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


Naomi stared up at Q, a look of irritation on her face.  She was
mostly keeping herself from yelling at him, but it was a very near
thing, and the only reason she wasn't was because she wasn't that
cruel.

"I'm perfectly fine.  You can go home and change clothes.  No
one will ever know the difference."

Q didn't let go of his set expression, even though she had a point. 
What he was wearing was stylistically not him.  But Q didn't
particularly care what people thought of him dancing attendance
on Naomi this way, or even what they thought of his outfit.  If he
considered the matter at all, then crumpled, obviously worn
clothing made a better picture of the grieving lover than freshly
pressed, clean clothing.  Not that he cared about making such an
impression, or would have wanted to come across as Naomi's
lover if he'd even thought of the issue at all, which he hadn't. 
All that mattered was that he be with her, and reassure himself of
her continued survival.

"If I leave and you're awake, you know what will happen. 
Really, Naomi.  And I thought *I* was bad."

Naomi didn't look happy with him.  "There's no reason I
shouldn't get up.  I feel perfectly fine.  I do."

"That's what you said last time.  Right before fainting."  He still
hadn't forgiven her for doing that to him.  He hadn't realized
how weak she was or how stupid a thing she was attempting.  His
own experience with doctors was that they refused to treat you,
and then when they finally did do anything about your injuries,
they kept you down way too long.  Obviously this wasn't true
about Naomi.

"I didn't faint," Naomi said, giving up the struggle to sit up, and
lying back down, her head on the pillow, feeling woozy.  "I
*swooned*."

"This is a no swooning zone."  He didn't want to have to catch
her again.  He'd been terrified enough the last time.

"I don't see any sign."

"There doesn't need to be a sign."

"Yes, there does."

"No, there doesn't," Q said, a little exasperated with her, and
more than a little worried.  Her arguments weren't nearly up to
par, not sharp enough or quick enough.  Had her brain been
damaged despite Li's assurances to the contrary?

"Fine," Naomi said, closing her eyes.  Her voice came out
slightly slurred and more than a little tired.  "You're just winning
'cause you're bigger than me."

"No, I'm winning because I'm right."

"You are not," Naomi said, words all jumbled together.  She
wanted to just give into the swirling grayness surrounding her.  It
was in a pretty plaid pattern today.  But there was something
wrong, something missing, and it wasn't that she'd failed to win
her argument, failed again at getting out of this place.

Her hand fumbled for his, and Q held it, heedless of how that
made him look, how much he was admitting by it.  She was so
fragile, and he fought himself not to cry.

Naomi sighed.  That was it.  That was what she had been waiting
for.  She could go to sleep now.  For a little while.  As long as Q
was there.

Q watched her sleep, feeling guilty and unhappy.  Yes, she was
alive, yes, this was a good thing.  But it didn't matter.  She had
almost died, and it had been entirely his fault.  Ordinary people
did not have shapeshifters after them.  Or entire species bent on
killing them, or anything of the sort.  He did.  And probably
always would, Q2's assurances to the contrary.  The number of
assassination attempts might have gone down, but it only took
one.  And now there was more to lose.  Ariadne was also at risk. 
And after holding Ariadne close, *knowing* in his fiber that she
was all that remained of Naomi, the baby had become more than
just a thing to him.  He couldn't endanger Ariadne.  Perhaps it
was, or had been, Naomi's choice to stay with him, despite the
risks, but Q would not risk Ariadne that way.  Not when he'd
just come to a full realization that he could and did indeed care
about her, despite her admitted lack of conversational skills.

He didn't know what to do about it now.  He couldn't leave
Naomi like this, not when she needed him so much.  Among
other things, Li had demonstrated himself to be completely and
inutterably incapable of riding herd on Naomi.

Q shuddered in memory.  He had come back from his quarters,
having changed and showered.  He'd made the mistake of taking
a nap during that time.  It was almost impossible to sleep in the
chairs in Sickbay, and he could manage only the worst of
interrupted sleep there.  Just lying down flat on the bed in his
quarters had sent him out.

And when he came back to Sickbay, Q found Naomi sitting up in
bed, with a computer terminal, working.

"What are you doing?" Q asked as he stalked in.

Naomi barely glanced up on him.  "Oh, nothing.  Just a little
problem."

"How long have you been working on this little problem of
yours?"

"When did you leave?"

Q checked the time.  It had been six hours.  "You've been doing
*that* all this time?"

