of them seemed to know quite what to do with their
relationship.  Naomi's own emotions were in turmoil.  They
hadn't talked and didn't talk about the Dilkinen.  That was just
fine with Naomi.  She didn't want to talk about the incident,
although there was a part of her that insisted that she desperately
needed to.  But there was nothing that really affected her.  What
had happened to her?  A little trivial physical pain, that was all. 
She was just being pathetically weak.  After all, Li had patched
her up right quick.  Q, who whined about everything, had been
far worse hurt than she, and he wasn't dragging around
complaining about how he felt.  How could she be less stoic
than Q?

****

Naomi walked into the room, her steps paced to a rate that
would have been normal for anyone else, but lacked her usual
bounce.  The life had seemingly been drained out of her, and
the person remaining was a mere shadow.  It was the first time
she'd been able to make it to the lab since the Dilkinen incident,
since she wasn't about to leave Q while he was helpless in
Sickbay, and under normal circumstances, she would not be
looking forward to the inevitable hounding by the gossip
mongers.  At the moment, she didn't care.  Her own troubles,
pushed aside by Q's need, had rebounded on her doubled in
magnitude, and she sleepwalked through the day, there but not
*there*.

People looked up when she came in, faces sympathetic, but
Naomi barely registered them.

"Looking forward to the party this evening, Naomi?" Jinn
asked.

Naomi nodded, making the socially acceptable response.  "Of
course."  On ordinary days, she liked Jinn.  He was about the
same age she was, and very into all the status games played by
their kind of people.  Who knew the most about a given
program, who could create the best boobytrap for someone
else's personal program, who had the best toys, all of that.  She
and Jinn usually carried on a running insult war, to see who
could irritate the other one first.  If he hadn't already been
heavily involved with someone else long before she ever arrived
here, there might have been something there.  As it was, they
just restrained themselves to third-grader flirtations.

Except today she didn't really feel like it.  Naomi stepped over
to a terminal, considering actually doing some work, when a
new face entered the room.

Dr. Bronson Farish surveyed the room, seeing a group of
programmers, all dressed like programmers, i.e., like they'd all
dressed in the dark from a pile of dirty clothes, which wasn't a
comment on their hygiene, so much as the rumpled state of the
clothing in question.  And in among the programmers was a
pretty redheaded girl, obviously a subordinate of some kind. 
She was years younger than the others, no more than 17 or 18,
and dressed in the only truly fashionable outfit in the room.

One of them stepped over to him.  "You must be Dr. Farish."

"Yes, I am."

"I'm Saba Nitac.  I'm so glad you'll be working with us.  I was
interested in the work you did on the bioneural network
programming project."

"You saw that?"  Farish was flattered.  "I like to think I
contributed my share to that."

"Your share?  You were simply brilliant.  I'd like you to talk to
Dr. Allen, our resident expert."

Naomi looked around at the sound of her name, turning towards
them.

Nitac motioned towards her, and Farish turned.  

He saw the young redheaded girl standing there, and assumed
that she must be a subordinate of some sort, available to wait on
him.  "Could I get a cup of coffee?  Jamaican, black, please?"

The others stared at him in horror, expressions turning to the
slight bemused, shocked smiles of people about to witness a
disaster.

Naomi looked at Farish.  "Excuse me.  What did you say?"

He smiled patronizingly at her.  "I asked for a cup of hot black
Jamaican coffee, miss."

"That's what I thought you said."

"Naomi..." Jinn said, trying to head off the impending
catastrophe.

Naomi ignored him, going for a cup of coffee.

Farish watched the whole thing, confused.  Something was
wrong, but he didn't know what.  

Naomi brought back the coffee, holding it out to Farish.

Jinn intercepted the cup, taking it from Naomi's hands.  It
spilled over slightly, but Jinn didn't relax his grip on the cup.

With a sigh, Naomi let go of it.  "C'mon, he deserves it."

"Be that as it may..."

"And Li could fix him up in Sickbay."

"Naomi..."

Naomi looked wistfully at the cup of coffee, now being borne
safely off to a table, and sighed.

"Excuse me, what is going on?" Farish asked.  "Young lady, I
have to tell you that your attitude is hardly professional."

"Really?" Naomi asked icily.  "And what do you suggest?"

"A little respect for your betters, perhaps."

"Really?  And would you say that was, oh, anyone with a
doctorate?  And perhaps several years experience in the field?"

Farish took that as an insult.  "And are you suggesting that I
don't have that kind of background?  I assure you that my right
to be here is much more established than your own."

Naomi turned red, rage flushing her face.  "I seriously doubt
that.  I know you and I know your credentials.  If you think
those are worth the airs you're putting on, you're sadly
mistaken."

"You can't talk to me like that."

"I can't?  It seems like I am."

"Naomi, please," Jinn said, pulling at her arm.

Naomi shook him off, even though Jinn was taller.  "No."

"Please, Naomi, he doesn't know.  He's new.  Let him go.  I'll
explain it to him."

Naomi looked at Jinn, her immense anger dissolving under that
kindness.  She opened her mouth to tell Jinn she didn't need any
help, and with horror, found a sob in her throat, and tears
forming in her eyes.  She had to get out of there.

"O-kay," Naomi said, even that word coming out with a choke
in it, and hurried out before she could totally embarrass herself
by crying.

Everyone watched her go, maintaining a respectful silence.

Jinn pulled Farish aside, when he would have followed Naomi
out of the door.

"You don't know who you're messing with," Jinn hissed. 
"Leave her alone."

"She insulted me unforgivably.  I think I deserve an apology."

"You listen to me.  *That* was Dr. Allen.  Naomi Allen is a
very competent programmer, and those of us who know her
respect her abilities."

"That was Dr. Allen?"

Jinn nodded, continuing.  "We don't know you, and we don't
respect you.  At least not yet.  And she's been through a very
difficult experience."

"People should leave their life crises at home, and not bring
them to the workplace," Farish said weakly, trying to maintain
some face.

Jinn rolled his eyes.  "It's a little hard to do after you've been
kidnapped and tortured for the man you love, worthless as he
may be."

Farish looked at him then, really looked at him.  "Are you
serious?"

"Absolutely."

His face caved in.  "I didn't know."

"Well, lucky for you then, that Allen actually *likes* assholes. 
You can apologize the next time you see her."

****

Naomi managed to hold herself together until she got back to
their quarters, only her too bright eyes giving away her
emotional state.

She fled to the safety and comfort of the couch in the common
room, taking a pillow and curling herself up around it.  Then,
with no shame whatsoever, she began sobbing into it, her sobs
muffled against the pillow, tears absorbed into it.

It wasn't the first time some blowhard had mistaken her for a
menial.  Even in this supposedly enlightened day and age, there
were people who thought of a young attractive female as
someone who couldn't possibly be involved in the sciences.  At
least Farish hadn't called her 'cute'.  

A swamp of depression overwhelmed her.  She must be
inadequate.  Why did everyone always underestimate her if that
weren't true?  Even Q got more automatic respect than she did. 
Nobody ever treated him like a four-year-old, or an overly
bright toddler who'd just said something adorable.  

A small, logical, part of her said that she was overreacting, but
it didn't help the part of her that was hurt and unhappy.

She didn't know how long she'd been there, when a voice
interrupted her reverie.

"Aren't you going to get ready to go?"

Naomi looked up, startled, and saw Q standing there, imperious
as always, and obviously looking forward to the event she'd
totally forgotten about, their welcome back party.  She couldn't
not go to that, they were the guests of honor.

"Umm... sure.  I just need to get dressed."  Naomi stood up,
starting to brush past him.  She'd completely forgotten about the
welcome back party that she and Q were supposed to attend this
evening as guests of honor.  She felt more like the main course
at the moment, waiting to be served up raw to the hungry
cannibals.

Q stepped into her path, looking sharply at her.  Her eyes were
red and puffy, and her face a little too raw.  Had she been
crying?  

Naomi ignored him, her defenses too destroyed to go up against
him, even though she had no idea what to do with him.

"Your usually abominable taste wouldn't do for tonight, so I
picked out an outfit for you."

"Fine."  

Naomi walked around him into her room.  Laid out on the bed
was a white dress, beaded in gold and silver.  She looked at it,
afraid to touch it.  It was beautiful.

She was overwhelmed that Q would do something like this for
her.  Involuntarily, tears formed again, and she controlled
herself with a struggle.  This would never do.  She had to stop
crying, or she'd be a laughingstock at the party.

Naomi stepped into the bathroom.  After a shower, she'd feel
better.  She hoped.

It did help a little.  After the shower, a real water shower, she
dried off, and brushed out her hair, and only then, looked in the
mirror.  Her face still looked vulnerable, and something in her
eyes said everything was not quite all right, but things were
better.  

Naomi shook her head, and went to try on the dress.

It fitted perfectly, if a bit snugly.  It was sleeveless, with a high
collar encircling her throat.  The dress came down to just above
her knee.  The white and gold of the dress perfectly set off the
deep rich red of her hair.

Naomi stepped outside, and came face to face with Q, who had
also changed into his party clothes.  He was gorgeous in his
severe scarlet and black suit, cut to show off his height and size
to its best advantage.

Naomi looked up at Q nervously, seeking approval.

Q shook his head.  "That will never do.  You look like you've
been blubbering."

Naomi recoiled with embarrassment.  "I... I'm sorry."

"And you look it.  I suppose I'll have to fix it for you," Q said,
as if the words were being dragged out of him.

"Fix it?" Naomi asked curiously.

Q sighed deeply, as if with exasperation upon being faced with a
truly stupid pupil.  "This way."

He led her into his own room, and sat her down in front of a
mirror.  "You really should consider wearing more makeup
regularly.  It would enhance your appearance."

"So you're saying I normally look like a hag?"

Q pulled out a brush and foundation and started working on her
face.  "I believe *you* said that."

"Thank you, Q, for the boost to my self esteem," Naomi said
irritably.  "I don't wear much makeup because I happen to think
brushing dirt on your face and leaving it there isn't very good
for the complexion."

"What use is a good complexion when you look like a corpse?"

Naomi held still under his hands, wishing she didn't feel like
she was about to fall apart at any moment.  "I don't know. 
What use is causing a bad complexion with overuse of makeup
so that you have to cover it up with more makeup?"

"Stop whining.  You're beginning to bore me."

Naomi sat up very straight at that remark, her posture brittle,
folding her hands in her lap.  "I'm sorry.  I didn't realize I'd
sunk that far into the vast reaches of my inappropriate
self-pity."

"See that it doesn't happen again."

Q worked on her longer, expertly applying the cosmetics, with a
complete disregard for the time.  When he had Naomi's face
made up, he moved onto her hair, arranging it to his
satisfaction.

"Ever considered a second profession as a beautician?" Naomi
asked.  If anyone else had been trying this, she never would
have sat still for it.  But having Q do it for her, having Q even
*offer* to do it for her, touched her, made her feel special.

"Most people aren't worth my time."  Q turned her to face the
mirror, and Naomi looked back at her reflection, stunned.

"Is that really me?"  The woman in the mirror looked like a
woman, rather than a girl, her features sophisticated and
elegant.  Her delicate facial structure was offset by a simple, yet
artful arrangement of her silky red hair, tendrils dangling down
to frame her face.

Naomi turned to Q, her face open with wonder and gratitude. 
"This is amazing.  *You're* amazing.  Thank you.  You're a
god."

"Was there ever any question?"

Naomi made a face at him, then smiled.  "Thank you.  Just...
thank you."

****

The welcome back party was really simply an excuse to throw a
party.  The entire starbase had been on alert for weeks during
the Dilkinen crisis, people jumping at shadows and expecting
intruders to beam in at any time.  Everyone needed a break
from the stress.

Having something to celebrate was a plus.  If the party had had
to be a funeral, it would have been considerably less fun,
although there still would have been a faction who would have
celebrated if the funeral had been for Q.

The party was being held in the largest of the holodecks, no
other space being available.  With some work, it was managing.

Naomi and Q entered, late, to find the party already in full
swing, a line at the buffet table, and dancing and drinking
already swirling around them.

Naomi held onto Q's arm for balance, overwhelmed by the light
and the sound.  Q, on the other hand, was in his element,
visibly more confident and even smiling.

"I can't believe you like this sort of thing," Naomi said sulkily. 
"This is my idea of hell.  Eternally surrounded by people you
don't know and don't want to know and having to make small
talk with them."

"How bizarre.  That's what I remember heaven being like."

Naomi glared at him, as Counsellor Medellin came up to them,
beaming.  "You look *very* nice tonight, Naomi."

"Thank you," Q said.  "I take all the credit."

"You usually do," Naomi said to him, then turned to Medellin. 
"Thank you."

Medellin took in the byplay with a cock of her head.  "I don't
often see the two of you together in social situations like this."

Naomi smiled twistedly.  "Because I don't like social situations
like this."

