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.

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 (mercutio@europa.com); based on
"Only Human" by Alara Rogers


Anderson looked down her priority list with a feeling of
accomplishment.  Finally, and after a great deal of effort, most of
the mess remaining from the attack on Q's life had been cleaned
up.

The fracas with Security had been resolved in a semi-satisfactory
way to those concerned.  Webber hadn't lost his job, but had
seemed relieved that Azoth had come back to handle these sort of
contretemps.  Anderson thought Webber had handled the situation
reasonably well under the circumstances, presupposing that
Webber wasn't truly in command.  Suspecting Dr. Allen had been
overcautiousness, which was not a fault in a Security officer. 
The true problem with Webber's performance lay in his handling
of his subordinates, namely Parkinson.  However, although it had
been a temporary sort of position for Webber, there were no
excuses.  As Azoth's second in command, he should have been
able to handle the situation better than he actually had.  And
Anderson had duly noted the matter in his record after having a
few choice words with Azoth on the subject.  She didn't think it
would be a problem again.

D'oritt, the programmer who had played the prank gone so badly
wrong, had received a relatively light punishment: reassigned
elsewhere and ordered to undergo treatment for her mental
imbalance.  It wasn't precisely fair since the sort of prank she
was guilty of was so common among the programming staff;
however, given that the incident had caused her to try to attack
Q, it was considered a wise move.  Surprising Anderson, neither
Q nor Dr. Allen had protested the laxity of D'oritt's sentence. 
The reasons behind that were mysterious, but with a learned
sense of self-preservation, the commodore hadn't inquired into
why neither party had objected.

There remained only one loose thread of major proportions for
Anderson to clear up, and another, less conscientious person
might have let it slide.  But Anderson couldn't.

How could anyone have been so irresponsible as to encourage an
atmosphere in which potentially dangerous pranks of this nature
could take place?  Anderson considered condemning the person in
charge of the programming department, T'Vai, out of hand for
this, but the Vulcan was unlikely to understand the point of the
argument except perhaps as a lesson in not wasting valuable
resources of time on extraneous projects.  It was not T'Vai's fault
so much as her own for turning a blind eye to this kind of thing. 
She would have to do something about that.

Anderson went to speak with T'Vai in her own office.  The
Vulcan programmer spent the best part of her time on her own
work, devoting precisely the amount of time to managing people
and resources as was necessary for the smooth efficient running
of her department.

Once the commodore had arrived, T'Vai gave Anderson her full
attention.

"I wanted to speak to you about the pranks which occur in your
department."

"Pranks?"  T'Vai's eyebrow lifted, and her tone was slightly
amused, as if she had no idea what Anderson were speaking of.

"Yes, pranks," Anderson continued grimly.  "Such as the one
D'oritt was guilty of."

T'Vai inclined her head.  "What about these did you wish to
address?"

"Were you aware of these pranks?"

"No."  It was the absolute truth.  If T'Vai had been aware of
what D'oritt had been doing, she would have stopped it and
reported her actions to Security.

Anderson studied T'Vai carefully.  She'd been dealing with all
varieties of people for a long time now, and a disproportionate
number of Vulcans, given the scientific bent of Starbase 56. 
Vulcans rarely gave an outright lie, but then there were many
ways of telling the truth.

The commodore felt frustrated.  "In the past week, I've learned
that the programming department is and has been routinely
carrying out practical jokes against one another, and has been
using the base's computer equipment to do so.  Do you know
anything at all that might relate to this?"

"Yes."  T'Vai's face was calm, and if it weren't for the woman's
cultural background, Anderson would have thought T'Vai was
almost laughing at her.

"What is it?"  Anderson stopped herself from adding a "Well" on
the front of that, trying not to sound as impatient as she felt.

"It is common in this field to find information and data regarded
as toys," T'Vai said, hands folded together.  "While I consider
the manipulation of data to be the fascinating part of working at
what I do, the other attitude is more frequent."

"Toys?  So you're saying that this is all just horseplay and that I
should ignore it?"

T'Vai looked calmly back at Anderson, not at all disturbed.  "No,
that is not what I said."

Anderson wanted to argue her point, but abruptly decided it
wasn't getting into.  She wouldn't win a logical argument with a
Vulcan, didn't even want to try.  Her authority was what
mattered here, not her ability to verbally defend those orders.

"I want these pranks stopped.  They are not harmless, and they
have endangered the life of at least one person.  The very idea
that we've got a whole department of people roaming around at
will in the computer system, changing anything they like to suit
themselves, is abhorrent to me, and I want safeguards put in
place to ensure that, as much as possible, this kind of thing can't
happen again."

T'Vai acknowledged the statement with a slight bow of her head. 
"As you wish, Commodore."

"Thank you," Anderson said dryly.  "I expect you will have to do
most of the work for this to happen.  I want to make sure that
anything like this which happens in the future is immediately
identifiable as an intrusion rather than dismissed as a harmless
prank."

"What level of security did you want?"

Anderson waved her hand impatiently.  "Keep these people out of
the system.  Their jobs don't entail changing replicator access;
they don't need that kind of ability."

"It is impossible to protect the system against the people who are
charged with maintaining it."  It wasn't precisely true, and T'Vai
was aware of that.  The entire department was not in charge of
such tasks, but given the ability amassed in the area and the
access that they did require, it would be a massive, if not
impossible,  task to eliminate any possibility of tampering.

Anderson nodded.  "Perhaps.  But we can do better.  And if the
security itself can't be made any tighter, then the people need to
have the fear of Starfleet put into them."

T'Vai didn't say anything to that.  Influencing people was not one
of her stronger skills.  It was, in fact, not one of her skills at all. 
She'd gotten better at it since agreeing to work with Starfleet, due
to the diversity of people she now had contact with, but it was
still not something she excelled at or wanted to.

"Would you do that for me?"

"What would you like me to do?" T'Vai asked.

"Talk to your people," Anderson said, voice tight.  "Tell them
that these 'pranks' are expressly forbidden and will be reacted to
with harshness if they do reoccur.  I intend to make an example
out of the next person who is caught."

T'Vai nodded.  "I will inform them."

"Thank you."  Anderson stood up and left, feeling tired.  This
was the kind of juvenile thing she had no interest in dealing with. 
How grown-up, supposedly responsible individuals could engage
in petty little disputes was beyond her.  She didn't understand it
and she wished it would just go away.  Or if it wouldn't go away,
then the people causing it.  Which could be arranged.

****

Naomi sat up straight as she realized she'd never had a chance to
share her big news with Q.  Not that he'd be nearly as interested
or excited as she was, but it didn't really matter.

"Guess what?"

"You've had second thoughts about your career choices and
lifestyle and are going to become a nun."

"No."  Naomi bounced up and down, looking at him with bright
eyes.  "Guess again."

Q turned to face her directly, starting to feel a little less bored
despite himself.  "You've decided to destroy the starbase, and are
planning on starting with Medellin's office."

"That's an idea," Naomi said, putting a thoughtful expression on
her face, which was promptly overwritten with excitement again. 
"But nope.  You're completely wrong.  So entirely off track that
you aren't even in the same universe."

"If I weren't in the same universe, I wouldn't have to put up with
this inane game," Q said, a sardonic smile on his face.  "Really,
Naomi, you must study up on the world around you."

"That's closer," she said, stopping for a moment.  "I found out
when I was in Sickbay that I'm having a girl."

She looked at Q expectantly, and wasn't disappointed.  "You
were expecting maybe a string quartet?"

Naomi ignored that irrelevant remark.  "Which means we can
pick a name now."

Q heard her say it, but couldn't quite process it.  A name?  For
the half-formed *thing* growing inside Naomi?  He didn't like
that idea at all.  Giving it a name somehow made it seem all the
more real, like something which was actually going to happen.

