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 only in the sense that Senator Exon
would consider it indecent, 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


Sanaharrar paced ahead of Naomi and Q, as they stepped out of
the shuttlecraft and back onto the starbase.  There to greet them
stood Commander Azoth, as grimly forbidding as always;
Counsellor Medellin and Commodore Anderson.

Naomi smiled with anticipation, as she caught sight of their
faces.  Medellin was visibly shocked, backing away from the
felinoid bodyguard.  Neither Azoth nor Anderson moved an
inch, or displayed any sort of reaction whatsoever.

Q and Naomi walked up to their welcoming party, Q taking the
lead with elegant poise, and Naomi following him, trying not to
skip to keep up.

Anderson looked at Q, observing dryly, "I should have known
you'd have to bring something back to make my day a little
harder."

"Why, Elly.  Don't you like my new pet?"

Medellin stared at Q in horror.  Not only was he consorting
with large, dangerous beasts who could rip him or anyone in
two -- and Medellin had no illusions about which one Q would
prefer -- but he was also apparently making a habit out of
turning sentient beings into his pets.  First Naomi, and now this
cat-creature.  Medellin was seriously worried about the
emotional health of both of them, not to mention Q.

Anderson's polished exterior never cracked.  "Your desire for
additional security is admirable, Q."

Sanaharrar had figured prominently in the reports back from the
two Security guards who had accompanied Q and Naomi.  After
a brief impulse to dislike the idea because it came from Q,
Anderson had reviewed it in full and fairly.  Despite the unusual
appearance of this particular individual, Sanaharrar's record was
strong.  A background check had turned up no anomalies. 
Anderson had decided to accept this latest whim of Q's. 
However, with an eye to keeping some control over this
particular fancy, the commodore had arranged for Sanaharrar to
be considered an adjunct to the Starfleet Security department,
rather than a personal assistant of Q's.  While he was certainly
entitled, Anderson preferred to leave Q as little leeway for
disaster as she could.

Azoth studied Q with a pensive eye.  "If you're serious about
security, self defense lessons would be of value."

Naomi looked up at Q, smiling evilly.  "Oh, yes, let's do."

Q shot a quick glance downwards, but said nothing to Naomi. 
"I *need* additional security.  Did you know that those two
hellions tried to sneak on board the shuttle with me?"

A quick look of worry passed across Azoth's face.  "That
wasn't in the Security report."

"He means Dharvi's kids," Naomi interjected.  "They tried to
come back with us.  Almost made it, but Sanaharrar sniffed
them out."  And then they'd clung to Q, refusing to leave,
wailing pitifully and having to be pried off of him, finger by
finger, while at the same time Q bemoaned the loss of one of
his favorite outfits to sticky, dirty fingers.

"You got a bodyguard to protect yourself against *children*?"

Q looked up sharply at that pointed question, but declined to
respond.  "If you don't mind, I've had an exhausting journey. 
Perhaps we can chat later."

He swept past them, trailing Naomi and Sanaharrar behind him
like toys.

Azoth interrupted Q's exit.  "I'd like to get Sanaharrar oriented. 
That shouldn't present a security risk for you, at the moment."

Q looked down at Azoth, who was actually almost as tall as Q,
a source of constant annoyance to Q.  He really was tired.  He
had no desire to wrangle endlessly over minutiae.  And having
to give the kitty-cat a tour of the starbase would bore him to
tears.  "Seeing as you apparently have nothing better to do, I
suppose you might as well amuse yourself that way."

Sanaharrar paced over to Azoth, seating herself next to him.  

Naomi looked up at Q, who seemed very drawn.  She would
have taken his arm to offer him support, but she didn't want to
humiliate him in front of these people by implying he needed
support. 

Q stalked out, maintaining his composure, Naomi following
behind him.

As soon as they got back to their quarters, Naomi did take his
arm.  "Sit down, Q."

"You've gotten really bossy since our vacation.  Did you take
lessons from Helen?"

Naomi pushed on him, and Q complied, sitting down on the
bed, posture slumping in the absence of an audience.

She started undressing him, carefully taking off first his hat,
then unclasping the cloak and setting it aside.

Q looked up at her petulantly.  "Can't you see I'm tired? 
Couldn't you wait to molest me until I'm rested?"

Naomi grinned.  "I'll consider that an invitation."

Q shook her hands off of him and stood up.  "I don't need your
help.  And I don't want to be molested."

Naomi looked at him with concern.  "Do you need a nap?"

He turned on her.  "And I most certainly do not need a nap!"

Naomi felt a little hurt now, and too emotionally worn out by
the long trip to deal with this kind of nonsense right now. 
"Maybe I should go catch up on my work backlog.  I'm sure
they want to see me."

"Fine.  I never wanted you around anyway."