"Really.  And why is that?"

Naomi opened her mouth, then closed it, staring suspiciously at
Medellin.  "Are you always at work?"

"I was just making conversation."

"Right."

Q watched them, bored.  His features animated as Harry Roth
approached them.

"Well, if it isn't T, come back from the dead," Harry said
lightheartedly.  "And I had my funeral clothes all picked out."

"So sorry to disappoint.  Perhaps next time my assassins will be
in more earnest."

"It *was* a gorgeous outfit," Harry said.  "You really should
have seen me in it.  But oh, I forgot.  If you *were* dead, you
wouldn't be able to see it, now would you?"

"Don't take any bets on it, Harry," Q said mockingly.

Medellin watched this exchange with a slight degree of horror
coming into her face.  What kind of relationship was this?

Naomi glanced over at Medellin, and took pity on her, steering
her away from Q and Harry, who were lost to the world
anyway, discussing fashion, particle physics and the afterlife.

"Actually, I've never been very comfortable in social situations. 
I think it has something to do with the way I was raised."

"That's right," Medellin said, happy to have something she
understood to talk about.  "Your mother was somewhat of a
recluse, wasn't she?"

"Interesting way to put it," Naomi said.  "But that would
describe it, yes."

She allowed Medellin to monopolize her for a while, before
going to talk to some of the people she worked with.  

The party dragged on for eons, or at least it seemed that way to
Naomi, who hated these things.  Everyone wanted to talk to her,
to hear about the gruesome details of her abduction and
subsequent experiences, and all she wanted to do was go hide in
the corner until it was over.

Q, on the other hand, glittered, almost radiating good cheer and
charisma.  He soaked up the positive attention paid to him,
perfectly content to be the center of all eyes, and close to the
only topic under conversation.  

Naomi couldn't do it, couldn't stand it, and was consequently
avoiding Q.  However, she couldn't hide entirely.

Diana Ashe approached Naomi, laying one pudgy hand on
Naomi's arm.  "Oh, my dear, you look so adorable tonight."

Naomi looked up, schooling her fingers to blandness.  "Thank
you.  I try."

"You should try more often.  You are just so cute, you know
that.  You really could make more of your features."

"Thank you."  *I think*.

Diana smiled brightly.  "It's so wonderful to see you alive and
well.  I was *so* worried about you."

"Yes, I'm fine now, thank you, Diana."

Diana stepped close, still maintaining her grasp on Naomi's
arm.  She was just a little taller than Naomi normally, the
tottering heels she was wearing tonight making her tower over
Naomi even more.  Her voice hushed, Diana said, "It isn't true,
is it?"

"What isn't, Diana?" Naomi asked, more than a little bored with
this conversation.  The only true struggle was to remain calm
and keep her temper.

"That Q has been... abusing you."

"What?" Naomi's tone was shocked.  "Excuse me?"

Diana shook her head sadly.  "Nian said that you would deny it. 
The one who's being abused never can admit to the damage
being done to her by her abuser."

Normally Naomi didn't talk about Q at all, just changed the
subject or ignored the person in question, but this was a definite
exception.  "You're been talking to Counsellor Medellin about
me?" 

"Well, we didn't discuss *you* in particular, or name any
names.  But I did get her advice on the subject of abusive
relationships."

Naomi breathed an inaudible sigh of relief.  Medellin wasn't the
one responsible for this then.  It was all just another one of
Diana's overblown concerns.  Not that the gossip probably
wouldn't get spread around the starbase as true anyway.  There
wasn't much she could do about it.  Diana seemed convinced
that a denial was the same as an affirmation, and she was too
stupid to understand sarcasm.  Anyone who really knew Q was
aware that he would never hit anyone, anyway.  

Farish approached them, and Naomi stiffened, glad of an excuse
to get rid of the oversolicitous Diana, but not particularly
wanting to talk to him either.

He surveyed Naomi, his gaze at once appreciative and taken
aback.  He turned to Diana.  "If you'll excuse me for a
moment, madam, so that I might have a word with Miss Allen?"

"Oh, of course," Diana said gushingly.  She bent close to
Naomi.  "He's very eligible.  I'd snatch him up, if I were you."

Naomi suppressed a groan, as Diana whisked away in search of
other prey.

Farish took Naomi's hand, and laid a very gentlemanly kiss on
the back of it.  "If I'd seen you like this first, I would never
have made the mistake I did.  I'm very sorry, Naomi."

Naomi was almost more offended by this kind of behavior than
the rude manners Farish had displayed in the lab.  In either
case, being assessed by her looks truly annoyed her.  Everyone
did it.  No one ever quite accepted what she was, or what she
could do, until she proved it to them.  Naomi hated that, hated
being short and cute and female.  People only took her for
granted before they knew her, though.  Once they found out
how competent she was, and how ruthless she could be, they
gave her more respect.  Naomi found she had to be more
ruthless than other people in order to get that respect.  The only
person who had ever taken her on face value, pun unintended,
and not judged her by her looks, was Q.

As if the mere thought of his name was enough to summon him,
Q appeared at her side, staring icily down at the doctor.  

Naomi immediately used Q's presence as an excuse to draw her
hand back, and tuck it under Q's arm.  "Q, this is Dr. Bronson
Farish.  Dr. Farish, Q."

"A pleasure to meet you, sir," Farish said, perfunctorily, his
manner a little stiff at being interrupted so suddenly.

"Yes, I'm sure it is."  Q locked stares with Farish, as if
challenging him to something.

Naomi stifled a grin, and tried to make her face sincere.  "I
accept your apology.  I'm sure we'll work well together."

Farish looked at her, dropping Q's gaze.  "Yes, of course,
Naomi.  I look forward to it."

Naomi smiled, towing Q with her as she walked away.  As soon
as they were a safe distance removed from Farish, she looked
up at him.  "Thank you for rescuing me."

Q raised an eyebrow.  "You looked like you were enjoying
yourself."

"Enjoying myself?  He wanted me to bring him coffee earlier
when I was in the lab, and practically told me to go home and
play with my coloring books.  And now, because I'm wearing a
dress and some makeup, he's slobbering on me.  How could I
enjoy that?"

"Perversity?"

Naomi glared up at him.  "Right.  I don't think so."  Her face
relaxed.  "I'm glad you showed up, though.  He might have
asked me to dance, and that *would* have been horrible?"

"Why?"

"He *kissed* my hand!" Naomi said, indignant.  "Who knows
what he might try to do on a dance floor, where he's *expected*
to put his hands on me."

Q assessed her mockingly.  "Don't you think you're
overestimating your appeal?"

Naomi matched his stare with one of her own.  "Thank you. 
I'm glad to hear you think I'm so unattractive."

"This is the thanks I get for saving you from that obnoxious
man?"

"Yes."

"Ungrateful little wretch."

"Horrid posturing bully."

"You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you two were
married."  Harry said, arriving at their side as if beamed there,
rocking back on his heels, a look of puzzled amusement on his
face.

"Shut up, Harry," Q and Naomi said in unison to the interloper.

"Nice to feel wanted."

"You're not wanted," Q said snidely.

Harry shrugged.  "I'll leave then.  But first," he turned to
Naomi, "would you like to dance?"

Normally, that would be a no.  But Harry was about the safest
person there was, and someone she didn't have to worry about
as far as him trying to dig juicy bits of gossip out of her. 
"Certainly.  That'd be lovely, Harry."

"I thought you found men putting their hands on you to be
repulsive," Q remarked acerbically.

"That was Farish.  This is Harry."

"And the difference is?"

Harry looked quizzically at Q, a small smile playing around the
corner of his lips.  Was Q jealous?  Of him?  What a
completely ridiculous idea.

"Don't be silly," Naomi said, taking Harry's arm and floating
off, leaving Q standing there.

"If I'm not mistaken," Harry said, greatly amused, as they
waltzed together, her hand placed lightly on his shoulder and his
hand touching her hip, "Q is jealous of me."

Naomi stared up at him, a smile beginning to form.  "No.  I
don't think so."

"What else would you call it?"

Naomi shrugged slightly.  "He's just being difficult.  Sarcastic. 
You know, in a good mood?"

Harry tilted his head.  "I think it was something more than
that."

Naomi laughed.  "I think you want him to be jealous of me,
because I get to dance with you, and he doesn't."

Diverted, Harry preened.  "Oh, of course.  Didn't you know
that's why I asked *you* to dance?  I couldn't very well ask Q
to dance.  I'd cause a scene."

"You never know.  He'd probably say yes.  He likes causing
scenes.  If it would cause a scene, which I doubt."

"He hasn't danced all night.  For Q to make a sole exception for
me, *that* would cause a scene.  He hasn't even danced with
you."

Naomi thought about it, startled.  She hadn't really even
considered the question.  Ordinarily, she avoided dancing like
the plague, taking the floor only when directly asked.  She had
assumed that Q would dance, if he wanted to, with whoever he
wanted.  But the way Harry put it raised a different question in
her mind.  Could Q dance?  Did he even know how?  It wasn't
particularly difficult, at least as long as your standard for
success was that you didn't step on your partner's feet.  She'd
have to find out.

"I suppose I'll have to to dance with him, so that you can then
coerce him out onto the floor to work your wicked way with
him," Naomi said flippantly.

"Would you?" Harry asked wistfully.

"I don't know.  Do you know how to take 'no' for an answer?"

"Hell, yes.  It's when they say 'yes' and mean 'no' that I have a
problem."  Harry was directly referring to his own abortive
encounter with Q, where he had gone to bed with Q under the
assumption that it was something Q wanted, and had found out
much too late that it was nothing of the sort.

Naomi stared blandly back at him.  "You mean you can't read
minds?  Pity."

"If you were a man, I'd..." Harry began, a hint of a threat in
his voice.

"What, Harry?  Hit me?  I'd still be smaller than you even if I
were male."

Harry shook his head.  "Date you."

Naomi stopped dead, almost causing another couple to run into
them.  "Why, Harry, I'm flattered."

Harry exerted a light pressure on her hip, moving them back
into the swirl of dancers.  "You should be.  You are, after all, a
midget.  And a female midget at that."

"Just for that, I'll make especially sure to step on your feet."

"I doubt I'd even notice, you being the lightweight that you
are."

Naomi was about to deliver a stinging retort to that, when Q
stepped up behind Harry and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Q!" Harry said delightedly.  "Cutting in, are you?  I know I'd
love to dance with you."

Q scowled at him, face set in thin, hard lines.  "Go away,
Harry."

Harry turned to Naomi, still not having let go of her.  "You
notice I get that a lot from him.  I'm almost beginning to think
I'm not wanted."

Naomi laughed.  "Almost?"  She looked up at Q.  She didn't
think he wanted to dance with Harry.  And this forbidding
expression, while more or less normal for him, was very out-of-
place considering his earlier elation.  Something was wrong.

Naomi stepped away from Harry, flowing into Q's arms without
a word or a signal, giving him enough time to push her away if
she'd misread him.

Q didn't reject her.  Instead, he copied Harry's former stance,
and danced away with her, leaving Harry standing there,
confused, bemused, but most of all, amused.

Naomi followed Q smoothly, telling him silently with her body
that she was with him, and not going anywhere else.

Q looked down at Naomi, her red hair artfully tangled, falling
down around her face, white neck encircled by the white and
gold collar of the dress, her skin glowing in contrast with the
material.  She'd never looked quite as beautiful as she did
tonight.  He had very good taste.

It never even crossed Q's mind that he might be jealous of
Harry.  He would have ridiculed anyone who suggested such an
idea.  Q had simply abandoned his entertaining circle of
worshippers in order to keep up appearances.  He couldn't not
dance with Naomi, after all.  It would look bad.  That was the
reason he'd given up the adulation and the spotlight.  Besides, if
he gave them too much of himself, he'd become boring.  Better
to spend just a little time with them, tantalize them, rather to be
old news.

They danced very formally together, a proper distance kept
between them, both Q and Naomi very aware, without looking,
of the people around them, waiting to condemn or mock any
hint of intimacy.  But neither one could take their eyes off the
other, and the music playing wasn't the music they were
dancing to.

After the dance, by unspoken consent, they left the party, and
went back to their quarters, Q curiously deflated, and Naomi
extremely tired.  Neither of them spoke to the other.  Naomi
was glad for that.  She didn't feel she had the brainpower at the
moment to trade quips with him.  

She barely had enough energy to get undressed and ready for
bed.  Heavy makeup seemed even more pointless, then.  Why
put it on when it meant you had to clean up first, and then again
afterwards?  It really was nothing more than dirt.

Struggling with that used up the last of her strength, and as soon
as she fell into bed, she went to sleep, unconscious of Q, who
laid there next to her in the dim light of room, watching her as
she slept.