"What do you think?  I'm rather partial to R, myself."  She
cocked her head and looked at him.

"I had nothing to do with this, and I am uninterested in the
issue," Q said.

"Oh.  So that means you like R?"

Q glared at her.  "Try not to be too dense."

"Okay, R it is."

She grinned at him, and Q knew he was being teased.  He hated
that.  Which of course only meant that he had to beat her at her
own game.  Q stood up and strolled over to the couch where he
could stretch out in the proper posture for conveying his complete
disdain for her ideas.

"Is R the most imaginative thing you can come up with?"  He
settled down, and Naomi came to rest in front of him, perched on
the footstool.

"No, actually.  I was thinking about something out of Greek or
Roman mythology.  Something wildly pagan."  That wasn't the
complete truth, but Naomi didn't want to tell Q that it was the
association with the various gods and deities of mythology that
appealed to her.  Given his past, throwing in a gratuitous
reference to the gods made sense, even though the baby wouldn't
really be his daughter as Q was so fond of telling her.  But she
couldn't let him know that was the connection she was interested
in.  Reminding of him of what he'd lost would be sheer cruelty,
and counterproductive besides, since he seemed to be
participating.

"How fitting."

"What about Athene?  Goddess of wisdom and war?"

"What about Pandora?   The first woman who, out of curiosity,
opened a box and released all the evils that plague humankind."

Naomi stuck out her tongue at him.  "We're naming the kid, not
me."

"Pity."  Q smiled evilly at her, feeling like he'd come off the
better in that exchange.  "It's so... you."

"It's a little late to change my name," Naomi said mournfully. 
"I've always hated it, but I'm used to it now.  Hopefully, we can
come up with something better."

Q felt curiously warmed by her use of the word "we".  Although
he didn't like being included as responsible for this child, he did
like how Naomi wanted his opinion and depended on him for
advice and guidance.  It would have hurt him far worse if he had
been left out.

Naomi shifted uncomfortably on the footstool.  It was, naturally,
backless, and she couldn't stand that.  Without a word of
apology, she moved over to the couch, forcing Q to disarrange
his position of lazy elegance or have his feet sat on.

He glared at her, but she didn't seem to notice, sighing in
pleasure as she leaned into the pillow placed against the arm of
the couch.  That felt much better, and she now had the added
advantage of being seated sideways and getting to look right at Q.

"You don't like Athene."  Naomi affected a pout.

"I suppose it's a good name," Q said, rearranging himself so he
could still seem condescending and relaxed all at the same time
without having to admit he'd rather have his feet stretched out on
the couch.  "If you want the child to become a mass murderer."

Naomi made a face at him.  "I suppose you could do better."

He studied the way his tunic was draped very carefully.  It would
do.  "You rejected my suggestion, remember?  Yet another
display of your horrendous taste."

"My taste isn't so bad.  I like you, don't I?"

Q looked sharply at her.  "I rest my case."

Naomi cocked her head.  "Only a truly demented individual
would like you?  Is that what you're trying to say?"

"Did I say something?"  Q tried to appear absorbed in the fit of
his gloves, but couldn't quite manage the appearance of total
disinterest required to throw Naomi off the scent.

"No, of course not," Naomi answered.  "I think I said something
about packing up and moving to Earth so that I can have the baby
while I'm climbing Mt. Everest, with the birth attended only by
Sherpas, though."

Q reacted without thinking.  "No, you won't."

She smiled sweetly at him.  "Just making sure you were
listening."

He glowered at her, sulky now that he appeared to be losing the
battle of wits.  "Was there a point to this conversation?"

Naomi considered that carefully.  "We were discussing what to
name the baby, and I was telling you I love you and think you're
wonderful."

"Of course I'm wonderful.  Tell me something I don't know."

Naomi looked at Q, a grave expression on her face.  "Harry is
fond of raspberry creme truffles."

"Oh, right."

"What?  I'm sure you didn't know that.  I win."  She had a smug
look on her face that was especially annoying to Q.

"Why would anyone, especially someone as advanced as myself,
want to clutter up their minds with information about food?"  His
expression was sardonic.

"I don't know," Naomi said.  "Because there isn't anything better
in life?  Except of course..."

He held up a hand.  "Please.  Spare me."

She grinned mischievously.  "All right.  But only because I'm in
a good mood."

"Thank heavens for small mercies."

Naomi changed subjects again.  "I also like Ariadne, even though
she was actually a wimp."

"You knew this person?"

She smiled at him.  "No, but the character was a wimp.  She fell
in love with this man, showed him how to defeat this monster,
and then still stayed in love with him even after he left her.  How
pathetic can you get?"

"I don't know, but I'm certain that's less pathetic than the depths
you're capable of sinking to."

Naomi put her hand to her chest and pretended to swoon.  "A hit,
a palpable hit!  I think I've been hulled.  The ship's going down. 
All hands overboard!"  Before she could actually sink off the
couch, she abandoned her pretense of being wounded.  Naomi sat
up and looked at Q, eyes sparkling.  "So Ariadne it is."

He stared at her, temporarily balked.  He didn't want to express a
real opinion on the matter, since he would have preferred that she
not have a child at all.  It was considerably more amusing to
simply shoot down every idea she had.  But somehow Naomi had
gotten the notion into her head that he actually approved of her
choice, and that was unforgivable.

"You're naming your daughter after a wimp?"

Naomi shrugged.  "You wanted to name her after the person who
let all evil loose on the world."

"That would have been more appropriate," Q said darkly.

"Nah.  I like Ariadne.  Although I suppose I'll need to make up a
new version of the myth."  Naomi's eyes focused on a point
somewhere behind Q as she envisioned her story.  "In this one,
Ariadne falls in love with the monster and betrays the hero to
him, so that the hero dies horribly, or better yet, just gets lost in
the maze until he learns his lesson about trying to seduce
princesses into doing his dirty work for him, and then Ariadne
and the Minotaur live happily ever after on the tribute from the
neighboring kingdoms who are terrified of them."

"What kind of story is that?" Q asked acidly.

"The best kind," Naomi said smugly.  "The idiots lose and my
side wins.  What other kind are there?"

Q didn't answer that.  She had a point, but if he appeared to
agree with her, it would only encourage her.  "Does this mean
you're still considering actually going through with the repugnant
idea of actually spawning a child?"

Naomi smoothed her hand across her rounded stomach.  "Brilliant
deduction, Holmes."

He made a face and looked away from her.  "How disgusting."

"Don't be get so upset.  It's not like I'm going to make you
watch."

"Watch?" Q said, his tone rising, alarmed.  He looked at her,
suspecting a trick.  "No one would want to watch something like
that."

"Oh, sure they do."  Naomi grinned at him, delighted by the look
on his face.  "In fact, Jinn even has a holo of when Trina had
their  baby."

Q's face twisted.  "How nauseating."

"It's even worse when you watch it.  Blood and Trina making
horrible noises..."

He waved his hand.  "Did I ask to hear about this?  Did I express
any interest whatsoever in this subject?"

"What's that got to do with it?"

"Apparently nothing."

The door chimed, and Naomi answered.  "Come in."

Jinn entered, coming over to the couch as he spotted her. 
"Naomi, you've got to do something."

Q straightened up slightly, changing his pose from lazy disdain to
one of regal disdain.  The difference was slight, but very
important.

Jinn ignored Q completely, yanking the footstool closer to where
Naomi was sitting on the couch and taking a seat.  "You really
have to help us out."

"I do?" Naomi asked, arching an eyebrow at Q, before looking
back at Jinn.  "What's happening?"

"Naomi, you *have* to help.  You owe me after we helped you
with the D'oritt thing."

"You owed *me*," Naomi reminded him.