That one stung.  Naomi nodded to him, and went off to her own
room to change.  Boy, he sure was grumpy.  He really did need
a nap.

****

Naomi sat down at her terminal.  There were any number of
priority projects stacking up around her, but she ignored them. 
Everything always got priority put on it; if something didn't
have priority on it, it would have been immediately discarded or
deleted as unimportant.  If something were really urgent, it
would have a person attached to it, running it around, and
standing over her shoulder making threats.  One of the reasons
Naomi could let most of Q's insults slide off of her was that she
was used to the kind of repeated threats on her job, her
professional standing and her personal possessions that were
routinely made by people needing projects done in a hurry.  

Since nothing truly urgent appeared to be waiting for her, she
started work on something else.  She wanted to set up a search;
once started, it would run on its own, and she really could get
to work.  

"Let's see... Search.  Parameters?  Hmm...  Personal name. 
Jason Hartfeil.  Anything else?  Time... yes..."  She put in the
few things she knew for sure, and set it to run.  It was a
hopeless task, but she was interested to know what she might
turn up with it.

Jinn looked over her shoulder.  "You know, that might run
faster if you actually turned the computer on."

Naomi jabbed affectionately at him, missing entirely.  "What
kind of archaic technology do you think I'm using?"

"What other kind would you be using?"  Jinn studied her
carefully.  She looked a lot better than she had before her
vacation, less drawn, more relaxed, happier.  "Seriously,
Naomi, it's good to have you back."

Naomi was touched by that.  Jinn rarely made personal
comments.  "It's not that good to be back; I liked my vacation. 
But I suppose I can put up with it."

He grinned at her.  "But can you put up with Farish?"

Naomi quirked an eyebrow, and then groaned.  "Thank you
ever so much for reminding me.  I had almost forgotten about
him."

"How could you ever forget about Farish?"  Jinn's mobile face
turned serious, the instantaneous transformation to hatred
reminding her yet again of precisely why it was that they had
never dated.  "You have to watch out for people like him.  He's
an asshole.  And he's going to get it soon enough."

Jinn's tone made it clear that a revenge of some sort was being
planned for Farish.  "Personally hand-delivered, I take it?"

Jinn's eyes were bright with excitement.  "You bet."

Naomi shook her head, and sighed heavily.  She didn't get
involved in most of the pranks that went on, although she
occasionally provided technical assistance for a complicated
joke.  The practical jokes just didn't strike her as being all that
funny.  And she could drive people crazy without having to
actually work at it, anyway, which suited her more.  She used
to get involved in these things more, when she was a student
and throughout the time she was with Dharvi.  After that, there
just hadn't seemed to be a point to it.  Computers were for
work, and work was for work, and the rest of the time she had
better things to do.

****

Q paced the length of the common room again, trying to decide
what to do.  He had to get rid of Naomi, needed to throw her
out for her own good.  He'd put off the decision for too long. 
He'd told himself he could wait to discard Naomi until after
they got back from their vacation.  And now they were back,
and he had to do it.

But now that she knew about his plan, he didn't have much of a
chance of actually succeeding at it.  And with Sanaharrar there,
he might not need to.  But if there were any chance that Naomi
might be harmed, he couldn't let her stay with him.

Q remembered n'Vala, the roly poly middle aged scientist
who'd been assigned to teach Q how to apply his vast
knowledge to Federation technology.  Q hadn't liked the man;
n'Vala, despite his technical brilliance, had been too dull for Q
to actually like.  Worse, the man had ignored Q's insults
entirely.  But n'Vala had always been popping in on Q, coming
in on him in his own rooms, without knocking or announcing
his presence, just bounding in.  Q hadn't stopped him, probably
due to some pathetic desire to have a friend, any one at all, who
didn't mind being around him.

And it had gotten n'Vala killed.  N'Vala had walked in one
night in the middle of an assassination attempt, and died, his
screams drawing attention to Q's plight.

Q had kept his privacy sacred thereafter, refusing all attempts to
get at anything under the public face.  Until Naomi.  And that
had been a mistake.  The Dilkisnowballs had shown him that. 
He couldn't risk another death on his conscience; he had to
make Naomi leave him.

And he had to do it now, before anything could happen to
Naomi, or before anything could happen to influence his
opinion.  Naomi was very good at that.  

But he didn't want to.  He didn't want to make a decision,
didn't want to send her away.  What he wanted was unimportant
though, even laughable.

Not having enough room to pace there, Q walked into his
bedroom and came face to face with one person he had never
hoped to see again, but had wanted to see for a long time -- Q2.

"Q!" Q exclaimed, a spark of hope igniting inside him. 
Perhaps, just perhaps Q2 was here to make amends, to say he'd
served his time and could go home.

"Q!" Q2 said mockingly.