****

The dream shook her and Naomi awoke, startled to find herself
back in Q's bed, back home and safe.  There was no Dilkin
here, no one standing over her with a whip and a hammer, no
one laughing to himself while severing her arm from her body.

She sat up, staring at the dimly lit room.  In truth, it was Q who
needed the lights.  She suspected he was scared of the dark,
although she would never have said anything about it.  If anyone
had ever remarked on it, Naomi would have immediately taken
the blame for it.  But irregardless, at the moment, she was
grateful for the soft light, which illuminated the room
completely, leaving no threatening shadows for an attacker to be
hiding in.

As her heartbeat calmed, Naomi gradually relaxed.  She looked
over at Q, who was curled up in his usual fetal ball, somehow
still managing to take up the largest portion of the bed,
obliviously asleep.  It was a good thing she was a small person,
or she'd be sleeping on the floor.

Naomi's eyes moved over Q's sleeping form.  She didn't know
what kind of dreams he had.  He didn't talk about them, and
since they didn't seem to be nightmares, she didn't broach the
issue.  If he'd woken up shaken, she would have risked his
defenses to help him, but as it was, she didn't have the nerve. 
She was too vulnerable herself right now, and he had set a
distance between them since the Dilkinen incident.  It hurt a
little to see that brilliant facade at all times directed toward her,
but she understood.  In a way, she was doing it herself.  They'd
come too close to dying, too close to each other.  To lose
someone you cared about that much... That they were even
together still was a wonder, and yet, as they put up emotional
barriers around themselves, protecting themselves from hurt,
they clung even more tightly to each other, unwilling to let go. 
They couldn't seem to bring themselves to renew their physical
relationship, but they couldn't stop sleeping together either. 
Each time they pulled back from the other person, something,
some equal and opposite force, drew them back together.

Naomi sighed deeply.  She couldn't go back to sleep.  She
didn't *want* to go back to sleep, with what was waiting for
her, lurking in the back of her mind.  Momentarily, she glanced
at Q, then dismissed the idea.  This was too silly to bother him
with.  He needed his sleep.  She was just being childish, scared
of things that went bump in the night.

She got up quietly, and padded out into the common room,
taking a seat on the couch.  Two overstuffed pillows laid at
either end of the couch.  She curled up against one, tucking her
bare feet under her, holding the other in her arms.  The stars
hung motionless outside, uncaring and unknown, each one
gazing coldly back at her.  She couldn't bear to look at them. 
Her eyes were focussed on a point just outside the window, but
she wasn't seeing it or anything at all.  She was lost in a far
place inside, somewhere impossibly distant.

Q stepped into the room, eyes going to Naomi.  He'd been
woken up by her slipping out of the bed.  She'd left him. 
Something was wrong.

He sat down next to her, and she flinched slightly.  Q was
there.  Damnit.   She'd woken him up with her nightmare, and
now she'd have to explain her childish fears to him.  She didn't
want that, didn't want it at all.  Still, some part of her wanted to
tell him, wanted him to make it all better.  Not that he could. 
Or would.  If she told him what she was scared of, he'd either
mock her fears or send her away.  Of those, she feared the
latter most.  

"I had a bad dream," Naomi admitted quietly.  "I couldn't go
back to sleep."

Q flicked a wrist disdainfully.  "Bad dreams.  Bah.  You don't
know what bad is."

She laughed, a small laugh choked off in the middle.  "It
seemed bad enough to me."

"You simply have no basis for comparison.  Some little fantasy
about shadowy boogeymen is nothing compared to the infinite
variety of degradation available to a former god."

"You have bad dreams, too?" Naomi asked hopefully, desperate
for any hint of comfort.  She ignored all the insults in that
comment for the one thing she needed to hear, which was that
he had similar experiences.

"Nothing important," Q said off-handedly.  He didn't want to
talk about his bad dreams right now, not in the middle of the
night when his mind seemed at its most suggestible and all
terrors magnified.  His dreams lately had mostly been of the
seeking and not finding category, chasing an endless variety of
shadows through ships and starbases.  The shadows assumed a
number of forms, his own image, his enemies running ahead of
him and tormenting him, and always, Naomi, sometimes
fleeing, sometimes being dragged away from him, and if he ever
managed to catch up to those ghostly figures, they turned on
him and tore his mind out bit by bit.  They were not pleasant
dreams.

Q's coldness tore at Naomi.  He didn't want to talk to her,
didn't want to share himself with her.  She hugged the pillow
tighter.  She was so alone.

He leaned over to her, his voice a seductive whisper in her ear. 
"Tell me about your dream."

Reluctantly, she spoke.  "I... I was back on the Dilkinen ship. 
And I... was being tortured again, only this time... they didn't
stop.  Just kept... laughing and..."  She couldn't continue.

Naomi broke off and sat silent, staring into nothing.  It was too
painful to remember, and she couldn't dwell on it, because it
just made it worse.

Q watched her for a long time.  Naomi was still sitting there.  It
was beginning to annoy Q, that she just sat there like that, no
motion or sound.  What was wrong with her?  Why wouldn't
she talk to him?

Irked by her silence, he injected a question.  "How long do you
plan to immerse yourself in self-pity?" 

Betrayed both by his coldness and the cruelty of a question like
that when she was so vulnerable, Naomi said flatly, "As long as
I feel like it."

"How monotonous.  I would have expected better of you."

"I apologize," Naomi said sarcastically, tears coming to her
eyes for no particular reason.  "I'm sorry I disappoint you so
much.  Obviously I need to remove my offensive self from your
presence."  Naomi swallowed deeply, trying to control herself
long enough to get out of the room without breaking down.

"Flee if you're that much of a coward," Q said lightly, as if the
matter were trivial and of no importance to him.  He flicked his
fingers at her, his posture casual.

"I'm... no coward.  S-speak for yourself," Naomi said,
intensely embarrassed at the sob in her voice.

"I believe you're the one trying to run away," Q said smugly.

Keeping close hold of the pillow, Naomi sat down on the floor
in front of the couch, refusing to look at him.  "F-fine.  I'm not
a coward."  Tears rolled shamelessly down her cheeks, but she
knew he couldn't see her and so it was all right.  Why she had
to hide her feelings from Q, she wasn't sure, but she knew it
was very important that he not see her pathetic display.

Q watched the woman sitting on the ground at his feet.  He
could see her shoulders shaking slightly, and her head bowed,
face concealed from him.  

Naomi wasn't well, wasn't quite normal anymore and he knew
it, although he couldn't say exactly what was wrong.  The way
she kept breaking down into tears upset him, though, almost as
much as her determined avoidance of him in private.  Although
he would be the first to say that sex was disgusting, it bothered
him that she didn't seem to want him anymore.  Something was
definitely wrong with her.  He knew that what had happened to
her was his fault.  Not that he would ever have said so, but it
didn't stop it from being true.  She'd been permanently damaged
and he couldn't fix it, didn't have a prayer in heaven of fixing
it.  He knew he had to get rid of her for her own safety, which
would be easy because she was making him angry right now
with her sulking and ignoring him, except that the *reason* she
was doing it was that she was hurt, and he knew it.  Q didn't
know what to do, but he was certain that chasing her off would
be a Bad Thing right now, so there he was, trying to help her
and having not a clue as to how to go about it.  

More than anything, Q wanted everything to return to normal. 
Then he could get rid of Naomi with no guilt whatsoever.  He
had no idea what to do with the present one.  She was nothing
like the Naomi he knew.

She had been tortured because of him.  And if he let her stay
with him, she would be again.  He had no doubt of that.  He'd
lost count of how many assassination attempts had been made. 
And now potential assassins would have one more target, an
even more inviting one, because although killing Q would be
bad, torturing someone he cared for would be worse.

She could even die because of him, and that was entirely
unacceptable.  He'd already had at least one person die for him
and he hadn't liked it at all.  This time, people would probably
call it his fault as well, and blame him for it like they had the
last time with Ohmura.  As if Q had had anything to do with it. 
Worse, he would blame himself for it.  

The only alternative was to drive her away from him, to not
show how much he cared about her.  Security obviously could
not protect her, or even him, adequately.  So he had to make it
seem that she was just the same as every other repulsive
humanoid mortal on the starbase.  

Except that he couldn't.  He couldn't force her away from him
*now*.  Naomi would never leave him on her own; that had
been amply demonstrated.  He would have to make her hate
him, or make her think he hated her.  And Q knew that would
be no minor task.  He'd tried it before and failed.  He would
have to shred her ego into pieces so small that Li couldn't find
them with a tricorder.  Q had no doubts that he could do it. 
He'd had a lot of practice, after all.

But he couldn't do it.  Not to Naomi.  He cared too much about
her to wound her to the degree he would have to do in order to
get her to go.

Q realized that if Naomi left, he would suffer a great deal of
emotional pain, and that above all else kept him from sending
her away on the spot.  He was too much of a coward to do it:
he knew it was for her own good, but he just couldn't make
himself do it.  He was afraid, desperately afraid of what would
happen to himself if he did force Naomi to leave him.  He made
a miserable human, and he knew it.  In only three years of
being human, a mere cough by Q standards, he'd tried to end
his life three times.  He couldn't even hold out that long.  And
he knew that, if Naomi left him, it would only get worse.  As
Guinan had triumphantly predicted, he was surviving on the
charity of others now, on Naomi's charity.  As much as he
hated receiving charity, as much as he wanted to send Naomi
away for her own good, he couldn't.  He'd never be able to let
anyone else inside his defenses, even if anyone else ever wanted
to.  And the one thing he despised Naomi most bitterly for was
bringing him to a full awareness of exactly how much he needed
other people, needed relationships and friendship.  He'd been
able to deny it before, but no longer.  He had to keep her.

Which left him with no idea of what to do in the present
situation.  Naomi needed help, needed someone to take care of
her.  He couldn't take care of someone.  The notion of himself
as a counsellor was entirely laughable.  He'd rather be an
analyst for the Klingons.

Naomi leaned her head against Q's leg, resting against him. 
Despite his cutting words, he was the only source of comfort
she had.  And a small, logical part of her knew that Q's sarcasm
was probably just pro forma, that he most likely didn't mean it
and would be delighted to argue each of his points with her. 
But that wasn't what her bruised emotions were telling her.

Closing her eyes, she imagined for a brief moment that
everything was all right, that she had never found out how
insecure her own position was, how fragile her life, and how
little control over even her own body she had.  Naomi sighed
once, then surrendered herself to that lying vision, wishing
desperately that it could be true.

Q sat there for a long moment before realizing Naomi had fallen
asleep.  With great exasperation, he looked down at her.  Now
what was he supposed to do?  

****

Medellin settled down onto the couch, ready for a morning
session with Q.  It had to be the couch, because whenever she
sat at her desk, Q had the most amazing reactions.  His total
intolerance for authority figures was beyond her understanding,
although she'd documented it as well she could in his file.  

She'd already had an interview with Dr. Allen, who had been as
uncooperative as usual.  Allen deeply concerned Medellin.  The
incident with the Dilkinen constituted a brutal invasion of
Allen's privacy, of mind as well as body.  Although she hadn't
been sexually assaulted, in many ways she had been raped, had
her emotions and body forcibly laid open and ruthlessly
violated.  Medellin *knew* that Allen must have significant
psychic trauma due to this incident.  There was no way she
could not.  Yet Allen wouldn't speak about it.  Not one word. 
Not even about the parts Q was not involved in.  

That concerned Medellin gravely.  To her, not speaking seemed
to evidence a deeper degree of disturbance than would even be
indicated by the circumstances.  Allen needed help desperately,
but she wouldn't ask for it or accept it when it was offered. 
Medellin had a full report of the incident, the barest facts only,
as given by Dr. Allen and Q.  But that wasn't what she wanted
to know.  Medellin wanted to help these two, and the only way
she could do that is if they would talk about how these things
made them feel.  Which Allen would not.  At all.

Medellin hoped Q would be more forthcoming.

He entered with his usual arrogant presumption, taking a seat at
her desk.  Medellin tried to keep her face calm, and pretend that
it didn't bother her, which it did.  Q leaned back in her chair,
putting his feet up on the desk.

That did bother her.  "Q, please come sit over here."

"Where I'm supposed to?  So I can play the good patient? 
Nian, I'm disappointed in you.  I thought you knew me better
than that."

"Q..." Medellin said, her tone carrying the exasperation she
felt.

"Oh, all right.  If you're going to be stodgy about it."  He came
over and seated himself on the couch, on the far end from her,
turned to face her, feet up once again.

Medellin gave up.  She'd won one battle with him, and that was
one more than she normally won.  "Q, I wanted to talk to you
about your experiences with the Dilkinen."

"I don't.  Are we done?"

"No, we are not done.  Q, please, I only want to help you."

"If you want to help someone, help Naomi.  She's broken.  Fix
it."

The counsellor stared at Q with exasperation.  "Q, she's not a
toy.  I can't glue her back together or kiss it and make it all
better."

