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


Sanaharrar was sprawled out in the common room of their
quarters, fitfully asleep.  She had been sleeping more lately, ever
since they'd gotten back from their adventures with the Maquis,
and in general, avoiding actually speaking to Naomi or Q, not
that Sanaharrar had ever been known for her garrulousness. 
Naomi stepped around her, having just checked on Ariadne, who
was also quite fast asleep.  The feline bodyguard was twitching
slightly, and Naomi imagined that she was hunting down an
appropriate prey -- a nice steak perhaps, or even something with
a bit more initiative.  Naomi felt a brief brush of some
unidentifiable emotion, something too deep to comprehend, and
quickened her steps so that she could get back to Q.

They were home, had been home for two days now, and that was
more than enough to make things entirely all better.  Naomi felt
especially glad to be back; slipping into her comfortable routines
without pause.  Among other things, she needed to plan a suitable
revenge against Jinn.  Q, on the other hand, was not nearly so
comfortable.  He was ill at ease with being back, as if his life on
the starbase had suddenly been recognized to be missing
something that he had never previously realized he needed, and
which he couldn't quite identify now.  He couldn't ask Naomi
what it was without admitting to things he had no wish to admit;
among them the silly notion that in some ways, despite how
miserable he'd also been, there was something missing from his
life that the adventure had provided.

But it was true and there was nothing to be done about it but to
put up with it.

Q looked up as Naomi entered the bedroom.  "Has that wailing
thing gone to sleep yet?"

Naomi nodded, then stopped, feeling a wave of *something* pass
through her.  She couldn't identify it, couldn't be quite sure what
it was, but it was powerful, and she stood rooted, unable to move
in the grips of that emotion.

Q seemed similarly affected, holding onto the back of his chair,
mouth dropping open as he took a deep breath, trying to get in
enough air.

She couldn't seem to help herself, stepping closer to Q, putting
her hands on his arms for balance.  "Are you all right?" she
asked, not feeling particularly well herself.

Another wave of heat suffused Q, and he could feel Naomi's
touch burning all the way down inside him.  Nothing had ever
seemed more necessary and more right.  He didn't even think of
ending her away, couldn't have framed a denigrating thought.

He let go of the chair, turning more to face her, hands reaching
up to stroke her arms.  "I don't know."

Naomi nodded dumbly, unable to do anything but agree, even
though she'd lost all track of what she was agreeing with.  He
rarely touched her deliberately, and she moved closer to him,
suddenly wanting more of him, more of this.

This was like one of the erotic dreams he was continually having,
Q thought, as Naomi stepped between his legs and he felt her
body brushing against him.  There was nothing unusual about
what she was doing; Naomi was continually making advances on
him, and Q continually putting up with them.  But right now what
he felt was not any sort of hesitation or restraint.  He wanted her
the way he wanted those elusive dream creatures, purely and
entirely, with a lust that seemed to consume him.

He reached out to her, hands running up along her sides.  But
that wasn't enough, wasn't nearly enough to assuage the need
inside him.  He tugged her blouse up, and reached underneath,
feeling all the smooth skin there with a shudder of pleasure.  That
was it.  That was what he needed.

Naomi leaned forward, begging silently for more of his touch. 
She needed it, *needed* his hands on her skin with a passion that
surprised her, consumed her.  Dimly, she was aware that she
needed to do something, needed to take the lead here or else Q
would stop.  That he would reach out to her at all was rare
enough; she needed to do something, to continue this before he
changed his mind.

But he didn't stop.  Instead, he pushed her blouse up further until
Naomi had to pull it off over her head to avoid being tangled up
in it, then leaned forward, lips pressing hotly against her skin,
then opening, his tongue licking at her skin, tasting her.

She trembled in his hold.  This was like nothing she'd ever
experienced with Q before, like little she had ever experienced
before.  Although she had indeed had other partners, their
encounters tended to be somewhat perfunctory, fueled more by
the newness of it all and the excitement of the moment than this
kind of joining.  There was Dharvi of course, but then, there was
also Q.  And of the two, she knew who she preferred.

Her knees buckled and she went down against him, sliding into
his lap, an awkward bundle against him, her weight pulling them
forward.

Q looked at her, a question in his dark eyes.