"Whatever.  You really have to stop this though.  Anderson's
banned all practical jokes!"

This was clearly a matter of great concern to him.  Naomi fought
to keep her expression serious.  "Why did she do that?  And how
does she expect to enforce it?"

"She got T'Vai in on it," Jinn said glumly.  "And you know what
that means."

Naomi nodded.  "It's serious then."  T'Vai was easily the best
programmer in the department, and if she wanted to stop the
practical jokes from happening, she would find a way. 
Thorough, methodical and unstoppable.  Nothing would or could
get by her.

"Exactly.  So you have to stop it."

"What makes you think I could do anything about this?" Naomi
asked curiously.  "There's nothing special about me."

Jinn looked meaningfully between her and Q.  "Everyone knows
that this is because of what D'oritt did to Q.  The commodore's
trying to prevent it from happening again."

"And that's a bad thing?" Q asked dryly.

Jinn shook his head.  "It *wouldn't* happen again."  He looked
over at Naomi.  "C'mon, Naomi, now that you know something
like this might happen, you'd make sure it wouldn't happen
again, wouldn't you?"

"As much as I could," Naomi admitted.  "Another prank couldn't
get by me, but if someone decided they actually wanted to kill Q,
they might be motivated to do something subtle enough to fool
me."

"Exactly," Jinn said.  "And it's the pranks she's banning, without
any reason to do it.  You've got to talk to her."

"*I've* got to talk to her?" Naomi said, incredulous.  "What
makes you think I care enough about your little revenges to try to
convince Anderson that embarrassing people is a good thing?"

"Because I'm cute?" Jinn said winningly.

Naomi grinned but shook her head.  "Not good enough."

"Oh, c'mon, Naomi.  You know we're going to do it anyway,
even if we do get caught.  We can't stop it."

"You mean *you* can't stop it," Naomi said dryly, looking at his
innocent expression.  Jinn always looked innocent, except when
he was smiling or angry.  It was one of his best defenses against
getting pounded into the ground for some of his more outrageous
practical jokes.

"Please?"

The begging got to her.  Naomi looked over at Q, seeking his
opinion on this, since he was the one who had been hurt by the
prank gone wrong.  D'oritt's idea of hiding a purgative in his
food wouldn't have been funny to either Q or Naomi even if it
had worked.  That it had stopped his heart instead and almost
killed him was not even mildly humorous.

"No," Q said firmly.

Naomi nodded.  "Sorry, Jinn.  I won't help you."

Jinn stood up, scowling, expression clouded.  "You haven't been
any fun at all ever since you started mooning over him."  He
stalked out without another word.

Naomi and Q let silence fill the room until the door closed behind
Jinn, and then Q asked in that hush, "Mooning over me?"

Naomi flushed.  "Jinn exaggerates.  I never *mooned*."

"What did you do then?" Q asked, studying her expression with
interest.

"Nothing," Naomi said in a strangled voice.  "Can we please
change the subject?"

"You're evading the question."

"Of course I am," Naomi said, face completely red now.  "I have
no intention of talking about it."

That only piqued Q's interest more.  "I can always talk to Jinn
and find out.  Of course, his account might be slightly biased."

Naomi glared at him.  Jinn would never tell Q anything.  Or
would he?  Jinn might very well find it delightful to embarrass
Naomi by making up something even worse than the truth just for
Q.  "Oh, all right.  I had a holo of you in the lab.  Are you
happy now?"

"A holo?  Of me?"  Q felt absurdly flattered by that.

Naomi nodded, the flush fading as she got past the most
embarrassing part.  "I still have it."

"Of course you do," Q said patronizingly.  "Why would you ever
get rid of something like that?"

She lifted an eyebrow.  "Well, if you feel that way about it, I
suppose I could always have a life-sized painting commissioned of
you."  She looked around, and picked a wall at random.  "That
wall over there seems like a good place for it.  Can you imagine
it?  The first thing everyone sees -- you."

It was Q's turn to glare at Naomi.  "Ha ha.  You may master
humor yet."

"Humor?" Naomi asked innocently.  "Was that supposed to be
funny?  I was perfectly serious."

Q didn't believe that, but he let it slide.  Naomi had a past
history of doing outrageous things solely for her own purposes,
and he had no way of knowing whether this would be one of
them.

She leaned towards him, and Q felt a frisson of purely sexual
anxiety run through him.  There was nothing to be afraid of about
her, and yet there was.  Everything in the world to be afraid of. 
Bantering with her was one thing, finding out she'd kept a picture
of him rather touching, but he couldn't handle the way he felt
when she came too close to him.

"Excuse me," Q said icily.  "You're wrinkling my clothes."

Naomi looked down.  She was indeed half-sitting on the edge of
his flowing tunic.  She tugged it out from under her, and
smoothed it down.  "So get them ironed."

"Heathen."

"Peacock."

She didn't move away from him and Q couldn't stop feeling the
enormous anxiety generated by her proximity.  She wanted
something from him, and he had a damn good idea of what that
something might be.  It was always the same something, but
where he had revoltingly enough once almost looked forward to
it, he was now both frightened and contemptuous of those desires. 
He couldn't act on them, was literally incapable of doing anything
about them.  The humiliation of the last time he had tried flooded
through him.  It was bad enough to be forced into doing these
things by the relentless demands of his body, with its overactive
hormones and superfluous reproductive drive, but it was far
worse to be betrayed by that same body, and unable to carry
through on the impulses.

Naomi scooted closer, being careful of his clothes this time, and
Q was almost panicking.  It didn't occur to him to get up and
leave; that would be tantamount to fleeing.  All he could do was
sit there and rely on his wits to save him.

"Is there some point to this?"

"Some point to what?" Naomi asked innocently enough, now
almost sitting in his lap, close enough to lay her head against his
shoulder.

Q waved a trembling hand.  "This."  He was entirely too aware
of her, how she smelled, how she was brushing up against him. 
The nascent desire was all mixed up in his mind with how he felt
about her, about the protrusion from her stomach, and he couldn't
stand it, couldn't stand her and didn't know how he'd ever
survive this, because he couldn't send her away, but he couldn't
very well do anything to keep her.

Naomi took his hand, and placing it on her stomach, leaning back
against his chest, the most comfortable place to be that she'd
found yet.  "Can you feel that?"

Q was almost frozen in shock and revulsion.  He was touching
her, touching *it*.  "What am I supposed to be feeling?"  He was
about to make some comment about alien parasites when
something moved under his hand, and he jerked it away as if he'd
been stung.

"Did you feel that?" Naomi asked, craning her neck to look up at
him.

Q looked down at her, expression horrified.  "There's something
*moving* in there."

"Of course there is.  That's the baby, kicking."  She settled back
against him, snuggling in more comfortably, confident in her
reception from him.  "Want to see if she'll do it again?"

"No," Q said, tone very sardonic.  "I don't think so."  He
shuddered despite himself, but didn't try to push Naomi away. 
The whole idea of something *living* in there was repugnant. 
To be confronted with it like this was just too much.

"You don't have to be afraid."  Naomi took his hand, and placed
it on her stomach again.

Q glared down at her, aware that she was unfortunately incapable
of seeing his displeasure with her.  "I am *not* afraid."

"Good."

"I'm merely thoroughly repulsed by the idea."

Naomi didn't take her hand from off of his, although she did
squirm around so she could check his face and make sure that he
meant what he was saying.  "There's nothing particular repulsive
about it.  Ari's in there, and she's almost six months along now,
and pretty soon she'll be wandering around, kicking people for
real."

Q shuddered again, and this time Naomi caught it.  "I fail to
understand why you have to subject *me* to this."

"Who says I am?" Naomi said flippantly, turning around so he
wouldn't be able to read her expression.  "I'm the one having the
baby after all."

"And a very selfish action on your part it was."