"Nian, please, just this once, pretend you were trained to be a
counsellor."

Medellin carefully restrained herself from yelling at him, and
tried to maintain some focus.  "Q, I don't understand what you
expect me to do.  Naomi won't talk to me, and I can't help a
client who won't talk about what's bothering them."

"She won't?"

Medellin was relieved that Q was finally seeing reason.  "No. 
Naomi will not talk to me at all about you, or about the incident
with the Dilkinen."

"Well, why not?"  Q understood the promise Naomi had given
him, and had no problems demanding complete and total loyalty
from her, with the intention of castigating her and enjoying it if
he ever caught her in a lapse, but that didn't mean he expected
her to reject help if it were offered.  Naomi was clearly troubled
about *something*, and in Q's lexicon, if you needed help, you
got it.  To do anything else was stupid.  Of course, he himself
didn't need any help over the Dilkidimwit incident, having
weathered far more disturbing things in his life, but Naomi was
only human, after all.

"Why don't you ask her?" Medellin asked.

"Because she's not talking to me either!" Q snapped out in
frustration, then regretted it.  Nian was giving him that *look*
again.

"Q, good communications are essential to any relationship.  If
you and Naomi can't talk to each other, there's little likelihood
of any future for your relationship."

"What relationship?" Q asked defensively.  Medellin was
probing a little too close to things he had no desire to talk
about.

Medellin mentally threw up her hands with disgust.  This was
the kind of evasive, counterproductive behavior she hated to
deal with.  

Instead of getting Q to talk, she chose to talk to him about the
one thing he seemed to care most about.  "I'm very concerned
by Naomi's behavior, and the things that I've heard about. 
Naomi seems to be expressing her feelings in other ways, and
acting out rather than dealing with her anger.  I'd like to talk to
her, but I haven't been able to.  In fact, she told me to mind my
own business when I spoke to her last."

"You don't seem to have taken the advice."

"I *am* a counsellor," Medellin said dryly.  "Occasionally I do
try to counsel."

"Nian!  You're developing a sense of humor.  How
unexpected!"

"Can we get back on topic, Q?  You've asked me for help with
Naomi's behavior.  Surely you can see that talking about it is
the only way I can know what to help with."

"You wouldn't know how to help Naomi even if you had an
instruction book specializing in the subject.  Since you don't,
this is a waste of my time."  Q was irritated at Medellin for
refusing to help him, and then insisting he talk when all he
wanted to know what was what to do about Naomi.  Nian had
as much as admitted that she had no idea, so she was worthless. 
Of course, he had long known that.  What had he been thinking
to ask *her* for help?

Q stood up, all wounded dignity, with one parting shot before
leaving Medellin's office.  "Such an entertaining chat.  Let's not
do it again, shall we?"

****

"You realize that separating yourself from Q would be the
wisest course of action.  Surely this last incident would convince
you of that."

The Naomi on the recording shook her head stubbornly.  "I
won't leave him."

The recorded Commodore Anderson did not look happy.  "This
is your life we're talking about."

"If I told you the only way you could live safely was to give up
Starfleet and never command again, would you take that
option?"

The commodore shook her head.  "Please don't be
melodramatic, Dr. Allen.  This isn't the same."

"It's exactly the same."

The commodore shut off the recording and turned to Counsellor
Medellin.  "What do you think, Nian?  Is Dr. Allen mentally
unstable?"

The counsellor shook her head.  "I honestly don't know.  Her
tests come back skewed from her earlier results, but as a result
of her recent experiences, I can't tell whether it's just a
temporary problem."

"Die for love.  Bah," Anderson said with disgust.  "She's
definitely unhinged."

Medellin shook her head.  "My best guess, Lea, is that Dr.
Allen is perfectly sane.  But until she has an opportunity to
recover from this, I couldn't say for certain."

"And in the meantime, she's placing herself in danger."  The
commodore's eyes lit up.  "Unless we can get her to go off
station."

"A vacation?  That sounds like a perfect idea," Medellin said. 
"I certainly can't do anything with either of them.  A change of
scene could prove to be beneficial.  Now how do you plan to
get Q and Dr. Allen to go without automatically rebelling?"

"You're the counsellor, Nian.  You tell me."

"Oh, no, you're not getting out of this *that* easily, Lea."

Anderson shrugged.  "If they rebel, they rebel.  Either way,
they're leaving the starbase.  You've convinced me that it's
necessary for their emotional health, and frankly, until we can
get better defenses here, I'd rather have Q someplace no one
knows about, someplace safer."

****

Naomi accepted the message, and found herself looking at the
face of one of the people in the universe who she least wanted
to see, especially today.  The conflict with the new doctor at the
physics lab had left her shaken, and she had no wish to speak to
anyone, much less this person.  Dharvi.  

"Naomi!  How good to see you!  How are you doing?"

His face was as known to her as her own, but not well-liked. 
They had been lovers for a while, before he left her.  She didn't
dislike him, had no reason to hate him.  It had been entirely her
own fault that he had left; her lack of attention to him and
absorption in her work had driven him away.  Seeing him
reminded her of all the things about herself that she'd tried to
change, and would prefer to forget.

"I'm fine, Dharvi.  How are the wife and kids?"

His face lit up.  "So you heard about Helen?  They're all fine."

"So why did you call me?" Naomi asked.

Dharvi shrugged.  "A minor matter.  Legal business.  Can't two
old friends get caught up with each other first?"

"I suppose so."  Naomi felt guilty for pushing him to get to the
point, then angry.  He was manipulating her again, just like he
always had, turning the tables on her.  With a faint tinge of
admiration, Naomi admitted he was a master at it, but that
didn't mean she liked being manipulated.

"So what have you been up to?  Seeing anyone?"

"I...  Listen, Dharvi, I really don't want to talk about it..."

He cut her off with a delighted smile.  "So you are!  And it's
serious.  That's wonderful, Naomi."

"Dharvi..." Naomi said warningly, too tired to talk about this
with him.  She didn't feel like discussing her relationship with
anyone, much less him.

"Can't you spare even a moment for an old friend?" Dharvi
smiled winningly.

Naomi knew drastic measures were necessary here.  He could
worm secrets out of Vulcans.  She wouldn't have a chance once
he got started.  

"We just got back from a very stressful experience.  Someone
tried to kill the both of us, and I really don't feel like talking
right now," Naomi let some of the very real distress she felt
show on her face, hoping Dharvi would see it and cut the
conversation short.

He did look a little concerned.  "You know what you need?"

"No, what?"

"A vacation.  Say, why don't you come out and stay with us? 
It's very peaceful here, except for the kids.  It'll be a great
chance to get caught back up."

Naomi felt like she'd been slapped in the face.  What?  Do
what?

"I couldn't, Dharvi.  Even if I wanted to, I... I'm involved with
someone..."

"Then bring him along!  One more person wouldn't be an
imposition."

Naomi faltered.  Why hadn't she just said no?  Dharvi was in
one of his expansive moods, and very difficult to turn down. 
He had an answer to everything.  She was too tired for this. 
But he couldn't possibly want her to inflict Q on him.  How to
explain Q to someone who didn't know him?  

"Q is a very... unique individual.  He can be difficult to deal
with..."

Dharvi cut her off with a wave.  "Naomi, are you forgetting
who you're dealing with?  I make my living dealing with
difficult people.  Besides," he smiled and leaned closer to the
screen, "I have a five year old and a seven year old.  No one's
more difficult than that."

Naomi suspected that he was probably wrong about that, but
there didn't seem to be a way to convince him of the fact.  She
searched for a different excuse.  "Now would not be a good
time, Dharvi.  We're just back from... a very tiring meeting
with some... acquaintances of Q's."

"Then this is the perfect time.  You can get away from your
jobs.  Take a break for once!"

Naomi groaned.  "Won't your wife think of this as an intrusion? 
Dharvi, we *lived* together!"

He smiled.  "Want to talk to Helen?"  

He turned away from the screen before Naomi could stop him. 
"Helen?  Come meet Naomi."

Helen joined Dharvi on the screen, and Naomi found herself
looking back at a somewhat distorted picture of the smiling face
of a maternal woman, probably some years older than her own
self.

"Naomi, this is my wife, Helen."

"I've heard so much about you, Naomi," the woman said
kindly.

Naomi nodded, feeling sick.  "It's nice to meet you."

Dharvi turned to his wife.  "Naomi doesn't want to come to
visit because she thinks it might hurt your feelings."

Helen's face drooped.  "Oh, dear."  She looked at Naomi with
beseeching eyes.  "You really must come.  I would adore
having you over.  Please don't feel any hesitation because of
me."

Naomi couldn't turn either of them down with Helen being so
noble and kind.  She'd appear positively draconic if she did. 
"I... I'll talk to Q about it.  It's a very kind offer."

After a few more pleasantries, Naomi managed to get them to
say goodbye, Dharvi graciously agreed to hold the legal affairs
until she came out to see them personally, another complication
for her to resolve.  She walked over to the couch and with a
deep sigh, collapsed into it.  She'd forgotten how stubbornly
persuasive Dharvi could be when he wanted something, and how
horribly it hard it was to turn him down.  

Well, if worst came to worst, she'd let Q talk to him, and then
there'd be no problem at all, because Dharvi would never speak
to her again.

****

Naomi looked helplessly up at Q.  "We have a choice.  We can
go where Commodore Anderson and Counsellor Medellin want
to send us, which I understand is somewhere very much like
this, only with more people, or we can go visit an old boyfriend
of mine whose happens to be a psychologist."

"Those are choices?"

Naomi shrugged.  "Apparently so."

Q fastened onto the idea of a vacation like a lifeline.  If they left
the starbase, they'd be out of reach of anyone trying to get to
him.  He'd been at Starbase 56 for almost 3 years now;
everyone who could have heard the word undoubtably had.  He
was a sitting duck.  Somewhere else might be safer, at least for
a while.  And he could keep Naomi.  He didn't even want to
think about losing her, didn't want to consider what would
happen to his life without her.  It had been hell before, and it
would only be worse, knowing that life could be better, even
bearable, and *knowing* that he could never have that kind of
comfort again.

A vacation wouldn't help his attitude, and he found Medellin's
idea of it being therapeutic laughable.  But it would let him keep
Naomi a little longer, and for that alone, he'd do it.

"I suppose a vacation wouldn't be entirely unbearable."

Naomi's face lit up.  "Good.  I want to get out of here. 
Medellin is driving me crazy, popping up in odd places and
asking me if I need to talk.  And everyone wants to know all the
gruesome details.  Some peace and quiet sounds heavenly."  

Naomi didn't mention her interview with Anderson.  That had
been rather frightening.  The commodore didn't understand
emotional motives, or rather, ignored them as irrelevant, and
Naomi had no other reasons to offer for her actions.  She wasn't
even completely sure of herself.  And despite everything,
Anderson had the power to get rid of her.  

Naomi bounced to her feet.  "How soon do you think we can
leave?"

****

Naomi and Q were off of the starbase within a day, which was
surprising to Naomi, never having seen travel arrangements fall
together that quickly.  She suspected that they might be having
another celebration, now that she and Q were gone.  

Anderson had insisted that Security accompany them.  Q had
argued the number of guards down to two, stating quite rightly
that the more people with him, the greater the likelihood that
someone would wonder what it was worth guarding.  Actually,
he'd used the phrase, "trained goons", but it meant the same
thing.  

As it was, Naomi and Q were simply two more anonymous
travelers, on their way to places unknown.

Too anonymous.  At their second transfer spot, a space station,
they were held up in an incoming customs check.  The security
team went through separately, as individual travelers, one before
and one after.  A small blessing.

While Q chafed at the insult to his dignity, Naomi kept track of
the time, each passing minute irritating her further.  They'd had
plenty of time to make the connection, but it was dwindling
slowly away.  And at this rate, they would miss it, especially if
they had to go through this whole ordeal to leave the station as
well.  

When they were finally brought before the incoming processing
official, both Naomi and Q were immensely irritated.

"So, you're human, but you're not human?" the official said, a
large man, although not nearly as large as Q.

"You undoubtably have some experience of that phenomena," Q
retorted snidely.

The official looked at Q and smiled unpleasantly.  "Not the only
irregularity here.  Listed as a non-Federation alien, but the
correct paperwork for processing of an alien is missing.  And
this states there's a GIAC out.  But I don't see that anywhere
either."

"I can't believe this.  You can't treat me like this.  You can't
possibly be thinking of holding up *my* vacation for some
trivial piece of paperwork."

The official smiled thinly.  "I can.  And I will."

Q was outraged.  "You moribund, overstuffed, pompous ass."

The man slapped his padd down, and stood up.  "That does it. 
You can go back to where you came from, or I can call Security
to take you there.  Which will it be?"