But before Naomi could make any response at all, beyond the
purely instinctual one of clinging tighter to him, as close as she
could get, he was moving out of the chair, pushing her down to
the floor, covering her with his own body.

Hungrily, she reached out to him, pulling at his shirt, trying to
get at his skin, trying to expose as much of him to her hands as
she could.  But his clothing was made to look good, not to come
off easily or even go on easily, and in her befuddled, aroused
state, she could quite deal with all the buttons and fastenings that
Q deemed appropriate.

Even as his mouth met hers, she yanked impatiently at his shirt,
trying to get it off.

Q couldn't quite get close enough to her, no matter how he tried. 
And now the idiot woman was doing *something* with her hands
that was keeping him from properly concentrated on kissing her,
on the feel of her lips parting under his own.

He half sat up, one leg still thrown over her and pulled his shirt
off, then laid back down.  Ahh...  That was so much better.  Skin
against skin, and everything about her was overwhelming him,
the feeling of her against him, the scent of her hair, the way her
fingernails were digging into his back, urging him closer to her.

Q acquiesced to that silent demand, drowning in the sheer
pleasure of it.  He wanted her, couldn't survive without this, and
the only thing that told him this wasn't a dream was the way their
clothes were stubbornly refusing to magically melt away.

Naomi pushed at him, almost frantic now as she pulled at her
own trousers, wriggling and kicking the rest of her clothes off. 
She'd already taken her shoes off, and for that she was grateful,
because otherwise she would no doubt have gotten them tangled
up in her clothes as distracted as she was.

Q paused for a moment, looking down at Naomi, now lying
naked under him, a sight that stirred every instinct he could think
of, filled him with frustration that he was still clothed, that he
couldn't just be entirely on top of her, inside her, the way he
wanted to be.

And then Naomi was helping him, breasts brushing against his
chest as they struggled together to rid him of the rest of his
clothes, to free him of that maddening mass of fabric Q insisted
on wearing under all circumstances.

Somehow, they finally came off, after a long and sweaty tussle
that only made all of Q's frustrations worse.

But then he was naked, and then Naomi was touching him, hand
running inside his thigh to stroke him right where he most needed
it.

Q held still, shuddering under the impact of that first, direct
touch.  It was the fulfillment of all his struggling, and for a brief
moment, he gave into his impulses, hips pushing against her
hand, sending that heated, silken flesh sliding against her.

But that wasn't enough either, and he had to have more, couldn't
stand all the teasing, all the build-up any longer.

He pulled away from her, hands pushing roughly at her legs,
urging her to let him in, and Naomi moved to accommodate him,
pulling at his arms, tugging him down.

And then he was inside her, and it was hot and all together
wonderful, and he couldn't imagine being anywhere else or doing
anything else.  The feeling was precisely what he wanted it to be,
only hotter and more dangerous, like being out-of-control and
overwhelmed, and he wanted that, wanted that with a sudden
desire that surprised him, outstripping all the need and wanting
that had gone before.

His hands wrapped around Naomi's shoulders, and he pushed
against her, trying to get further inside her, to get more of her on
his skin, around him.

She held him tightly, legs coming around his, feet hooking over
until they were moving together, rocking in a hard, fast rhythm
that was somehow echoed inside their heads, the emotional tide
that had sent them there even stronger now, the undercurrent
having become a tsunami that was sucking them under, sending
the both of them plunging over the edge, clinging together, crying
out, not knowing where one began or the other left off, lost in
that pleasure.

****

They woke the next morning, still on the floor.  Naomi was
reasonably comfortable, sound asleep, head pillowed on Q's
chest, and the bedspread from the bed pulled down over her.  But
Q was considerably less so.  He was entirely naked, and lying on
the *floor*.  Q felt a sense of panic go through him.  What had
he been thinking?  What had *they* been thinking?  He
remembered the night before, remembered in a haze of tactile
impressions and sensual overload, Naomi inextricably intertwined
with him in what he would normally have called an unwelcome
erotic dream.

Except it hadn't been a dream.  It was entirely too real.

Q moved, and Naomi was abruptly jarred from sleep as her
"pillow" sat up, sliding her to the floor.

"What?" Naomi asked sleepily, looking up at him.  "Is it time to
get up already?"

