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.

All chapters of PropinQuity are available by FTP at
ftp.europa.com, in the directory
/outgoing/mercutio/PropinQuity/.  The index is also available by
FTP at ftp.europa.com, as
/outgoing/mercutio/IndexToPropinQuity.txt.  They can also be
downloaded through the WWW.  The WWW address is: 
http://www.europa.com/~mercutio/PropinQuity.html.


PropinQuity by Mercutio; based on "Only Human" by Alara
Rogers


Naomi woke slow and late, unwilling to stir from the confines
of sleep.  She never liked waking up, and today was no
exception.  She especially didn't like waking up of late.  Q had
been coming in and spending the night with her, then leaving
before she got up.  She always woke up in her own solitary,
empty bed, feeling even more lonely than before.

Without even opening her eyes, Naomi could tell that today
would be no exception.  The bed was empty; there was no one
lying beside her, no warmth settled into the mattress, stealing
the pillows and hogging the greater portion of the bed.

However, despite her disappointment in that and her general
unwillingness to face the morning, *any* morning, Naomi knew
she eventually had to get up, could only postpone the inevitable
for so long.

Naomi sat up and stretched, then looked around.  This wasn't
her room, or her bed.  She was in Q's room.  But where was
Q?

As if on cue, Q came out of the bathroom, dressed for his day. 
He looked as elegant and polished as he always did when he
made the effort, and Naomi felt a lump in her throat.

Suddenly shy, she pulled the blanket up, covering more of her
naked body.  She didn't know what she had to be shy about. 
He was the inexperienced one, after all, and the one who found
sex disgusting.  She had very few problems with her own body
image or sexuality; she had her limitations, but she accepted
them.  However, somehow, this morning seemed different.  

Last night, Q had made an enormous concession in letting her
back in his bed again.  Now that she remembered that, Naomi
could appreciate it.  And she had no intention of doing anything
which might endanger the fragile trust between them.  Including
flaunting her nudity.

Q stopped in the doorway, looking at Naomi.  She had her
hands laced over her knees, and the comforter drawn up around
her.  Her hair was tousled and she still wasn't dressed, even at
this hour.

"Hello," Naomi said shyly.

Q stifled the acidic comment he had been about to make, in
favor of sparing Naomi's feelings.  She was behaving strangely,
vulnerably, and he didn't quite know what to make of it.  But he
did know that he wasn't going to deliberately hurt her.  On
some level, he cared about her, would do his best to make her
happy.  He'd been trying to fight it, trying to avoid admitting
how much he needed her and how much she'd given him, but it
was true.  His life really wasn't worth anything without her in
it.

Of course, that wasn't much of an admission.  Being a human
was about the worst possible fate Q could imagine.  Life as a
human was humiliating, boring, tiresome, hideous and positively
full of nightmarish experiences.  Like his first experience with a
shower.  Q shuddered at the thought.  No, to be reduced to
being human was cruel punishment indeed for the paltry sins he
had committed while omnipotent.  He would never have even
considered entering into a bargain as degrading as this one with
Naomi while he was omnipotent.  He wouldn't even have been
interested in her.  She was simply too bland for his tastes, didn't
get provoked nearly enough.

But as a human, with the whole universe turned against him,
and only the inadequate, inhuman protection of Starfleet to fall
back on, what Naomi offered was precisely what Q needed. 
Someone who accepted him, wasn't afraid of him or insulted by
him, who was both intelligent enough to hold a conversation
with him and annoying enough to try to turn it back on him,
and, nauseatingly enough, *loved* him.  Q almost gagged on
the thought.  Love was a fanciful fairy tale for humans too
deluded to accept their own aloneness, a sugar-coated cover up
for their own repulsive desires for each other.

Which brought him back to Naomi, sitting on his bed, waiting
for him to say something to her.  She didn't use love as a
disguise for what she wanted.  She was, unfortunately enough,
rather direct about these kind of things.  The way she stayed
sitting there, naked, when she could easily have covered herself
up entirely, or even just left while he was in the bathroom, and
gotten dressed then.  But did she have the decency to do either
of those things?  No, of course not.  She waited for him to
come back, displaying herself to him, openly inviting an act that
she knew he preferred to avoid.

Q shifted uncomfortably.  Just thinking about it was causing his
treacherous body to react.

Naomi raised an eyebrow questioningly at the
uncharacteristically silent Q, a grin beginning to appear on her
face.  "Scared of me?"

Challenged, Q replied, "Merely trying to decide how to get you
out of bed without being forced to eat something."

Naomi cocked her head.  "You mean you were going to try to
lure me with offers of food?"

"As a last resort, yes."

Feeling more at ease now, Naomi let the comforter drop,
exposing her shoulders.  "You mean there's some reason you
don't want me staying in bed all day?"

"A natural dislike for sloth?" Q suggested lightly, coming
closer, drawn to her by urges he had no control over.

"You mean you don't want to come back to bed and sleep 'til
noon?" Naomi asked, a mock-pout on her face.  Q was standing
directly in front of her, not close enough for her to touch, but
near enough to make her shiver suddenly, a delicious feeling of
anticipation running over her.  Why, she didn't know.  She'd
never dragged Q back into bed on a morning.  In the mornings,
he usually preferred to pretend that he had no sexual desires. 
For that matter, Q seemed to want to pretend that all the time. 
But in the mornings, his formality was at its greatest.  And he
certainly had never initiated an encounter in the morning.  But it
looked like that was what he was doing now.  