Naomi stepped into the fray, smiling slightly, eyes cold and
hard.  "Do I understand that you are offering insult to a
respected guest of the Federation?"

"Respected guest?"

Naomi nodded, not losing one iota of her composure. 
"Commodore Anderson will be happy to vouch for him
personally."

"I've never heard of the commodore," the official said weakly.

"I'm sure she'll be delighted to hear all about you after she has
to bail us out of the local jail.  All about you."

The man swallowed, holding his ground.  "Everyone has to
follow the rules.  It's the policy."

"Policies aren't laws.  They're simply directives, implemented
and interpreted by people such as yourself."  Naomi looked over
her shoulder at the security guard still in the queue, who was a
distance back, and in plainclothes, but very obviously paying
close attention to his charges.  He was in fact, laughing, but that
was another issue.  "I'm sure our Security complement will be
happy to verify our story."

Naomi smiled toothily at the official, who had followed her
pointed gaze.  "Now, would you care to reconsider your
interpretation of this issue?"

"My dear lady, I don't like being threatened..."

"Threatened?  I don't believe *I've* made any threats. 
However, you have repeatedly insulted the dignity and honor of
both myself and my companion.  I believe Starfleet still has
some policies regarding courteous treatment of alien races as
well as civilians?"  Naomi's tone made it a question, but her
eyes still held a coldness at odds with the softness of her voice.

"Yes, yes.  I..." the official stammered.  "It really is only a
policy, and..."

"We have satisfied all the legal requirements, have we not?"
Naomi asked.

"Yes."

"Then we'll be on our way."  

As soon as they were out of sight, Naomi half skipped to catch
up with Q.

"The nerve of that man!" Q said indignantly.  "I'd turn him into
a Denebian slime worm and then feed him to Klingons for
lunch.  If I could."

"That would be a reasonable idea," Naomi said absently.  She
wasn't really listening to him.  Somewhere in the back of her
mind, an idea was forming.  Q hadn't gotten any respect from
that official.  But the truth was, she'd seen far worse behavior
on the part of various dignitaries visiting the starbase, not that Q
had started this one.  Usually, some member of their entourage
was available to do the real communicating, but some of the
self-important notables were real pigs, convinced that they were
the most important thing in the entire universe.  Of course, Q
didn't look like...

The idea coalesced in a sudden rush.  Naomi grabbed onto Q's
arm, and steered him into the first clothing store on the
concourse.

"What are you doing?" Q asked in surprised tones.

"Just wait."

Over a hour later, Q and Naomi emerged from the shop.  The
time had cut into their margin for making their transport to the
planet's surface, but in Naomi's opinion, it was time well spent. 
They'd only have the one opportunity to use it now on the trip
in, but if it worked, which she was sure it would, it would save
them trouble on the trip back.

Q rearranged his sleeves to his satisfaction.  "I wanted a red
hat."

"They didn't have red," Naomi said in long suffering tones.  Q
had argued and fussed over every single detail of his costume ad
nauseam.  Every button, every fribble, every shade of color had
to be absolutely perfect.  She had to admit that he had exquisite
taste.  He looked even better than she had imagined he could
look.  He had taken advantage of his own formidable height,
and capitalized on it.  

He was wearing a full length long sleeved plain tunic, which
came down to his boot tops.  Naomi envied him it, because the
forest green garment covered everything she was trying to hide. 
Over that, he had a heavy silk robe in a gorgeous shade of deep
red hanging loosely on him, the robe patterned with a single
gold worked stripe along the inside edge.  He was also wearing
a cloak, but unlike hers, which fastened like a collar at the
hollow over her throat, his had a gold fastening like a badge of
rank.  From his headpiece, there hung suspended a fine gold
mesh, lending him an exotic air.  All he needed was a gold
earring to complete the picture, but Naomi doubted Q would
ever agree to having a hole punched in himself, even for the
sake of fashion.

He looked every inch the imposing foreign potentate that she
had wanted him to present, and more.

Unfortunately, he had also managed to talk her into a costume
change as well, arguing with exquisite logic that if he were to
look the part of a foreign dignitary, and she his aide, that she
needed to look impressive enough to be that aide.  She was not
nearly as happy about what she was wearing.  It was tight and it
itched.

"But I wanted a red hat."

"I told you, they didn't have a red hat, and we couldn't wait for
them to get a red hat."  They had in fact, gone through
numerous changes in color and style to every item of clothing Q
was wearing, until the shopkeeper had come very close to
throwing them out.

"I don't know why not.  I want red."

Naomi inhaled deeply, then said, "Q, a red hat wouldn't do
anything for you.  That hat works much better with the outfit as
a whole, and matches your complexion."

Q stopped to preen and admire himself.  "You really think so?"

"Yes, I do."  Relieved at having successfully diverted him from
that topic, Naomi tried to surreptitiously tug the top of her tunic
up while simultaneously getting the hem down.  She hated it.  

She looked like a sybarite's dream of a page from medieval
Earth.  Naomi glanced thoughtfully at Q.  He protested loudly
his disgust of physical, sexual matters, but whenever tested, as
now, he always chose the most hedonistic, seductive response. 
His overreactions to pleasure as well as pain, the way he liked
to play up his good looks and use his height to advantage, not
only to intimidate, but also to drop a shivery whisper in
someone's ear.  On some level, Q had to be a sensual man. 
How else could you explain his choice for her attire?

The tunic clung tightly to her chest, its revealing snugness
embarrassing her almost as much as the cleavage it left
uncovered.  And if that weren't enough, she was wearing
skintight deep red hose, which decently covered her legs, as
long as you didn't count the fact that her tunic didn't quite reach
far enough to keep her as completely covered behind as she'd
like.  The cloak she was wearing over everything did, as long as
it wasn't swirling around in front of her and tangling with her
legs.

Naomi scowled up at Q.  This was all an insidious plot.  What
he was plotting, she had no idea, and since it had all been her
idea to start with, he had obviously schemed with great subtlety
to bring it about.  

Their security guards bounded to attention as soon as they got
out of the shop, and Naomi shook her head.  What if they'd
been murdered while in the store?  These two were treating this
like some sort of vacation.  She'd have a talk with Commander
Azoth when she got back to the starbase.  He seemed like a
reasonable sort of man.

Of course, the sight of them trying to pass as nonchalant tourists
was pretty funny.  Neither one was pulling it off particularly
well.  Tourists generally had some luggage, a bag or something. 
They were carrying nothing, except their poorly concealed
weapons.  And their outfits...  Naomi looked down at her own
clothing and sighed.  Maybe it wasn't so bad after all.  She
could be dressed like the Security team.

Q swept through the space station with a great air of dignity,
Naomi scurrying in his wake.  As they passed, people looked up
at Q with a certain amount of awe and respect in their eyes and
Naomi smiled.  In a way, this was its own security precaution. 
Everyone was looking at the clothes, not the man.

As they passed by a dimly lighted corridor between two shops, a
man stepped out, holding a weapon.

"Gimme all your money."

Well, maybe the outfit had its disadvantages.  Apparently, they
now looked like the kind of people who would be carrying
valuables on their persons.

Even as Q was fumbling for an appropriate response, Naomi
was looking for their security team.  Where were they?  She
didn't see them.

Q handed the man the little they were carrying.  In this day and
age, that wasn't much.  But you'd need to abduct them to break
into their actual accounts.

The thief grabbed the money and then menaced them.  "You
didn't see nothing.  Or I slit your throats."

Behind him, a security guard was quietly approaching, about to
grab him.

Naomi shot a warning glance at Q, who seemed ready to say
something appropriate.

"We didn't see anything," Naomi said obediently.

"Good.  You remember that."

Then the security guard leapt on him, wrestling the thief to the
ground.

Naomi looked up at Q.  "I think we'll have time for a latte now,
and even a red hat if you want.  The bureaucratic nonsense over
this is definitely going to make us miss our shuttle."

"Why would I want a red hat?  Red would be completely wrong
for me.  This hat is perfect."  He looked over at the security
officer disdainfully.  "Why couldn't you have just let him get
away with it?  We would've caught our flight."

"Sir?" the woman asked, confused.

"Never mind," Naomi said, taking hold of Q's arm and steering
him away.  "We're going to get a latte," Naomi called over her
shoulder.  

She got them into a cafe, took Q's order and went off to harass
the waiter.  With the adrenaline thrumming through her body at
the moment, she didn't feel like waiting for anything.  She
probably shouldn't get a latte, then, despite what she'd said. 
Perhaps caffeine would be a bad thing.  Maybe a hot chocolate
instead.  Or some steamed milk.

Naomi got their order, and returned to the table.  She set Q's
drink in front of him.  "I know I shouldn't be encouraging you
in this."

"Encouraging me in what?"

"Other people do not order quintuple lattes."

He quirked an eyebrow.  "The replicator never has a problem
with it."

"Well, that was a real living waiter there, and I had to explain it
to him a couple of times before he got it."

Q shrugged.  "The stupidity of humanity is incapable of being
underestimated."

"You have a point."  She stirred her cocoa.  "But I meant I
shouldn't encourage you in rampant caffeine addiction, not in
waiter-baiting."

"So waiter-baiting is allowed?"

Naomi shrugged.  "Why not?"

Q looked at her for a moment.  "You're not going to try to
change my interpersonal habits?"

"Did you want me to?"

"If you tried, I could at least insult you for it."

"If you insist," Naomi said.  "But I think you're changing the
subject."

"Would I change the subject to something like that?"

"Only if you really wanted to get out of talking about the
amount of drugs you consume in order to get you through the
day instead of just living, and were refusing to discuss your
addictions to artificial substances because you didn't want to
admit that someone like yourself, almighty Q, could ever be
dependent on anything to make his life bearable."  Naomi
sipped her cocoa.  "But of course, that couldn't be it."

"Why not?"

"Because why would you ever want to discuss how your way of
challenging and insulting everyone you meet causes them to hate
you and want to kill you?  Or how you could probably make
more friends by not assuming that everyone is a waste of your
time or out to get you?"  

Naomi smiled innocently at him.  "Of the two, I think you'd
rather discuss the caffeine."

Q was not happy with her.  He would rather not discuss either
topic.  If he could have walked away with some dignity, he
would have.  The next best thing was to pretend it didn't matter. 


He pushed his drink back at her.  "Why don't you make this a
double?"

Naomi stuck her tongue out at him, but took the cup.  "Ten
shots of espresso?  If you keel over from a heart attack, it's not
my fault."

She actually had to get two quintuples and mix them together,
the idea of ten shots of espresso apparently overloading the
waiter's brain circuits.  But Q drank it just fine, with no signs
of jitter or nervousness.  Of course, she had gotten him
decaffeinated coffee, but she was hardly going to tell Q that.

****

"Not again," Naomi groaned, as she looked at the line.  "I
really hate this."

For some reason, there was an outgoing customs check as an
incoming.  Naomi didn't fully understand the reason for that. 
What were they checking for?  If they hadn't had whatever it
was coming in, and if they were who they said they were, then
certainly that wouldn't change on the way out, now would it?

Maybe there was a case of some seriously contagious disease
going around.  Or weapons smugglers.  

Naomi settled herself, preparing for a long wait.  Next to her, Q
folded his arms.  Now that he was in front of an audience now
and appropriately dressed, he had to face his fate, however
ignominious, with dignity.

A small man, with an official cut to his clothes, stepped out and
looked at the people waiting, about to call the next one forward. 
However, his gaze was caught by the splendiferously attired Q
and his provocative companion.

The official stopped, his manner changing from self-important to
groveling, then made his down the line to Q, clearly in awe of
their assumed rank.

"I apologize for keeping you waiting, sir, lady," the official
said.  "You must understand, with so much traffic through here
of late, that there have been delays..."

Naomi looked at Q, amusement in her eyes, but not showing in
her face.  She turned to the official, assuming the role of lackey
to the great lord.  "Your attitude is a great improvement over
your counterpart.  He... wasn't as congenial.  I'm afraid we did
have to mention his behavior to someone.  I'm happy to find
that isn't so here."

"No, of course not."

"I'm Dr. Allen, and this is Q.  Our bodyguards are also
traveling with us."  The official said nothing, and Naomi looked
at him.  "I assume you *will* be more prompt, will you not?"

"Of course..." the official stammered.  "My lady, Dr. Allen...
Q... I'm sure there will be no problem with your processing. 
I'll see to it myself.  It's only paperwork.  Please, just go on
ahead, and if there are any questions, I will personally come to
speak with you."

"Thank you."  She nodded formally to the official, then half-
bowed to Q, indicating that he should precede her.  

Grandly, he swept off ahead of her.  As soon as they were out
of sight and hearing of the official, he broke his pose to look
down at her with some wonder.

"That was astounding.  And you knew that he'd behave like
that?"

"I've seen ambassadors and visiting science experts try to pass
themselves off as VIPs.  They usually get away with it, even
when they're nothing of the sort."  Naomi smiled gleefully. 
"This will be a whole lot more fun."