Q glanced down at her and felt a flush stealing over him.  He
could tell he had no clothes on, that he had inexplicably gone to
sleep without them and hadn't gotten up to change into anything. 
And in the light of morning, artificial though it was, he couldn't
help but be embarrassed by the notion of having to get up and
expose his naked self to Naomi, no matter how many times she'd
seen him this way before.  But if he took the blanket, then he
would leave *her* here naked, and that was equally unacceptable. 
Just the feeling of her lying against him had caused him to think
uncomfortable, longing thoughts, and there was nothing he
wanted less after last night than to repeat the experience.

"No, I *like* sleeping on the floor," Q said sarcastically.  "It
does such wonderful things for my back."

Naomi reached up, tracing the line of his back with one finger as
Q shivered under her touch.  "Yes, I suppose you're right."

"Stop that," he snapped.  "The last thing I want is for you to take
advantage of me again."

"Again?" Naomi asked quizzically.

"Last night?  Or don't you remember?"

"Oh, I remember last night.  I just thought it was more of a
mutual thing."

Q sat there stiffly, utterly embarrassed.  He could continue to
claim that he had no part in it, *would* continue to claim that for
the sake of his pride, but Naomi *knew* that he had been
participating as fully and with as much disgusting enthusiasm as
she normally did, and that was mortifying.  He would have liked
for the ground to swallow him up right then and there, but they
were on a starbase, and with his luck, the deck would open up
and deposit him, entirely naked, in the center of the lounge.

Before he could think better of it, and before Naomi could say
anything else that would embarrass him, he chose the lesser of
the two evils and got up, stalking out of the bedroom to the
bathroom, leaving the blanket behind with Naomi.  There he
could repair his appearance in decent peace, assuming of course
that Naomi didn't take it in her head to follow him.

Naomi lay on the floor, snuggled into the blanket, and watched
him go.  Now that he wasn't quite so ghoulishly thin, he was
quite an attractive sight, although she didn't intend to tell him
that.  She would have loved to do so, but rather thought such a
declaration might preclude her from seeing the sight again.  She
felt a little lonely at being deserted this way, but that was nothing
new for Q.  What was out of the ordinary was the way he'd
wanted her the night before.  A smile curved her lips.  He could
do that as often as he wanted, and she wouldn't argue a bit.

****

When Q finally came out of the bathroom, Naomi was nowhere
in the bedroom, and the blanket had been scooped up off the
floor.  Q shuddered as he passed the spot.  He didn't want to
think about it.  There was nothing particularly *wrong* about
sex; he'd done it enough with Naomi, not to mention his abortive
encounters with Judith and Harry, that he had gotten used to the
concept.  But thinking of himself, and how *abandoned* he'd
been, and how much he had *enjoyed* being like that...

Q tore his mind away from that line of thought.  He wasn't going
to do that again, and no one was going to make him.  Even if he
really wanted to, even if hedonism suddenly seemed like a
reasonable way of life.  There were dangers to pleasure, and he
avoided it, partly out of habit now, and partly because he had an
instinctive fear of what would happen to him if he ever let his
defenses down and accepted it.  Doom.  Nothing but doom and
disaster.

While getting dressed, he'd armored himself fully, against her or
his own impulses, he didn't know which, and felt slightly more
comfortable now that he had on three different layers separating
himself from the world.  A thin pair of cloth trousers and an
equally thin black shirt on the bottom, then a longer white shirt
with cuffed sleeves, and over all of that, a dark green robe
covering him from neck to his high laced boots.  It was almost,
but not quite, enough to make him feel secure.  He had
considered gloves as well, but discarded them as being slightly
too formal for breakfast.

Naomi was sitting at the table in the common room, food in front
of her as per usual, and Sanaharrar seated at her feet.  She wasn't
eating, which *was* unusual for Naomi.  At least she'd had the
decency to get dressed.  Q didn't know if he would have been
able to handle it if she'd been either partially or entirely
unclothed.

"Cat got your tongue?" Q asked acidly.

Naomi looked up at him, a half smile forming on her face.  She
didn't register his appearance as armor, only noted it as yet
another unmatchably gorgeous outfit of Q's.  "Sort of.  You're
going to want to hear this, though."

"Hear what?" Q asked, coming over grandly.