"Selfish?"

"Exactly," Q said, his free hand stroking Naomi's hair, hardly
aware of running his fingers through the silky mass.  "If you had
consulted me, I would have told you that I had no interest in
having half-formed human infants in my life."

"Of course you don't," Naomi said.  "That's why you had so
much fun with Benjy and his little sister."

"I was not having fun," Q informed her in lofty tones.

Naomi shrugged, a movement Q felt rather than saw.  "Of course
not.  Tormenting security guards is a rather boring pastime after
all."

Q scowled.  "One moment of entertainment in an otherwise
dreary visit."

Before the topic could get any more beaten to death, Naomi
changed it, turning more into him, and hiding her face in the
crook of his shoulder.  "I'm not looking forward to telling my
mother about this."

"You have a mother?"

"No," Naomi said, not glancing up.  "I was spawned by a giant
silver fish and left on the beach where a kindly woodcutter found
me and raised me.  Of course I have a mother."

Q felt miffed.  "And you haven't introduced me to her?"  He
didn't want to meet any of Naomi's relatives, didn't want to take
any step that could be perceived as formalizing their relationship,
but it still hurt to think that she might be avoiding introducing
him to her relatives, might be ashamed of him.  He would have
preferred to have the choice and then be able to reject it on his
own.

Naomi sighed.  "I haven't spoken to her in probably just over ten
years now."

"Why not?  Your charming personality wouldn't have anything to
do with it?"

"It probably does," Naomi said, sighing, almost fighting off tears. 
The whole issue of feeling virtually abandoned by her mother was
very difficult for her to think about at the moment.  "We didn't
get along.  She wanted me to get married and raise children.  I
wanted to have a career and actually do something with my mind
rather than my glands."

"How odd," Q said in a quietly mocking voice.

Naomi made a small sound.  "Yes, you would think that,
wouldn't you?  But it's quite true.  And we haven't spoken since. 
She made it quite clear that I wasn't any daughter of hers after
that."  And then she really did start crying.  She couldn't help it,
and it didn't really seem to matter.  She buried her face in Q's
chest, and let the tears fall.

"You know, this is going to leave stains," Q said conversationally
as his arms came around her in a comforting gesture.  There was
something about Naomi crying, although he didn't know what it
was.  Something about the way she trusted him to take care of
her, trusted him enough to show him her vulnerabilities.  It
satisfied some deeply held need, that he was somehow worthy of
being depended on.  Which was foolish, and a ridiculous thing to
think, but he didn't let go of her.

Naomi laughed through her tears.  "Then get it drycleaned."

Q stroked her hair.  "You wouldn't believe how much they
charge."

"Sure I would."  The banter was making her feel better despite
herself, and Naomi pulled back, swiping at her eyes.  "Do you
know what the worst part about it is?"

"Since I have no idea what you're referring to, no."

"My mother would probably approve of you," Naomi said darkly.

Q arched an eyebrow.  "Obviously a woman of good taste."

"No, no.  She wouldn't care one way or another about you
personally.  But this is the closest I've come to getting involved
with anyone in years, *and* I'm having a baby.  She'd be
gloating for the rest of my life."  Naomi didn't sound happy at
the prospect.

"So don't tell her."

"I don't have a choice.  I have to tell Zac, and once I tell him,
it's only a matter of time before she finds out."

"And Zac would be?"

"My brother."  Naomi's expression turned wistful.  "It's been a
while since I talked with Zac.  He went colonist, so I only get to
see him through the mail."

Naomi sighed again.  "So I should tell her.  But when I do..."
Tears began leaking from her eyes.  "...I don't know what's
going to happen, and I don't think I could stand it if she won't
talk to me."

Q's arms closed fiercely, almost protectively, around her.  "I
revoke my earlier judgment.  If she rejects you, she's obviously a
woman of inferior taste."

****

Then there was the issue of where and how they were going to
sleep that night.  Naomi was cheerfully oblivious to the problem,
which only made Q more irritable.  How dare she not be
completely wrapped up in his concerns?  He'd changed into his
nightclothes, but couldn't get in the bed, couldn't stop himself
from pacing around the room.  There was no way he could sleep
with this unresolved, not without drugs.  On that thought, Q's
expression lightened.  He had, completely without authorization,
stockpiled various medications while his replicator access was still
unlimited.  If he did need a sleeping pill, he wouldn't have to
humble himself to Li for it.

That was the first good thought he'd had since coming in here. 
Everything else had just been a matter of taut, tense waiting for
Naomi to show up.

Immediately after the incident with the replicator, where he'd
been forced into Sickbay and had yet another brush with death,
who seemed to dislike him almost as much as everyone else Q
had encountered, Naomi had been a welcome presence.  The idea
of her taking advantage of him or pressuring him was
unthinkable; just having her there was more than enough.

But that had worn off, and every night since that point had been a
study in insomnia and anxiety as he couldn't stand having her
near him and couldn't find the courage to push her away.  Of
course, now that he'd remembered about the sedatives, things
would be easier.

Naomi walked in, eyes lighting up as she saw him.  "I warned
you about exercising."

"I am not exercising," Q snapped, coming to a halt.

She grinned at him.  "How many laps have you done?  Fifteen? 
Twenty?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, and even if I did, you'd
be wrong."

"Of course I would.  I'm obviously inferior to you."

Mollified by that, Q sat down on the bed, Naomi following him. 
The tension between them was readily apparent as they sat there,
neither one wanting to make a wrong move.

Naomi didn't quite know what was bothering Q, but that there
was something wrong was a given.  He was very stiff and
exceedingly formal in his movements, almost as if their every
move were being watched, as if they were on public display.

"Good night, Q."

That surprised him.  "You're going to sleep?"

"That is one of the primary reasons for going to bed," Naomi
said drily.

"Not with you," Q said, face dark.

She scooted under the comforter, turning to face him, with her
head propped up on her hand.  "You think I'm going to take
advantage of you when I feel more like taking a chisel to my
lower back?  You may be that attractive to me, but at the
moment, I don't really think it's likely."

He made a scoffing sound in his throat.  "And you really expect
me to believe that?"

Naomi suspected that Q meant the business about not taking
advantage of him, but she deliberately misunderstood him
anyway.  "You know, you're possibly the vainest person I know. 
You must be aware that I think you're absolutely handsome and
that everything about you is sensually provocative, from the way
you look at me when you're upset with me to how you're trying
even now to think up something insulting enough to make me
shut up."

Q glowered at her.  "You are completely impossible."

"Thank you.  I try to keep in practice."  She closed her eyes,
waiting quietly.  In the stillness, she felt him give up the struggle
and lie down.

When he was situated, she snuggled up against him.  He resisted
for a moment, but gave up when he realized she only wanted to
use him as a pillow.

"Good night, Q."

He looked down at her with fond exasperation.  What was he
supposed to do with the infuriating woman?  He'd geared himself
up for a major battle, and now there wasn't going to be one. 
How annoying.

"Good night, Naomi."

****

Q had been gleeful with some inner excitement all day.  He'd
actually be civil to one of the Klingon scientists on the roster, an
event which Naomi had tried hard to take with aplomb, since she
had been gearing up to rescue Q from being used as a
demonstration of ancient Klingon torture techniques.  His usual
mode of conversation with the various Klingon dignitaries who
passed their way was not particularly diplomatic.  Or wise.

However, today he'd been the very model of correct behavior, all
good humor and beneficent ways.  It was enough to make Naomi
suspect that he was ill.  But Q seemed perfectly fine, other than
the attitude he was assuming.  Naomi was quite worried about
him.  When they got home, she planned to corner him on the
subject before he drove her crazy.

Q stopped at the door to their quarters.  "I almost forgot.  I need
to speak with Harry."