"You have quite a sense of humor.  For a human."

"I know.  My mother always said it would be the death of me."

****

Finally, after a great deal of travel, travail and changes in plans,
they arrived at Dharvi's house, an old farmhouse out in the
country.  The house was in marvelous shape, but a perfectly
restored antique, nonetheless, with anachronisms like doorknobs
and bathtubs.  Only Dharvi was available to greet them, but he
seemed very happy to see them.  He brought them immediately
into the kitchen, to get them something to drink.

"Helen's going to be home very shortly," Dharvi said,
rummaging through a cupboard, while Q and Naomi looked on. 
Naomi, for one, was fascinated by the detail to which Dharvi
had gone in recreating a lost time period.  "And the children are
around somewhere.  They were right outside the last I looked."

Two small children, a boy and a girl, barreled into the room,
stopping dead at the sight of two strangers.

Naomi was instantly enchanted by them.  The boy was the
living image of Dharvi, with his stubborn chin and distrustful
brown eyes.  Dharvi wore his face differently, but the boy
looked just like him.  And the little girl... Naomi knelt down
next to her to get a better look.  She was a red-haired moppet,
and reminded Naomi of something out of a picture from her
own childhood.  Except her own mother would never have
allowed her to get dirty.  This girl had a smudge on her
forehead, and her bare feet were obviously grass stained.

"These are our children, Benjy and Ginny.  Benjy's seven and
Ginny's five."

"How do you do, Benjy and Ginny?" Naomi asked.

The two children stared back at her, neither one moving. 
Finally, Benjy spoke.  "You're not our mama!"

Naomi looked back at them.  "Of course I'm not."

The boy walked up to her, and Naomi smiled, holding out her
hand.

He punched her, and then ran away.  

Ginny looked at Naomi, her eyes huge, "Not mama!  Bad!  Go
away!"

Naomi stood up, puzzled, while Dharvi bent over his son, trying
to explain.  "Naomi is a guest, Benjy.  She's going to stay with
us for a while.  You know you aren't supposed to hit people."

"She's not our mama," Benjy said defiantly.

"Why don't we discuss this outside, young man?"  Dharvi
ushered Benjy out the door.  "We'll be right back."

Q glanced over at Naomi, a quirk to his eyebrows.  "Another
swain fallen victim to your charms."

"I didn't do anything, honest," Naomi protested.  

At the sound of her voice, the little girl backed away, hiding
behind the first barrier she reached -- Q's legs.  Ginny grabbed
hold of his trousers, then looked around this huge obstacle at the
thing which terrified her most, the evil mommy-stealing
monster.

Q felt Ginny attach herself to him, and looked down at her with
horror.  "What are you doing?  Go away."  He shook his leg. 
"Shoo!  Shoo!"

The little girl thought it was a great game, and wrapped her
arms around his leg, giggling.

Naomi smiled.  "Looks like you're just as popular with the
ladies as always, Q."

Q looked over at Naomi with pleading eyes.  "Get it off of me."

Dharvi came back in with a chastened Benjy, whose eyes lit up
as soon as he saw his sister.  He raced across the room and
attached himself to Q's other leg.  "Ride!  C'mon, let's go! 
Ride!"

Q looked at Dharvi and Naomi with dismay.  "Get these two
rodents off of me!"

Naomi bit the inside of her mouth to keep from laughing.  It
was too funny.  The arrogant Q, undone by two children.  She
approached the children, with the intention of dislodging them,
but as soon as she knelt down next to them, Ginny started
wailing horridly, tears coming out of her eyes, and clinging
even more tightly to Q's leg.

Dharvi was no help.  He simply stood next to the door and
laughed.

On that scene, Helen entered.  She took one look at what was
going on.  "Benjamin and Virgina!"

Ginny stopped wailing, and both children ran across the kitchen
to their mother.  "Mama, bad lady!" Ginny said, tugging on her
mother's skirt.

Naomi straightened up, turned around and looked straight at her
older sister.  But she didn't have an older sister, didn't have any
female siblings for that matter.  But there was no question about
it.  The woman standing across the kitchen from her was her
Doppelgaenger, her twin.  Helen had not looked that much like
her on the screen; in person, she was a near duplicate, in size as
well as features.  Naomi felt the room go vague.  There was a
roaring in her ears, and a great grey mist before her eyes.

Q looked between Helen and Naomi.  Helen, Dharvi's wife,
was the living image of Naomi.  Outraged, he looked back at
Naomi for reassurance, and realized that she had gone
completely white.  Naomi staggered a step, and Q reached out,
grabbing her by the shoulders, bracing her against his body. 
She would have hit him when she fell anyway, if she were about
to faint.

Helen looked at Naomi with concern.  "Are you all right,
dear?"

Naomi couldn't concentrate.  The sound and the grey whirling
increased, overwhelming her, and she lost consciousness, going
limp in Q's arms.

Ginny and Benjy looked up at their mother with great
admiration.  "You killed the bad lady!"

Q glared at the children.  "You had better hope not, you evil
minded little brats."

Dharvi chuckled.  "Exactly my opinion.  Unfortunately, they're
my children, and I have to keep them."

Q looked over at them.  "Why aren't you calling a doctor? 
She's lost consciousness.  There could be something wrong."

"She's just fainted.  She'll be all right, Q," Dharvi said, with a
slight edge to his voice.

Helen shot a look at her husband, then stepped over to Naomi,
who was very definitely passed out.  "Perhaps we should just
get her to your room, and let her wake up on her own.  Can
you carry her?"

"No."  Q did not feel cooperative at the moment.  Even if he
had been able to carry her, he would have said no.

Helen looked at Naomi's small form, then up at Q.  "You can't
carry her?"

"Do I look like a weightlifter to you?"

Helen looked at Dharvi.  "Well, don't just stand there."

Dharvi took his hands out of his pockets, and Q stared
suspiciously at him.  This man was Naomi's former lover.  Was
weaseling out of some physical exertion and possible injury to
his back worth letting Dharvi put his hands all over Naomi?

Apparently not.  

Making an enormous effort, and feeling sure no one would
appreciate the sacrifice he was making, considering the state of
his back, Q picked Naomi up, amazed at how light she really
was.  Why, there was almost nothing to her.  Considering the
variety and amount of food she ate, he found that extremely
surprising.

Helen led the way up the stairs to the room she'd prepared for
Q and Naomi.  

Q deposited Naomi on the bed without any delay, and then sat
next to her, back screaming.  He really hoped that had been
worth it.  Because he was going to pay and pay and pay for it.

Helen smiled at them.  "Dinner will be in a couple of hours. 
I'm sure you're exhausted from your trip.  Why don't we leave
you two alone for a while?"

Without waiting for a reply, Helen left, closing the door behind
her.

With an enormous groan of agony, since there was no one there
conscious to hear him, Q collapsed on the bed next to Naomi. 
How dare she faint when he needed her?  He conveniently
ignored the fact that he hadn't needed her until after she fainted. 
If she hadn't fainted, then he wouldn't have injured his back.  It
was her fault, and he intended she know that.

Q laid there for an endless time, his back in torment.  Why had
he chosen an imperfect form like this?  Surely there must have
been something better.  

Naomi stirred beside him, and Q looked at her, truly concerned
about her, despite his pain.  

Naomi struggled up out of a pretty decent dream about flying. 
There was something she needed to remember, something
important.  She was asleep.  She needed to wake up.

She opened her eyes, and saw Q leaning over her, his
expression drawn.  But she didn't recognize the room behind
him.

"Where am I?  What happened?"

"You fainted," Q informed her.  "You're upstairs in the house
of that dark fellow with the annoying children."

"I am?  How did I get here?"

Q hesitated for a brief moment.  He wanted her to appreciate
the enormous sacrifice he had made for her sake, but at the
same time, he didn't want her to know that he had done it for
her.  "I carried you."

Naomi squeezed her eyes shut, hoping that would help.  She
couldn't have heard that right.  "You did what?"

"You really should cut back on those chocolate truffles you're
so fond of," Q said in a stern fashion.  "You're much too
heavy."

"Uh huh."  Naomi sat up, curling her legs under her tailor
fashion.  That didn't seem to do anything bad to her head. 
Maybe she was going to be all right.  From that vantage point,
she could see how stiffly Q was holding himself, and the wince
in his eyebrows.  He *had* carried her up the stairs.  Why, she
had no idea.

"Lie down," Naomi said firmly.  "You are an enormous fool,
do you know that?"

"I resent that," he said.  

She pulled at him, and his strained muscles tensed under her
hands, fine shivers running through them.  

"You're an idiot," Naomi informed him, as he gave way and
laid down on the bed on his stomach.  She tugged his shirt up,
to get better access to his back.  "You know better than to pull a
stunt like that."

Her hands started in on his back, firm pressure going to the
places he needed it most, and Q sighed.  What had she been
saying?  Something about him being idiotic?  "It was
unavoidable."

"Nothing's unavoidable.  You were just trying to get a back rub
out of me."

"Would I confess to such base, physical desires as a motive?" 
Q said, gasping with relief as her talented hands found a
particularly tense spot and worked the tension into submission.

"Probably not.  Which makes you even more foolish."

Her hands dug into the muscles of his lower back along his
spine, and Q gave himself up to her ministrations.  Sometimes
there were compensations for being human, things that almost
made it worth, if not what he had lost, at least worth putting up
with having to deal with all the other inconveniences of
mortality.

"Foolish?  I'm not the one who fainted."  Q moaned.  "That
feels... good."

He sounded a little surprised.  Naomi redoubled her efforts,
feeling guilty for having put him in a situation like that.  He
knew better, but apparently had been overcome by whatever
social dilemma her fainting had left him with.

"Well, if you *had* fainted, I certainly wouldn't have tried to
carry *you* up the stairs," Naomi said, her hands warm on his
back.  For a moment, their banter was back to what it had been.

****

Q rolled over, feeling nicely relaxed, and ready for battle.

Naomi knelt next to him.  She clenched and unclenched her
hands, trying to stretch out some of the stiffness and the ache
deep in her palms.  She could rub at it, but that would just
make the ache worse in the other hand, which would be
counterproductive.

In a way, massage was good, because it helped toughen her
hands for rock climbing, which put extreme demands on the
hands, especially the fingers.  Either way, between those two
activities and the constant keyboard input required of her
professionally, she was undoubtably going to have to seek
medical attention for her hands and wrists in the next few years.

With a rush, her tiredness and exhaustion came back to her. 
She'd been distracted by Q's predicament, and now that he was
all right, everything hit her at once.  Dharvi's wife, Helen; her
own estrangement from Q -- this was the most physical contact
they'd had since the Dilkinen incident; the long trip here; even
the way the two children had immediately identified her as an
enemy and a very bad lady.  She just didn't feel capable of
coping, and without something to do, the enormity of her
situation overwhelmed her.

"That woman is a near duplicate of you!" Q said with outraged
tones.

"I know, I know," Naomi said, rubbing her temples tiredly.  It
had been a long trip, and fainting in Dharvi's kitchen hadn't
made her feel any better.  The whole situation with Helen's
resemblance to her was worse, because Helen was so nice that
Naomi found it impossible to hate her.  Envy her, more like. 
Naomi wished she could have the settled life, a lovely home,
children, all that, but knew she was fundamentally unsuited for
it.  

"I mean, doesn't the man have any originality in him at all? 
Can't he see what he's doing here?"

"Maybe it was an accident," Naomi suggested, wanting to shut
him up.  The noise was aggravating her headache.

"An accident?!  I don't think so."

"What are you suggesting then?  That he went right out and
looked for another me?  Went down a line and said, 'No, not
that one,' 'No', 'No', 'Close, hair needs to be redder', 'No',
'Yes, that one looks exactly like Naomi, wrap her up'?"
Naomi's tone was sharp.  "Get a life, Q.  He just happened to
fall in love with someone who just happens to look enough like
me to be my older sister.  So what?"

Actually, Naomi happened to agree with Q on this point, but she
was trying very hard to be mature about the whole thing. 
Naomi had not missed Dharvi's statement of the children's ages. 
Benjy was seven.  She and Dharvi had separated not quite eight
years before.  He had apparently gone immediately out and
found a replacement for her.  She had apparently made a big
hole in his heart.  So big he grieved, what, a week?

Q sat down on the bed next to her, one long leg crossed over
the other.  "Don't you find it amusing that a *counsellor* could
be so unaware of his own motivations?"

"Yes, well, generally psychiatrists are on the look-out for people
who want to marry their fathers, not people who want to marry
their ex-lovers."  

Naomi realized then that Q was never going to let the subject
drop.  Sparring with him was not going to help matters any, and
certainly wasn't going to help her headache.  Crossing the
bright, sunny room to the bathroom, she wetted a cloth with
cool water, then went to the large, antique bed.