"What have you come to gloat about this time?  Or have you
just come to tell me I'm having too much fun here and need
some even more miserable experience to really mold my
character?"

Q2 shrugged.  "You've managed to irritate a lot of people, Q. 
What else did you expect?  Asking them to forget all about what
you've done after a measly four years, well, *really*.  Maybe
after a little time has passed, ten or twenty years, then it'll be
time to bring the subject up."

"Ten or twenty years?" Q said indignantly.  "I'll be dead by
then."

"Well, that will make the question kind of moot, won't it?"

Q glowered at him.  "So sorry to put you through all this
trouble for nothing."

"Hey, what are friends for?"

"I'll give you a list," Q said dryly.

Q2 bounced close to him.  "Listen, I'll put in a good word for
you.  You show a lot of promise.  But frankly, you aren't trying
very hard."

"Aren't trying?  Look what I've done.  I'm as good as any
human."

"You're Q.  We'd hardly expect you to be only human. 
Besides, all you have to show for four years is one measly
relationship with a mortal who's hormonally deluded." Q2
shrugged.  "Not much of a pattern there to work with.  Still, I
admit, it's a start.  I wouldn't be one of those people who goes
around giving out your location to people you've annoyed."

"What?" Q asked, outraged.  He'd suspected something of the
sort, being entirely too intelligent to miss the fact that races who
could barely manage to get their own names correct could figure
out what and who his mortal form was, when he had appeared
to them in substantially different forms and under different
names.  It was impossible.  Unless someone was telling them. 
Someone in very high places.  

"It's payback time, Q.  Not all the people you pissed off in your
life were helpless, you know.  Some of them were Q."

"Why couldn't they ever tell me something like this to my
face?"

"To you?  No way.  Uh uh.  Even I wouldn't do that."

"You didn't."

"Exactly."

"Can't you at least stop them from doing *that*?  I was kicked
out for that kind of abuse of power.  Self-righteous,
sanctimonious hypocrites."

Q2 looked him over, about to say no, then waved his hands. 
"Oh, all right.  I'll make sure no one finds out from us who you
are.  You have been attracting a rather lot of attention lately."

"Thank you for your benevolent generosity.  You have my
eternal gratitude," Q said in a voice dripping with sarcasm. 
"I'm supposed to lollygag along here in indefinite probation,
with no hope of ever getting out, and be grateful that my friends
and family aren't deliberately sending assassins after me.  Oh,
thank you, thank you, Q."

"There's still hope, Q," Q2 said.  "As long as you're alive,
there's still hope.  Catch you in ten years."

With that, he was gone, leaving Q behind, all the things he
could have said, all the brilliant arguments he'd come up with,
left unsaid, the encounter unsatisfyingly brief.  

There were so many things he wanted to say, so many
arguments he could have marshalled in his favor.  But he didn't
have a chance to use them.  

As long as he was alive, Q2 had said.  There was a hope as
long as he was alive.  That might not be very long at all.  While
he admitted that Q2 was right, four years was a brief cough by
Q standards, it seemed eternally long by mortal standards.  And
he'd already barely survived a number of assassination attempts
on his life.  About two a month, on the average, counting the
ones that were foiled before they ever got started.  It didn't take
a brilliant mathematician to realize that, at that rate, eventually
one would get through.  And then he'd be dead, and the whole
issue of being truly Q again would be over with.

Even if none of the attempts ever succeeded, despite the recent
additions to his life in way of creature comforts, Q was not
looking forward to spending his life as a human, to put it
mildly.

Depression overwhelmed him.  He was a failure.  There was no
way he was ever going to succeed at this, not that he even knew
what he was trying to do.  As a human, he made a good joke
for the Q.  And apparently, not even that good of a joke after
all.

Q stumbled into the bathroom, really looking at himself for the
first time in a long time.  He saw himself often enough in
mirrors, putting on makeup for most occasions to present the
best appearance he possibly could, but he didn't really look at
himself, because he couldn't stand the desecration of what he
saw.  His features had once been a matter of joy to him, giving
him pride in his own good taste.  And now they were so far
from it, he couldn't stand it.  But Q looked anyway, noting the
hollows under the eyes, the sunken cheeks, the chapped lips. 
Each imperfection he noted, before turning to the even greater
corruption perpetuated on his body.

Mechanically, he stripped off his clothes until he stood naked in
front of the mirror, each pitiful imperfection exposed to the
merciless starkness of the light.  

Q wallowed in the misery of the moment.  How could he live as
a human, without any hope of regaining his powers, knowing
that he was trapped as *this*?  And it would only get worse. 
His body would deteriorate further, trapping him even more
irretrievably inside this decaying husk.  

