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 The pain came suddenly, intensely, and Naomi was unprepared for it. She'd been feeling dull aches all day, but this was worse, much worse. She stopped talking in mid-sentence and held onto the back of the overstuffed couch, gasping. She knew what the pain had to be, what it had to mean, but it was far too soon for this, much too soon. It would be easier to believe she was simply being weak and foolish about yet another unpleasant aspect of pregnancy, as Q would have her believe, but Naomi was well accustomed to pain from many misadventures in rock climbing and this was *not* normal. "As a conversational tactic, that lacks something," Q said drolly, standing there looking at her. "I take it you admit I'm right?" If he'd been within arm's reach, she would have cheerfully strangled him. Fortunately for his continued existence, he was not. Naomi looked up at him, her face pale and sweating. "You idiot." "Excuse me?" Q said, drawing himself up to his full height, mortally offended. Naomi nodded, then clenched her teeth against another wave of intense gripping agony. "Either my appendix needs to come out right *now*, or I'm going into labor." "Labor?" Q's expression turned from arrogant disdain to panic. "You can't do that! You never told me you might be doing that anytime soon." She looked at him with an expression of distaste. She didn't feel like humoring him right now. "Like I had any idea this was going to happen." She was only in her eighth month, and while she would have warned Q what to expect when the time got closer, it hadn't occurred to her that anything might be happening so soon. It should be another six to eight weeks before anything happened at the very least. She certainly didn't *want* this to be happening so soon, but it didn't look like she had much choice in the matter. Naomi closed her eyes, then remarked conversationally, "You know, I think it might be a good time to visit Sickbay." Q froze and stared at her, then startled into action. "Sickbay. Right!" Sanaharrar came through the door, in a rush of graceful violence, poised to kill. She looked between Q and Naomi, could sense no threat as cause for the pain and anger radiating from Naomi, and the fear from Q, then came to settle at Naomi's feet, ears cocked and anxious. "Great. Just what I need. An audience," Naomi remarked bitterly, still leaning against the couch. Before she could say anything further, they were transported to Sickbay. Something in the transition made Naomi feel disoriented, and she stumbled a few steps, clutching onto Q for balance. "Well, well, what do we have here?" Li asked, approaching them. His attitude was faintly mocking. He'd had a lot of practice with Q's various "emergencies", and in his opinion, anything where both parties were still capable of standing was probably not an emergency or worth wasting his time on. Q looked at Li with desperate eyes, supporting Naomi without a second thought. "She's going into labor or something." Li's expression went from judgmental to concerned. "It's a little too early for that. Another three weeks, and that'd be different. But now?" He looked at Naomi, all professional manner now. "What kind of pain are you feeling?" She turned to face the doctor, not letting go of Q even though she was clutching onto him far too tightly. Her face was even paler than it had been before. "Would you like me to demonstrate on you?" Li nodded. "That bad, hmm?" **** The various tests and examinations took a while, but they all pointed to the same thing. Li came to stand next to the head of the bed Naomi was lying on, opposite to Q, who was anxiously hovering over Naomi. Q had no wish to actually see anything be born, but he couldn't stand Naomi being in pain, especially when it was obvious something was wrong, that it shouldn't be happening like this. Naomi was talking quietly, but intensely with Q. The doctor cleared his throat to get their attention. "You've gone into premature labor, Naomi." "Tell me something I don't know," Naomi said, clenching her teeth together to avoid screaming at the doctor. "We can stabilize it, but you'll still be at risk for it to start again. At this point, anything could affect you. In the bad old days, we'd keep you here under observation for a while, even for a week or two, but under the circumstances, I can let you go home." What Li didn't say was that he didn't want Naomi here for an extended stay, especially not with Q hanging around her. It wouldn't be pleasant for anyone. Particularly not since Naomi had already threatened the life of one intern, with Q helping her. In any case, if something did go drastically wrong, she could be transported back here in a heartbeat. There was no particular need to keep her close, for which blessing Li was duly grateful. Naomi nodded, feeling somewhat reassured by that. "Then everything's all right? Nothing's wrong with the baby?" "The baby is fine," Li said, his words reassuring, although his tone was as crisp as ever. "You, on the other hand, are going to need to take it easy." "Of course," Naomi said. He looked sharply at her, not trusting that glib assurance. "Which means confining yourself to your quarters and preferably your bed, keeping regular hours, and not staying up all night working on the computer." "Staying in bed?" Naomi asked. He didn't really expect her to do that, did he? "How alarmist can you get?" Li glared at her. "I'll call your supervisor if I have to, and have you banned from working for the next two months." "You wouldn't dare," Naomi retorted. He raised an eyebrow. "If you don't, you may very well lose the baby. It's too soon for you to go into labor, and while we could probably keep it alive if it were to be born now, the chances are that the child would always be weaker and worse off for such treatment. And if you keep up your normal activities, this is what's going to happen." Li didn't mention that Naomi could probably be gotten to Sickbay before the birth actually occurred; such things were meant to be a last resort, not a plan of action. Naomi went paler, if that were possible. "I see." "Good." Li looked at Q. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but try to keep her out of trouble." Q smiled sardonically. "Short of locking her in the brig, I find that difficult to imagine." Naomi glared at the both of them. **** As soon as she was released from Sickbay, Naomi was fuming. "Can you believe that?" "I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast," Q said flippantly, walking at her side down the corridor, expression watchful. The incident had frightened him into a realization of just how fragile Naomi was, something he didn't like to think about at all. Normally, it would never occur to him. She simply didn't behave like someone who was scared of anything. But he was more aware of the danger now, and looked over her as though he expected her to faint or turn blue at any second. "Well, it's after breakfast," Naomi said, not looking up, still concentrating on her anger. "How dare he try to tell me not to do anything? I mean, *really*. How much danger could I be in from *programming*?" She caught herself, and glanced up at Q. "And no bad puns about bytes and getting bitten." "Would I say something like that?" Q asked innocently, a hurt tone coming into his voice. "If you thought of it first," Naomi replied, not at all taken in by him. "I'm wounded by your lack of faith in me." "Then I pity your therapist, because you must get wounded on a daily basis." She smiled at him to let him know that was supposed to be a joke, and then her face