Q was sprawled across it, hogging it all, like usual.

This time, she was having none of it.  Naomi pushed at him,
"Shoo.  Go sit someplace else."

Q moved aside reluctantly, and Naomi laid down in his place,
resting her head on a real feather pillow, and placing the cold
compress on her forehead, draping it over her eyes.

Q looked at her, puzzled.  "What's gotten into you?"

Naomi started to answer, and then groaned.  "Bad pun day, too. 
I must have done something truly horrible in a past life to
deserve this."

"To deserve what?"

Naomi pulled the cloth over her forehead, sat up, and looked at
him.  "You can't be serious.  Look, I was kidnapped by space
aliens, nearly tortured to death, and then, *then*, I'm dropped
off at the picture-perfect house of my ex-lover who just happens
to have *happily* married a woman who just happens to look
exactly like me."  Naomi paused for breath.  "What *hasn't*
happened to me?"

She fell back on the pillows, putting the compress back on her
forehead.  She hoped Q would simply go away.  She did not
need this right now.  Right now what she needed was something
cool to drink and a nap.  Not necessarily in that order.

"You haven't won an argument with me yet."

Naomi didn't open her eyes.  If she hadn't ever won an
argument with him, which she doubted, she knew the reason
why.  However, Q was classing winning arguments with him as
the same as natural disasters.  Of course, that was pretty close
to the truth.  Irritably, Naomi said, "That's because you never
count the ones I win."

"How can I count them if you've never won any?  You haven't
won this one either, because you've admitted my point."

"All right, fine, she looks exactly like me and I'm really angry
about it.  What do you want me to do?  She's a very nice
person, and she and Dharvi seem very happy together.  What
were you suggesting I do about it?  Leave you and try to win
him back?"

Q shrugged.  "Or other methods."

There was a glint in his eyes that Naomi mistrusted.  "Very
juvenile, Q."

"Would you rather I denied all my natural feelings?"  Q looked
at her, his expression making very clear that he meant 'like
you', and like the behavior she'd been exhibiting since they'd
been rescued from the Dilkinen.

"You *have* natural feelings?" Naomi asked nastily, feeling
very much as though Q had thrown the switch to bitch mode.

Q put two fingers under her chin, tipping it up to him.  "Don't
play hardball with me, Naomi.  You won't win."

Naomi's eyes flashed, and her fingers itched to throw anything
at all at him.  

"Or go ahead," Q said in the same tone of voice.  "It might be
amusing.  For a while."

Her headache returned with renewed force.  She wasn't up to a
conflict with Q right now.  She knew how cruel and sadistically
vicious he could be when he wanted, and right now, she was
afraid she'd take him seriously and get her feelings mauled.  "I
give in.  You win.  You're right about... whatever it was we
were arguing about."  

Q let go of her chin, and sprawled across the bed next to her,
legs crossed neatly at the ankles, a half-smile playing across his
face.  "Now that I think about it, Helen doesn't remind me so
much of you as Amy Frasier."

For a brief moment, Naomi had been enjoying having him lying
there.  She was anticipating some outrageous comment, some
demand on her complaisance.  But her calm was shattered by
that name.  Amy Frasier?  He was comparing her to that little
plastic, painted mantrap?  They were both short redheads, and
that was about all they had in common.  Not that that stopped
other shortsighted people from occasionally grouping them
together, but Naomi would have thought Q of all people would
know better. 

"You're comparing me to *Amy Frasier*?" Naomi said in a
tone of outrage.

"No, not you.  *Helen*."  

"You just said Helen looked like me.  Then you said she looked
like Amy Frasier.  I think that's the same as saying I look like
Amy."  How could he?  That was a low insult even for him. 
And she had given in to him already, told him he had won, that
he was right.  This what she considered wasn't playing fair at
all.

"No.  Naomi, you misunderstand..."

She cut him off.  "I understand just fine.  You want to get back
at me for insulting you, and so you're choosing this way of
doing it."  Tears came to her eyes involuntarily, and her words
came out choked.  "I can't take any more of this, Q.  Just...
just go."

Q was horrified.  Naomi was... crying?  He propped himself up
on his elbow and looked at her.  She was definitely crying.

Naomi saw Q look at her, and felt weak and embarrassed for
crying.  There was no reason for her to be crying.  Being
compared to Amy Frasier was bad and even insulting, but it
wasn't a cause for tears.  She didn't know what her problem
was.  Naomi tried to hide her face from Q, but the look in his
eyes held her pinned to the spot.

"You're nothing like Amy Frasier.  Why, that woman is a
floozy!  A jade!"

"And I resemble her.  Thanks for the enormous compliment." 
Naomi tried for a nonchalant insolence, but ended up just
sounding pathetic.

"Believe me, I know you are nothing like Amy Frasier."

"How do you know that?"  Q didn't answer, and Naomi sat up,
her headache forgotten as she looked down him, lounging on the
bed.  "*How* do you know that?"

"It's not important.  I don't want to talk about it."

Naomi's eyes started to light up.  So there was something.  But
what?  What could possibly embarrass Q so much that wouldn't
tell bad stories on the person and say he didn't want to talk
about it?  Naomi weighed what she knew of Amy Frasier, added
that together with Q's known dislikes and came up with a very
interesting answer.

"So you slept with her?" Naomi guessed.  It didn't seem quite
right as an answer.  She was fairly sure Q hadn't had any sexual
encounters prior to the time she'd climbed into his bed, but
given what she knew of Amy Frasier, it was the only answer
that made any sense.

"She seduced me, I swear!  I had nothing to do with it."

"Of course you didn't.  Why would you want to have anything
to do with something as repulsive as sex?"

"Exactly.  I had no idea she had sordid, carnal motives when
she invited herself back to my room."

"Did she get you drunk, take off all your clothes and have her
wicked way with you?"

Q looked suspiciously at Naomi.  "Did Amy tell you about
this?"

Naomi choked, bending over to hide the laughter on her face,
while simultaneously trying to breathe.  "No."  After a second,
she remembered how the breathing thing worked.  "Actually, I
was just guessing."

Q nodded, and continued.  "I wasn't drunk.  She offered me a
backrub."

Naomi had to stifle another laugh, which sent her into a spasm
of coughing.  This story had better not get any funnier or she'd
have to seek medical attention.  A backrub?  No wonder he
thought everyone was out to get him!  They were!  She
motioned to Q to continue.

"I let her.  I didn't know then that it was the human prelude to
sexual intercourse."

Naomi managed not to react to that one, simply nodding with
what she hoped was understanding.  "So why didn't you go
through with it?"

"How do you know I didn't?"

"Feminine intuition."

Q raised an eyebrow.  "You asked someone."

"I did not!  I just... it's obvious.  From your behavior and..."
Naomi floundered.  She couldn't say the truth, which was that
his fear of sex and inexperience with it had been too profound to
be faked.

"And what?"

"And whatever I just said."

"I get the feeling you're not listening to me," Q said petulantly.

Naomi leaned forward and took Q's hand.  "I'm listening."

He looked at her hand as though it were a dead insect, but his
fingers closed around hers.  "I asked her why she wanted to do
that... repulsive activity... with me, and she told me it was
more for the novelty of it.  She'd never had a god before,
apparently."

The light sarcasm of his tone could not conceal the wealth of
hurt under that remark, and Naomi squeezed his hand
comfortingly.

"Amy didn't seem like the type who would keep quiet about it. 
Or anything.  I could hear her saying to all her little friends,
'Do you know?  I had a god last night.  And he wasn't very
good.'"

Naomi's grip was very firm, and her eyes vicious.  "I hope you
tore her to tiny pieces and then burnt the remains."

Q looked up from the ground, which he'd been studying with
great apparent interest.  "Actually, when she wouldn't leave, I
called Security."

"Really?"  Naomi's eyes shone wickedly.  "That must have been
tremendously embarrassing for her.  Did you hide her clothes
first?"

Q dropped his gaze again.  "We were both naked when Security
showed up."

"Hmm.  No wonder Security was so interested in why *we*
were naked after you called Sickbay that one morning.  You
seem to make a habit of luring young women into your quarters
and then disposing of their clothes."  Her dancing eyes invited
him to laugh with her, but he didn't seem to notice.

"The entire incident was humiliating.  I loathe Amy Frasier."  Q
looked up at Naomi, eyes meeting hers.  "You are nothing,
*nothing* like her."

"I seduce innocent young gods who come strolling along
minding their own business.  I'd say that was close," Naomi
said dryly.

****

Q sat at the kitchen table, trying to pretend to be even remotely
interested in the food, which was revolting and homemade,
whatever that was supposed to be; the conversation, which was
incredibly dull; and the people.  He couldn't find enough bad
things to say about the people.

Of course, there were the amusing aspects of it.  He had Dharvi
and Helen effectively trapped here for the duration of the meal,
a captive audience.  And Helen did look just like Naomi.  He
found it hard to believe that Naomi could ever have been
interested in someone as lacking in intelligence in Dharvi.  He
was angered on Naomi's behalf.  How dare Dharvi choose to
marry someone who looked so much like Naomi and then
deliberately invite Naomi to his home?  

Dharvi needed to be taught a lesson.  But how?  Q had an idea.

"This steak is just mouth-watering, Helen."  Q took another
bite.

Naomi stared at him.  Something was very wrong here.  Q
hated eating, and even when he didn't put up a major fuss about
it, he never actually admitted to *enjoying* it.  So this must be
some sort of subtle irony.

"Why, thank you, Q," Helen said, smiling.  "That's very kind
of you."

"And your dress... I must say your outfit is simply lovely. 
Flattering to your figure."  Q shot a sidelong glance at Naomi,
as if to say, 'even though *yours* isn't'.

Naomi looked down at what she was wearing, a perfectly
serviceable tunic and glared back at Q.

Helen smiled at Q.  "Why, thank you.  That's very kind of you
to notice."  She looked over at Dharvi, who was oblivious to the
entire exchange.

"Merely commenting on your obvious sense of style."

Naomi kicked Q under the table.  He looked over at her and
smiled evilly.  

"So where's R?" Benjy asked irrepressibly.

"Where's your what?" Q asked.  He looked over at Naomi, who
was seated next to him, a dangerous glint in his eyes.  

"Huh?"

Ginny laughed at Benjy, who had a foolish look at his face.

He flicked a pea at his sister, who had claimed the chair next to
Q.

She shrieked.  Neither parent looked surprised, or even
disturbed.

Q stabbed his steak viciously with his knife.

Ginny stuck out her tongue at her brother, then looked
triumphantly at Q.

With a side glance at his mother, Benjy picked up a handful of
peas and tossed them at his sister.

They landed with a splat on Q's chest.  Q looked down at the
green mess on his lovely blue shirt, then over at the boy, death
in his eyes.

"Benjy!" Helen chided.  "That wasn't very nice!"

Benjy didn't say a word.  He stared back at Q with wide eyes.

Helen turned to Q.  Apologetically, she said, "I'm sorry.  I'm
sure we can get that cleaned.  It really..."

Q pushed his chair back from the table.

"Oh, please, don't go, it really isn't that large of a problem,"
Helen said, hand outstretched to him.

Q ignored her, taking a large spoonful of peas and flicking it at
Benjy.  Expertly aimed, the peas hit the boy square in the
mouth.

"Q!" Helen said with shock.

Q didn't even spare a glance for her, smiling mockingly at
Benjy.

Naomi dropped her napkin, looking up with surprise.

Benjy retaliated with another well-placed toss, this one
spreading out and catching Q on the face.

"You are a careless, thoughtless mistake which should never
have been conceived."  Q said, picking up his plate and looking
thoughtfully at Benjy.

Helen grabbed his arm.  "Q!"

Q looked at her, then at Benjy, weighing the distance between
him.

"I know you are, but what am I?" Benjy retorted without a
pause.

Q stared at Benjy.  

Naomi awaited Q's reply to *that* with great delight.

To her disappointment, Helen stopped the impending food fight. 
"Q, you mustn't act like a child just because Benjy is.  Now, go
to your room and change your shirt."  She looked at him.  "Go
on."

Q's face fell into a sulk.  "He started it."

"I don't care who started it.  Now stop behaving like a child or
you'll be treated like one."

Q looked over at Naomi, who was stifling a grin.  Seeing he
was going to get no sympathy from anyone, he turned and
stomped up the stairs.

Helen watched him go, then whirled on Benjy, who was
giggling in his chair.  "Now, as for you, young man..."

****

That night, Naomi and Q traipsed up the stairs to their bedroom
together, all the unstated expectations hanging in the air between
them.  

Q stood by the bed, Naomi across the room from him, both of
them looking at each other, neither knowing what to do or
wanting to make the first, wrong, move.  

The room was hushed and still, the children put to bed long
before, only the quiet murmuring of voices from downstairs
giving the lie to their aloneness.