Naomi shrugged.  "I think so.  They came and checked up on me
once.  That was about it.  I feel fine."  Which wasn't exactly
true, although Naomi hadn't told Q that.  She had to keep lying
down and resting for small periods of time, or she couldn't do it
at all.  But she was still *thinking* about it while she was lying
down, so technically that counted as working as well.  If it
weren't that she were used to ignoring physical realities while
working, she would have felt a lot worse.

Q muttered something and went in search of Li.  The doctor was
conveniently at hand, although never in any mood to deal with Q. 
Q had disregarded that and gotten right to the point.  "Are you
ready to release her?"

Li didn't ask which "her" Q meant.  "No.  I'd like to keep her
under observation a few more days."

"Then what do you mean by letting her go back to work?"

"Excuse me?"

Victoriously, Q led Li in to look at Naomi, who was once again
oblivious to the outside world.  "That's what I mean."

"Well, using a terminal isn't necessarily bad.  Some diversion..."

"Six hours worth?" Q asked, voice on edge.

Li didn't say anything, taken aback.  He scanned Naomi, then
stood there a moment longer.  "She shouldn't even be awake,
much less upright."

"Oh, really?" Q asked, feeling vindicated.  "How strange.  That
agrees with my opinion.  Of course, I'm not the one whose
medical staff has been letting her get away with it for the past
day."

"Now, Q, I'm sure that no one..."

Q shook his head and moved over to Naomi, pulling the terminal
setup away from her.  Automatically, her hands moved to save
her work, even as the keypad was being tugged away.

Naomi looked up at them.  "What?  Is something going on?"

"This nice man," Q said, voice sarcastic, "has just informed me
that you shouldn't be awake at all."

"But I'm not tired!" Naomi said, protesting.  "I feel fine.  Look."

And then she had tried to get out of bed, swinging her feet off the
side to stand up -- and promptly fainted right into Q's arms.  If
he hadn't been so close to her, he would never have caught her. 
Shock would have held him frozen immobile.  But as it was, he
was near enough that his natural response was to put out his
arms, and he did catch her.

Q glared at Li.  "This is all your fault, you know."

Li threw up his hands and left, shaking his head, as Q
maneuvered Naomi back onto the bed, his back groaning as he
did so.  It wasn't long enough to really hurt him, and she wasn't
heavy enough either, but it was accustomed exertion that he
wasn't really fit to handle.

Q shuddered at the memory of it, sitting in Sickbay next to
Naomi's sleeping form.  He still couldn't believe Naomi had tried
anything so stupid or that Li had let her get away with it like
that.  Obviously Starfleet's doctors were incapable of doing their
jobs properly, and if Q wanted to make sure Naomi didn't relapse
and kill herself that way, he would have to watch over her
personally.

Which coincidentally was precisely what Q wanted to do anyway.

****

It was almost a week before Li would release Naomi from
Sickbay, even after the gear had been removed from her, and
normal healing allowed to progress.

Naomi disagreed strongly with this to no avail.  Li was adamant
about what his patient needed, and unwilling to be browbeat by
anyone on the subject, even if it did apparently mean he'd have to
put up with Q and his Security detachment constantly cluttering
up Sickbay.  Head injuries were nasty things, especially one of
the degree Naomi had suffered, and the doctor wasn't taking any
chances under the circumstances.  Especially given how bad a
patient Naomi was.

The first thing Q did upon Naomi's release from Sickbay was to
make the demand that had been preying on his mind the entire
time she lay there, half-dead, looking entirely vulnerable and
giving him intense feelings of guilt.  He knew she would refuse,
but he had to make the demand, for his own conscience at the
very least.

He followed her into the common room and stood over her, using
his height to reinforce his statements.

"You have to leave," Q pronounced in tones which could not be
argued with.  "I don't care what arguments you want to make,
you have to leave the starbase, and take that creature with you."

"All right," Naomi said, settling down on the couch, apple in
hand.  She still felt a little woozy, although in her opinion, it was
due to having to lie down too much rather than being
convalescent.

Q looked at her suspiciously.  That had been entirely too easy. 
"Do you understand me?  I'm sending you away.  You have to
leave me."

Naomi took a bite of the apple and nodded.  "Yep, I got it.  I'm
leaving.  No problem."

"You can't do that."

"Can't do what?"

"Agree with me like that."