returned into its previous brooding lines. "You don't suppose he actually meant any of that, do you?" "Of course not. He was making it all up to inconvenience you. Why would a doctor want to protect your health?" Naomi completely overlooked Q's sardonic tone, listening only to the words. "Precisely. There's no reason why he should do this to me. I'm sure that anyone would agree, aren't you?" As she looked up at him hopefully, Q had to steel himself against that expression. Despite his well-practiced armor against emotional intimacy, there was something about Naomi that kept finding its way in, kept affecting him despite his best efforts to shield himself. She was a weakness, a threat, and yet he didn't draw away. "No." "No?" Naomi's face fell. "You don't agree with him, do you?" "Far be it from me to be a voice of sense and reason in any discussion, but it seems to me that there must have been some reason the man was awarded a medical degree." Q looked down at her, some of his own worry for her flavoring his tone. He didn't want anything to happen to her; the knowledge of how he felt, how he would feel, if anything did happen being too firmly imprinted into his mind by every nightmare he'd had on the subject, every too real dream, not to mention the unthinkable: what the Dilkinillies had done to Naomi in order to lure him on board their ship, and how he had felt holding her broken, unconscious body, knowing that she'd been beaten and tortured because of him. Q swallowed hard, free hand coming up to cover her hand on his arm. He knew what it would feel like to lose her, and had no desire to repeat the experience, thank you very much. Naomi dismissed that objection out of hand. "He's being overly cautious. I feel fine now. I look fine, don't I?" She stopped, and Q was forced to examine her more carefully. She was much more her vivacious self than she had been previously, but there were lines of strain around her mouth and she was still paler than she ought to be. "Not particularly. The pallor of your complexion does suit your hair, however." Naomi frowned at him. "That's not particularly helpful." "Why did you ask for my opinion if you didn't want it?" "Because I thought you'd agree with me!" Q sighed heavily. "How juvenile." He started walking, pulling her along with him by his grasp on her hand. He'd almost gotten used to pacing himself so that she could keep up, having been abruptly brought to notice one day on his way to yet another of the interminable conferences of how silly it looked to have Naomi skipping along at his side. Not dignified at all. Naomi made a face at him, but gave in to his lead, following alongside him. "I'm going to be very very bored." "No one ever died of boredom. Unfortunately," Q said, his tone very droll. "Some people you wanted to get rid of in that way?" Naomi asked curiously. "You could say that," Q replied, not wanting to explain himself. One of the last things he'd said to Picard before going to sacrifice himself to the Calmarain was that, as a human, he would have died of boredom. At the time, Q had believed that to be true. Unfortunately, he'd found that false. It wasn't possible to die from boredom, just to wish you would. The misery in his life had rapidly outpaced the boredom, until it became a race between the two to see which could force him to kill himself first. Q was still quite alive, although no longer entirely bored or miserable. Just mostly. The reason for his continued interest in living was happily oblivious to the fact, blathering away. "...I suppose I could make a list for you, but it's such a long slow death," Naomi said, unaware of Q's preoccupation. "Hardly worth the effort put into it." She went back to her musing on her own situation, as they arrived back at their quarters. Naomi left Q at the door. They were still, for some reason, maintaining at least a nominal separation between themselves. Although Naomi shared Q's bed every night she didn't accidentally fall asleep on the couch, they still didn't share bathrooms. Naomi felt a little miffed by that, but had given up on the subject, somehow reassured that there was some part of him too private for her. She'd been *in* his bathroom, but that wasn't quite the same as sharing it. The exclusion gave her a hurdle to overcome, something to mark her progress by. But right now, she felt tired and, for some reason, filthy. The visit to Sickbay had left her feeling violated. She excused herself from Q, and went to shower and change into anything other than what she was wearing right now. When she came back out, Q was sitting on the couch, apparently staring at nothing at all. Naomi came over to him and curled into his side, resting her head against his chest without one hint of doubt about whether he wanted her, no question of her probable welcome there in her manner. Q accepted the gesture wordlessly. There was something very comforting about feeling her warmth and liveness against him when he hadn't been sure what was wrong with her or how much danger she was in. His arm went around her, circling her just above her stomach, holding her close. Naomi sighed and relaxed into him, feeling at home and much closer to being happy than she had been since feeling the first stab of pain earlier this afternoon. "I love you." "How sad." "Sad?" Naomi asked curiously. "Sad, deluded, self-deceiving... pick a word," Q said, not offering to let go of her. "Are you trying to tell me you don't think you're worth being loved?" Naomi asked, an impish light in her eyes which he couldn't see. She didn't think that was what he meant at all, but misinterpreting his comments was much more fun. Q made a gagging sound. "If I so much as *wanted* to be, I'd turn myself over to Nian immediately for counselling." "Too bad. I love you anyway," Naomi said smugly. Q sighed long-sufferingly. "Some day you'll realize how short- sighted your emotional responses are." "I certainly hope not. I'd probably have to give up chocolate ice cream and having fun." She nestled her head against him, yawning. She was so very tired. Would it be so horrible if she took a nap right here? Q might not want to be loved, might not ever accept her telling him that, but it was quite true. She did love him, couldn't conceive of not having him here, in her life. For all that she gave to him, he gave as much or more back to her. He made constant allowances for her, adjusting to her presence. And, although it was probably too subtle for anyone who wasn't looking for it to see, he was constantly giving to her, trying to make her happy. His little manipulations, the way he tried to get her to dress appropriately for occasions, the presents disguised as fashion improvements, were all signs of his interest in her welfare. And then there was the baby shower. Oh, it could be said that Q had done that to embarrass her, but she hadn't been embarrassed once she'd gotten over the initial shock, and it had been a very thoughtful thing for him to do. He did care about her, even if he didn't call it, wouldn't ever call it love. She yawned again and closed her eyes, snuggling against him, feeling safe and protected. And other people liked her more now, Naomi thought, as the vision of the baby shower flickered across the surface of her drowsy mind. She hated social events, but the reason for that had to do more with her inability to deal with people. She was competent enough while working with them, but on a social level, she just didn't understand them. Her life before Q had been considerably less work-oriented than when she'd been living with Dharvi -- the failure of that relationship having