Q, for his part, was fighting a losing battle to reestablish his
barriers and get out of there.  Surrendering the night before, and
admitting that he couldn't go on without the activity humans
ironically called 'lovemaking', didn't make things any easier on
him.  His body's desires were always at their height in the
morning, but so was his strength of will.  In the middle of the
night, when he was at his lowest, was the only time he could
give him, couldn't refuse giving in.

"Sleep until noon?  Could you go without eating that long?" Q
asked acerbically.

"With the right motivation," Naomi said teasingly, the statement
itself bland enough, but with a wealth of meaning behind it.

Q stared down at her, eyes running over her smooth shoulders,
the tops of her breasts visible where they rested against her
knees, the way her legs curved invitingly...  With an effort, he
tore his mind away from its woolgathering.  "Room service?"

Naomi laughed.  "That, too."  The way Q just hung there at the
edge of the bed was driving her crazy.  She didn't know what
he meant to do, and didn't know whether making the first move
was really the right thing to do.  The way he was looking at
her, dark gaze enfolding her, intent on her and only her, made
her feel like he wanted her, wanted to make love with her. 
Which was impossible.

On the other hand, so were bumblebees, holograms, and one
formerly omnipotent god who liked to stroll around his quarters
in a red velvet lounging robe while whining about the quality of
the tea.

Before she could think about it any further, Naomi rolled to her
knees in front of him, letting the blanket drop entirely, and put
her hands on his chest.

Q was transfixed.  His body was throbbing now, consumed with
the feeling of her soft, naked body pressed up against his own,
regrettably clothed, one.  With an effort, he wrenched his mind
away from these erotic thoughts, asking hoarsely, "Is sex the
*only* thing on your mind?"

"Only on my good days."  She reached down for his hand,
taking it and placing a kiss in his palm.

Q let her, unable to stop her.  He didn't want this, had no
interest in it.  But that was a lie and he knew it, was vividly
brought to an awareness of how untrue that was when she
placed his hand on her breast and he felt a jolt of agonizing
pleasure go through him.

Involuntarily, Q groaned.

Encouraged by the sound, Naomi tugged him down towards her,
and Q came, kneeling, and then lying down on the bed, unable
to resist her.

"Aren't you even going to brush your teeth?" Q asked
waspishly, trying to retain what little control he could.

"What?  And let you lock me in the bathroom?" Naomi asked,
snuggling close to him, letting his hands explore her body as if
they hadn't done this many, many times before.  "Not unless
you're planning on coming with me."

Q looked at her suspiciously.  "Why would I want to come with
you?"

Naomi's eyes twinkled.  "Well, we still haven't had a chance to
do this in the shower."

Q eyed her distrustfully, not being sure whether she was joking. 
People couldn't, *wouldn't* be so base as to actually want to
engage in physical sex acts while crowded into a torture
chamber and having boiling water pouring down on them. 
Could they?

Q had just about decided that there was no bottom limit to the
degradation of humankind when Naomi's cool hands slipped
inside his shirt, and touched his bare skin.

He groaned in abandonment then, the sensation slipping easily
through his defenses.  Pleasure was still a foreign concept to
him, despite Naomi's repeated attempts at getting him to wallow
in it, like some disgusting animal.  Pleasure of the senses was
something to be resisted at all costs.  To become attached to this
shell and to what it could do for him was to be inevitably
disappointed as it decayed and rotted around him, or worse,
when someone discovered his weakness and forcibly took those
fleeting pleasures away.  Pain was a simple thing; something he
had no choice but to live with.  Pleasure was quite another, and
Q couldn't help but hate it, even as he needed it and longed for
it.

Naomi took the sound as a request for more, and continued,
easing his shirt up, enjoying the solid reality of him under her
hands.

It was a little thing, only a small brushing of her hands against
his bared skin, and yet Q couldn't help responding, trembling
with the feelings she was provoking with her touch.  Humans
were so vulnerable to touch, to their needs, and Q was no
exception.  He wanted this badly, would probably even protest
if she tried to stop, although of course, he'd do it in a way that
didn't make it seem like he actually *wanted* this.  That would
be intolerable.

Naomi watched Q intently, seeing his eyes close, and feeling,
rather than hearing, his sharp intake of breath when she'd
touched him.  His very responsiveness was a relief.  Only the
night before, he'd still been protesting that sex was animalistic
and repulsive.  Of course, those were the good parts, Naomi
thought, grinning to herself.  They'd awkwardly come together,
each needing the other, but not sure what to do, how to breach
the gap that had come between them.  Q's revulsion to sex had
been a cover-up for his very real terror of her.  Naomi knew
she'd done precisely the wrong thing when she'd pushed Q out
of bed after he'd sensually teased her past the point of no
return.  But she hadn't had a choice.  Right then, she'd been on
overload, emotional and physical, and she hadn't been able to
control herself, hadn't been able to stop blaming Q for what had
happened.  It had been her fault as much as his: he'd done the
actual deed, but she hadn't stopped him, hadn't told him she'd
had too much.  And given Q's lack of sexual experience, it was
definitely her fault.  He depended on her to guide him, trusted
her as he trusted her at no other time, and she had failed him. 
Now the trick was going to be getting him to ever trust her
again.  He seemed willing enough to let her pleasure him, but
Naomi didn't know what Q would do if she suggested that he
try anything with her.  And she wasn't sure she wanted to find
out.  Just having him, feeling close to him, those were enough
for now.  Naomi didn't want to risk Q's coldness again, not so
soon.  Even if it did leave her sexually frustrated.