A sob started then, deep inside his chest, but Q couldn't let it
out, couldn't express it.  He had to remain in control.  He
picked up one of his makeup implements, holding it like a
weapon in his hand.  He had no idea what he thought he was
going to do with it, but holding it there satisfied some need
inside him, gave him an edge to the overwhelming despair.

With a snarl, a large furred shape inserted itself between him
and the mirror.  Fangs as long as his fingers delicately closed
around the makeup brush, plucking it from his hand.

Q stared at Sanaharrar, unable to believe her nerve.  How dare
she?

The felinoid butted him with her head, pushing him out of the
bathroom, and into the bedroom.  With a flick of her tail, she
got the door closed, and stood there, tail lashing silently in the
air, staring at him with her great golden eyes.

Q stared back, unaware of the danger he was in going head to
head with something much meaner than he was and more
capable of doing something about it.  "Do you get some sort of
perverted thrill out of seeing me naked?  Leave me alone."

Sanaharrar did not speak, just stood there, not sitting down, just
facing him silently, her tail speaking eloquently of her feelings
in the matter.

Naomi walked in then, all bright and bouncy.  Q hadn't *quite*
thrown her out earlier, and so she was still reasonably happy. 
Being with him was better than packing her things and trying to
start all over someplace else.  Because if she couldn't be with
him, then certainly she wouldn't be able to stay here, not
knowing he was here, without doing something about it.

Naomi saw Sanaharrar first, registered her protective posture
and stopped, danger instincts jangling, looking immediately for
some threat.  

But there was nothing, just Q standing there, completely naked,
with Sanaharrar in front of him, in between him and the
bathroom.

What was going on?

Naomi walked over to the pair, a quizzical look on her face. 
As she passed the bed, she snatched up a blanket, and handed it
to Q, who didn't grab for it, just letting it drop on the floor.

Curiouser and curiouser.  Naomi looked between the two. 
"Anyone care to tell me what's going on?"

Sanaharrar's tail stopped its relentless lashing.  "Now that you
are herre, nothing."  And she paced out, leaving them alone in
their quarters.

Naomi looked at Q.  "Now I know that wasn't the truth.  Do
you want to tell me what happened?"

Q stared straight ahead, not looking at her, and Naomi walked
in front of him, placing herself in his field of vision.

"Hello?" Naomi said.  "Remember me?  Q?  Hello?"

The movement broke his concentration, and he broke, startled. 
A low animal cry of pain escaped his throat before he closed up
further, unwilling to speak of this to anyone.

Her heart went out to him with that sound.  She heard a wealth
of hurt in that moan.  Why was he naked though?  He hated
being naked, resisted it with a passion, frequently getting up
after sex, even though he was completely exhausted, just to get
dressed.  She'd fall asleep next to a naked man, and wake up in
bed with a nattily dressed stranger.  

Which made his nakedness now even more distressing.

Naomi stepped close to him, resting her hand lightly on his
chest.

Q jumped as if shocked.  He had been able to ignore her until
now, didn't want her, most definitely didn't want to be
remembered of the human weaknesses he had succumbed to,
that Q2 had derided as deluded and mortal.  

But he was unable to ignore her now, unable to deny his weak
need for her, despite an inner conviction that Q2 was standing
there, invisible, laughing at him.  

Naomi didn't know quite what to do.  Put everything back the
way it had been, make it normal again.  Whatever normal was. 
She pushed lightly on him, turning him around, and guided him
towards the bed.  Q didn't resist.

When she had him sitting down, Naomi knelt next to him,
taking his head in her arms, cradling him against her.  

Without a word, Q turned into her, needing that unspoken
comfort too much to deny.  He didn't put his arms around her,
didn't reach out, just allowed her to touch him.

If she'd said anything, pried into his feelings, forced him to
speak, he would have pushed her away.  He couldn't have borne
that.  But something about the feel of her arms around him, her
soft breasts under his cheek, her warm breath on his hair,
something about her touch was inexpressibly comforting.  It
shouldn't have been.  It was a human reaction, and only a
human reaction.  He would never have wanted such a thing if he
were truly Q.  

Of course, if he were, he'd have no need for such comfort. 
He'd have the knowledge that all Q had, telepathically
transmitted at a very deep level, that he was part of them,
inextricable, and always loved, always wanted.

Of course, he wasn't anymore.  They didn't want him, and he
had that bitter knowledge equally deep inside, even though no
one had deliberately implanted it there.  His own family had
cast him out, and he had nothing and no one.

No one except this pitifully deluded woman sitting there,
holding him close.

With a sob, Q gave up the struggle to remain in control, and let
the tears come, sagging into her comforting embrace.

Naomi shifted, getting more comfortable, still wondering what
had caused this.  How had he gotten like this?  She'd been gone
barely three hours.  And as far as she knew, he'd just been in
their quarters.  He'd hardly have had duties or obligations to
fulfill on their first day back.  What could have happened to him
to shatter him so completely?  Q's feelings were as shifting as
the wind, and easily hurt.  But for him to cry, for something to
so thoroughly rack his self-control, something must be truly
terribly wrong.