"I can't?" Naomi asked innocently, taking another bite, chewing
and swallowing.  "I thought that's what you wanted.  You told
me to go away, I'm leaving.  What's more simple than that?"

"You never agree that easily.  You're planning something," Q
accused.

"I am not," Naomi said, beginning to be really amused. 
Agreeing with Q was obviously a diverting pastime.  She should
do it more often.  "I'll go make the arrangements right now if
that will make you happy.  I can probably be gone by, if not
tomorrow, then the day after.  How's that?"

"This is some sort of trick."

"What did you want me to do?  Argue with you and tell you that
I'm supposed to stay?" Naomi asked, a quizzical look on her
face, as she suppressed a grin.  "It seems to me that with people
trying to kill me, the safest place for me and Ariadne to be is a
long way from here."

Q gave her a disgruntled look.  That was exactly his reasoning,
and that she was using it discontented him in a way he couldn't
easily pin down.  "Fine," he said sulkily.  "Go away then."

She finished the apple and grinned at him.  "Thank you, I think I
will.  I hear Earth is lovely this time of the year.  Particularly the
beaches.  How do you think I'd look with a tan?"

"Disgusting."

"Really?  Then I *must* get one."  Naomi grinned at him this
time, enjoying his discomfort.  It did make a lot of sense for her
to leave the starbase until Sanaharrar returned.  The shapechanger
would never have been able to fool the telepathic bodyguard,
would have been caught reasonably easily if she had been here. 
And there were no doubt other threats that could occur as well. 
While Naomi would never have agreed to a permanent separation,
a temporary one until things returned to normal didn't seem too
unbearable.

She stood up and shook herself off.  "I think I'll go pack now. 
This time I'm definitely taking luggage.  I learned my lesson with
the Maquis."

Q watched Naomi leave the room, staring after her with a dark
expression.  If he weren't so deep in thought, he would have
objected to the idea of her trying to get packed on her own, but
as it was, he had hardly noticed what she'd said.  Q couldn't
quite believe she was leaving him, couldn't believe she was so
*happy* to be leaving, but in a way it fit.  If Naomi were truly
determined to do something, to leave him, that was the way she
would do it, without regrets or recriminations, just flat out leave
him.

And in a strange way, he understood why she was doing it.

Ariadne mattered more to her than he did.  She loved her
daughter more than she loved him.  Not that he cared about the
concept, or about her, but it still made part of him ache to know
that he'd lost out, especially to a tiny four-month-old infant that
didn't even have a personality yet, much less the ability to carry
on a scintillating conversation.  He knew about maternal love,
knew how powerful it was supposed to be, but had never realized
that it would be applied like *this*, that it would directly affect
him.

And he didn't want Naomi to leave.

Oh, he had no choice.  Naomi and Ariadne *had* to go.  It was
too dangerous for them to stay around him.  The incident with the
shapechanger had driven that into his head.

So why did it depress him so much?

The fact that Naomi had given in so easily was part of it. 
Obviously she didn't very much care whether she left, and that
hurt deeply.  And moreso -- once she left, he would be
completely alone again, and that hurt even more.  Naomi had
been at his side almost continuously for over two years now, and
he didn't know how, or even if, he could function without her. 
He *needed* her, and if that was difficult to admit, well, it was
only the truth.

But a truth he could never reveal to Naomi.  If he told her how
much he wanted her to stay, she would stay, Q was sure of that,
despite the inexplicable lack of caring she was displaying in
agreeing to leave without argument.  But he couldn't tell her that,
couldn't have her stay, because he couldn't, wouldn't put her at
that kind of risk.

Which left him here, as alone as he had been since the moment
he became mortal and discovered exactly how hellish that state
was, far more so than he had ever imagined possible.  Humans
didn't *need* hell.  They had it right here with them.

****

Naomi came out of her room, lugging a suitcase, which she set
by the door.

"They have transporters to do that for you, you know," Q
observed acidly, still sitting on the couch where she'd left him. 
What was she trying to do?  Deliberately send herself back to
Sickbay?

"I know," Naomi said, panting.  She was used to lugging herself
up the side of a mountain with a good deal of gear attached, but
this was different, and she could swear that the suitcase weighed
more than she did.  She completely disregarded the fact that she'd
just been let out of Sickbay this morning.  "But if I put it out
here, then I'm done with it, and I won't put anything more in it."

"What a ridiculous idea."

"Thank you.  I came up with it all by myself."