"There is, sad to say, a rational, external explanation for our little
love-fest last night," Naomi said lightly, trying to put the best
face on it possible.  "Sanaharrar tells me that it was probably a
side effect of her own hormonal surges.  She apparently goes into
heat every so often, and we were the unfortunate beneficiaries of
it last night."

Q backed away from Sanaharrar, putting as much distance as he
could between them without being overly obtrusive about it. 
"How disgusting.  Off with her head."

Naomi grinned at him.  "She's shielded now, so you don't have
to worry about any sudden impulses to ravish me on the table."

Q looked down at Naomi, then at the table.  "Don't be ridiculous. 
There's *food* on it."

Naomi looked at the brown sugar and cream consideringly.  "So
there is.  Some people would consider that making it all the more
interesting.  I know *I'd* forego breakfast to have you instead. 
And breakfast *and* you... well, that'd be my ultimate dream."

"Or nightmare."  

"I musst go away," Sanaharrar said, interrupting the
conversation.  "Now."

"I understand," Naomi said sincerely, turning to her.  Sanaharrar
was tightly shielded now.  Naomi could feel no trace of whatever
spillage had so inspired her and Q the night before.  "When will
you be back?"

Sanaharrar stared at Naomi for a long moment before answering. 
"Not morre than a month."

"Good.  We'll miss you."

Q glared at Naomi.  "*I* won't.  I hope the treacherous creature
never comes back."

Sanaharrar stood up, and without another word or any sort of
response to Q at all, paced out of the room.  It was the only thing
she could do under the circumstances.  She was embarrassed that
she had done such a thing, even unconsciously, and could sense,
even through her shielding, how much her continued presence
was distressing Q.

"Taciturn, isn't she?" Naomi asked Q.  "You really shouldn't
have been so harsh on her, you know.  She really didn't *mean*
to affect us like that.  And, on the whole, the side effects were
pretty enjoyable -- not harmful at all.  Apparently we didn't even
notice the last time this happened, either that or it wasn't nearly
as strong."

"A menace to society, that's what she is," Q said darkly, still not
having forgiven Sanaharrar for what he saw as an unconscionable
invasion of his privacy.

Personally, Naomi thought of it as some of the best sex of their
relationship.  "Well, she's gone now, and she won't be back until
the mating urge is over, so you're safe."

"Good," Q said fiercely, expression still deathly sulky.

Naomi grinned at him.  "Oh, come now, it wasn't that bad.  You
*seemed* like you were enjoying yourself.  And me."

He scowled at her.  "It wasn't me, you can't prove it was me,
and even if it was, I was under the influence of alien mind
control and you couldn't get a jury anywhere to believe you."

"Who said anything about a jury?"

He seated himself across from her.  "If you promise not to
describe the sexual properties of breakfast to me, I'll have
something to eat."

"And if I do?" Naomi asked, an evil twinkle in her eye.

"Then I *still* won't do what you have in mind."

Naomi sighed melodramatically.  "Well, I suppose I won't then. 
But someday."

"In your dreams."

"Oh, definitely."

****

Fittingly enough, the starbase held a party to welcome Q back. 
In this case, it was definitely more of a pro forma celebration
than anything else.  While there was some real relief that people
would not be disrupting their lives and forcing them to leave the
starbase as would have happened if Q had really gone for good,
there was also an equal amount of trepidation that the chief
nuisance and head bastard had returned to make everyone's lives
miserable.  But the dissension was kept quiet, there being more
than enough people who were grateful that Q was actually
*almost* behaving himself to keep those people who wanted him
to behave like a human quiet.

It was planned for that very evening, and would involve the usual
amounts of dancing, merrymaking, food and drink, as always. 
For Q, it was a chance to be feted for once again miraculously
surviving another party with designs on his life and intellect. 
Any chance to be the center of attention was a good thing.

Naomi sent Q on ahead to the party, over his protests.  She
needed to prepare something to take with her, something Q
wouldn't want to be associated with, at least not directly  -- her
retribution to Jinn for pulling the wedding stunt on her when she
and Q were purportedly leaving for the Enterprise.  She would
rather have gone with Q, if only because he seemed
uncomfortable going on his own, but this wouldn't have the
impact with him there, if Q didn't spoil the prank entirely by
saying the wrong thing at the wrong time.