Q cried until he began to feel silly about it.  Here he was,
totally naked, weeping on some human female because he, Q,
might not ever get his powers back.  How pitiful.  How
ludicrous.

Q sat up, pulling away from Naomi.

"Want to tell me what's wrong?" Naomi asked, uncurling her
legs, and sitting down.

Q self-consciously snagged a covering, and hid his body from
her view, laying back against the bed.  "No."

Naomi noted that small defensive action with relief.  Much
more normal.

"Want to tell me where your clothes are?"

"Why?  Does it matter?  You seem to scheme to get me into
this state on a regular basis.  I'd think you'd be delighted to find
me this way without any effort needing to be put forth on your
part."

As a barb, it was pitifully half-hearted, and fell quite flat. 
There were a number of sexual innuendo type responses, Naomi
could have made at that moment, but she couldn't put that kind
of distance between them when she wanted to reach out to him. 
"It was a lovely effort, and I appreciate it."

Naomi thought about it for a moment, then suited action to
words, curling up alongside him, pressing a kiss into the back of
his neck.  

Q pulled away from her, curling around the enormous ache
inside himself, protecting himself against the pain and against
the weakness he felt when she touched him.  Although he'd just
decided crying about it was ridiculous, he couldn't help but feel
what he felt, even though he didn't want to.  "Go away."

"Do you want to tell me what you're upset over?"

"No.  Why would I want to talk to you about anything?"

"Because I'm here, and it'd make you feel better."

"I don't feel bad."

"Of course not."  Naomi reached up, stroking his side and chest
over the blanket.  "So talking about it couldn't hurt you."

Q had the sudden inexplicable urge to turn and bury his face in
her chest, and just let go of all the pain inside him.  But that
would never do.  He'd feel like an idiot.  "There's nothing to
talk about."

Naomi sat up, putting a hand on his side, and pushing him flat
on the bed.  "Great.  I guess I can take you up on your earlier
offer, then.  If you're sure nothing's bothering you?"

"*What* earlier offer?"

"Don't you remember?" Naomi asked, laughter dancing in her
eyes.  "I'm hurt.  And here I thought you actually meant it
when you said you were waiting naked for me in an effort to
turn me on."

Q looked up at Naomi, poised above him, and saw his only
connection to humanity.  For Q, it was a very cold, bleak
world.  His entire existence was predicated on social encounters,
on manipulating persons or preferably groups of people. 
Despite his extreme social awkwardness, he needed people.  But
the only person he reliably had was this one, whom Q2 had
denigrated as deluded and hormonally influenced.  And Q2
would certainly know that, even as he could not.  

He ignored her entire statement, brushing it aside as
meaningless, and focussed instead on the obsession which Q2
had fostered with his careless statement.

"You don't know what you want, and you certainly don't want
me.  You're pitiably deluded, and when you come to your
senses, you'll flee screaming into the void."

"Deluded?  Excuse me, where did this come from?  I know
perfectly well what I'm doing.  I *chose* to be with you."

"Hormones," Q said dismissively.

Naomi scoffed.  "At 30, I'm hardly likely to be acting like some
sex-crazed teenager, hopping into bed with any likely member
of the opposite sex just because I can't control myself.  I know
my own mind, Q."

Q shook his head slightly, pain sliding through him like a hot
thick fluid.  "You can't lie to me."

"I'm not lying!" Naomi said, both hands flat on his chest now. 
If she wasn't careful, she'd pound on him.  If he had been
anyone else, she certainly would have.  But it would be abuse,
plain and simple, to hit someone who wouldn't take it as a joke,
who wouldn't try to stop her, who wouldn't fight back.  Naomi
found it a very unique position to be in.  At her size, she was
smaller than nearly everyone else, and certainly every lover
she'd had.  People dominated her, at least physically; people
were careful with her, not the other way around.  But she
dominated Q physically, and Naomi found it difficult to
remember sometimes that she needed to be careful with him, to
not get obstreperous, because she had always been able to in the
past.

She sat back slightly.  "Why are you so sure I'm lying?  What
have I ever done to make you think that?"

Briefly, Q considered telling her the truth:  that an omnipotent
being had plucked it from her mind.  He discarded that
immediately.  "I don't think I have that much time right now."

Naomi's mouth twisted into a reluctant smile.  "Of course not." 
She considered her options here.  She could let him get away
with being ridiculously depressed and unhappy; she could
continue battering away at what was obviously a very large wall
of resistance on this particular subject; or she could do
something very melodramatic and silly, embarrass herself totally
and probably completely alienate Q.