Q couldn't stand it any longer.  She wasn't paying any attention
to him, she was actually *leaving* him, and she didn't seem to
care one way or the other what he did or who he was or anything
at all about their prior relationship together.  He *needed* her to
care, *needed* her to object to all of this, to cling to him, and
not only so he could be the one to reject her and to tell her to go
away.  Ever so casually, he threw out a conversational barb, one
he knew would still get her attention.  At least, he hoped it
would.  If it didn't, he might very well do as he was threatening.

"Oh, by the way, I'm going to kill myself."

Naomi couldn't believe he'd said that.  He'd said it in an
absolutely matter-of-fact tone, as though it was just something
he'd thought of off the top of his head, as in "Oh, by the way, I
left my shoes under the bed", or "Oh, by the way, twenty million
francs have just been stolen from the Bank of Zurich and we've
been tasked to get them back, and it all has to be done before tea
time or the crumpets will go to waste."

Naomi shook her head slightly.  Li must have put things back
together wrong.  Ever since she'd left Sickbay, she was starting
to hear things that couldn't possibly be true and which made
about as much sense as missiles turning into whales or pots of
petunias or the like.  "That's nice, dear."

Whatever response Q had expected to get, that was not it. 
"Nice?  I'm going to kill myself, and you call that *nice*?  What
kind of woman are you?"

"I have no idea.  They removed my brand label after I came out
of the factory."  Naomi walked around to the couch, sitting
across from him.  She had to pay attention to this conversation,
couldn't just let him get away with an extraordinary statement
like that.  "So, about this killing yourself thing.  When were you
planning on doing it?"

"Planning on doing it?"  Q was completely flabbergasted.  She
was supposed to be shocked, supposed to forbid him to do
anything of the sort, supposed to *care*.  "Are you sure you're
not a shapechanger?"

"Positive."  Naomi cocked her head at him.  "Although we could
have Security run another test on me to make absolutely sure.  I'd
think I'd know if I were."

Q didn't look entirely convinced.  "If I hadn't seen you eating the
moment you came back, I'd comm them right now."

"Eating is some sort of proof of my identity?"

"For you, yes."

"Hmm...  I hadn't realized I was so predictable.  Perhaps I
should go on a diet again."

Q looked mildly alarmed.  "You?  On a diet?  You'd starve."

"That's what a diet is.  Controlled starvation, combined with
forced exercise.  Self-inflicted torture."  She looked at him. 
"You're avoiding the question, you know.  You can't expect to
make a pronouncement like 'I'm going to kill myself' and then
not have anyone pay attention to you."

"Apparently I can," Q muttered under his breath.  She was
reacting all wrong to this, to everything, and he wanted to reach
out and shake her and demand that she be the kind of caring,
comforting figure that he had increasingly come to depend on. 
But he couldn't, and even if he did, she wouldn't, would only
draw back and most likely ridicule him as well.  Everyone always
ridiculed him.  "Since it matters oh so much to you, perhaps I
should do it tonight.  Draw a large tub of water, find something
to slash my wrists with and be done with it.  That way you can
have it all out of the way before your trip.  I wouldn't want to
hold that up, now would I?"

The words were spoken sarcastically, but that didn't stop them
from being alarming to Naomi.  She'd thought this might be
another verbal barb in the ongoing game they were playing (score
still heavily in Q's favor) but she couldn't help but be alarmed by
the detailed setup he'd apparently contrived.  "I didn't realize you
were capable of being so considerate.  I'm flattered."

"You would be," Q said, growing more bitter by the minute. 
Obviously, he'd been grossly deceived as to Naomi's character. 
She cared about him not at all, and the first chance he got, he
was going to show her how little *he* cared as well.  He was
*not* going to be made a fool of by caring when she did not.  It
was bad enough that he had to care at all.

"Of course I would."  She didn't know quite what to do. 
Assuming he *was* serious, which she couldn't be completely
sure of, he needed help.  But there wasn't anyone on the starbase
who she could trust, who she had any confidence in.  Medellin
was worse than useless, and Li only a medical doctor, and a
particularly unsympathetic one at that.  There wasn't really
anyone other than that pair who was in the position to help.  She
was the only one who cared about Q, who she could trust to
actually do something positive for him.

And, if he weren't serious, then he would never forgive her for
having betrayed him by calling in other people and letting them
know about his problems.