Naomi looked up at him.  Q was suspiciously composed, given
his earlier merry capering.  He was always very put together, but
there was something about how rehearsed he was being at the
moment that set off warning bells in her head.  That and the
amusement playing in the back of his eyes.

"This is just an excuse for you and Harry to get together and
cause trouble again, isn't it?  Maybe I should come with you and
make sure you don't get hauled off to the brig by Security."

Q held up his hands, his studied expression falling apart.  "No, I
don't need you to nursemaid me.  I'll be perfectly fine on my
own."

"I thought you said you were going to see Harry."

"I'll be perfectly fine on my own with Harry," Q said, tone
trying to be acerbic, but failing.  "Satisfied?"

"Sure."  Naomi looked curiously at him, but didn't pursue the
issue further.  "Have a nice time."

She turned and went inside, Sanaharrar following her.  That
seemed strange to Naomi for some reason, out of place, but
before she could question it, she was inside the door, and people
were jumping out from everywhere, yelling, "Surprise!"

Naomi turned around quickly, but the last thing she saw before
the door closed on him, was Q's Cheshire cat grin.  She was
going to get him for this.

Naomi came back around, pasting a smile on her own face, as
she looked at the people littering their quarters.  This was a
setup.  And given that all of the people here were female,
including Sanaharrar, Naomi had a good idea what this was a
setup for.  A baby shower.

Saba Nitac and Diana Ashe approached her, both smiling at her. 
Saba looked shyly at Naomi.  "Congratulations."

"Thank you," Naomi said.  "Whose idea was this?"

Diana stepped forward slightly, subtly introducing herself into
Naomi's personal space.  "I thought you'd enjoy something like
this.  Why, when Q mentioned it to me, I just knew we had to do
it."

Naomi tried to keep the look on her face pleasant.  This was Q's
idea?  For a brief second, she considered that he might be trying
to do something nice for her, and that was a possibility.  But
somehow she thought differently.  It wasn't hard to do that, given
Diana's involvement.  Naomi was fairly sure Q knew she loathed
the woman.  He had to be getting her back for his surprise
birthday party.

She was going to kill him.  "What a nice idea, Diana."

Diana preened right there in front of her.  "Wasn't it?"

Naomi looked over at Saba.  "It's really nice to see you here."

Saba almost blushed.  "Well, I couldn't get out of it."  She
seemed to realize that might not sound right and tried to take the
words back.  "Not that I would have wanted to, but..."

Naomi laughed.  "I understand."  She looked around, inwardly
shuddering at the sheer number of people here.  There must be at
least fifteen people, and Naomi didn't know how or why Q had
decided to allow this invasion of his personal space like this. 
Half the entertainment seemed to be examining their quarters for
whatever reasons, prurient curiosity being most likely.  Naomi
sighed inwardly.  The worst part about having people over like
this was that you couldn't just leave when you got tired of them
and the party.  You had to wait for them to decide they were
tired.  This was going to be *so* much fun.

Diana had her by the arm and was towing her over to the chair
by the window.  "Now you sit here."

Naomi obeyed, feeling helpless to do anything else.  At least it
was a comfortable chair, and one she wouldn't need assistance to
get out of.

As soon as she was seated, people started coming up to her. 
Enviously, Naomi noted that they seemed to have gotten food
from somewhere.  Chocolate cake, it looked like.  But she
couldn't get up and go investigate, not with the social obligations
being imposed upon her.

"So, how do you feel?"

Naomi looked up at her questioner.  She was one of the people
Naomi vaguely recognized from many, far too many, trips to
Sickbay.  "Pregnant."

The woman laughed, and sat down across from her.  "That's to
be expected under the circumstances.  You're probably fairly
tired of being pregnant by now."

Her name was something Meruit, and she was one of the doctors. 
Naomi couldn't assign more of an identity to her than that,
unfortunately.  Why weren't these people wearing name tags?

"I suppose I am at that," Naomi said pleasantly.  "Sometimes it
seems that it'd be nice if all happened on its own, and the baby
just magically appeared."

Meruit laughed.  "I've heard that before."

"Well, that's because it's a good idea."  Naomi sighed
theatrically.  "Sometimes I think it'll never be over, then I
remember I have four months of this left yet and I *know* it'll
never be over."

"What will never be over?" Medellin asked, taking a seat.

"Her pregnancy."  Meruit surrendered Naomi to the counsellor. 
"I'm going to get some punch.  But I just wanted to tell you how
happy I am for you."

"Thank you."  Naomi reluctantly turned to Medellin.  "What are
you doing here?"

Medellin looked distinctly uncomfortable.  "I wanted to wish you
well.  With your upcoming child."

"Don't you want to tell me all about how I have no hope of ever
raising her to be a well-adjusted adult, and that I should just give
up now since my infatuation with a dangerously abusive person
like Q is only going to doom me as far as ever being able to have
a healthy life?"  Naomi's tone was bitter, and she couldn't
understand why Medellin had shown up here after the way the
counselor had treated her when Naomi had been mistakenly and
temporarily put in the brig for the attempted murder of Q.

The counselor looked strangely at Naomi.  "Why would I ever
want to tell you something like that?"

"Because that's exactly what you've been telling me all along,"
Naomi said, expression sharpening.  "You've been harping on
how awful Q is, how screwed up I am for having anything to do
with him, and what a bad idea it is for me to even consider
having a baby when Q hates the whole idea.  In short, Counselor,
you've made it perfectly clear that I'm mentally imbalanced, and
I don't think I really need to hear that kind of opinion anymore. 
So, please feel free to show yourself to the door."

Medellin let some of the disturbance she was feeling show on her
face.  "I never meant anything like that, Naomi.  I only wanted to
help you."

"Help me?"  Naomi could hardly believe that.  "You wouldn't
listen to a word I had to say while I was in the brig.  All you
wanted to do was emotionally blackmail me into telling you
things, telling you *secrets* that you know I won't ever talk
about."

"That's not true," Medellin said, feeling helpless as well as
disturbed by what Dr. Allen was saying.  Counseling was meant
to help the patient, not tear them down.  However, it sounded
like Allen felt that she had been criticized and judged, which was
unthinkable to Medellin.

The counselor leaned forward, giving them as much a measure of
privacy as could be managed in a room full of chattering people,
all of whom were there to honor the person she was speaking to. 
"My intention was to help you, because I know how many issues
Q has to resolve and how many difficulties he has in relating with
other people.  I think what you've accomplished is laudable, and
I'm happy for you that you're having a child.  When I tried to
talk to you about possible problems there, Q had just left for the
Daystrom Institute, and I'm afraid I came to the incorrect
conclusion that he was leaving you.  I wanted to help you..."

Naomi shook her head harshly.  "Don't try to put a different slant
on it now."

"I'm not," Medellin said.

Her expression was so open, so earnest that Naomi couldn't help
but believe her.  But there was no way that what Medellin was
saying could be the truth.

Medellin seemed to sense Naomi's hesitation.  "I just wanted to
let you know that I've given up."  She smiled wryly.  "You don't
want any help, and I've been wasting my time trying to do
anything for you.  And, obviously, given what you've said, I've
even been counterproductive."

"You're giving up?  Just like that?"

Medellin nodded.  "Just like that.  You're on your own now."

As the counselor stood up, Naomi felt a sense of gratitude tinged
with apprehension that she had been behaving badly earlier. 
Medellin had made a tremendous concession here and she had
been completely ungrateful.  "Counselor... Nian."

"Yes?"

"I... " Naomi said hesitantly, "...just wanted to say I'm sorry. 
For being a bad patient and all."

Medellin grinned slightly.  "Consider it character-building."

And then she was gone, lost in the crowd.  Naomi couldn't see
anything from where she was, seated down at about waist level. 
She didn't know whether that was a disadvantage.  