She sat up, tugging his shirt over his head, leaving him exposed
to her gaze.  He was beautiful, and she told him so.

Q looked up mockingly at her.  "Trying to butter me up?  It
won't work.  Lies have no effect on me, no matter how prettily
spoken."

"Sad to say, I'm out of butter," Naomi said, hands planted flat
against his stomach, moving over his skin of their own volition,
as if subconsciously, the only thing she wanted to do was touch
him.

A suspicious look came into his eyes.  "Do I *want* to know
what butter has to do with this?"

Her hands kneaded his skin before slipping down to play with
the waistband of his trousers.  "Well, you know my two great
passions in life are food and sex," Naomi said teasingly, "Can I
help it if I want to try to combine them?"

"I think I'm going to be ill," Q said, petulance shading his
voice.

"Uh huh," Naomi said, "As sickly as you are, I suppose Li
would prescribe total and complete bedrest for you.  You'll just
have to stay in bed until you feel better."

That didn't sound all that bad, not with Naomi half-kneeling
over him, entirely naked and about to put him into the same
condition.  Q considered making another protest, for form's
sake, but reconsidered.  If he complained enough, she might
stop, and he didn't want that.  He wanted things too low to
describe, and if he ever got back to the Continuum, Q had no
doubt that they'd hold this over his head for millennia, laughing
at him whenever they had a chance.  Oh, other Q had
relationships with mortals, although usually the sexual part of
the relationship was more for the mortal's benefit than anything
else, but he had protested so long and loudly, been so firmly set
against their kind, that no one would ever be able to let him
forget it.  If he ever got back.

On that depressing thought, Q hardly noticed Naomi moving to
strip him of the rest of his clothes, although he couldn't help but
feel her hands as they brushed his legs, running lightly over his
skin, sending shivers through him.  Her hair spilled down
around her face, silky tendrils stroking him as well, and that
sensation was a delicate torture.  She was close, too close to
that part of him that wanted this more desperately than any
other, and even as Q realized that he was holding his breath in
anticipation of her touching him there, he let it out in a silent
sigh.

Once Q was as naked as she was, Naomi abandoned her
seduction, coming up to snuggle against him, one hand straying
to stroke his chest.

"What are you doing?" Q asked, beginning to panic.  She was
stopping!  Didn't she know what she was supposed to do next?

Naomi hadn't expected that question.  "Lying here.  I think."

"But you're..." Q stuffed that thought quickly back where it had
come from.

"I'm what?" Naomi asked interestedly, levering herself up to
look at him.

His face closed off; Naomi could almost see him going cold on
her.  Whatever it was, he didn't want to talk about it.

And at the moment, she had no desire to talk anyway.  She had
wanted him to feel involved in this, to not feel like she was
overpowering and controlling him.  So frequently in their brief,
fleeting encounters, she took the lead and she knew that must
gall the control-intensive Q, who couldn't even stand to hear
advice from anyone else, much less have his entire body be
taken over by someone else.

However, she wasn't going to let him get away with shutting
her out either just because she would have preferred to let him
set the pace.  Naomi was perfectly happy with the idea of
seducing Q.  It had its definite points as a sport, although she
suspected she was becoming a tease.

Naomi draped a leg over Q's, and started touching him again,
hands moving lightly over him, almost, but not quite, tickling
him.  Q groaned slightly, and his face softened as he lost
himself in that sensation.

Naomi grinned, then bent to his chest, placing a soft kiss in the
hollow of his neck before moving down his body, knowing what
he was expecting, but wanting to draw it out, to prolong the
experience.  She was definitely a tease.  She was going to give
Q what he wanted eventually; there was no question about that. 
But before she got to that, Naomi wanted him to be entirely lost
in what he was feeling, wanting it and her more than anything. 
It was childish; it was even a little cruel, but Q didn't seem to
mind.  Too much.

Q hung there, body taut, wanting this, needing her touch more
than anything.  He felt Naomi's hands, her mouth, running over
him, sensitizing his body to that tantalizing contact which was
never quite enough.  Desire swept through him, pooling
between his legs, and he couldn't stand it, couldn't not stand it. 
Unconsciously he clenched his hands into the bed, fingers
digging in, the need too overwhelming to do anything else.

Naomi slid down further, pulling her hair out of the way, not
that it would *stay* out of the way, and resting her hand lightly
on Q's thigh.  

He responded with a slight jerk of his hips and a very low
moan, far more aware of her touch now than he had been earlier
when she had undressed him.

The movement did not go unnoticed by Naomi, who took pity
on Q and cut the petty teasing short, going directly to what she
thought of as the even greater teasing.