taught her something; but it still had consisted mostly of work, exercise, and then more work or sometimes reading until the next day when she'd do it all over again. Actually going out and socializing with the people she worked with would never have occurred to her. Things had changed with the advent of Q into her life. He was, despite all his insults, good with people. They flocked to him, wanted to be around him. And, by association, her as well. The interest other people were taking in her was all due to Q, and Naomi was finding that she actually enjoyed the attention. Not all of it, certainly; she wasn't the kind of social butterfly that Q was, but some. She was deeply grateful to Q for having performed that kind of alchemy on her life, but suspected that this would all fall apart without him. She didn't really understand people, didn't even want to understand them, except for Q. Q looked down at the slumbering woman in his arms, a brief look of annoyance crossing his face. She'd done it again! How dare she just fall asleep against him like he was some sort of giant pillow? But he made no move to let her go. Her trust in him that he would protect her and take care of her was genuinely touching. He didn't think there was anyone else anywhere who would so much as trust him to part his hair properly, much less put themselves in his hands. It fulfilled a need he hadn't known he'd had until Naomi blithely started depending on him as if he were a normal person instead of the abortive freak he was, the former god stuffed haphazardly into a decaying human body. And, in any case, this was what he wanted to do, to hold her and reassure himself that she was alive, that everything was all right, and even if she were about to split open and have some sort of alien mutation pop out, that she still cared for him. Q held her close and let her sleep. He could put up with this for a little while. Until it got too boring. **** "And where do you think you're going, young lady?" The silkily malicious voice caught Naomi just as she was about to leave. She couldn't stay cooped up in their quarters any longer; it was impossible. It had only been yesterday afternoon that Li had told her she had to stay inside, and already she couldn't do it, and it was barely even lunchtime yet. Having such a restriction placed on her only made her chafe at it even more. And, in any case, she wanted to talk to T'Vai about the situation, to find out exactly what her limits were and to see what arrangements could be worked out so that she could continue working out of her quarters. There shouldn't be any problem with it; Naomi had, after all, been doing just that for months now, but she was suspicious of Li and what he might have told the Vulcan. Naomi didn't trust him further than she could throw him, which was nowhere at the moment. Naomi turned back to face Q, who she'd been hoping would just let her go without asking any troublesome questions she didn't want to answer. "You know, you're beginning to sound a lot like my mother." "Obviously a woman of great hidden wisdom," Q said dryly. "If I'm not mistaken, however, you appear to be heading out the door." "Brilliant guess, Sherlock. Care to try for another one?" Q flipped a lazy hand at her, declining to play that game and turned back to what he was doing, as if he didn't care at all, which was false. He was desperately afraid of what might happen to Naomi, of what the consequences of her actions might be. "Fine. Kill yourself and the baby too. See if I care." The remark stung. That wasn't what she was doing at all, and she knew it, although she did feel a hidden guilt about her actions. Li was being overprotective; there was no question about that. She was in perfect health, and his restrictions were going to make her weaker, not better. Even so, she still couldn't help feeling some inner doubts about defying the doctor's instructions. On the other hand, she didn't need to be hearing this from Q. Naomi moved over to him, a mulish expression on her face. "Walking down to the lab and back isn't going to kill me, or anyone else. You're overreacting." "I am?" Q pretended surprise, swiveling to look at her. "And here I was under the impression that was the medical opinion of the doctor on the case. How strange." Naomi stomped her foot, quite angry with him now for not taking her side and for voicing the doubts she didn't want to face herself. "You're taking this all wrong." "Am I?" Q's expression was deceptively innocent. "Why should I have any interest in this? I never wanted a child; I still don't want a child. I'd be perfectly happy if you did manage to kill it off. It would save both of us a lot of trouble later on." That wasn't entirely true, but Q had no intention of telling Naomi that. He would care, but it wouldn't have anything to do with the child, it would be because Naomi would be upset. Q had resigned himself to putting up with a baby for her sake, since there didn't seem to be much alternative. He was being rather noble in his own estimation; however, the ungrateful woman didn't seem to care. She was risking her life and the life of something she seemed to want, over some silly whim to go and work. That didn't make any sense to Q at all. If he had a good excuse not to work, he'd take it immediately. Naomi's face paled, upset both by his implication that he didn't want this child and by the ring of truth in his voice when he implied she was trying to kill the baby. "You don't mean that." "Oh, yes, I do," Q said, beginning to enjoy this. It wasn't often he caught Naomi at a dead loss. "You were the one babbling incessantly about the joys of childrearing, not me. If you suddenly choose to endanger that, well, who am I to stop you?" "That's not what this is," Naomi said bluntly, but her tone was uncertain. "It's not?" Q asked, looking at her, posture all indolent elegance. "Oh. I suppose I must have misunderstood. When the charming Dr. Li told you to confine yourself to your quarters and preferably your bed, to keep regular hours, and not work on the computer, that must have meant something else entirely. How silly of me. My mind must be getting weak from spending too much time as a mortal." "You wouldn't like me staying in bed all the time," Naomi said weakly, picking at the only flaw she could see. She didn't want to give in on this issue, but she didn't like the vision of herself she saw mirrored back at her in Q's words. She wasn't that selfish and unthinking, was she? Q sniffed disdainfully. "If you think I'd want anything to do with someone as grossly disgusting as yourself, you're quite mistaken." "Thank you," Naomi said, choking the words out through a suddenly clogged throat, "just what I needed. One last blow to my ego." She fled, but not out of their quarters, instead to her own room. She had to get away from him. He was right, and she couldn't bear facing him right then. She couldn't leave, and she couldn't stay, not without screaming. "You're welcome," Q said to the closed door. "Any time, my dear." **** With Naomi confined to quarters, Q took a certain perverse pleasure in still being able to go out. He could have rubbed it in even more, but he was uncertain of how far he could push her. She might very well change her mind, and then where would he be? He'd just managed to get her to stay in, and while her sulking was beginning to get to him, he didn't want to let risk her life either just so she'd be happier. The thought was appealing, however. On the other hand, without Naomi, there wasn't much point in actually going anywhere. Naomi couldn't attend the meetings with him anymore, and