"Do you want me to get the razor blades for you?" Naomi asked
helpfully.  "I doubt you can get those all by yourself.  And do
you prefer any particular style?"

Q stared at her for a long moment.  "No."  He rose, and stalked
grumpily off to his bedroom to pick out a nice outfit to die in,
something which he could wear in the bathtub that wouldn't look
ridiculous when wet, but which convey the appropriate air of
dignity.  He certainly wasn't going to do this naked.  Among
other things, Naomi would certainly get ideas, and he couldn't
have *that*.  It would simply be too appalling if she insisted on
having sex with him and then sent him off to kill himself.  He
couldn't handle that kind of heartless cruelty, could barely even
handle this.

Naomi watched him go with a troubled expression on her face
that Q couldn't see.  He *was* serious then.  He really did want
to kill himself.  She didn't understand that at all.  Wasn't his life
going just fine?  Certainly she'd almost died, but it wasn't the
first time.  And any possible guilt feelings on his part were
equally ridiculous.  Not only was this *not* his fault, but she'd
almost died more than once due to her own stupidity.  While it
was practically impossible to kill oneself while climbing on the
holodeck, it was considerably easier to rack up minor as well as
serious injuries while actually climbing real mountains.  So she
didn't really understand why Q might have gotten some notion
that her near-death was serious or worth throwing a fit over.

The only other thing that she could think of that it might be was
that she was leaving, but then, she was going to be gone what, a
month or two at the most?  That was quite a while, but then
they'd been separated almost that long when he'd gone away to
the Daystrom Institute, and at least here he'd still have people he
knew around him.  Harry would no doubt be more than happy to
keep Q company while Naomi was gone.

So it was up to her to handle this suicide attempt, or whatever it
was.  He wasn't serious about it, couldn't be serious about it; it
was too spur of the moment for that.  But she had to do
something nonetheless.

****

Naomi followed Q into the bathroom, and stood there for a long
moment, looking at the bathtub.  For some reason, it seemed
more ominous than usual.

Q came out, dressed in a pair of close fitting black trousers and
an equally snug black shirt.  He would never have worn them by
themselves under normal circumstances, but in this instance, they
would serve.  The cloth would merely darken in water, and Q
thought he'd look rather elegant dead, if somewhat underdressed.

"How hot do you want the water?" Naomi asked, swallowing
back a sob.  There was something so noble about him right then,
so defeated and yet determined to meet his end with dignity, that
she couldn't help but want to hit him, to scream at him to stop
being so stupid.  But then, Q loved his melodramatic gestures. 
She dearly hoped that this was only that.

He hesitated for a moment then came over to her.  "Warm first."

Naomi nodded and started running the water.  When it was about
a quarter full, Q stepped in, and she made it a little warmer, then
hotter, until, when it was full, all the water was hot.

She left him there for a moment and went to fetch a stool to sit
on.  When she came back, he was still there, eyes closed.  If he
hadn't been dressed, she would never have known there was
anything wrong, never known what melancholy thoughts were
running through his mind.  She could almost pretend he was just
taking a bath and not doing something this horribly, pointlessly
stupid.

Q laid in the bathtub, entirely covered by the water.  It *was* as
hot as he could stand it, but doing little good to soothe out the
tenseness in his body.

Naomi sat down, putting the razor blades he'd also asked for on
the counter near her.  "All right, I've got everything you could
possibly need here.  How do you feel?"

Q opened his eyes to shoot her a deathly glare.  "What a stupid
question.  I feel absolutely miserable."

She tilted her head and looked at him.  "You do look pretty
miserable.  How about this?"

And then, before he could protest, she'd gotten up again, moved
the stool around behind him, and was touching him, fingers
digging into the taut mass of muscle at the base of his neck,
hoping that just touching him would reassure him a little, would
help to get him out of whatever mood he was in.

If he'd been lying down in the tub, she would never have been
able to reach, but he was sitting up.  Q tried not to give into it,
didn't want to have any vestige of false comfort right now, but
the feeling was exquisite and he couldn't resist.  He didn't quite
understand why she was doing it though.  If she only wanted to
see him dead, it would be a lot faster for her to get it over with. 
That bothered him, and he voiced it.

"Why are you doing this?" Q asked querulously.  "You could be
gone and done with me faster if you just got it over with.  Why
bother pretending to care how I feel?"

Naomi didn't let go of him, didn't stop touching him.  "I do care. 
If you're going to die," and she lightly stressed the "if", "then
why not die comfortably?"