Q moaned as she took him in her mouth, all that hard need
encased in the hottest, softest, wettest place imaginable.  It felt
good, and more than good.  It was all he could do to not
immediately humiliate himself by releasing all this built up
tension right there.  He'd done that to Harry and he couldn't,
wouldn't do that again.  However, despite his repugnance, the
mere thought of it sent warm pulses through him, an even
greater degree of desire and want. 

With an enormous sacrifice that he was sure would go
unappreciated, Q reached down, cupped Naomi's head in his
hand, and gently tugged her up.

Naomi broke off, and looked up at Q, a question in her eyes. 
Her hands still rested on his thighs, absently soothing him.

Q didn't move or say anything.  He didn't know what to say.  It
had taken an huge effort on his part just to get her to stop, and
he was lost now, feeling very alone, and in pain as well.

Before he could do anything, Naomi moved forward, straddling
him, and then he was inside her again, only this time it was all
right, would be all right for him to give into the feelings rushing
through his body again.  Q moaned, hands settling on her hips,
letting her do whatever she pleased to him.  It felt good, too
good, and that was all that mattered.

Naomi flattened her hands against Q's chest, settling into an
easy rhythm.  She could feel something as well, a growing
urgency in her body, an awareness that if she continued doing
this, something else might happen.  She didn't know why she
was feeling like that; Q hadn't done anything to her other than
being his usual irritating self.  But there was something
sensuous nonetheless about seducing a man, particularly one
who resisted sex completely and wouldn't have anything to do
with it if she hadn't dragged him into it.  It made her feel very
desirable and sexy indeed that he wanted her and couldn't help
wanting her.

She was sweating now, caught up in the sensations her body was
producing, the need growing greater like someone coiling up a
spring inside her body.  With instinctive awareness of what she
was doing, what she needed to be doing, she changed the way
she was moving, stoking that incredible tightness building up
inside her.  She lost track of how long she was there, moving
like that, only the perspiration gathering over her body
registering at all.

And then, finally, a tingling rush spread over her body, cool
prickles first, and at last, a release from that tension, a
tremendous wonderful gratification, pleasure exploding outwards
from her center.

Naomi gasped, riding it out, letting it continue, until all she felt
was tired, blissfully so.

Q hadn't noticed the lapse in attention, far more self-centered
than she, concentrated entirely on how it felt to have part of him
inside her, to be holding onto her as she coerced his body into
enjoying itself.  He felt her orgasm as a series of agonizingly
pleasurable contractions, tightening around him until there was
nothing he could do but give way himself, his own orgasm
virtually *squeezed* out of him by that deliciously painful
constriction.

Naomi felt Q stiffen, fingers digging painfully into her hips and
smiled slightly, feeling very self-satisfied.  She didn't change
position until he opened his eyes, looking at her with a stunned
expression, much like she felt.  

Naomi moved away from Q, coming back to nestle against his
side.  Q accepted her presence without a murmur, holding her
close, not yet willing to put the barriers back between them. 
He'd allowed her nearer to him than he'd ever allowed any
other mortal, and closer even than most of the Q, if the pallid
emotional intimacy mortals shared could be compared with the
constant telepathic communion shared by the members of the
Continuum.  The frightening part was that it could be compared,
that in his own, now limited way, he was opening himself more
fully to Naomi than he would ever have dreamed of doing
before he became human and started *needing* so much.  He'd
been lonely before, been bored before, even when omnipotent,
but it was nothing compared to the infinite array of monotony
available to him as a human.  However, even with Naomi, Q
felt it necessary to maintain a certain distance, to keep himself
separate.  Just not right at the moment.

****

While Q cleaned himself up in the bathroom, a lengthy process
under any circumstances, Naomi lowered herself into her chair,
snuggling down into it comfortably, her body still feeling sleepy
and sated, then called up her mail.  She didn't need nearly as
much time to take care of personal hygiene as he did, which
was lucky, because otherwise she'd never get any work done. 
A few minutes in the bathroom, any old outfit which fit and
wasn't scratchy, and she was ready to face the day.

Naomi read through the list of messages, then paused at the last
item.  She had a package waiting for her, an actual delivered
package.  Very unusual.  Q had things show up all the time,
especially articles of clothing, but this was a relative rarity for
her.  She looked at the routing and the special handling specified
for it.  They had sent it!  It was finally here.

She quickly started composing a message of her own, to Li. 
She was so excited.  She'd been waiting for this for a long time,
and now that the moment was finally here, she couldn't stand it. 
But she had to calm down, had to deal with this rationally. 
There was still a chance that it wouldn't work, that Li would
tell her it was impossible.

But after all the odds she'd surmounted to get this far, Naomi
felt quite confident she'd succeed.

At long last, Q strolled in, as sulky as she could ever want,
dressed again, this time even more formidably, probably in an
attempt to fend off possible seduction attempts.

"Do you know I haven't had anything to eat yet?" Naomi asked,
her tone provocative.

Q's eyes narrowed.  "Is that a threat?"

Naomi stifled a giggle.  "I don't know.  Did you want it to be?"