by himself, they were almost as bad as they had been previous to her arrival in his life. He'd done two already, and while the first had been a dull, deadly boring function where he was required to be polite to morons who wouldn't or couldn't understand his insults even if he made any, the second had been quite different. Q thought back to the morning's meeting and shuddered. He didn't want to go through that again. Surely they hadn't all been that bad before; if they had, he would never have put up with them this long. Q remembered what the scientist had done with mixed feelings of triumph and humiliation. At least he'd gotten a good gibe or two in before the situation completely disintegrated. They'd been discussing something almost non-boring, the end of life itself, namely the death of this universe, which mortals seemed to attach some significance to, when the question which had sparked all the rest of the great disagreeableness had arisen. "What if it all ends?" Brocke said, clearly free-associating on the subject. "Just *ends*, sucked into some dense mass, whatever. What would be left behind?" "Total nothingness. I.e., your brain," Q said mockingly. "What did you say?" Brocke asked disbelievingly. "Oh, dear, and now I need to repeat myself. You're even stupider than I'd previously thought, which is almost unimaginable, but then I'm always being surprised on that issue," Q said with malicious enjoyment. A ripple of shock and dismay went through the room. Although they'd been forewarned about Q's reputation, directly insulting someone else's intelligence was beyond the pale. "I say, you're being frightfully rude," another one of the scientists said. Q turned on him viciously, disliking how he was being attacked from all sides. "When you've created a galaxy, come back and we'll talk. Until then, I don't think you have anything to say to me that's worth my time." "Lovely attitude," someone murmured under their breath. Q picked out the culprit unerringly. "Do you have something to add to the discussion? Or is your simian brain restricted to inanities about your betters?" This person was not so easily dissuaded. Sean Campbell uncoiled himself from his seat and faced Q down. "You're being awfully rude for someone who's dependent on the Federation. If it wasn't for us, you wouldn't even have a job." "If any of you were capable of thinking for yourselves, I wouldn't have a job either. I don't see that happening any time soon," Q said, facing down the smaller man. Campbell flushed but held his ground. Sensing the tide turning towards the scientist and away from Q, the others in the room were leaning in, attention rapt on seeing Q get the comeuppance he so richly deserved. "You're very rude," Campbell said, not backing down an inch. His tone was menacing, and his posture more so. "I'd consider changing your attitude if I were you." With a start, Q realized the danger he was in. Knowledge of physical risk did not come easily to him; despite any number of encounters with people, creatures and other entities who wanted him dead but preferably in severe pain first, Q still was almost oblivious to threat. Shortsightedness seemed to be one of his faults as a human, and Q was painfully aware of that now that the shorter, but belligerent, man was toe to toe with him. Q had never been at risk from the scientists themselves; they were carefully screened to prevent such an occurrence, and in any case, were frequently almost as aphysical as Q himself. Unfortunately that wasn't always true. Q swallowed the fear and retorted acidly, "If you were me, I'd kill myself on the spot." "That can be arranged." The man's grim tone promised all kinds of pain for Q, and he couldn't take it any longer. He had to get out of there, had to flee before they could make good their petty little threats, before they could resort as all humans inevitably did, to using their fists because their brains weren't advanced enough for them to use those. But he couldn't get out. He was blocked in by the other scientists. Trapped. There was nowhere for him to go, and Q turned back to face his tormentor, proud look never slipping. He'd keep his dignity as long as he could, but Q knew with a sinking sensation that all it would take was one blow and he'd be begging this upstart not to hurt him. A sob caught in his throat, and Q repressed it. He wasn't going to break down. Not yet. And then Sanaharrar was there, and she was standing between him and them, her size and posture forcing them back without her having to even bare her teeth. Q greeted her appearance with an inner sigh of relief. He'd forgotten about Sanaharrar, hadn't even remembered her in his overwhelming feelings of terror. Burying his hand into her fur, he drew strength from her protective presence. "Since you don't appear to appreciate me, I'll take myself elsewhere. Good day." And he'd walked out with Sanaharrar, his limbs trembling. Q shuddered again, tremors of distaste and horror moving through him. Sanaharrar had been required to extricate him from that mess. For a brief moment, he'd been certain they were going to turn on him, and that terror had held up all his weaknesses and vanities at once. It had been a very long time since a group of humans set on him for any reason, and Q had almost forgotten what it was like to be afraid of these people, to know in his bones that they were going to kill him, wanted to kill him, and the only reason they might stop short of death was that torturing him was more satisfying. He couldn't go back there and do that again. It wasn't just fear. He would have forced himself to do it if he thought it was mere cowardice on his part. No, it was an unwillingness to go back to that state of victimhood he'd been in for so long that he hadn't even realized he'd come out of it until now, until people turned on him again, for no reason at all. And he had the leverage to convince Anderson this time. She couldn't force him to do what she wanted anymore; he had a new contract which protected him from her petty manipulations. Q felt tremendously buoyed up by this knowledge. He didn't have to put up with those boring, interminable conferences any longer. However, he had to come up with a better reason to tell dear Eleanor than that he was alternately scared of and bored by her precious visitors. Admitting that he had been frightened this morning was completely out of the question. A thought hit him and Q smiled evilly. He had the perfect excuse. One she couldn't, wouldn't be able to argue with, and best of all, wouldn't believe either, which made it even better. Knowing that she would be aware he'd trumped her hand made his coming victory that much more satisfying. **** "You're not going to what?" Anderson asked, finding it impossible to believe her ears. "I'm not going to receive any more of your honored guests, Elly," Q said, not at all threatened by her manner. "They bore me." That wasn't quite the truth, but Q didn't see a reason to tell the commodore the rest of it. Anderson stared at him, infuriated by this latest ploy of Q's to make himself the balkiest, most stubborn person in existence. "You can't do that." "Certainly I can. Call it *paternity* leave." Q smiled evilly at her. She looked levelly at him through the screen. "I thought you were denying parentage of Dr. Allen's child." Q waved a dismissive hand. "Fatherhood is more than a matter of a few sperm here and there." Anderson stared at Q, grim-faced. While she would have liked to order him to attend the sessions, he was in the right of it for once. Although his current contract with Starfleet did obligate him to