"That doesn't make any sense," Q complained, not pulling away
from her.

"Have I ever made sense?"

"Not that I remember," Q said, giving up on the issue and
relaxing into her hands.  "Remind me to book you for every
suicide attempt I make."

"It's a deal.  Of course, I'm not sure you can afford me."

Q flipped one hand in what was meant to be an elegant gesture of
disdain, but failed because he was too relaxed to make it work. 
"I'll talk to Eleanor.  I'm sure she'll understand."

Naomi giggled.  That'd be an interesting conversation, she was
sure.  She very much doubted the commodore was usually in the
habit of buying people, or if she was, had ever considered getting
anyone to *help* Q commit suicide.  "I think that 'dear Eleanor'
would have a fit."

She continued bantering with Q, working at relaxing him and
making him more comfortable, hoping that would get him out of
this despondent state of mind.  His head was resting heavily
against her, and she was having a hard time keeping him upright
in the tub, because he seemed to want to just slide down under
the water, which wouldn't do at all.  For one, he wouldn't be
able to breathe very well like that, or for another, she wouldn't
be able to reach him in order to get at his neck and shoulders.

Gradually, Q got more depressed despite what she was doing,
how she was talking with him.  It was obvious to him that Naomi
didn't care about him at all.  Oh, certainly she was here, making
his last hours more comfortable, but it was more in the way of
seeing him off nicely than because she truly cared what happened
to him.  Naomi must have finally realized that being around him
was going to get her killed, and that he almost caused her death
by putting her in the line of fire, and she no longer cared if he
lived or died as long as she and her daughter stayed alive.  That
was the only possibility, because if she truly cared, she wouldn't
let him do this at all. 

But she didn't care, and Q found himself wishing for death,
wanting any way out of here, out of the deeply depressing trap
his life had become.  It was only twisting the knife that Naomi
was here, was only an additional reminder of why he wanted to
die.  That she could so calmly help him do this only made him
that much more despairing, that much more grimly certain that if
Naomi wanted him to die, then there was no one anywhere in the
universe who would want him to live.

He twisted his head to look up at her, feeling sick inside at the
way she was pretending to be interested in him.  "Go ahead.  Get
it over with."

His meaning was obvious, and Naomi felt a sharp shock of pain
that he still wanted her to go through with it.  She'd hoped that
he would see the essential silliness of trying to kill himself over
such a little issue, but apparently that hadn't occurred to him,
because he was still there, still serious, and still making this
request.

"You expect me to do this?" Naomi asked, letting go of him and
coming around to his side.

"Fine, *I'll* do it if you're squeamish," Q said sharply.  "After
all, I am the experienced one at this.  Give me the razor blade."

Naomi looked at him, wanting to cry.  He was so grimly
determined, and she had never quite seen him like this, even
when he'd been nearly catatonic after Anderson's ill-fated attempt
to get him to work on transwarp.  She couldn't let him do it.

"No, no, no," Naomi said, striving to keep some light-
heartedness in her tone, "I can't let you do that."

"You can't?" Q asked, wanting desperately to believe that there
was some hope, that she really did care, that she really didn't
want him to die.

"Of course not.  You'll get blood all over the carpet.  And I can't
stand blood."

"Oh."  What flickering light there had been at the depths of his
soul died then, and Q laid back in the bathtub, waiting for
whatever might come.  If nothing else, he thought, looking at the
bottom of the tub, he could just sink under the surface and never
come up.  Death by drowning would be ugly, but right now he
couldn't bring himself to care very much about his appearance.

Naomi stood up, taking the razor blades away with her to dispose
of so Q wouldn't be tempted to use them while her back was
turned.  "I think, with a little bit of work, I can get something
that will do the trick a lot more neatly."

She came back a few minutes later with a hypo.  "This should do
it."

Q nodded wearily.  A lethal injection of some powerful drug. 
Possibly even the one that the insane programmer woman had
used to stop his heart.  He could easily see Naomi being able to
get that.  It was just as good a way of dying as slitting his wrists,
and probably less painful.

Then, with a hiss against his arm, it was done, the drug in his
bloodstream, taking effect, and all Q could think of was a faint,
fading regret that Naomi hadn't even bothered to kiss him
goodbye before he died.