Before Q could find a way to wiggle out of that one, Naomi was
up and around him, making her way to the replicator to order
breakfast.  Q didn't try to stop her.  Getting in between Naomi
and breakfast was not exactly advisable.

With bad grace, Q seated himself at the table, taking charge of
the plate Naomi handed him.

Naomi filled her own plate, in a good mood now that she was
more awake and had something to eat in front of her.  She was
of the opinion that mornings should be banned and replaced with
afternoon tea.  Of course, if they all started off like this one
had, she might not object quite so much to them.  She grinned
at the thought, and Q caught her at it.

"What are *you* gloating over?" Q asked in disgruntlement.

Naomi speared another sausage and looked up.  "Gloating? 
Why would I be gloating?"

Q waved an hand towards his door in an airy gesture.  "After
you held me down and took down advantage of me, what else
would you be doing?"

Time for a quick subject change.  "Actually I was smirking over
Harry's gift to you.  What an *ugly* piece of stone.  How could
anyone pick that out as a gift, much less spend the time making
it?"

Q felt relieved that she wasn't talking about his recent
humiliating surrender to physical pleasures, and simultaneously
angered that he'd revealed a weakness to her in that area. 
Fortunately, she'd provided him with a large target.  "That
statue represents a higher development in human thought than
you are capable of appreciating."

"You saying you *like* this statue of Harry's?  But you don't
have anything else like it."  Naomi gestured to the room around
them, which was free of anything resembling statuary.

"I used to," Q said, then regretted it, the words sounding far
more vulnerable than he would have liked.

"You used to?" Naomi asked, his tone setting her on the
defensive, making her want to protect him from whatever evil
forces had done this to him.  "What happened?"

Q shrugged elegantly, as if it were a matter of non-concern to
him.  "Apparently, Nian believed that I might consider
damaging the antiques and ruining their value in an attempt at
suicide."

Naomi looked back gravely at him, disturbed by his tone, but
not about to show it.  "What a ridiculous idea."

Q nodded, abandoning his elaborate pose now that he was
certain Naomi was in sympathy with him.  "Exactly.  But did
*they* see it that way?  Of course not."

"We'll just have to do something about that," Naomi said. 
"Although if it's all as ugly as that statue..."

"You simply have no taste," Q said, overriding her.  "But they
won't let me have it back.  Eleanor can be so *stuffy* at
times."

Naomi cocked her head at him, amused by his petulance. 
"Really?  I think that the commodore doesn't understand the
terms of your contract with Starfleet very well, then."

A slow, wicked grin began to spread across Q's face, as he
realized that Naomi was right.  When Anderson had ordered his
things taken away, supposedly for his own protection, but really
in another draconic attempt to control him, Q had no power to
stop her.  The Federation, in its usual bully-boy tactics, had
forced him to dance to their tune in return for inadequate
protection from assassins who kept getting through anyway. 
That had all changed with first Q2's visit to him, then Pelz's
rather unsuccessful attempt at coercing Q into tractability.  The
Continuum had been alerting most of the assassins to Q's
presence and present vulnerability; Q2 had promised that would
stop.  He'd also said that Q was stuck in this miserable
existence for at least another ten years, which was a severe
disappointment.  And the attempts had stopped, or at least
slowed to a rate that Starfleet could handle, because Q hadn't
noticed anything since.  He would call it a relief, except that his
nerves had been trained to respond to a constant state of threat,
and he still could never completely lose the feeling that any
stranger was someone about to leap for his throat and try to
choke the life out of him.  The threat was gone, but Q couldn't
convince his forever traitorous body of that, even as he knew it
on a rational level.  However, that very lack of threat had
inspired Q into renegotiating his bad bargain with Starfleet into
something more equitable.  This would be his first real
opportunity to twist the screws.  Q relished the thought.  "Yes,
dear Elly can be rather shortsighted as well."

"We'll just have to show her the error of her ways, then."

****

Arranging the outing took a few days.  First for the request to
trickle up to the commodore, then for the interminable protests,
arguments and rebuttals and at last, the final, inevitable
complete surrender.

Somehow, somewhere in the process, Harry found himself
invited along.  As the only person on the starbase with taste
even remotely near Q's standards, as evidenced by his choice of
birthday gift for Q, Harry was judged the perfect counterweight
for Naomi's regrettable fashion choices.

They arrived at the room together, Q and Harry chatting
together, with Naomi in amused attendance and Sanaharrar
trailing along behind, setting her own sort of fashion statement. 
As they entered the room, the immensity of the accumulated
items was overwhelming.  Harry visibly took a step back,
unable to take it all in.  Q was oblivious, fascinated by the sight
of his once lost possessions.

"Anderson's not here yet," Naomi observed.  "Wonder where
she is?"

"I'll go find out."  Harry disappeared towards the entrance, and
Naomi turned back to the treasure trove of items, and the
entranced Q.

Naomi tugged on Q's hand.  "Over here."