None of those seemed right for this moment though.  He didn't
want her, but he needed her, whether he admitted it or not.  

Naomi curled up alongside Q, cradling him close to her.  One
hand stroking his chest, while the other curled around his head.  

"Go away."

"Make me."

Q didn't want to do anything.  He just wanted to shut the world
out, wanted to immerse himself in the pain he felt until it
consumed him.  If he couldn't get rid of her, then fine, he'd just
ignore her.  Eventually, she'd get bored and go away.  She
didn't really care about him after all.  

Naomi laid there next to him, watching as he just shut off,
withdrawing inside himself.  She laid her head on his, trying not
to cry.  She couldn't stand it, couldn't bear to see him in pain. 
Not that she had much choice.  There was nothing she could do
about it, no magic fix for whatever it was that he was upset
about.

Naomi simply held him, lightly stroking his chest, trying to
comfort him without words, not leaving him.

All Q could think about were the things Q2 had told him, the
awful inevitability of it terrifying him.  He was stuck here. 
They still hadn't forgiven him.  He'd been able to endure being
human for a long while, knowing he'd either be dead or have
his powers back, most likely dead.  Then Naomi had made
being human almost bearable.  A crueller torture that, being
asked to enjoy this brazen rape of all that he was.

Naomi didn't stop touching, didn't leave him, just pressed up
against, silently reassuring him that she was there and that she
wouldn't leave him.

Q felt his resolve diminishing under that caress.  He wanted to
drown in self-pity, wouldn't have minded literally drowning if it
weren't so undignified.  Since he'd become a human, he'd
always been alone.  He'd gone through hellish agonies like sleep
and hunger and getting kicked in the balls with no taint of
comfort, no solace.  Not that he needed it, of course.  Having
someone feel sorry for him was a pathetic emotion he had no
wish for.  He didn't need or want charity.

He'd send Naomi away, but there was no way to make the
infuriating woman go.  That was the only reason he was putting
up with this.  Not because he wanted it.  Not because he needed
her.

Naomi pressed a kiss onto the top of his head, wishing there
was something she could do for him.

"I don't want to talk about it," Q announced out of nowhere.

"Of course you don't," Naomi said automatically, sliding down
alongside him, so she could see his face.  "What are we not
talking about?"

"I don't want to discuss it."

"So you're just bringing it up as a general warning.  I
understand perfectly."

"You do?  How could you understand it when I haven't told you
anything?" Q asked petulantly.

Naomi kissed his chest lightly, unable to not touch him.  "You
don't want to talk about it, whatever it is.  I understand.  We
won't talk about why you're upset."

"Why not?"

"Because it's too upsetting for you to deal with.  I don't want to
hurt you by talking about something that distresses you."

That sounded uncomfortably like an accusation of cowardice.  "I
wasn't distressed by the visit."

"You seem distressed," Naomi said, one hand lightly stroking
his chest.  "Your visitor must have been someone very
important to you."

"He's not important.  Completely unimportant."

"Uh huh."  Naomi nodded, while furiously trying to figure out
who could have put Q into such a dither.  Not Harry.  And
Farish had been busy all afternoon, Naomi thought with a
smirk.  Who else?  She was running through the possibilities in
her mind when Q spoke again.

"My petty little life is of no concern to them.  They want me to
crawl for them, want to watch me make a fool out of myself. 
They're *enjoying* it," Q said bitterly.

Naomi knew Q was exaggerating.  At least, she dearly hoped he
was exaggerating.  If not, there was going to be a murder when
she found out who it was who would do such a thing to him. 
"Why would they want to do that?"

"Because they're Q.  It's what we do," Q said, unaware of the
bombshell he'd just dropped on Naomi.

The Q had come to visit him?  That was amazing.  He didn't
talk about his fellow superbeings, but Naomi had assumed that
they were a lot like him, perhaps a little wiser, but then again,
he was the only pattern she had to draw her picture of the Q
Continuum from.  Obviously, they hadn't offered him his
powers back, or he'd be long gone.  Naomi had no delusions
about how much she meant to him there.  She was lucky to be
even a temporary diversion in Q's life.  For him, that was a
large commitment.

"They came to visit you?  That's great!"

"It is not," Q said sullenly.  "He only came to gloat."

"Gloat about what?"

"How poorly I'm doing as a human, of course.  How pathetic I
am.  How much work I need to do before I ever achieve the
total degradation that is humanity."

Naomi nodded solemnly.  "That would be a lot of work, yes."

That brought the walls tumbling down, as Q went into full-scale
whine mode.  "They don't understand how hard I've been
*trying*.  They don't even care that I've managed to make
friends and save this corner of the galaxy a few times even as a
human."

"What exactly did they think about your efforts?"

"Q said they were a nice start," Q said bitterly.  "He would."