Naomi watched Q lose consciousness, and then slowly start to
slip down in the tub.  With a sense of alarm, she realized that she
really should have got him out of there before she did this.  Now
she had to keep him from drowning and then somehow get him
out of there and into bed before he turned into a prune.

Quickly, she reached down and pulled the plug to drain the tub. 
One problem solved.  He couldn't hurt himself at least.  Now all
she had to do was get an unconscious man who outweighed her
by a factor of two from the bathtub, out of the bathroom, across
the bedroom, into dry clothing and into bed.

And her mother said she'd never had any intelligence.  She was
going to need every bit of it to solve this, because brute strength
was never going to do it.

****

"Explain this to me again," Harry said, tugging Q up out of the
bathtub, and panting as he tried to deal with his burden.  "Exactly
why is Q so fast asleep that he can't get himself out of the
bathtub and *why* couldn't you get anyone else to take care of
it?"

Naomi pulled herself back out of Q's wardrobe, holding a light
robe and a pair of soft pants that could serve as a kind of
pajamas, even if they favored comfort over the kind of stylistic
garb Q usually preferred.  "I can't tell you, Harry.  It's just one
of those things."

"Uh huh," Harry said, clearly not believing her.  "Can you help
me with this?"

Naomi gave him a dubious look which said that she really
doubted her own usefulness in this matter, then went to Q's feet. 
With a huge heave, they got Q over the side and slumbering
deeply on the floor.

"I suppose you're going to want me to help you get him changed,
too," Harry said with an air of resignation.

"Right."

"Why me?" he asked as Naomi handed him a towel.

"Because you've already seen him naked and I know enough
about you to know you wouldn't tell anyone about this."  She
started trying to pull Q's sodden clothing off of him, but couldn't. 
They were simply too wet and too plastered onto his body.  With
a sudden inspiration, she got up, went to the replicator and came
back with a pair of scissors, and then started cutting his clothes
off his body.

"That's true enough.  But then, who would believe me?"

"Just don't get tempted to find out."

Naomi looked up at Harry, and the fierce protectiveness he saw
in her eyes was enough to keep him silent even if he hadn't been
inclined to do so already.  "I won't, Naomi.  Believe me.  I
wouldn't do something like that."

"Good."

He helped her dry Q off, then sat Q up while Naomi wrestled
with getting him into the clothes.  She was glad she'd picked
something simple to try to put him into; anything more difficult
would have kept them there all night and well into the morning.

When she was done, she got up and helped Harry get a still
completely oblivious Q into bed.

"Thank you, Harry.  Now remember..." she said, as he started to
leave.

"I was never here, I didn't see anything and if anyone asks me, I
don't know you."

Naomi grinned humorlessly.  "You understand."

"More than I want to, I assure you."  He blew her a kiss, and
left.

****

Q woke to find himself in his own bed, with Naomi snuggled
against his side.  That wasn't particularly unusual.  He always
woke up before she did.  One of Q's theories was that Naomi
would cheerfully sleep the whole day through if allowed.  He was
actually quite right about that, although he didn't know it.  One
of the habits Naomi had evolved to deal with the demands of her
job was to sleep as much as she could, whenever she could, since
work could easily fill up the entire day and night and more
besides at times.

The strange part was that Q had been quite sure he wasn't going
to wake up.

He was absolutely certain that he'd committed suicide the evening
before.  Except that he was, for all intents and purposes, still
alive.  There was only one explanation he could immediately
think of for all of this.  He was in hell.

He'd never actually managed to successfully commit suicide. 
He'd tried a few times, each of them foiled by various means,
once by the Continuum's direct intervention, and three times by
"coincidences" too coincidental to be believed; people who "just
happened" to walk in at the right time when no one ever visited
him at all at any other time if they could possibly help it.

Now the reason for that seemed apparent to him.  The Continuum
simply would not let him do it.  They wouldn't let him die.  His
bleak, horrid sentence was apparently to die of old age here in the
worst sort of non-existence he could possibly imagine.

Of course, that assumed that he wasn't living with a particularly
devious, treacherous human being who would think nothing of
dressing him up as a VIP in order to circumvent a customs
inspection, someone who would actually have the nerve to get
pregnant and not tell him about it until three months into it after
he'd already noticed the signs all on his own.  Someone who
would probably not balk at all at pretending to give him a lethal
injection of something, while in fact giving him a sedative
instead.

The suspicion gelled into something approaching certainty, and Q
nudged Naomi, wanting confirmation.  "Excuse me."