provide a certain level of information and support which she could pressure him on, paternity leave was definitely a valid excuse. She tried not to sigh. Things had been much easier when Q had still been an object and hadn't done nuisancy things like taking leaves and vacations. However, she'd be less upset with him if she weren't convinced Q was merely using this as an excuse to get out of performing a task he found distasteful. "How long do you intend to be gone?" Q shrugged. "Until Naomi can attend the meetings again." Anderson swallowed hard on her immediate reaction of anger. That could be months, given what little she knew about Dr. Allen's medical condition. Before she could lose her temper, Q interrupted. "Oh, I suppose I can talk to a few of them. I'd grow bored with nothing to do. Write a few letters, invite some of the less obtuse ones over, that sort of thing." His tone was casual and off-hand, but his eyes were sparkling with suppressed amusement. "As long as it didn't excite Naomi too much. I must have an eye for her welfare, of course." Anderson wasn't sure whether to call him on the obvious untruths or be grateful that he was easing her burden even a little. While someone else could handle the job of informing everyone that their appointments had been pushed back a few more months, hers would be the task of handling the most delicate egos and calming the inevitable complaints. Any crumb, however small, was welcome, considering that she couldn't pressure him into doing what she wanted under the circumstances. "That's very... gracious of you, Q." "Isn't it though? Ta ta, Elly." **** The visit came while Q was away, and once Naomi saw who it was, she wasn't much surprised. While Jinn was incorrigible and utterly incapable of being awed by anyone, and Farish too oblivious to care, Saba would never have come to call unless she was absolutely certain Q was elsewhere. "This is a surprise," Naomi said cheerily. "We heard about your not being able to come to work anymore," Saba said shyly, moving over to where Naomi was seated. She took a spot on the couch. "Is everything all right?" Naomi nodded, as Jinn and Farish came to take seats, or rather, as Farish took a seat. Jinn preferred to roam. "I feel perfectly fine." "They said you'd gone into premature labor." "Right." Naomi grimaced. "The doctor thinks it might happen again, and that's why I'm here. It's too early, and he has some sort of cock-eyed notion that rest and relaxation will improve my health instead of just driving me insane." Saba made sympathetic noises, as Naomi continued. "But it's nice of you to come to see me. Distraction is always welcome." "You mean you don't find Q distracting?" Jinn asked archly. Naomi made a face at him. "There's distraction and then there's distraction. Even the two best suited, most even tempered people in the world would be at each other's throats if they were locked up together long enough." Jinn grinned. "And I wouldn't call either of you even-tempered." "No," Naomi agreed, "we're not." "Have you thought about redecorating?" Saba looked around the room and shivered. "I just can't see a baby in this place." Jinn nodded. "It's like a museum." He imitated Saba's shivering, making it more melodramatic. "A person could die from all this atmosphere." Naomi looked around the room, trying to see it from their point of view. She'd arrived when Q's quarters were almost spartan, and the furnishings minimal. While there had always been a certain bleak style, even then, it had been much more restrained. She'd thought it was an improvement over her even more monk- like quarters, but hadn't thought much of it at the time. Q was a style-conscious person, and his quarters reflected that. However, when Q had gotten his possessions back, he'd redecorated with a vengeance, and the room showed it. Naomi had never seen such an ornate, elegant room outside of a holodeck. "What's the problem?" Naomi asked, slightly bewildered. "I like it here." "The problem is, you aren't going to be able to have kids in here," Jinn said emphatically. "I have one of my own, I should know. All this stuff would be broken, torn down, spit up on, whatever. You just can't live like this. Not without a full-time maid and nanny. And a cage to keep the kid in." "That explains a lot about how you turned out," Naomi murmured softly. He glared at her. "I'm right, see if I'm not." Before she could change the subject, he did it for her, his face going from disgruntlement to smirking without any hesitation. "Did you like your present? Was it surprising enough?" "It was wonderful, Jinn," Naomi said sincerely, grateful that he'd dropped the other topic. "I loved it." "You *loved* it?" He looked suspiciously at her. He knew that it had worked; had gotten secondhand reports of the events of the baby shower from people who had been there, so he knew the jack-in-the-box had delivered its payload as designed. But her reaction was out of sync. "Yes," Naomi said, smiling. Farish spoke for the first time. "You should tell T'Vai that, then." He rubbed his nose thoughtfully. "I don't think I've ever seen a larger reaction for such a small action." "What do you mean?" Naomi asked. Saba looked between the two men. Clearly she knew what was going on, but was deferring to them to tell the story. Jinn glared at Farish. "We weren't going to tell her. She's not supposed to get upset, remember?" "I don't see how finding out that you've been reprimanded for playing a prank is going to upset her." Naomi looked sharply at Jinn. "You got in trouble for the jack- in-the-box?" Jinn sighed. "Well, if you're going to beat it out of me, fine. T'Vai was at the shower, and saw it. I guess the commodore told her to come down hard on the next prank-player, and that happened to be me." "What did she do to you?" "Nothing much," Jinn said shrugging. "Nothing worse than has happened to me before. You take your chances sometimes." Naomi looked at Farish. "What happened?" "He lost his access privileges for a month, and has been demoted a rank." "That's just totally undeserved," Naomi said, shaking her head. "I can't believe she did that." "You mean you're not going to do anything to get back at me for it?" Jinn said, trying to distract her. "No. Whyever should I do anything like that?" She smiled at Jinn, who paled dramatically. Saba looked between the two of them. "What's the matter? I think it's very nice of Naomi not to try to get you back for the pie." Jinn shook his head. "You don't understand. I *know* that smile. She isn't letting me off. She's just trying to lull me into a false sense of security before doing something really evil." "Who, me?" Naomi asked innocently, a wide smile on her face. Jinn shuddered. "I need to go now. To get a head start. I'm dead." He stood up, then impulsively bent over and hugged Naomi. Softly, so as not to ruin his image, he whispered into her ear, "Get better, okay?" Naomi nodded as he released her, feeling emotion well up within her. It was rare to see Jinn make any such display, and touching. Farish stood up, bending over her hand. "I'll take my leave as well, dear lady. Best wishes." "Thank you." **** It only took a week of coddling to make Naomi utterly sick of it. Li had fixed it so that she was no longer in pain, and as far as she was concerned, that meant she was out of danger as well. When the pain came back, then that would be a good sign something was wrong, right?. Unfortunately, no one else seemed to agree with her logic. A sob caught in her throat as the full reality of her situation washed over her. Since Li had indeed carried through his threat and spoken with