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


It was his first night back on the Enterprise, his first night in
this place where he had become human.

It wasn't the same room, of course.  They'd stuck him in a little
out of the way corner that first time, and while it had been
spacious by some standards, it was nothing compared to what he
rated now as a VIP.  But his subconscious didn't know it was a
different room, and somehow, lying there in the dark with Naomi
sleeping soundly next to him, he felt that same horrible,
helpless loneliness that he had felt that first night creeping
over him again.

Memory flung him back there again, to that dark room, as Q failed
miserably at falling asleep.  Again he felt all those emotions
sweep over him, the boundless despair that had engulfed him after
he had first become human.  He was helpless, banished, exiled and
outcast, and there was nothing he could do about it.  Humiliated
and alone with no one to turn to, he had sobbed like a
heartbroken child.

As he wanted to do now.

The memories brought it all back, every iota of that pain, that
rejection first from the Continuum, then by his fellow Q, then by
Picard, the only person he had to call friend.  Obviously, friend
was not the right word for their relationship.

On that night, so long ago, he had eventually sought out Data,
who had talked to him, and as much as possible for an android,
given him comfort.  Now...

Q turned in to the sleeping Naomi, huddling against her body as
though it were a stormbreak against the tornado of emotions
assaulting him.

She moved slightly, not quite waking up and snuggled closer
against him, curling herself into his body.

That small action reassured him more than anything she could have
said, if he could have borne her being awake, could have borne
her knowing how horribly weak he was.

He wrapped his arm around her, holding her to him, and closed his
eyes, burying his face against her hair.  He wasn't completely
alone now.  He had someone with him who would cheerfully explain
to him anything he didn't understand, who would pay attention to
any problems or pains he might have, and who would care about
him.  And although he shouldn't need it, didn't want to need it,
he did and was glad that he had her.

When Q finally managed to fall asleep, he slept badly.

It then came as no surprise when he woke in the middle of the
night to someone sitting on the bed next to him, idly playing
with the sculpture of a crystal wren.

"So you're finally awake," Q2 said, turning the bird over again. 
"I've been waiting for hours.  I've got something to tell you."

As tired and sleep-fogged as he was, Q still couldn't help but
leap to the obvious conclusion.  "You're giving me my powers
back!"

"No, no, that's not it," Q2 said entirely too cheerfully.  "We
*have* come to the decision though that you won't abuse your
powers *if* we gave them back."

"But?"

"We still can't give them back to you.  You're entirely too human
now."  With a mocking laugh, Q2 disappeared.

The crystal wren fell to the floor and shattered, with a sound
that seemed to go right through Q, all of equally fragile hopes
destroyed along with it.  He was suddenly and bitterly aware of
the woman sleeping next to him who had lured him into this folly,
who had kept him obtained what he most wanted.

And then, he woke up.

He was truly awake this time, not half-awake, and he could tell
the difference.  There was no crystal wren lying broken on the
floor, was in fact no such object at all.  Q had not had such a
piece of decoration in years.  The original had been carelessly
destroyed by a security guard on Starbase 56 during the period
when they were persecuting him, and Q had never considered
replacing it.

So it had only been a dream.  Only.

Q laid back down and closed his eyes, but sleep did not come. 
All he could hear was the mocking laughter of the other Q, and Q
didn't know what he could have done differently or how they dared
to condemn him for having taken the only action he could which
allowed him to remain alive.  The Continuum had made him mortal
for a reason, and if it weren't to learn how to be more like
them, he didn't know what it was.

On the not-so-comforting thought, Q finally did fall asleep.

****

By the morning, the dream had been almost entirely forgotten,
lost in a hazy mishmash of other dreams, including one where Q,
the other Q, had shown up just as Ariadne turned 17 and announced
that he was her date for some formal dance, which was an entirely
ridiculous scenario.  The earlier dream was gone, remaining only
as an uneasy feeling that life was not entirely as it should be. 
Since this was how Q almost always felt, he wasn't overly
disturbed by it.

"What's first on the agenda?" Naomi asked breezily, having
managed to coax the Enterprise's replicator into burning her
bacon properly and having made a nice breakfast out of that.  "Or
do we even have anything to do until they actually stumble
directly into a temporal anomaly?"

"I told you," Q said irritably, "if we stumble into a temporal
anomaly, we'll be dead."

"Then we don't have anything to do at all and as soon as I find
someone to take Ari off my hands, we can spend the rest of the
day in bed," Naomi said, eyes twinkling.  "Sounds good to me."

Q looked at her cautiously.  He had never actually called her
bluff on any of the pronouncements Naomi had made of this kind. 
While he knew she was teasing him, Q was also entirely too sure
that she would be only too happy to spend the rest of the day
that way if he did make the mistake of not taking her seriously.

"If you're bored, there's the matter of that star counting
project you never finished," Q reminded her.

Naomi made a face at him.  "I didn't think you *meant* it. 
Besides, what possible use could there be for knowing how many
stars are visible from here?"

"You're suggesting that science has to have a use?  Bite your
tongue."

"I couldn't.  That'd be too painful."  Naomi grinned at him. 
"You know, I think we should have done this years ago.  All the
comforts of being on a starbase and none of the
responsibilities."

"I'm sure they'll find something for us to do.  Eventually," Q
said sardonically.  "Jean-Luc is far to principled to allow us
*not* to work.  Idle hands and all that, you know."

Naomi cocked her head.  "Nope, not a clue.  Maybe you better show
me."

Q shook his head.  "You can't fool me that easily.  You know
precisely what I'm talking about and are merely using it as an
excuse to lure me back into bed."

"Is that so wrong?" Naomi asked, then thought of another tactic. 
"What if I bribe you?  Want an apple, little boy?"