Naomi quirked her eyebrows.  "A nice start, hmm?  Not very
encouraging."

Q half shrugged, lying there, one arm having unconsciously
snaked around Naomi, holding her close to him, so she couldn't
leave him like everyone kept abandoning him.  "He'll be back
in ten years to check up on my progress.  Ten *years*.  I'll be
dead by then."

Naomi agreed with that; the Dilkinen had almost managed it,
after all, and before them, several dozen other large mean
nasties.  "It's not much of a test of your ability to be human if
you get killed by some assassin along the way."

"Oh, that."

"That what?" Naomi asked.  "What else were you thinking of?" 
That was a stupid question.  As soon as she asked it, the answer
presented itself to her mind, and she blanched, not liking that
image at all.  

Q was suddenly indignant.  "Do you know that they've been
*sending* those assassins after me?"

"No!"

"Yes!  And they supposedly kicked me out of the Continuum for
abusing *my* power.  What do they know about abuse of
power?  Hypocritical prigs."

Naomi couldn't even imagine that, but it must be true; Q's
shock was unfeigned.  "Lovely people.  We simply must invite
them over for tea."

"Et tu?"

"I was being sarcastic.  Although I suppose I could mix some
hemlock in with their tea," Naomi grinned evilly.

Q ignored the non sequitur.  "They won't send any more
assassins after me, but that's a small comfort.  What right did
they have to send any in the first place?"

Naomi raised herself up on one elbow and looked down at him,
unquestionably human, entirely vulnerable, still for some reason
naked, and quite stunned by this brief visitor.  "None at all."

Q didn't look at Naomi.  "I can't do this.  They don't even
*want* me to succeed at this.  They've tried to kill me, and
now Q's shown up just as I started to get the hang of this, to cut
me down and make me miserable again.  They're still trying to
kill me; they're just doing it more subtly."

Naomi looked at him with worried eyes.  She didn't like this
line of thought at all.  "Why would Q2 show up to throw you
into a suicidal depression?  For that matter, why would any of
them try to kill you?  If they had that in mind, they could just
kill you."

"Ah, but that would then be his fault.  This would be indirect."

Naomi mentally threw up her hands at Q's overweening
paranoia.  "Q, I seriously doubt that was his motive."

"You don't know him like I do."

"I know you, though.  It sounds to me like he was challenging
you to do better, not deriding you for what you've already
done."

"That's ridiculous.  Impossible.  That couldn't have been his
motive."

"Really?  Why not?  You mean a Q wouldn't present a problem
in the form of a challenge?"

Q's brows quirked.  "Never.  We have far too much dignity."

"Exactly.  I'd be honored.  He evidently thinks you're far
enough along to be worth spending his time on.  For him to
show up at all is an enormous concession.  I think, for him to
take time out of whatever he's doing to come and visit you
means that he thinks you're doing the right thing.  After all, he
never showed up when things were going poorly, right?" 
Naomi thought back to Q's previous suicide attempts, the ones
before she'd forced herself upon him.  She'd heard about those
attempts; how could she not have?  The prince who ended up a
pauper, found he couldn't stand his new station, and so took the
final way out... people had been fascinated by that for days. 
Some of them had even thought Q had done it only for
attention.  Naomi couldn't imagine that.  As much as Q lived
for people paying attention to him, his depressions were very
real, and the things he had to be depressed about numberless.

Q ignored her question, concentrating on his insulted dignity. 
"And an awful lot of time it was."

Naomi shrugged.  "He knows you'll figure it out.  Giving
someone more information than they need... well, he'd be
patronizing you then, treating you like you were too stupid to
figure it out on your own."

Q nodded at the compliment to his own intelligence.  "That's
true, of course, but I still hardly think that's the point."  He
looked at her directly, his eyes vulnerable, the truth finally
coming to the fore.  "I'm not even sure I want to *be* human
anymore."

"What are your other choices?"

Q hesitated, and Naomi heard the answer there, in that silence. 
"You don't have any other choices, do you?  You were going to
just not be anything anymore."

Sulkily, retreating back into his protective shell, Q said, "I have
the right to waste my life however I please."

"Do you?  I'd think the Continuum gave you this chance for a
reason?"

"You wouldn't know anything about the Continuum.  You're an
ignorant, hormonally deluded female who couldn't count to
thirty without computer assistance."

"At least I'm not a supercilious, hormonally deluded male who
thinks counting to thirty is some sort of meaningful
accomplishment."

"So you admit it."

"Why wouldn't I?" Naomi said challengingly.  She had no idea
why they were arguing about this, but it was fun.  More fun
than discussing suicide, definitely.  

"Shame?  Pride?  Qualities which you obviously do not
possess."