T'Vai, Naomi had been banned from the programming lab until further notice, and from doing any work on the side either, which was what really hurt. She hadn't actually worked in the lab for any length of time since Q had gone to the Daystrom Institute, months before. There wasn't much to give up about that. However, the little jobs she'd been doing all along on the side had enabled Naomi to maintain the pretense that she hadn't been completely subsumed by Q's needs and personality, and now she didn't have that. She could just as well admit that there was no need for her except as some adjunct to Q, except that he'd stopped going to his meetings and wouldn't let her attend the few he had gone to after Li's restrictions. Which meant there was no need for her at all, since Q personally didn't seem to need her much anymore. Physically he was unattracted to her, and emotionally, he was fine. The hovering was driving her insane, but he was fine or at least, pretending to be so well that she couldn't tell the difference. There was nothing for her to do. If she couldn't work and Q didn't need her, what was left? Serving as the container for a baby, and that was it. Naomi sank down into a little heap, the smallest she was currently able to manage, which wasn't much. She was huge, she was colossal, she was gigantic, and very unhappy about all of it. Being eight months pregnant, almost nine, had a lot to do with it. Naomi was convinced that there were some sort of pregnancy hormones that, instead of just helping the baby to grow, caused some sort of demonic possession. It was the only thing that could account for how she felt right now, out of control and completely unhappy. "What exactly do you think you're doing?" Naomi didn't turn her head. The mocking voice was far too easily identifiable. She didn't want Q, and then again, she did. He was annoying to her at the moment, but on the other hand, knowing he was there was oddly comforting. "I'm taking a nap. Go away." Perversely, he came over. She felt him sit down on the couch at her back, and felt rather than saw his amused glance surveying her. "Rather vocal for a nap, wouldn't you say?" "Don't you ever take a hint?" Naomi snapped, then gave up on being depressed in favor of sheer outrage. She was tired of the way he kept hanging around her, giving her his attention even when she didn't really want it. Q visibly recoiled, not having expected such an attack from her, although why not, he didn't know. Certainly, she was in the foulest of moods these days. Taking her in for rabies shots seemed the wisest thing to do, although she hadn't started foaming at the mouth yet. Collecting himself, Q drew his dignity around him like a cloak. She wasn't the only one who had problems after all. He was grateful and upset all at once that she hadn't brought up the topic of sex in months. Grateful because he didn't want to face what had happened the last time he had tried with her, the shattering failure to perform that was entirely her fault for becoming unattractive; and upset because she didn't seem to care about his struggles. The need, the sensual urge which clawed at him, was too strong and Q was almost suicidally depressed over it, thoughts of killing himself not interesting him so much as just not having to deal with needs like these. Naomi was impossible to deal with, and he'd get as far as deciding to throw her out before she'd do something utterly pitiable like crying on him. And then he wouldn't be able to do anything but hold her and let her cry. As little as he liked what she was going through, he couldn't force her to stop it right now, as much as he still was considering suggesting that Li simply cut the child out right now and end all this silliness. He didn't want her, had no possible use for Naomi right now. She was usually bad-tempered, frequently crying, and rarely sympathetic to any of his problems or concerns. There was nothing which would compel him to keep her around. And yet, perversely, he wanted her even more than before. Right now, she *needed* him. She didn't want anyone else's comfort or help, just *his*, and she kept turning to him as though she believed he really did have the power to do something for her. It was a wonderful, exhilarating, frightening experience. For all the satisfaction Q got out of being needed, out of being the only possible person who could do something, out of being wanted, he was terrified by what might happen if he somehow failed, if he couldn't give Naomi whatever nebulous thing she needed. And, in any case, he was still tormented by a horrible, clawing desire. The dreams he was having almost nightly were becoming increasingly more seductive and tempting, and he was waking up from them reluctantly when he did at all. Erotic dreams were something he often woke up from in the middle, feeling an overwhelming urge to do something, anything, but then becoming utterly horrified by these needs. Only he hadn't been waking up halfway through lately. He'd been going all the way through the dream, and only waking up afterwards, in a rush of pleasure and ashamed guilt as he realized where he was, and what he was doing. That he found Naomi sleeping beside him at those times only made it worse. If he could have acted on those desires, he would have done so then, would have preferred the lesser humiliation of sex to knowing that his sleeping mind was attempting to debauch him. But finding Naomi there only reinforced why it was he was having these nightmares, these dangerously seductive visions, because he couldn't, wouldn't feel any desire for her, couldn't feel anything but nausea and revulsion when he thought of her in a sexual way. He was currently physically incapable of feeling any desire towards her and that was a torture he would have paid anything for at one time. Now that he had it, he didn't know what to do with it. He didn't want Naomi, but he couldn't stop himself from having these depraved desires. That he had been capable of enduring this long was entirely in tribute to his inability to risk having this failure with anyone else, rather than any nobility on his part. He was slowly going mad, and sometimes he almost welcomed having Naomi near him, for it was only at those times that he knew any peace, that he was unbesieged by unwanted sexual thoughts. Otherwise, he might very well have sought out Harry and chanced himself there. Harry was the closest thing he had to a friend, after Naomi, and the only other person unlikely to ridicule him for his weakness, even if Harry did have deplorable desires. Q shuddered as he remembered what Harry had done to him, how he had first seduced Q with depraved, dark pleasures, and then attempted to abuse him all in the name of sensuality. Why was that starting to sound like a good thing? Q focused back on Naomi sitting there at his feet and decided in a brief instant of anger and frustration to stop coddling her. "You're not the only one who has problems, you know," Q snapped out, at the end of his rope, and desperately impatient with Naomi's latest bout of self-doubt. "Excuse me?" Naomi sat up and looked at him. The outburst was completely unexpected coming from Q, and it caught her attention immediately. "What are you talking about?" Q realized too late that he'd been trapped. She wasn't supposed to ask him about a statement like that. "Nothing. Go back to your self-pity and weeping." "Not until you tell me what kind of problems you're talking about," Naomi said, reassured by this hint of a chink in Q's armor. Q shook his head, but couldn't escape. "You wouldn't understand." "Of course not. It wouldn't