Before she could ponder on the remarkable things Medellin had
said, someone else had taken her place.

"Isn't this fun?" Diana said gushingly.  She turned around, "All
right everyone, we're going to start now."

"Start?" Naomi asked, beginning to feel a little alarmed.  What
had they been doing up until then?  Playing with her?

The various people in attendance began to sort themselves out on
the furniture which had been dragged out and rearranged for this
occasion.  Naomi recognized T'Vai in the crowd, which was
somewhat surprising, since it meant that somehow someone had
managed to force her away from the computer.

The thought brought a smile to her lips, which was fortunate
since she really needed a sense of humor right then.

"We're going to start off with a game or two," Diana said.  "The
first one is going to be guessing the name of the baby."  She
smiled at Naomi.  "I'm disqualifying myself, since I was told
what it will be."

Naomi was appalled.  Q had done a lot more groundwork for this
than she'd ever expected.  What else had he done that she didn't
want to know about?

Diana smiled at everyone.  "But first, some clues."  She handed a
padd to Naomi.  "Why don't you read them?"

Naomi took it as though it might bite her.

****

Q watched Harry with a fatalistic air.  There was something
about him that Q didn't want to think about, but couldn't help
thinking about.  And Harry was completely oblivious to the
undercurrent in the relationship.  His earlier high-spirited mood
had faded; having actually played the joke, it was no longer
nearly as fun.  The lights were off, the moment played out, and
he was now sitting here, waiting for the reviews with someone
who was pretending that he was merely some sort of distant
acquaintance.

It never crossed Q's mind that Harry might be actively afraid of
him, at least when it came to anything sexual.  Q thought of
himself as vulnerable and unprotected, and he constantly expected
everyone else to treat him the same way.  Certainly Naomi sailed
through his defenses like they weren't even there.

As it was, Q was painfully conscious of making a fool of himself
just by being here.  He had an excuse: Naomi's baby shower
which he had needed to find a good reason not to attend, but
there was no justification for having chosen Harry as an
alternative mode of entertainment other than the horribly obvious
fact that Q liked his company.

And might like his company in less subtle ways.

Harry set the cup down in front of Q, barely brushing against
him, and Q shivered.

Harry didn't seem to notice.  "I took the liberty of ordering for
you.  After what happened last time," he said, referring the
unfortunate incident where Q had keeled over and had a heart
attack while eating with Harry, "I thought you might prefer it if I
did the ordering."

"How thoughtful of you, Harry," Q said, raising the cup to his
mouth and taking a sip of the mint tea.

"I strive to be the perfect host," Harry said with a bow, taking
his own seat across from Q.

"I suppose that means you'll try to feed me at some point," Q
said dolefully.

"Why would I want to do that?" Harry asked suggestively, raising
his eyebrows.  "When there are so much more interesting
alternatives."

Q ignored that, had to ignore it, since there was no hope that
Harry actually meant it, and even if the fellow physicist did mean
it, there was no chance Q would take him up on it.  None.  None
whatsoever.  "Naomi insists on stuffing food in my mouth at
every opportunity.  Some sort of misguided maternal instinct."

"Probably," Harry agreed amiably.  "But if that's it, maybe she'll
stop doing it when she has a baby to take out all that frustrated
instinct on."

"I don't have that kind of luck."

"What kind of luck do you have?" Harry inquired interestedly.

"Bad.  Very, very bad luck," Q said without a hint of irony. 
There was no question but that was true.  He had bad luck with
relationships; first Amy, then Harry and finally Judith had hurt
him, and of course, there was Naomi, with her misplaced
instincts and current physical unattractiveness.  However it could
have been worse, Q supposed.  With his normal run of luck, she
might very well have really tried to kill him, or worse, been a
member of the Continuum in human form, coddling him along,
making things better because he wasn't capable of surviving on
his own.

Harry nodded.  "You're going to have to do something about
that.  Maybe make a sacrifice to the appropriate god."

"I *am* the appropriate god, my dear Harry," Q said drily.

"Well, see, there's your problem.  Obviously you've done
something to offend yourself."

Q's expression never changed.  "Such a simplistic view of things. 
Your confidence is ever so heartening."

"What are friends for?" Harry said, grinning at him, and Q
nearly lost his ability to breathe for a moment.  Rational thought
asserted itself, and told Q that Harry didn't really mean it,
couldn't possibly mean it, but so much of him wanted to reach
out, would have liked for Harry to reach out to him, to make that
first move in giving Q what he was so desperately longing for,
and so terribly afraid of taking.

And Q didn't even know what that was, only it was whatever he
was missing with Naomi, whatever indefinable something it was
that he had gotten used to and now didn't have and couldn't have,
something in between emotional intimacy and actual sexuality that
he needed and couldn't even find a word for, except that it hurt
all the worse for having had it before.

"Friends?" Q inquired darkly, ignoring the way his chest was
tight and making it difficult to breathe.  "Harry, you overestimate
your charming ways."

Harry looked at Q for a moment, then decided that this was still
within the acceptable bounds of light flirtation and hadn't crossed
over into direct insult.  Yet.

"I haven't even begun to be charming.  When I do, you'll know."

"How fun," Q muttered in a low voice, dreading that and wanting
it all at the same time.  However, he had a horrible suspicion that
Harry didn't mean any of this, that he was just playing yet
another of the incomprehensible human games that Q didn't
know, and didn't want to know the rules for.

Harry affected a wounded attitude.  "I'll have you know that I've
been told I'm *very* charming."

"But they still leave in the morning," Q said, referring to Harry's
legendary, and possibly mythical, string of lovers.

"Sometimes they leave the night before."

"And this is supposed to be charming in what way?" Q asked,
trying to ignore the way Harry was looking at him, the
enthusiastic spark in the smaller man's eyes as he spoke.

"I didn't say *they* were charming.  Obviously they lacked
taste."  Harry grinned at Q.  "I prefer a man of more refined
tastes."

"Do you?" Q asked, eyes half-veiled.

"Yes, I do."

The statement hung on the air between them, while Q felt
suspended in agony, waiting for any move from Harry, any
physical contact which would be a signal that Harry wanted him,
that he wasn't just making a fool out of himself here.  

But Harry let it drop, his flirting done for the day.  He had no
intention of actually making a move on Q; once had been more
than enough for him in that area, although the game itself was
amusing.  Compliment and counter-compliment, insult and
riposte.  Anything more was out of his ken, nothing he had in
mind.  Even if Naomi wouldn't have killed him, there was his
own sense of self-preservation to save him, and while Q was
amusing in small doses, of say ten to fifteen minutes each, living
with him would be a nightmare.  Naomi had to have the patience
of a saint.

"So why the baby shower?" Harry asked finally, leaning back in
his chair.  "I wouldn't have figured you for the kind of person
who could throw a party and then not show up."

Q accepted the subject change as gracefully as he could under the
circumstances, a little bit of his earlier merry mood coming back
to him as he thought about what he'd set up for Naomi.  "She
deserved it."

"Deserved it?  Baby showers are a form of punishment now?"

Q nodded, a smile beginning to tug at the corners of his mouth. 
"Naomi loathes public functions, didn't you know?"

"I would never have guessed," Harry acknowledged with a rueful
smile.  "I suppose I enjoy them too much to ever notice someone
not getting along well.  And she copes admirably with them if
that's true."

Q didn't agree with that at all, elegantly indicating his disbelief
with the flick of a hand.  "And she had the colossal effrontery to
hold a surprise birthday for me."

"What impudence," Harry said with repressed laughter.

"Exactly," Q said, oblivious.  "And even now, she's trapped in a
room with fifteen people she can't get away from, all of whom
want to talk to her about the baby."

Harry lifted an eyebrow.  "I'd think Naomi would *want* to talk
about being pregnant and all that."