Besides, Q might want to know exactly what she was doing,
sitting on the floor in the middle of the common room, dressed in
her party clothes, with a kite larger than herself.  She wasn't
entirely sure herself; the kite was far bigger than she had
originally imagined, and this wasn't going to work out well if she
couldn't handle it.

She had just gotten it spread out and was attaching the tail, when
she heard the door chime.

"Now who could that be?" Naomi muttered.  "Whoever it is
better be pretty important."  She looked up from her kneeling
position, holding the tail steady so as not to accidentally attach it
to the floor and give Q a heart attack when he saw her latest
inadvertent addition to his decorating scheme.  He still hadn't
forgiven her for the cream cheese she'd gotten on one of his
prized tapestry pillows, even if the stain *had* come out. 
"Computer, who's at the door?"

"Commodore Anderson," the computer repeated obediently.

Naomi looked down at her creation with an expression of disgust. 
She'd lose almost fifteen minutes of work if she stopped now, but
she didn't really have a choice.  The commodore was too
important to leave standing outside, no matter how inconvenient
her visit was.

Oblivious to the paste on her hands, and the disarray of her
gown, Naomi stood up, giving herself at least the semblance of
presentability.  "Come in."

The commodore stepped through, took one look around the room,
verifying that it was empty other than the two of them, and then,
before Naomi could react, did something so startling that Naomi
could do nothing at all, as Anderson grabbed her by the neck and
threw her against the wall.

The last thing Naomi saw as she was flung violently away was
her own self, standing in front of her, rumpled and still in that
green concoction that Q had insisted she wear.  But that picture
made no sense, there not being any mirrors in the room, and then
the brutal smash of her head against the wall stopped all thought
and sent Naomi down into blackness.

****

Q saw Naomi enter the room and felt a sense of relief.  Finally,
she was here.  He didn't understand what could possibly have
taken her so long.  She certainly hadn't spent any of the time on
her appearance, given how generally rumpled she looked.  He
could swear she'd been rolling on the floor or something equally
absurd and completely Naomi-esque, which he fully intended to
twit her about.  Q tried to ignore how much he was looking
forward to seeing her, how out-of-place he felt without her at his
side.  He was *not* becoming dependent on her.  Was not,
because becoming implied that he had a chance of escaping this.

Naomi threaded her way through the crowd to his side, Fiona
intercepting her along the way, Ariadne in hand.

"I was beginning to think you'd never get here," Fiona said,
smiling.  "Everything go all right?"

Naomi spared a slightly bewildered glance for the nanny.  "Of
course.  It's good to see you."

Fiona shifted Ariadne to her shoulder, her expression mirroring
the puzzlement on Naomi's face.  "Right."

Then, without taking Ariadne from Fiona, or even checking to
see that her daughter was all right, Naomi made her way to Q,
who had caught all of that.

"I suppose you're going to want to eat now," Q said with a long-
suffering sigh.  "Shall I just get them to put one of everything on
a table for you, or were you planning to actually eat something
more substantial?"

"I'm not very hungry," Naomi said, stopping close to him, and
looking up at him.

"Not hungry?" Q asked archly, amusing himself with a general
put-down of his companion who was pretty much the only person
who understood how to properly respond to such things. 
Everyone else just tried to kill him, or broke down into tears,
which wasn't very much fun.  "And you didn't even want to
touch Ariadne either?  What is this?  You're not Naomi.  You've
been possessed.  The *real* Naomi would never refuse food or
ignore her daughter."

He saw Naomi's face change, as if she was trying to control
being angry with him and felt delighted that he had successfully
managed to zing her.  It was rare that he actually managed to get
Naomi's goat.  He could see her trying to control her expression,
and he grinned at her smugly.
 
Q's pronouncement caught Azoth's ear, and he glanced over, it
being too loud and grandiose to miss.  He saw a flicker of
movement out of the corner of his eye that seemed *wrong*
somehow.  Without excusing himself from the person who'd been
talking to him, Azoth moved to get a better view of Q and saw
something entirely impossible -- Naomi's hand solidifying into a
bone knife, positioned to gut Q where he stood.

Instinct took over then, and Azoth pulled out his phaser, setting it
to kill and shooting all in one smooth movement, not even
thinking about the action.  There was no time to do anything else,
and nothing else which could be done.  A shapeshifter could not
be stunned, could only be killed.  There were other things which
*might* be done, but not in time to save Q's life.