be any fun if I understood. Then you wouldn't be able to make fun of me for my lack of empathy." Q glared at her. That wasn't it at all, and she knew it. Grumpily, he said, "I think you were easier to deal with when you were depressed over the dearth of chocolate." "Probably," Naomi said cheerily. There wasn't anything worse than having to deal with her own problems, and she didn't have much choice. Or hadn't had much choice until Q had let slip that his perfect facade was nothing more than that, a facade. Naomi felt useful again, and that was a good thing. He needed her, even if he didn't want to tell her what problems he was having, and she could help him. She shifted to a more comfortable position and looked up at him determinedly. "So, what kind of problems do you have?" "I don't have any problems, I don't know what you're talking about, and this is a ridiculous subject to be on anyway." Naomi cocked her head. "Of course. So you don't have any problems, and you're sure nothing's bothering you?" Q nodded. "So you'd say you were perfectly content and happy?" "Absolutely." Naomi nodded, a self-satisfied look on her face. "Then something's definitely wrong. You're never happy." "I didn't say that. Really, Naomi, you jump to the most astonishing conclusions." "And given the way you're evading the subject, I'd say it's major." She considered him for a long moment. "Are you sure you don't want to tell me about it?" "Why would I want to tell you anything?" Q asked, desperately afraid to say anything. Sex was something he just couldn't discuss with Naomi. The subject of his impotence was something that had come up once and never been discussed again. It laid between them like a disused land mine that neither one of them wanted to risk stepping on to find out if it were still armed. Q was too grateful at his good fortune that she was letting him get away with that to ask why. He didn't want to expose his flaws to Naomi, to actually come out and admit that he couldn't do anything even though he desperately wanted to. The only part of it he could admit was that she was unattractive to him. "Because it would make you feel better. And you wouldn't have brought the subject up in the first place if you didn't want to talk about it." He dipped his head in unwilling surrender to that logic. "It's nothing you can do anything about." "Maybe, maybe not." "Oh, how vain." Q looked at her, feeling upset at that easy assurance she was exhibiting. "You're so certain you can take care of anything." She shrugged. "Maybe it's because I usually can. Either way, if I fail, you get to laugh at me, and that's a good thing, right?" "You can't do anything about this," Q said darkly. There was absolutely nothing she could do to help him with his fixation on sexuality and inability to perform; he was too revolted by her for it to even be a remote possibility. "What is it? Relatives hassling you again?" "Very funny," Q said, in a tone indicating that he found her remark anything but funny. "So it's major, but it's not your relatives, and I assume it's not anything from Starfleet, since you wouldn't mind telling me all about that. So it's got to be sex," Naomi concluded brightly. Caught! Q immediately threw up defenses against her. "Everything comes down to sex with you." "A mark of personal pride, yes." She looked at him, unsure how to broach the subject, but then deciding just to dive right in and let Q be offended by whatever he chose to be offended by. He had proven himself to be impotent on one prior occasion, and they'd hadn't tried to repeat the experience. Q wouldn't, and Naomi was unwilling to coerce him into a situation he was so clearly afraid of. On the other hand, that didn't mean he was all right. The problem could extend more deeply than that. "Are you having problems with... um... masturbating?" Q looked at her, entirely shocked that she'd bring the topic up. It wasn't something he wanted to admit to, much less talk about with her. He'd given into the temptation more than once over the past few months and it had been horrible, not nearly enough, and he'd had to fight himself to not do it again. "Why would I do anything disgusting like that?" It was Naomi's turn to be surprised. "You wouldn't? But... it's been almost three months." She looked him over. "Either you have astounding self-control, or I'm amazed you're even still alive, because I know you haven't survived through just not having any desires at all." "How do you know that?" Q demanded. Naomi shrugged. "Believe me, when it comes to wanting sex, you're at the very least, normal." He didn't know whether to be offended or complimented. Before he could choose one or the other, Naomi had beat him to the punch. "Why don't we try a little experiment?" Naomi proffered. She didn't quite believe that he had exercised that kind of control, but didn't see any reason to call him on it either. She had another plan in mind, one that didn't have anything to do with arguing over whether Q was telling the truth. One which made the whole question moot. Q looked at her suspiciously. "This is going to involve my getting naked, isn't it?" "However did you guess?" Q was visibly pouting. "Because everything you do involves getting me naked. I think it's some sort of fixation of yours." Naomi grinned, feeling better now than she had in days. Teasing Q was obviously good for the spirit. "How could I help it? I'm overwhelmingly attracted to your body." "Oh har de har har." He scowled at her, but made no move to get away from her. To admit the truth, which he certainly would never do to Naomi, since he didn't even want to with himself, he was becoming uncomfortably turned on by the conversation. And if Naomi wasn't naked, was just sitting there like that, arms around her knees, he could almost imagine everything was normal and that there might be a chance of purging himself of this unwelcome, undeniable desire. She stood up and held out a hand to him. "C'mon." Unwillingly, Q followed her into the bedroom. "I don't want you, I don't want this, and you can't make me do anything, remember?" "Of course not," Naomi said evenly, enjoying the struggle of wills. It was something to concentrate on other than the never changing scenery of their quarters or her own growing ambivalency about having a child. Q hadn't called her on it yet, but then she was yet willing to admit how she felt to him. "Now take off your clothes and lie down on the bed." He stiffened. "I don't know what you have in mind, but it won't do any good." He enunciated each of his words with great force, "I don't want you." "Who said this had anything to do with sex? Or me for that matter?" She stared up at him challengingly, and Q relented, sulky. "If anything goes wrong, it's your fault." "I take full responsibility," Naomi agreed. "Now will you get naked so I can drool over your body while I pretend to rub your back?" Q disregarded everything in the sentence in favor of the last three words. "This is all about a backrub?" Naomi nodded. "You could say that." He frowned at her. "You should have said that. Really, Naomi. You have the most sordid mind imaginable." "Thank you." Q couldn't actually just take off his clothes in front of her with her watching him like this was some sort of debauched striptease, even though she'd seen him without them many times, and helped him remove them on several occasions. It would just be too humiliating. On the other hand, he didn't want to refuse a backrub on such trifling grounds. He unfastened his cloak and handed it to Naomi. "Here, be a good girl and put this away." Naomi nodded, and turned away. When she came