Q smiled wickedly.  "Not to fifteen people at once.  Not when
she can't leave."

Harry shook his head.  "Are you sure it's even going to be safe
for you to go home?  Maybe you should consider staying here
permanently."

The offer frightened and tempted Q all at once.  "You flatter me,
Harry, but I can't see living with someone who thinks green and
red match."

Harry looked down at his clothes, which were anything other than
Starfleet blue.  He was a dapper dresser, although apparently not
up to Q's standards.  "What's wrong with this outfit?"

Q shook his head.  "If I have to tell you, you'll never
understand."

****

Naomi read the clues off, inwardly groaning at the really awful
puns in the clues.  "I refused to be amazed by labyrinthine
mysteries."

The women grouped around her looked puzzled, and no one
called out a guess, so Naomi went on.

"There's doubt over whether I really existed at all."

Sanaharrar looked smug, since she also knew the answer, but no
one else was.  A brave soul from the back of the room called out,
"Elizabeth!"

Naomi smiled.  "Nope.  Next clue."  She read it.  "I was in love
with Theseus, who later became a king, although he never
bothered to marry me."

A murmur of sound went through the group.  That sounded
familiar to many of them, and they were racking their minds,
trying to place it.

Another of the programmers, seated in the front row, called over
to Naomi, "Couldn't you have picked an easy name, like Emily
or something?"

Naomi grinned.  "Oh, right.  Like you'd ever have been able to
guess the etymology of Emily."

T'Vai cleared her throat, then spoke.  "I believe the name you're
looking for is Ariadne."

Meruit laughed and shook her head.  "Trust a Vulcan to
remember something like that."

"How *did* you know that, T'Vai?" Naomi asked, as Diana
fetched a wrapped package for the winner.

T'Vai was oblivious to any possible self-consciousness.  "Liberal
arts was a part of the basic requirement where I studied."

"You studied myths and legends?" Naomi asked.

T'Vai nodded.  "Essentially."

Diana handed her the package, and T'Vai looked up at her. 
"What is this?"

"You won, so you get the prize."

"Go ahead, open it," Naomi urged.

With the slightly puzzled air of a person conforming to societal
pressures they neither understand nor want to understand, T'Vai
unwrapped the present, removing a small potted tree from the
box.

Naomi looked over at Diana, impressed despite herself.  She
didn't know that Diana had the depth to pick out something like
that as a gift.  "Is that what I think it is?"

"Do you think it's a tree?" Saba asked, coming to sit next to
Naomi.  "Or were you maybe thinking that was a turtle?"

Naomi stuck out her tongue at Saba, and then grinned.

"It's a six-year-old elm," Diana said, oblivious to the byplay. 
"Don't you just love it?  It's so cute and adorable."

On second thought, Naomi *could* believe Diana would have
something like that as a present.  *Cute*?

"Thank you," T'Vai said solemnly, taking the little tree.

As people craned their necks to look at the tree, Diana took a
prominent position next to Naomi.  Clapping her hands together
for attention, she announced, "All right everyone, present time!"

With a fatalistic air, Naomi sat there and waited for them to be
brought to her.

The gaily wrapped packages were brought and placed in a
glittering heap on the footstool and next to it.  Looking at them,
Naomi realized how much trouble all these people had gone to for
her.  She didn't know how to thank them, or why they'd done
this.  Oh, she was close to Saba, and Diana would have been at
any party, no matter what, but Meruit had no obligation to come,
much less bring a present, anymore than half of these people did. 
Naomi supposed that Diana could very well have bullied them
into it; she would certainly have gone to a party to stop Diana
from harrying her.

Diana handed her a small box.  "This is from Saba Nitac."

Naomi accepted the box and looked over at Saba.  "You really
shouldn't have.  The rattle was more than enough."

Saba's face was flushed.  "I wanted to.  Go ahead, open it."

"If you insist."  Naomi pulled off the wrapping paper and opened
the box to reveal a tiny pair of baby shoes.

Naomi held them in her hand for a long moment, before handing
them to Diana for a thorough group inspection.  There was no
reason to give her things like this; anything she really needed
could be replicated, but there was something special about being
thought of, and she did very much appreciate the thought.

"Thank you, Saba.  They're wonderful."

Saba flushed again.  "You're welcome."

The next box was covered with a shiny striped paper, and Diana
couldn't find a tag for it.  "Oh, dear.  Whose is this?"

No one owned up to the package, and Diana handed it to Naomi. 
"I don't know who this is from."

Naomi opened it, revealing a largish painted wooden box with a
handle on the side.  It took her a moment to figure out what it
was; it'd been a very long time since she'd seen a toy like that. 
"It's a jack-in-the-box!  How cute."

And it was quite cute; the carving on the box and painting
bespoke something handmade.  Naomi looked at it again,
wondering who'd sent it.  If it were indeed handmade, it almost
had to have come from offbase, meaning that whoever had given
it to her had gone to a lot of trouble to get this for her.  They
wouldn't just leave it without a tag.

"Aren't you going to see what it does?" Saba asked curiously.

"This isn't yours?" Naomi asked.

Saba shook her head.  "I haven't seen a jack-in-the-box since I
was a kid."

Naomi smiled.  "Neither have I."  She carefully wound the
handle on the side, and then the music started.  That was familiar
too, although Naomi couldn't place the tune.

The lid popped up, and a little jester shot up.  With deadly
accuracy, the miniature cream pie he'd been hold sprung up and
out at Naomi's face, hitting right on the nose, and spraying
meringue out over her face.

A titter of laughter ran through the room, and Naomi grimly
wiped the cream from her eyes.  "Well, now I know who this
was from."

"Who?" Diana asked, producing a napkin for Naomi to wipe her
face with.

Naomi accepted it gratefully.  "Who's the king of pranks?  It's
from Jinn, of course."  And was also probably some sort of
message about her stance in not agreeing to talk to Anderson
about getting the ban on pranks rescinded.  He was apparently
still unhappy with her about that, although this was a pretty mild,
almost tame way of showing it.  Of course, Jinn liked her. 
Generally, he didn't play pranks on her at all.

T'Vai nodded, as the rest of the guests seemed find it rather
clever that a jack-in-the-box could be used as a pie delivery
mechanism.  Naomi had to rescue her present from two of the
engineers who seemed about to take it apart.

****

Opening the presents and having cake and punch seemed to take
forever.  Naomi was more than willing to throw them all out long
before the end of it, but it wouldn't be very nice at all, given how
kind everyone had been.

However, she was contemplating going off, curling up in a corner
and going to sleep.  That would be reasonably polite and yet get
the hint across all at the same time.  On the other hand, no one,
no matter how tired, could sleep as long as Diana remained,
talking and talking and talking.  Some of the guests had already
left; Medellin had gone very early on, and T'Vai had put in a
precisely calculated appearance before taking her leave, all of
which was perfectly fine with Naomi.  All she wanted was to be
left alone to rest.  But she couldn't say that.

So it was with intense relief that she greeted Q's return, despite
his almost certain central role in the entire escapade.

His eyes sharpened as soon as he walked through the door, taking
in the decorations, the remains of the refreshments and the
people.  Q zeroed in on Naomi immediately, taking in her worn-
down appearance with every sign of great amusement.

Diana came up to him, beaming with pride.  "Thank you for your
help.  Everything went very well."

"I can see that," Q said, letting her hold onto his arm, enjoying
himself.

Diana's expression was almost wistful.  "I suppose this means the
party's run on too long.  Time to start cleaning up."

The words "cleaning up" seemed to spark some sort of motion
instinct within the remaining guests, who started to make leaving
noises.

Saba stretched in place, then stood up from her seat near Naomi. 
"I'll see you at work, then."