Naomi looked up at Q, waiting for some sign or signal that
things were all right between them.  They'd be closer today than
they had in weeks, but she still didn't know.

Q waited in suspenseful agony for Naomi to come to him.  He
wanted her to, perhaps even needed her to, but he couldn't ask
her, couldn't go to her.  The way she'd held herself back lately
drove him crazy.  The connection in their relationship hung
tantalizingly just out of reach, and he was all too aware of how
much control she had over it.  He dropped Naomi's gaze and
turned away, grabbing his pajamas and going into the bathroom.

Naomi looked down at the floor, eyes sad, and then undressed. 
He didn't want her and, as vulnerable as she felt at the moment,
she couldn't risk the inevitable rejection.

She was already in bed when Q came back, and they both laid
silently on their own sides of the bed waiting for sleep to come,
neither able to approach the other, or draw away.

****

Naomi bounced on the bed.  "It's morning!  It's morning!  Get
up!  Get up!"

Q opened his eyes and looked at her.  "Go away."

Naomi leaned forward and laid a kiss on his cheek, one hand
stroking his chest.  "C'mon... Get up.  I'll make it worth your
while."

"Go away."

Naomi sighed, gave him up as a lost cause, and hopped off the
bed, out to enjoy the sunshine.

Q groaned, and pulled the blanket over his head.  It was too
bright, too early and just generally too morning.  Why had he
ever left the starbase?  Adjustable lights.  Air conditioning.

He had almost gotten back to sleep when a weight settled itself
on the bed, leaning against his chest.

With a sigh, Q gave up trying to sleep.  At least there were
compensations to having Naomi around.  For some reason, his
least favorite portion of his anatomy always seemed to wake up
before he did.  

Q reached out for her, and she giggled, a high pitched little
noise.

He opened his eyes, about to say something about simpering
fools, when he saw an extremely petite redhead sitting next to
him -- Ginny.  

Q shot upright, nascent desire instantly transforming to
embarrassment.  "What are you doing here?  Out!  Out!"

She shook her head solemnly, curls bobbing.  

Q stared back at the five-year-old, balked.  Now what?

He couldn't scream for help.  That would be entirely too
embarrassing.  With a start, Q recollected that he was dressed
for bed.  He could just simply throw the intruder out.  Yes. 
Exactly.

He got up, and opened the door.  "Shoo."

Benjy came in, holding a horn.  "Hello."

Q sighed.  This was going to be a long morning.

****

Q was simply sitting inside in the house, doing nothing.  Naomi
was off doing something, and he had no idea what or where. 
She had gotten up before he did and deserted him here.  He had
a computer link, and he was as close to happy as he could
come, stuck in a house full of mewling infants.

But they were both outside, at least for the moment.

A loud shriek from somewhere inside the next room shattered
that misapprehension.

Q winced.  There was nowhere to hide, nowhere to run. 
Everywhere he went, there they were.  He hadn't tried going
outside to escape them yet.  He had no desire to experience the
wonders of weather.

"Pow!"  Imitated phaser sounds came from the next room. 
"You're dead!  I just got you!"

"Am not!"  

Benjy ran into the room, saw Q, and smiled evilly.  He shot Q
with his water phaser, spraying cold liquid all over Q, just
narrowly missing the terminal.

In an uncharacteristic move, Q grabbed the water phaser from
the boy.  He abhorred physical violence, but this was only a
child.

Benjy stared up at him.  "It's my phaser.  Give it back."

"No."

"It's mine!"

"It's mine now."

Benjy ran out of the room, screaming.  "Mama!  Q's got my
water phaser and won't give it back!"

Helen stepped into the room, Benjy and Ginny at her heels. 
Benjy was smirking.

"Yeah, give me my phaser back, Quip."

Q drew himself up to his full height.  "You barbaric little
warmongering toad."

Benjy looked suspiciously at Q.  "You just made that up."

"I did not."

"Did too."

Q shook his head.  "*And* an ignoramus."

"You don't know what that means either!"

Q regarded the boy with amused contempt.  "And you don't
know anything outside of your own limited conception of the
cosmos."

As Benjy visibly struggled with the large words, Q handed the
water phaser to Helen.  "Since I dislike getting wet except for
recreational purposes, could you take custody of this weapon?"

Helen smiled with amusement.  "I suppose."

Benjy looked up at his mother with a pout.  "But it's mine."

"Not if you go around shooting people with it.  You can have it
back later."  Helen stepped out of the room.

Q looked down at Benjy as if Helen had left an unexploded
bomb behind her.

"What's an ingoraynus, Q-ee-neener-wiener?"

Q scowled at the child.  "You are the living definition."

His sister shyly entered the room, looking from her brother to
Q.  She came over to Q and attached himself to his leg.  "Hiya,
Mr. Q."

Q groaned.  "Why me?"

"Why me?" Benjy said.

"Because you were, for some unknown reason, born."

"Because you were, for someone reason born," Benjy repeated,
in a singsong voice.

"You're an evil little troll."

"You an evil little troll."

"That's what I said."

"That's what I said."

"Stop that."

"Stop that."

Q looked at the boy consideringly.  "I obviously have the brain
of a rabbit."

"You ovviously have the brain of a ravvit."  The boy snickered.

Q took a step towards him, and the boy fled the room, laughing.

Naomi whirled into the house, slightly tanned, and grinning. 
"Oh, there you are!  I see you finally got up!"

Q stared back at her grumpily, not in a particularly good mood
at the moment.  "Had a good time out slumming with the
natives?"

"A great time!  I can't wait to get back out there.  Wait a
minute."  Naomi disappeared into the kitchen, and came back
out a few minutes later with an even wider smile.  "Helen says
she'll fix us a picnic lunch.  So we can go back out.  If you
haven't had lunch yet?"

Naomi looked hopefully at Q.

Her enthusiasm was contagious.  If only there was a medical
doctor around to give him a vaccination.  But there was a
chance, however slight, that going with her would be a good
thing, since it would at least get him away from those annoying
little hooligans.  "Fine.  Just don't expect me to carry the
twenty pounds of food you will undoubtably require."

"Great!"  Naomi flitted up to Q, her sundress swirling around
her.  "It'll be lots of fun.  Thank you."

She held there for a second, looking earnestly up at him, her
hand on his arm.

He gave her an annoyed look, and she smiled, off into the
kitchen again.

When she reappeared with a picnic basket, Q was ready to go.

Naomi smiled up at him.  "Want a hat?"

"If I wanted a hat, I'd be wearing a hat."

"Okay."  With that, they were off.  

As soon as he stepped outside, Q was assaulted by a wave of
heat.  The sun beat down on him, making him uncomfortably
hot.  He looked down at Naomi, who was skipping merrily
along, unaffected by the weather.

"It's *hot* out here."

"Really?  I didn't think so.  Pretty comfortable for a sunny day
like this.  We've got a breeze and everything.  *And*, it'll get a
lot hotter later."

Q looked at her with horror.  "Hotter?  It gets hotter than this? 
Where's the temperature control?"

"Temperature control?  It's supposed to be like this.  This is
weather."

"I know what weather is."  He walked along at her side, down
the path.  *Sweat* was beginning to form on his forehead.  This
was an awful experience.  "What if I get a sunburn?  Or insects
bite me?"

Naomi cut him off before he could detail every possible problem
that could happen out-of-doors.  "We'll be eating lunch in the
shade.  I picked a nice spot out earlier.  And the bugs don't
seem to be in a biting mood."  

"Mood?  Insects don't have moods."

"Whatever."  She turned off the path, leading him over to a
grassy area underneath a large maple tree.  "Isn't this pretty?"

"In comparison to what?"

Naomi set the basket down, then knelt next to it, pulling out a
blanket.  "Oh, anything at all.  It's just so picture perfect."

She shook out the blanket and laid it on the ground.  "I mean,
the starbase is an okay place to work, but this is absolutely
wonderful.  The very ideal of country living."

Q sat down on the blanket, taking up most of it.  "If it doesn't
have air conditioning, it's not ideal for me.  And I don't like
sitting on the ground.  This can't be good for my back."

Naomi chuckled, and started setting the food out.  Helen had
simply bundled lunch up for them, and put it in the basket. 
Sandwiches, chocolate cake, and apples.  Perfect.  "So why'd
you even come out here with me?"

"To get away from those two annoying monsters masquerading
as children."

"You don't like them?" Naomi asked innocently, handing Q a
sandwich.  "I would never have guessed."

"They're horrid!  They're little demons!  I thank Q every time I
see them, for not having forced any upon me."

"Q..." Naomi chided him, somewhat amused.  "Why are you so
set against children?  Surely you considered having some of
your own eventually?"

He turned a horrified face towards her.  "Children?  You must
be joking.  What would I do with children?"

"Sell them to Orion slavers?" Naomi proffered.

Q shrugged, ignoring her feeble humor.  "It hardly matters. 
I'm incapable of fathering children.  I am, in every sense of the
word, impotent."

"Not every sense," Naomi said with a smirk.

"The only ones that matter," Q said, turning away from her. 
"Despite the fact that this body is merely a shell, a husk
borrowed from someone 100 years dead, and possessing no
intrinsic powers of its own, the Continuum decided in its infinite
wisdom that I should not be allowed to propagate myself."

Naomi nodded.  She could see the subject upset him.  Q seemed
bitter about having the choice taken away from him.  Time for a
subject change.  Definitely.  "What was your twin like?"

Q paused for a moment to rebuild his barriers, hiding the action
by taking a bite of the sandwich.  He had no difficulty following
Naomi's line of reasoning.  "Jason Hartfeil was an obscure
human with no particular distinction other than having been
honored by myself with the choice of his form."

Naomi smiled broadly.  "Too bad he never got to know about
the honor.  I bet he would have been thrilled to death."

Q preened.  "But of course.  Who wouldn't be?"

Naomi did her best to stifle the incipient giggle, but it was
unavoidable.  Instead of giggling, the laughter came out as a
snort, and she covered her face with her hands like a guilty
child, her eyes dancing with amusement.

"Aaaaaahhhh!"  Without any further warning, a net dropped on
Naomi from the tree above.

Naomi and Q looked up at the threat.  High above, in the limbs
of the tree, Benjy was perched with his sister, brandishing a
stick and a rather fierce look.

"I don't want to know what's going on," Naomi said, glancing
back at Q, as she sat there, not moving, the twine net thrown
over her like a large veil.  "I really don't."

"They look like savage little beasts," Q said, mildly amused. 
"You might want to discover their intentions."

Naomi quirked a brow at him, then looked up at the children. 
"Now what?" she called to them.

"Surrender or die!"

Naomi turned back to Q.  "Seems pretty unequivocal."

"Death would be preferable to this travesty of a vacation."

Naomi shrugged, beginning to clean up from lunch, the net still
hanging down over her.  "I don't know.  It's been different
certainly.  I've never been stalked and hunted by pygmies
before."

The net had smooshed the chocolate cake.  Naomi eyed it
wistfully, but wrapped it up in a napkin for later disposal.

The children, disappointed at the lack of response to their trick,
were having trouble getting down out of the tree.

"Help!  Help!" Benjy called.

Naomi had finished packing everything except the blanket,
which Q was sitting on anyway.  She stood up, taking care not
to dislodge her new sun screen.  "I think it's some sort of trick. 
I wouldn't respond if I were you."

Q stood as well, and Naomi started folding the blanket.  "I
wasn't going to," he said, not looking at the pair in the tree.

Ginny stared at them, wide-eyed, while Benjy was yelling
louder.  "Don't leave us!  Get us down from here!"

Naomi picked up the basket, and started walking, Q strolling
alongside her.  "We'll send out search parties if you're not back
by dinner," Naomi called back heartlessly.

****

After that, Q wanted nothing more than to stay inside.  So while
Naomi went and stalked the wild Chocolate Cake, he spent a
few blissful, child-free hours doing absolutely nothing.

Unfortunately, this was a poor choice of hiding place, as Naomi
found him there later rather easily.

"Want to go back out?" Naomi asked Q, who was lounging
rather elegantly on a couch, a glass of iced tea at his side.  "It
*is* a lovely day."

"I'd rather not."

"Fine," Naomi said breezily.  "You can stay inside, and I'll go
out.  See you later."

Q ignored her.  He was not going out in that horrid hotness
again.  He was certain something had bitten him.

Dharvi entered the room just as Naomi was about to leave.  

"Got off work early today, I see?" Naomi asked.

"That's one of the benefits of being self-employed.  Setting your
own hours."  Dharvi took a look at her outfit.  "Going out?"

"I thought I'd go for a walk."

"That sounds great.  Mind if I tag along?  Helen's thrown me
out for the rest of the afternoon.  Says she can't deal with me
on top of the other... distractions."

Naomi grinned.  "That'd be just peachy.  I take it she told you
what they did?"

"No.  Was it something spectac