He followed willingly enough, indignant over the number and
variety of items that had been stolen from him.  Q hadn't quite
forgotten about them, but when he couldn't have something, it
was much easier on his pride to believe that he just didn't want
it.  And so, he *had* more or less forgotten exactly what he'd
had.  Although it was silly to become attached to objects and
claim that you owned them, having his artworks and other
useful things around him made him feel much better, like he had
control over something, however trivial.  Knowing how easily it
could all be taken from him... that was appalling.  However, it
couldn't happen again.  Q smiled evilly, remembering
Anderson's face when he'd pointed out that clause in his new
contract with Starfleet.  Oh, she'd made some noise about
giving him back his things because he was no longer suicidal,
but that was just face-saving on her part.  Q knew that dear Elly
was livid over not being able to take them back again, not ever.

Naomi stopped in a nook out of sight of the door.  "Would you
take a look at this?"

It was his bathtub, huge and ornate, an enormous clawfooted
antique, done in black with gold fixturing.  They'd kept it.  Q
was momentarily grateful.  He'd enjoyed it, as much as he
would say he enjoyed anything, soaking up to his neck in hot
water, able to stretch himself completely out in it.  He'd been
enormously angry when they'd taken that away.  And not all the
memories it brought back were good.  He'd chosen to commit
suicide in this tub just over two weeks after having been beaten
to a pulp by his supposed Security "guards".  They'd caught
him alone, dragged him down and kicked him and refused to
listen to any of his begging and pleading.  He had been sure he
was going to die, and when they finally left him there, half-
alive, broken and bleeding, he had wished that he *had* died. 
Q reached out with one long-fingered hand, tracing the edge of
the bathtub, seeking a sense of physical reality as a point of
reference against his terrifying memories.

Naomi continued on, oblivious to Q's transfixion on the object. 
"I mean, really.  What are they doing storing *that* here?  That
*can't* be yours."  She looked up at him.  "You'd never want
to get wet on purpose."

"Not with you around."

"Of course not.  I'd be tempted to take shameless advantage of
any situation involving me and your naked body."  She smiled
mischievously up at him, daring him to make something of that.

"This is supposed to be a surprise to me?" Q asked, tearing his
attention away from his memories with an effort, almost grateful
to be interrupted.

Naomi was in a playful mood, and that comment didn't help
matters any.  She suddenly wanted to surprise him, to take him
off-guard.  "I guess not.  How could any human ever hope to
take someone of your vast intellect and experience by surprise?"

Q was about to respond smugly, when she suddenly turned into
him, even that small force sufficient to back him up against the
wall.

Naomi grinned up at him.  "It's impossible.  Absolutely
inconceivable."  She raised up, hands flat against his chest.  His
head was angled down just enough for her to be able to reach
him, and she kissed him awkwardly.

For his part, Q felt as if he'd suddenly been attacked by some
wild animal, taken completely off-guard by her action.  If it
hadn't been for her pervasive brainwashing of him, and repeated
attempts over the past few months to indoctrinate his body in
her spells of pleasure, he would never have responded.  Of
course not.  He wasn't so lost to all sense that he'd let himself
be dragged off into a dark corner of a public room and be
mauled.  But at the moment, he felt in need of her, of some
physical reassurance of her solidity, that there was someone who
wouldn't hurt him, someone who wanted him.

The feeling of her soft body pressed up against his, and her lips
on his was eating away at his habitual reserve.  Already,
without any conscious decision, his body was responding, lips
parting to let her further in.

Q groaned slightly, in frustration and need.  He couldn't stop
himself, and somewhere, a part of him was saying that maybe
he didn't want to stop.  And, after all, it was only a kiss.

Surrendering, Q lowered his head, his hands coming around to
Naomi's waist, supporting her, and urging her closer to him.

Naomi responded immediately, pressing even closer to him, one
hand going up to his neck, the other beginning a slow journey
from his chest downwards.

In suspenseful agony, hanging on the trembling edge of desire,
waiting to see where her hand was going to end up, Q didn't
hear the door open.  But neither of them could miss the voices.

"Are you sure you want to see this for yourself, Commodore?"

Naomi froze at the sound, not quite able to make out the words,
looking up at Q to see if he'd heard anything.  

There was a unintelligible reply, then Harry's voice again, very
clear this time.  "I have no idea where Q and Naomi went.  Off
in a corner somewhere no doubt."

Naomi groaned softly, head dropping to Q's chest.  "I'm going
to kill Harry."

"You keep saying that, and never doing it.  Why did you ask
him along anyway?"

"It seemed like a good idea at the time," Naomi said, shrugging,
reluctantly dropping away from Q.  "Think we better find him
before he gives us a deserved reputation for lechery?"

Q drew himself up to his full height, pulling a mask of hauteur
over himself.  "In your case, I'd consider it fair warning."

Naomi grinned at him, "You mean you didn't read the manual
on me?"  She ducked away, coming around the corner to meet
up with Harry and Anderson.

"There you are," Harry said, unruffled by the look of death
Naomi shot him.  "I was just telling the commodore how avidly
you and Q were inspecting his treasures."

"I bet you were," Naomi said sweetly, not acknowledging Q as
he stepped up beside her.  She turned to Anderson.  "So, when
can we get these moved back?"

Anderson cleared her throat.  "I don't have the resources right
now for such a project."

Naomi could feel Q bristling, although the only visible change
in him was a slight hardening of his expression.  Before he
could attack Anderson, Naomi spoke, "Really?  And when
would you anticipate having these resources?"