"Of course," Naomi said.

Before Naomi could startle and try to move away, Saba leaned
forward and hugged her quickly.  "Congratulations."

Naomi accepted the embrace, looking up at her.  "Thank you. 
You... just, thank you."

Saba's mouth crinkled into a smile.  "You're welcome."

As people took their leave of her, Naomi kept trying to catch a
glimpse of Q, but he was always out of sight, no doubt enjoying
this far more than she had.  He *liked* parties, although they
were of a certainty a perverse thing to like.

But finally, the room emptied, leaving only Diana behind.  Naomi
looked over at Q, who was examining the various presents she'd
received with a look of distaste.  He picked up one of the brightly
colored children's books, and began thumbing through it.  Naomi
wanted to say something teasing to him about the book and his
reading level or a similar remark, but couldn't, not with Diana in
the room, not with an audience.

Diana finished dealing with the last of the wrapping paper, and
then came over to Naomi, plopping down on the couch with a
sigh of contentment.  "Wasn't that fun?"

"Yes," Naomi cautiously admitted.

"Yes?" Q asked archly, turning around to look at her.  "We'll
have to throw parties more often then."

Naomi shot him a death glare, which Q blithely ignored.

"What a wonderful idea!" Diana said, not recognizing any
conflict there.

Naomi held herself steady in her chair, considering how rude it
would be to simply pretend to fall asleep right there.  She
wouldn't be able to actually fall asleep, not with Diana talking,
but she was very close to it in any case.  He eyes wanted to
unfocus, and everything, even the littlest of things, kept seeming
more and more like enormous obstacles.  Just getting up and
fetching something to drink was too much trouble, and the
problem facing her right now was so impossible as to fill Naomi
with frustration.

She glanced down at Sanaharrar who had the fortunate ability of
napping at any time.  The bodyguard was unlikely to leave as
long as Diana was in the room, although Diana posed more of a
threat to Naomi's continued good nature rather than her safety. 
Unfortunately, Sanaharrar was indeed asleep at the moment, or
pretending to be, which meant that she would be unreceptive to
actually running Diana off.  Not that Naomi would consider doing
something like that.  Yet.

Diana continued talking, oblivious to Naomi's wandering
attention.  "And of course, the best party of all would be for a
wedding."

"A wedding?" Naomi asked politely.  "Who's getting married?"

"Why, you are.  Aren't you?"

Behind Diana, Naomi could see Q nearly choking on the thought. 
A small mischievous smile started to spread across her face. 
Maybe this wasn't as horrible a situation as she'd thought.  "I
don't know.  Are we, Q?"

Q glared at Naomi, then stalked around the couch to a position
where Diana could see how affronted he was.  "I suggest that you
confine your matchmaking attempts to your own life, woman."

Diana recoiled.  "Is something wrong?"  She looked between Q
and Naomi.  "You *are* having a baby after all, and you have
been living together *forever*.  It's obvious you're perfect for
each other.  *Is* there something wrong?"  She leaned forward,
an earnest expression on her face.  "You know, you can tell me if
there's some sort of problem."

Naomi stifled a laugh, and looked up at Q, warning him not to
say anything.  He'd only insult Diana, which would give her the
correct impression of the situation, which happened to be exactly
what Naomi didn't want.

"Diana, marriage is a large step," Naomi said, face schooled to
utter seriousness.  "And I don't think it's for everyone.  I don't
think it would be appropriate under the circumstances."

"Are you sure?" Diana asked doubtfully.

Naomi nodded firmly.  "In any case, I don't even think they have
marriage where Q comes from, so it'd be especially
inappropriate."  She glanced up at Q.  "Is that right?"

Q started, about to comment on the unsuitability of anyone tying
themselves to another person for life based on such a
insubstantial, delusional emotion as love, then got a strange look
on his face as a truly evil idea occurred to him.  "Don't you
*want* to marry me?"

"Oh, no," Naomi said warningly.  "Don't you start on me."

Q looked hurt.  "I'm not good enough for you?"  He turned to
Diana.  "Do you see what I have to put up with?"

Naomi glared at Q.  He wasn't being helpful at all.  And the
worst part of it was that she knew he wasn't serious, that he was
just saying this to irritate her.  Unfortunately it seemed to be
working.

Diana looked sympathetic.  "Perhaps it's Naomi who isn't ready
yet."

Q glanced down at Naomi.  "Yes, she does tend to dawdle,
doesn't she?"

Naomi ignored him.  "Diana, we just aren't ready for something
like that."

Diana sighed wistfully.  "But you'd be perfect together."

Naomi tried not to look up at Q.  She was sure if she did, she'd
break out into laughter.  "Thank you, Diana.  It was a lovely
party."

"You're quite welcome."  Diana beamed, but didn't move.

Naomi gave up, and stood up.  "Well, I guess I'll let you get
home now.  I'm sure I've taken up enough of your time."

"Oh, no, it hasn't been a bother at all."

Naomi felt relieved when Diana stood up and followed her to the
door.  She'd just about exhausted her politeness quotient for the
day.  She showed the other woman out, Sanaharrar following her,
and then Naomi was alone with Q.

Diana finally gone, Naomi went to Q, where he had seated
himself on the couch, and curled up against him, letting herself
relax into him even though he didn't make a single move to
welcome her.  She sighed deeply.  "I am *so* glad that's over."

After an initial startlement, Q's arms closed around her.  She was
infinitely precious to him, though not in any way he could, or
cared to, define.  "How distinctly ungrateful of you."

"Isn't it though?" Naomi asked, feeling comfortable and happy at
last.  "I suppose you'll have to scold me for that."

"Bad, naughty, evil Naomi," Q said, hand coming up to stroke
her hair.  She was a soft, warm weight against him, and he found
he didn't resent it at all, wasn't frightened of how he might look
or what she might say to ridicule him for this weakness.  In any
case, it was her weakness, not his.  She had come to him, and he
was merely being generous.  Even as he thought it, Q knew it to
be a lie, but it was a soothing lie and he held onto it.  Even if he
needed it, which he didn't, Q couldn't picture himself as a kind
and loving comforter to anyone.

She snuggled closer to him, feeling pleasantly tired rather than
irritable now that he was here and everyone else was gone and
everything was finally all right.  "Wanna make something of it?"

Q didn't understand that at all.  "What would be appropriate
would be a thank you.  Considering that I was the one responsible
for your festive afternoon."

"Aha!  I knew you had something to do with it."  She squirmed
to look up at him, a suspicious light in her eyes.  "But did you
plan it, or were you just duped into it by Diana?"

Q felt cold and empty that she'd moved away from him like that. 
"Do you think so little of me that you believe I could be duped
into doing anything?"

Naomi considered the question carefully, settling back against
him.  "Not by Diana, no."

Q looked down at her petulantly.  "And?"

"And I hate parties, had a miserable time being entertained and
feted and given presents, and I'm sure you would have enjoyed
every minute of being the center of attention."  She paused for a
moment, drawing reassurance and strength from the feeling of
him so close to her, touching her.  "And, thank you very much. 
For all of it."

There wasn't a hint of sarcasm in her tone, and Q took it all as a
compliment, if not a particularly elegant one.  "I suppose that
will do."

"Well, I wouldn't want to give you the idea that I want you to
throw me *another* party."  She smiled up at him, then suddenly
remembered what he'd said either to Diana.  "Now what's this
about getting married?"

"I never said it, I don't know what you're talking about, and even
if I did, the idea is completely repulsive."

Naomi smiled up at Q for voicing such a ridiculous lie, then let it
go, snuggling down against him, feeling happy and at home.  Her
eyes were tired and heavy, so she closed them, letting the
dizzying blackness have its way with her.  Everything would be
just fine now.  She fell asleep against Q, content with the world.


-the end-