She didn't seem to hear him, and he felt a little indignant at that. 
Here she was sleeping all over him, and not paying any attention
at all to him.  How very like her.

He poked her again, and this time she woke up, looking at him
with a sleepy smile.  "You're awake."

"How surprising," Q said acidly, ignoring the fact that she was
still cradled against his chest.  "Especially since I expected to be
dead right about now."

"Well, you couldn't very well think that I'd *kill* you, now
could you?"

Q looked down at her superciliously, even though he couldn't
really see much more than the top of her head.  "That *was*
what you said you were going to do."

"So I lied."  Her hand started stroking his chest unconsciously,
running over his bare skin.  She'd managed to get him into a light
robe the night before, but hadn't bothered with the kind of
unrevealing, more clingy top Q usually favored or one of the silk
things with all the tiny little buttons.

He hated to ask the kind of question he had in his head -- it was
too obvious about his real feelings -- but he couldn't *not* know
what she had really meant by all of this.  "You mean you didn't
want me to kill myself?"

"Of course not," Naomi said, turning over more and propping
herself up so she could look down at his face and he could see
that she really meant it.  "Why would I want something like
that?"  He didn't seem quite convinced, so she continued.  "I just
didn't think I had a choice last night.  I thought if I played along
with it, you might change your mind, and when you didn't, well,
I had to trick you."

"Thank you so very much," Q said sarcastically.

"You're quite welcome," Naomi replied solemnly.  She smiled at
him, wanting to kiss him, to hold him, to do anything at all that
might make him realize how much she cared about him.  The
problem with Q, though, was that something like that would
probably just make him pull away from her.  "Besides, how could
I ever let you commit suicide over something so silly?  You'd be
embarrassed for all eternity."

"Silly?" Q said, considering that for a moment.  It *was* more
than a little silly to think that he, Q, would kill himself because
he couldn't have one single mortal woman, but then, with her
half-draped over him, soft red hair framing her face, he couldn't
quite imagine her not being there or what he would do if she left,
besides putting on some decent clothing.

"Silly," Naomi said definitely.  "I'm going away for a month,
maybe two months at the most, and you can't live without me?  I
mean, if I didn't know better, I'd swear you were in love with
me."  She grinned at him, waiting for him to take offense.  She
knew that love was one of Q's buzzwords that set him off no
matter how it was used.  Anything to shock him out of his
depression.

"A month or two?" Q asked weakly, unable to believe what he
was hearing. 

"Exactly.  What did you think?  That I was going away forever?" 
The words were delivered in a joking tone, but as soon as they
were out of her mouth, Naomi could see that they were true.  He
really had thought she was leaving for good.  His expression left
no doubt in her mind.

Her immediate reaction was to comfort him, and she did, inching
up to cradle his head against her, holding him close.  "You *did*
think that.  I'm so sorry.  If only I'd known that... I could have
just told you I wasn't leaving."

He put his arms around her, holding her close, able, with his face
buried from view, to let out some of the emotion that had gripped
him ever since yesterday when she had all too calmly agreed to
leave him.  His first impulse was to be angry with her for
tricking him, but somehow, despite everything, it mattered too
much to him that she did care about him, and wasn't leaving.

After a long, shuddering moment, he tore himself away from her. 
"You *have* to leave."

"I'm not going to leave," Naomi said, not relinquishing her
position.

"You said you were last night," Q pointed out.

"I know what I said.  But that was last night.  I am definitely not
going to leave you now.  Not for a month, not for two months,
not at all."  She touched his face gently with her hand, willing
him not to pull away.  "You need me too much for me to leave."

"You don't have a choice," Q said harshly, unable to completely
pull away from her, no matter how much he knew he needed to. 
"You almost got killed, and you or that drooling thing you seem
to favor could be hurt."

Naomi shrugged slightly.  "So I'll send Ari away until after
Sanaharrar gets back.  My mother will be more than happy to
indoctrinate her granddaughter, I'm sure."

"That's not good enough."

"It'll have to be good enough, because you're not getting rid of
me.  'Whither thou goest' and all of that."

He didn't want to cry.  He had absolutely no desire to cry just
because this ridiculous woman wanted to risk her life and her
child's life by staying with him, and for no better reason than that
she loved him.

But he couldn't seem to help himself.  With a sense of
inevitability, he turned into Naomi, letting her hold him, and
gave himself over entirely to relieved tears.


-the end-