And then, before Q's shocked, disbelieving eyes, Naomi was
shot, disintegrated into nothingness in a heartbeat by a phaser
blast from the side.

She was gone.  An instant before, he'd been speaking with her,
and now she was gone, shot dead for no reason he could see,
obliterated from existence, and by who?  For what reason?

Q turned and saw Azoth standing there, phaser now at his side,
looking at the scene with impassive eyes.  The security chief's
expression was unreadable.

Naomi was dead.  At the hands of Security.  This man had just
shot her, killed her, and Q didn't know why.  He wanted to
demand a reason for this unwarranted attack, wanted to know
why, but couldn't form the words, couldn't form any words.  Q
was virtually shaking with rage and pent up fury, grief that had
not yet had time to sink in, that was nothing more than unfocused
anger at the person who had taken Naomi away from him.

Azoth either understood what Q was silently asking, or was about
to say it anyway.  "She was trying to kill you.  I had no
choice..."

Before Azoth could say anything else, could finish what he was
saying, Q was in motion.  He couldn't believe that the Security
chief was defending his actions with such a flimsy excuse.  Even
if Naomi were going to kill him -- which Q didn't believe for a
moment -- Azoth could still have stunned her.  There was no
reason to kill her.  No reason other than that Security hated him,
had always hated him, and of course, the general nature of the
universe, which forbade Q from ever having even the slightest
amount of happiness or comfort in his life.

Q swung on Azoth, catching the chief off-guard, unable to react
in time to stop Q, not expecting that Q would ever do such a
thing as physically attack someone.  The blow hit hard, and off-
center, all the pent-up emotion Q had coming out right then. 
Azoth went down.  He hadn't had time to react, and even if he
had, would have been hard pressed to defend himself without
doing something which would have hurt Q.  He might have
stunned Q, if he'd had time to reset his phaser, might have held
him in a disabling grasp, but the last thing he had expected from
the previously entirely non-violent Q was an attack.

Q stood over his downed opponent, radiating fury and menace.  If
Azoth had stood up, or not fallen down at all, he would have
continued attacking him, wouldn't have been able to stop himself. 
He didn't have that much conscious control of his actions.  All he
wanted to do was punish the man who had so effortlessly snuffed
out Naomi's life.

All conversation in the room had stopped at the time of shooting,
and now all eyes were on them, with Security close enough to kill
Q as well.  Q didn't care.  It didn't matter at all if they killed
him.  He had nothing to live for anyway.

Before Azoth could move, could even pick himself up, Q heard a
baby crying.  The sound was annoying -- and annoyingly
familiar.  It was Ariadne.

Ariadne.  The last little bit of Naomi left alive.

His heart in his throat, Q turned aside from the Security chief
who had been about to stun him, and went to find his daughter.

****

Azoth picked his way through the crowd to Q, who was holding
Ariadne very tightly to him, his eyes shut, and his expression
grim, ignoring the tumult around him, as well as Medellin, who
was standing near to him with a sympathetic look on her face.  Q
wasn't talking to anyone, but that didn't stop the people from
staring at him, and staring at where Naomi had been standing just
a few moments before.  He really should get the people cleared
out, Azoth thought absently, then filed the thought away in favor
of what he needed to tell Q.

The security chief stopped a respectful distance away from Q, not
wanting to provoke him anymore than he absolutely had to, and
cleared his throat.  "Q..."

"What do you want?" Q asked, eyes opening, bright with unshed
tears.

"That wasn't Dr. Allen," Azoth informed him, trying to give
what small consolation he could.  There was no reason for Q to
be left with the impression that Security had shot his companion,
especially when it was untrue.  "It was a shapeshifter."

"How do you know?" Q asked bitingly.  "Did you X-ray the
dust?"

Azoth ignored that.  "I've started a search for Dr. Allen."

For a moment, Q's eyes lit up as a sudden, wild hope went
through him.  Naomi could be alive?  He couldn't quite believe
that after having seen her shot dead in front of him, but the
possibility was too immediate, too *necessary* to shut out.