Naomi smiled at him.  "Of course, I don't.  However, not
having them does let me have a lot more fun than you."  She
crouched next to him, running her hand down his chest under
the blanket, stroking a line from his neck to his waist. 
"Shameless, scandalous women have always had more fun."

"I know why you can't count to thirty.  All that storage area in
your brain is taken up by thoughts about sex," Q said, his tone
tinged with disgust.  However, he couldn't keep from shivering
at her touch.

"Any complaints?" Naomi smiled toothily, leaning down to
place a kiss on his chest.

"What order do you want them in?"

"Oh, alphabetical would be fine."  Naomi's lips found his
nipple, suckling on it, and Q groaned.  She smiled secretively,
and then very gently nibbled on it.  One of his hands came up to
wind in her hair, neither pushing her away or pulling her closer.

She pushed the blanket down past his waist, leaving him
exposed.  Naomi looked up at him, meeting his intimidating,
dark eyes, not quite so intimidating at the moment.  "Did I ever
tell you I think you're gorgeous?"

"Did I ever tell you I think you're blind?" Q retorted.

"Can't say that you have."  She sat up and started removing her
clothes.  She was wearing one of her comfortable caftans. 
She'd only been going to the lab, after all.  There was
something to be said for choosing your clothes on the basis of
how fast you could get out of them.

"I'm emotionally distraught, and you want to have sex with
me?" Q asked, indignant.

Naomi looked at him, laughter in her eyes.  "Think of it as
giving you a new perspective on your problems."

Q looked up at Naomi, kneeling by his side, naked, her red hair
her only adornment, the brightly colored caftan spilling around
her knees.  He admitted she was aesthetically pleasing, even
attractive, from an objective point of view, of course.  He didn't
find her attractive, although his traitorous body had other ideas.

He had a choice: he could go on feeling sorry for himself and
obsessing about this visit from Q2, which may or may not have
been a deliberate attempt to injure him; or he could accept what
Naomi was offering.

All he had to do was reach out, Q knew.  Naomi would do the
rest.  She was appallingly eager to do this depraved physical
things.  There was a tiny chance that she was right, that Q2 had
come here to tell him he had finally gotten the idea.  Q looked
at Naomi's bright eyes, and his heart twisted painfully.  There
was even the slight possibility that Q2 had purposefully chosen
right then to show up, knowing that he was about to decide to
toss Naomi out once and for all.  If Q2 were going to stop the
assassination attempts, or at least slow them down, then he
wouldn't need to force Naomi away from him.  The additional
security he'd gotten, in the way of Sanaharrar, should suffice.  

That was if that had been Q2's motive.  It was possible.  He
was the closest to being happy that he'd ever been as a human,
although he'd characterize the feeling as more one of not being
completely miserable.  He had a friend now, and that was
enough to make life bearable.

Or had been, until he heard he had ten more years to go in this
wretched existence until the Q even bothered to review his case
again.  Was even Naomi enough compensation for something
like that?

No.  Even if anything had been worth trading his powers for,
which nothing was, there was still the likelihood that Naomi was
going to turn on him and leave him.  And when she did, Q
knew that would shatter him.  He'd be worse off than he was
now, than he had been before she came to him.  But it was too
late to stop.  She was here.  

Naomi was here, and there was nothing he could do about it. 
Similarly, there was nothing he could do about Q2's insulting
ten year time limit.  Besides killing himself and admitting he'd
given up.  

Naomi bent down and pressed a kiss on his forehead, and Q felt
weak inside.  For some reason, he kept thinking he should send
her away, should resist this pleasure she kept foisting on him,
should keep her from meaning anything to him whatsoever.  

He could reject her now, when she was at her most vulnerable. 
There was no question that he could get rid of her.  But was it
such a bad thing to keep her?  To let this small pleasure in a
lifetime of misery take place?  

What other choice did he have?  He could refuse to play the
Continuum's game, and kill himself, admitting his own failure;
or he could accept that he was going to have to live X number
of years in a decaying body, alone and despised, working as a
scientific whore for the Federation, and suffering all of this just
to get any chance of ever getting back into the Continuum.

Both choices sounded bad, but for the moment, Q preferred to
live.  Having decided that, only an idiot would refuse the one
source of any comfort or pleasure in his life.

Hesitantly, Q reached out to Naomi, touching her skin, feeling
that softness.

Naomi accepted his touch eagerly, leaning into his caress.  Q so
rarely reached out to her, and she treasured each time that he
did, storing them up inside her heart as if they had been words
of love.  For him, they were very close to it, as close as he
might ever come.  She didn't regret coming to him, having
offered herself up to him months ago as a sacrifice of sorts, a
captive to torment.  He'd given her far more in the way of
affection and caring that she could ever imagine Q being capable
of.  More than enough to keep her with him after her pity had
expired.

She took his hand and laid a kiss on his palm.  "Shall we
begin?"


-the end-