The commodore shrugged.  She really hated this kind of thing. 
She had better things to do than straighten out this petty kind of
mess.  Other people could do it better and faster.  But no one
else was capable of dealing with Q, or willing.  "I don't know. 
Someone else will be doing the labor, and I don't know what
their priorities are."

The honesty of Anderson's reply went over Q's head.  All he
heard was a denial of what he wanted.  "'It's not my job'," he
said in a whiny, sing-songy voice.  Then, bitterly, "How trite. 
I thought more highly of you."

Anderson felt a flush of cold anger coming over her, and
disciplined herself to ignore it.  "We'll take care of it when we
have the time.  Redecorating is not a top Starfleet priority."

Behind Anderson, Harry was stifling a giggle.  Q, on the other
hand, didn't think it was funny at all.  "Perhaps it should be." 
He flicked a hand disdainfully at the room they were in. 
"Dreary little holes.  You really haven't evolved much from
your days sitting in caves, painting on the walls, have you?"

Anderson shook her head.  She was letting herself get drawn
into an argument with an overgrown, spoiled child.  "It'll get
done when it gets done.  I'll have someone contact you."  She
spun on her heel and left, before Q could make yet another
retort.  Sometimes she really hated this job.

Harry waited until Anderson was out of the room before
breaking into laughter.  "That was wonderful."

"You really think so?" Q asked, preening.

Naomi rolled her eyes.  "Children, children.  Please, can we get
back to the business of deciding what of this you want to inflict
on me, and what can be safely ignored forever?"

"I'm going to take it all, of course," Q said grandly.

"You *can't* take it all," Naomi said.

"Why not?" Q asked, his eyes dangerous.

"Because it won't all fit!" Naomi said with emphasis,
exasperated.

"She's got you there, Q," Harry said, looking around at all of
it.

Q shrugged, then looked at Naomi, a wicked glint in his eyes. 
"There must be some things I can get rid of to make room that
are just taking up space now."

Naomi scowled at him.  "Like everything of mine, you mean?"

"What a wonderful suggestion!  Thank you, Naomi, I will," Q
said expansively, then turned away with a flourish to inspect his
things.

A reluctant grin spread across Naomi's face, and she chuckled.

"You don't seem to mind very much," Harry said, a little
puzzled by Naomi's good humor and apparent willingness to
sacrifice her rights for Q.  He wouldn't have been nearly as
complacent in the same situation.

"Why should I?" Naomi asked, grinning.  "After all, if he gets
rid of all my stuff, I'll have to sleep with him because I won't
have any bed, and then, of course, there's the interesting
problem of what I'm going to do without any clothes."  

As Harry started to laugh, Q shot a reproving look at Naomi. 
"No wardrobe would be an improvement on your wardrobe."

"Is that a request?" Naomi asked, hands going to the top of her
blouse.  "If so, I'll be happy to oblige."  She glanced at Harry. 
"Of course, you'll have to run along and do something else."

"I will?" Harry asked.  "But you're not *serious*."

That was definitely a dare if she ever heard one.  Naomi had
been joking, had expected Q to stop her with some well-placed
comment about her career aspirations as a stripper or something
similar.  But now she had no choice.  "I'm not?"  She started
unbuttoning her blouse.  

"You're just trying to..." Harry's voice trailed off as Naomi got
to the third button.  "Maybe I *should* leave."

Q had been inspecting a glass statuette, doing his best to ignore
Naomi, but now her behavior was about to chase Harry off.  He
straightened up and looked at her.  "Naomi."

His tone was petulant, and anyone else would certainly have
ignored it.  But Naomi immediately stopped what she was
doing, buttoning her blouse back up, then flounced over to Q,
pouting.  "You never let me have any fun."

"Since your concept of 'fun' always involves base physical
activities, I consider myself a public benefactor," Q said, raising
an eyebrow at her, before turning back to his treasures.

"Then donate this to a museum," Naomi said, looking at the
statuette with disgust.

"Where do you think it came from?"

"Oh."

Q ignored her, and went back to his cataloging.  Naomi was
right, although he'd never admit it; he didn't need, or even
want, all of this.  He'd amassed this array of exotic items
because it amused him to see Starfleet scurrying around to
collect these things for him, not because he had any actual
interest in antiques.  Of course, some of this was functional,
like the bathtub.  And he really could use more decoration for
his quarters.  But a lot of it was junk, and he didn't care what
Anderson did with it.  Of course, he still had to drag enough of
it back to his quarters to make the point that it was his and that
they couldn't take it away from him.  The problem was how
much of it he needed to make that point.

The task took over an hour, Harry assisting Q with marking out
which items should go back and which should stay, while
Naomi hung around, making snide remarks about the ugliness of
the various objects and Q one-upping her each time.

Harry kept more quiet than was his usual wont.  His own
personality was naturally sarcastic and outgoing, but watching
these two spar was fascinating, like watching two master
duelists fence.

"And how about this?" Naomi asked, pointing to a perfectly
poised figure of a cat or panther, almost marble in appearance. 
"This is probably the most tasteful thing of all."

Harry, who had slipped into an oblivious trance when it came to
the various wonders of Q's collection, looked over.  "Not bad. 
Rather large for a statue, don't you think... Ahh!" he screamed,
backing away, as the 'statue' suddenly moved, stretching out
and yawning, showing a rather large set of teeth.