The security chief continued speaking.  "However, I wanted to let
you know this now."  He looked at Q, his eyes dark and serious. 
"Dr. Allen is most likely dead.  The shapeshifter wouldn't be
able to take the chance that she would walk in and disrupt her
plan, whatever it was.  If the shapeshifter hadn't panicked and
tried to kill you here, you would be dead, most likely after
having gone back to your quarters with it, thinking it to be Dr.
Allen.  There's no way it could have known that she wouldn't
interfere unless she were dead."  There was one other possibility,
which was that the shapeshifter was inexperienced at its task.  In
that case, Allen could very well be alive.  The way the
shapeshifter had panicked at what even Azoth could see was a
joking comment gave it away.  But that was a guess, and Azoth
didn't want to raise false hopes.

Q's expression had gone dull during Azoth's speech.  He should
have known that there was no hope.  That *was* the way his life
worked, after all.  "Thank you for telling me.  I hope you die
horribly during a long speech by your tormentors wherein they
tell you everything you've ever done wrong in great detail."

Azoth didn't change his expression.  Inasmuch as he understood
people at all, he understood Q's need to grieve.  "I hope she's
alive for your sake.  But I don't think she will be."

Q turned his back on Azoth, shutting his eyes again, holding
Ariadne and rocking back and forth.  Dimly he understood that
Azoth was trying to tell him the truth, to do his best by not
shielding Q from the facts, but Q didn't care.  In his mind, if
Naomi were dead at all, it was entirely this man's fault, and he
desperately clung on to what little hope he had, that she might
still be alive.

Behind him, Azoth was involved in a very intense conversation. 
His people were already on the job, and the first place they
looked was Q and Naomi's quarters.  It was obvious, perhaps too
obvious, but sometimes that was the best way to go.  Azoth
nodded, then looked over at Q, firming his expression.

Q felt a touch on his shoulder, and whipped around angrily. 
"What is it *now*?  Babies to torture, perhaps?"

"They've found her, Q.  Dr. Allen's alive."

The quiet words penetrated Q's brain, and he stood there for a
long moment in shock, unable to think, unable to do anything at
all.  He wanted to rip Azoth into shreds for having had the nerve
to frighten him a moment ago by telling him Naomi was dead
when he hadn't been sure, had in fact been *wrong*, wanted to
cry, to faint, to do half a dozen things, but he didn't do any of
those, and Azoth was still speaking.

"They've beamed her directly to Sickbay.  She's unconscious,
and has a head injury."  It was an understatement.  Azoth's
personnel had described the situation in far more gory detail that
Q didn't need to hear.  Not when he was obviously emotionally
tied up in the outcome.

"My, aren't you just the Angel of Death today?" Q said acidly,
having recovered his tongue.  Worry for Naomi's safety was
foremost on his mind, but he couldn't help the feeling of relief
that had gone through him at Azoth's announcement, the intensity
of it making his legs weak.

Azoth ignored that as well.  He was prepared to ignore a great
deal more than that.  Q was his responsibility, one of his
responsibilities to protect, and he certainly wasn't going to harm
him for a few words spoken in the heat of anger after just seeing
the image of his lover killed before his eyes.  And even if there
hadn't been extenuating circumstances, Azoth would still have
done nothing.  He had no respect for people in the security
profession who could be goaded by mere words into an attack,
especially an attack on someone under their protection.

"I can take you there now."

Q nodded, and followed Azoth out, still clutching Ariadne as
though she were the only source of life in the universe.  If
anyone had told him that he was holding onto her as a small child
might hold onto a teddy bear in time of trauma, Q would have
savaged them viciously.

****

It was several long, frantic hours before they would let him see
Naomi at all.  Q was nearly insane with worry by then, and
worrying a crying Ariadne as well, who he would not release for
more than a few moments, even to Fiona, who had followed them
both to Sickbay.

Li came out, walking over to Q, who stopped pacing for the first
time in order to face the doctor.  Q didn't say anything at all, just
looked at him with an intense, serious expression.

"She's going to live," Li said quietly.  "We've got her stabilized
now."  His eyes flicked up to Q's face.  "She was in a coma
when she arrived here.  As you may know, her attacker literally
cracked her head open against the wall, leaving a fracture which
is going to take some time for us to heal.  It was a very near
thing, but I think we've managed to save her without any damage
to her brain."

"Can I see her?"

Li shook his head in an automatic negation.  "I can let you in,
but there's nothing to see.  Until we get the fracture healed, she's
going to be..."