back, he was lying on the bed, and his clothes had been neatly tucked away. She sat next to him, hands moving soothingly on his back. "That wasn't so bad, was it?" "I still don't see why I had to take my clothes off," Q said grumpily. "There's something sexual about this, I know it." "Consider it an incentive for me," Naomi said, a smile playing over her lips as she started rubbing out the kinks in his back. "You get a backrub, and I get to put my hands all over your naked body. Not quite an even exchange, but I guess you'll have to suffer." He relaxed under her hands, the familiar touch comforting despite the fears in the back of his mind. "You are entirely corrupted, aren't you?" "Of course." She worked in silence, letting him relax as much as he possibly could, working her way from his back down to the soles of his feet, then back up again, hands traveling through his hairline, to as much of his face as she could reach, until he was nothing but putty under her hands. There was something calming about getting to touch him, about being able to be this close to him without excuses or pretenses. She didn't intend to stop with this, but even this little contact was enjoyable, necessary, as if she'd been starving for touch. Naomi patted the small of his back, and her hands went to his shoulders. "Turn over." Sleepily, Q did so. "Now what?" He opened his eyes, and looked at her. With her that close to him, and with him so vulnerable, he felt the familiar surge of desire and pain all over again. Her hands went to his forehead, brushing down over his eyelids. "Ssh. Just close your eyes and relax." He felt exposed and defenseless, but he couldn't help but obey. She'd removed any resistance from his body; only his mind was still protesting that this was wrong, that everything was going to fail and then he'd be unbearably humiliated once again. "You can't be thinking about seducing me. Because it won't work." "Of course it won't," Naomi said soothingly. She was sitting next to him, and he could feel her, was surrounded by her presence, and it was oddly comforting. Q surrendered any thoughts of resistance as her hands came up to touch his face, massaging away all the tension that collected there with his unnatural assumed expressions and the constant strain of keeping a sulky sneer fastened there. When her hands moved down to his chest, Q felt a small moment of alarm, but it quickly faded as she did nothing she hadn't done a few scant minutes before to his back. He expected her touch to turn sexual, but it never did, and he was curiously disappointed by that, by how she avoided the most sensitive areas, giving him only the massage she'd promised him. And yet, nonetheless, there was a small part of him that wanted more. Even as Q knew such an undertaking would fail, and didn't dare want her because of the attendant shame and disgrace when nothing happened, when he couldn't respond, he couldn't help but be betrayed by that part of him that wanted to be touched, that hungered for the build-up of tension and its inevitable release. Then she was moving down his body, and her hands were on his hips. A strand of silken hair brushed up against him, and Q shuddered. He did want her. But he couldn't; her body was utterly disgusting, and as soon as she tried anything, it would all vanish and then he'd be left frustrated as well as mortified. Q opened his eyes and sat up. "That's quite enough, thank you. You can go now." Naomi was kneeling next to him, hands on his thigh. "I'm not done yet." "I don't care." His voice was tight. It would be so easy to give in, so easy and so wrong. She moved up closer to him, near enough to hold him. "There's nothing to worry about." "Not for you," Q said tensely. "Not for you either," Naomi said quietly, stroking his arm in an unconscious gesture of comfort. "I promise." Even as his rational mind told him he couldn't believe a promise like that, that she had no ability to ensure such a promise was kept, Q was crumbling inside. "You promise?" There was such wounded hope in his voice that Naomi couldn't help but be moved by it. "Yes, I promise. Now lay back down and close your eyes." She pushed gently against his chest, and he laid down. Naomi leaned over him. "Just close your eyes, and relax. Everything will be all right." "Don't think I won't hold it over you forever if it's not," Q murmured sulkily. There was a growing tension in his body. He didn't know what she was going to do, but some instinct inside was insisting Naomi wouldn't be going to all this trouble for nothing. She was a very basic person in some ways, and if everything were indeed all right between them, Q knew exactly what he should be expecting to have happen right now. And he couldn't say that he didn't want it. His eyes closed, he felt her move back down to the level of his hips. Her hands moved there, on either side, fingers digging in, and Q groaned. There was too much tension being held there and Naomi had found the precise spot to work on. Except that she wasn't stopping there. Q felt that silky brush of hair again and shuddered. It was a tremendous inconvenience to be so exposed; he didn't know why he'd so readily acquiesced to it. And then he did know as something warm and wet and wonderful enclosed him. Her mouth was around him, and he knew it, knew that feeling and what it meant. He wanted to object but couldn't. It felt wonderful, the intensity of it sliding right under all his defenses. He couldn't remember why it was he'd wanted to refuse her anything; all of his objections seemed petty and irrelevant against that sliding, soul-destroying feeling of pleasure. He moaned, one hand coming down to tangle in her hair. He needed this desperately, couldn't stop her, even though he knew there was some reason he should, something he found disgusting about this. But he couldn't remember, couldn't figure out what or why under that determined assault. The wave of pleasure rushed over him in a tremendous, burning tide, almost too painfully huge to control, all the knotted up need in him being expressed at once. And then he was being tossed over, lost, found in that swelling crash of gratification. He forgot who he was, forgot everything but that glorious, absolutely necessary release, pounding against him, demanding to be let out and utterly shattering in its wake. Then the warm feeling left him, and Q was cold and alone. He couldn't muster up the defenses necessary to object, could only lie there and shudder in the aftermath of that... orgasm? Even as Q realized that he'd been tricked and how, Naomi was settling back against him, and a warm comforter being drawn over their bodies. She nestled down against him, head resting in the crook of his shoulder. "Do I want to know what disgusting thing you just did?" Q asked, voice slurred with a pleasurable exhaustion. "Probably not," Naomi agreed. There was something intensely satisfying about indulging him this way, about seeing him lying here without any of the masks or poses he usually wore, his inner self, or one of them at any rate, exposed and vulnerable. He needed so much, but it was almost impossible to give to him. When she succeeded, it was almost worth whatever price she'd had to pay to accomplish it. "And you expect this to make up for your next bout of tears and self-pity?" The words were harsh, but his sleepy tone made them sound more like teasing. "The next five rounds," Naomi said, sighing deeply as she realized that she was finally back where she belonged, with Q treating her normally and everything all right, finally home at last. "Three," Q countered. "Four." "Done." -the end-