Q shook his head.  "Rather unobservant of you, Harry."

Sanaharrar paced over to Harry, looking directly at him before
pacing past him to Naomi, who was collapsed in giggles.

Still shaking, Harry scowled at Naomi.  "Not funny."

"Oh, it was v-very funny," Naomi said, wiping the tears from
her eyes.  "I can't believe you fell for it, though."

Q felt left out.  And rather tired by all of this.  It was too much
like work, examining each piece and being flooded with the
memories of the past, what each had looked like, and what had
been going on when he'd had still had them displayed in his
rooms, and how he had felt then.  "When you're through being
juvenile..."

"Juvenile?  Us?" Naomi asked, eyes sparkling.  "I can't believe
that."

Q hated being interrupted.  "Your entire race is juvenile."

"So then it's not our fault."

Q flicked his hand contemptuously at them.  "Hide behind that
pitiful excuse and you'll never move beyond your limited
conceptions of the universe."

Naomi looked over at Harry.  "I think this is where he tells us
that the universe is like a box of chocolates."

Harry grinned, but Q was unmoved.  "Everything comes back
to food with you."

"Only the good things," Naomi replied.  "Speaking of food..."

"Oh, yes, you haven't eaten for at least two hours.  How could
I be so inconsiderate?" Q said.  "Next time, I'll have to
remember to bring along a bag of doggy treats."

"Get the cheese kind.  The liver ones are disgusting."

Q looked at Naomi for a long moment, then decided to ignore
that.  He didn't want to know whether she'd actually tried
something as revoltingly inedible as animal food.  

The silence stretched between them, growing thick in the
disused room.

"I'd better get going, then," Harry said, feeling awkward.

"You're welcome to join us for lunch," Naomi said, abruptly
recalling his presence.

"That's all right.  I..."  Harry hesitated on the edge of saying
something he actually meant, then retreated back into polite,
meaningless pleasantries.  "I'm glad I could be of assistance."

He was about to leave, and Naomi was about to let him, when
she realized how late it had gotten.  "No, no, stay.  I'll go."

"You'll go?" Harry asked incredulously.  "This isn't another
trick, is it?"

Naomi raised her eyebrows at that question.  "Not that I know
of.  I have an appointment with Dr. Li.  I don't have time
enough to eat.  You two go ahead without me."

Harry looked over at Q, silently seeking permission.

Q was indignant that he hadn't been asked or even informed
about this activity of Naomi's.  However, he couldn't say that
or even show it, because it would imply that he actually cared
where she went or what she was doing, and that he missed her
when she wasn't there, which was too sickeningly sweet to be
true.  "You'll only force me to eat again when you come back."

"And you won't eat anything at all if I'm not there," Naomi
said, then added as an afterthought, "Except ice cream
sundaes."

Harry shrugged.  "And that's bad?"

While Naomi scowled at Harry, Q chose that moment to make
his grand exit.  "A man after my own heart.  Why don't you
come with me and tell me everything you know about women
and why they're so infuriating."

Harry nodded, accepting the invitation.  "All right, but
remember, I don't *like* women."

"All the better," Naomi heard Q say as he strolled out with
Harry, almost purring over him.

****

Naomi waited on the table, nervous.  This was a big step for
her, a decision she felt hardly capable of making, and unsure
about even now.  But if she waited until she was sure, then
she'd never do it.  It was like going down a cliff when there
was a overhang and you were virtually stepping off backwards
into nowhere.  If you waited to do that until you didn't feel
scared about it, you'd grow old, stuck at the top of a mountain
somewhere.  

Li finished his scan.  "You're in good physical condition.  You
should have no problems with this."

Naomi nodded.  For all his reassuring words, the doctor still
looked concerned about something.  "But?"

"Are you sure you want to go ahead with this?  It's a risky
procedure given the state of cryogenic processes at that time."

Suddenly Naomi was even more nervous than before.  "I
thought you examined what they sent and said it would be all
right?"

"Of course, but there's always a chance..."

Naomi cut him off.  "And there's a chance I could get eaten
alive by rampaging timberwolves on the holodeck.  Please, let's
just get on with this." *Before I lose my nerve*, she added
silently.

Li shrugged.  "It's your decision.  However, there are easier
ways to do this, you know."

"Not and get what I want," Naomi said, her chin set stubbornly.

Li surveyed his rebellious patient and sighed inwardly.  "Lie
down."

Naomi lowered herself to the table, trying not to think of
anything at all, too excited and worried all at once to relax even
a little.

****

By the time Naomi got back to their quarters, Harry had gone,
and Q was alone, Sanaharrar poised outside the door, on guard,
or perhaps just asleep.  Naomi wouldn't have tested it.  She
hesitated on the threshold, wondering if she should tell Q what
she had done.

She couldn't tell him, not yet.  Not because she was afraid to
tell him.  Naomi was as certain as she'd ever been that this was
something Q wanted, deep down, despite his repeated denials. 
There *was* such as a thing as protesting too much, after all.

It was just too early.  She'd tell him.  When the time was right. 
Taking a deep breath, she stepped inside.

-the end-