"I don't care," Q said fiercely.

Li shrugged.  "Very well then."  He turned around, starting to
lead Q in.  "She's very lucky, you know.  She has a very hard
head.  Someone with a softer head would have been dead."

"How reassuring," Q said, hating Li entirely in that moment.  He
followed Li into the room where Naomi was, then stopped as he
saw her.  If she hadn't been the only one in the room, he would
never have recognized her.

She was lying very still in the bed, head entirely covered by
medical gear, no longer in her green party dress, but instead in
the plain garment of a patient.

Q moved to stand next to her, not feeling particularly relieved at
the sight of her.  He would have felt better if she'd been
conscious and talking to him, but this -- this was the same as if
she'd been dead.  She might very well be as good as dead under
all that, the medical equipment being the only thing sustaining her
life.  It would only be fitting that she die.  Ever since he had
been stripped of his powers and made mortal, his life had been
one long exercise in loss and pain.  And he hadn't gotten any
better at it than when he'd started.

"She's going to be like this for a long while," Li said from next
to Q, looking down at his patient.  "We're estimating at least four
hours, although it will depend on her progress."

"Just go away," Q said without looking at the doctor, eyes
fastened on Naomi, or what little he could see of her.

Li looked up at Q, and then retreated.  He didn't see any good to 
Q remaining, especially when he was holding a baby he didn't
seem to be paying attention to, but there was nothing Li could do
about it.  It would have been just as easy for someone to comm Q
when Naomi woke up, but apparently that wasn't good enough. 
For a brief moment, it crossed Li's mind that Q cared about
Naomi, that being with her, even unconscious and unaware of
him, was the only thing Q knew to do right now, the only solace
for his wounded soul, but Li dismissed it.  He was tired, and it
didn't particularly matter who cared about who and what, if
anything, Q actually felt.  He needed desperately to get some
sleep, and then, after that, he could check on his patient again.

Q didn't notice Li leave.  It didn't matter to him in the slightest. 
He stood there by her bed, watching her, as if watching her
might cause her to wake up, might make this all not be real,
might make it all never have happened and then she would be all
right.

But it had happened and she was here, and it might never be all
right again.

****

Li removed the gear, leaving Naomi lying on the bed looking
very fragile and vulnerable, and looked disapprovingly at Q. 
"When she wakes up, she'll be very weak.  Try not to tire her
out."

Q didn't waste any of his energy on attacking Li.  He was too
tired for that, too much on the ragged edge of collapse.  Fiona
had taken Ariadne from him hours before, sometime after he'd
finally agreed to sit down and stop pacing, and Q had nothing left
but focus as he watched Naomi, wishing with every fiber of his
being, praying for a miracle that she might not die.

The doctor left him alone with Naomi.  Security was stationed at
each of the doors, but they too left Q alone, not intruding on his
privacy.

Not that Q cared very much who saw him right then or what they
thought of him.  His eyes were red-rimmed, both from exhaustion
and from tears, and his clothing crumpled and looking as though
he'd slept in it, even though sleep was the furthest possibility.

All he could do was watch, and wait, hoping against hope that
Naomi would be all right.

****

Naomi stirred, and Q looked up, expression haggard but eyes full
of desperate hope.  Despite the many false alarms and moments
throughout the night when he thought she might be waking up, he
was still hanging on that precious moment when she finally did,
when he was finally full of assurance that she was really all right,
and he could let go of the tension that had been there, present
ever since he saw her die in the middle of a crowded room.

Her eyes opened, and she looked over at Q.  Naomi couldn't
quite understand what was going on.  Her head felt like it had
been packed full of cotton and she could hardly think at all.  She
knew something was wrong, knew she didn't belong here, but
couldn't muster the energy to ask the questions that buzzed at the
very back of her head.

"You look... awful," Naomi said, words coming out very slowly.

Q clutched her hand like a lifeline, unable to suppress the smile
spreading across his face.  "You look wonderful."

"I hope someone is recording this," Naomi said weakly as the fog
of tiredness threatened to engulf her again.  "I never heard that
before."

And then her eyes closed, and Naomi gave herself up to the grey
fog surrounding her, this darkness made more comforting by Q's
hold on her and the knowledge that although she didn't quite
understand what was going on, everything appeared to be under
control.


-the end-