"Food?  How disgusting," Q said, enjoying himself.  "Really,
Naomi.  You must consider making your bribes more suited to the
person you're trying to bribe."

"Oh?" Naomi asked, the glint of battle coming into her eye. 
"Then how about..."

Ariadne came into the room, trailing a stuffed cat behind her,
its tail caught in one fist, and came over to her mother, who
picked her up.

The little girl immediately put her head back down and went back
to sleep.  "Well that settles that," Naomi said softly to Q.  "I
guess you won this round."

"Since I would have won anyway, your forfeit is highly
irrelevant."

"Oh, I'm sure I could have worked out an arrangement where we
both would have come out winners.  Although not necessarily both
on top."  She grinned at him, then conceded the point, standing
up to take Ariadne back into her room to get her clothes changed
and get her ready for her day.

****

Despite having accepted Q aboard his ship, Picard was still
disturbed by the possibilities.  Particularly the possibilities
raised by the existence of Ariadne Allen.

"Genetically, there's no question," Dr. Crusher said.  "It's Q's
child.  But biologically..."

"Yes, Doctor?"

"It's impossible."

"Impossible?" Picard asked, lifting an eyebrow.

Crusher nodded.  "If you look at his genetic pattern, you'll see
it.  His cells simply do not undergo meiosis.  I couldn't use any
of his sperm to inseminate someone, no one could."  She had done
a detailed examination of Q when he first became human, and that
had been one of the more interesting anomalies she had found.

However, that didn't answer Picard's question.  "So what is your
explanation for the child?"

The doctor shrugged.  "I *can't* explain it."

"Is it possible that she is a Q?"

"I don't know, Jean-Luc."

Picard's face tightened.  That wasn't a particularly attractive
possibility.  "Is there any way to find out?"

"If the child is a Q?  No.  However..." Crusher looked
speculative for a moment.  "I don't have their detailed medical
histories yet, or had Dr. Allen or Ariadne Allen in for a medical
examination.  All I have is the basic information in their files. 
If I *did* have that data, that could tell me *something*.  It
might at least rule out the possibility."

Picard nodded.  "Do it.  I cannot face the possibility of another
one of them running around loose on my ship."

****

Naomi consented to the medical examination as soon as she was
commed about it, although she did have one reservation she didn't
tell the doctor.

She couldn't find Ariadne.

Naomi wasn't *quite* panicking yet.  For one, they were on a
starship.  There wasn't much that could happen to Ariadne, and
not a whole lot of way that a toddler could go unnoticed for
long.  *Someone* would see her, grab her, and send her home.

Of course, if it happened that way, Q would be deathly
embarrassed.  But then, no matter what, he wouldn't be happy.

The only thing Naomi didn't understand was how Ariadne had gotten
out of their suite.  The computer had specific instructions not
to open the outside door, or the door to Q and Naomi's bedroom,
to Ariadne.  It would have been highly inconvenient, unwanted,
not to mention occasionally embarrassing, if any of those things
were possible.  And that particular instruction was one of the
first things she had checked on after they found out that they
did indeed get to stay.

There was no way Ariadne could have gotten out on her own, and
yet she had still somehow escaped, and Naomi wasn't sure how
she'd done it.  Not a three-year-old.

She had seen Ariadne through getting her dressed and fed, then
called to make arrangements for child care.  That had taken a
little while, during which Q had gotten bored and decided to go
find Harry.  It wasn't until sometime after Q had left that Naomi
had realized Ariadne was missing.

Before Naomi could get too worried and call Security, Sanaharrar
came in, dragging Ariadne with her.  Ari didn't seem in the least
bit upset by her mode of locomotion, and indeed, most of her play
outfits had been designed so that Sanaharrar could pick her up
and carry her.

"Where was she this time?" Naomi asked anxiously, bending to look
her daughter over.

"Main Engineerring," Sanaharrar said with a tired growl. 
"Examining the warrp drrive."

Naomi paled and for a brief moment considered admonishing
Ariadne.  But there wasn't a whole lot of point to it.  The
toddler was already off somewhere else, obsessed with
Sanaharrar's tail, which kept flicking away, just out of her
reach.

"Well, the good thing is that she's all right now.  Thank you."

Sanaharrar hardly changed expression as she rescued her tail from
Ariadne and paced out, off to find Q again.

Naomi had to scoop Ariadne up to keep her from following
Sanaharrar out the door.  "You're a demon child, you know that?"
Naomi said in an indulgent tone.  "You take after your dada."

"Dada!"

"Exactly."  Since she was already up and Crusher was no doubt
wondering where they were, Naomi decided to head down to Sickbay
and let the doctor do whatever it was that doctors did.

****

Ariadne was squirming by the time the doctor got to her, and
Naomi heartily wished that Sanaharrar had stayed with them.  She
didn't dare let the little girl down without someone watching
her.  Normally, Ariadne was shy around strangers, but apparently
all the neat gadgets and gizmos were attracting her attention,
because she kept trying to get Crusher's tricorder, among other
objects.

"Is she always like this?" Crusher asked with a smile.  "I
remember Wesley at this age, and it seemed like all he wanted to
do was take things apart."

Naomi smiled wryly.  "Take things apart, chew on things, just
generally wreak havoc, yes."

"That can be a sign of high intelligence.  Not surprising
considering her parentage," Crusher said, throwing out the hook. 
She didn't have the medical records yet, but some discreet
questioning might very well reveal the same answer.

Naomi nodded.  "I don't think that really has anything to do with
it.  I've seen bright people who had average children.  And vice
versa."

That hadn't worked very well as a tactic, Crusher thought. 
Perhaps something a little more direct.  "But surely, with Q as
the father...", her voice trailed off, suggesting that Naomi
should fill in the gap.

Which she did, completely unaware of any ulterior motive on the
doctor's part.  "I should think it matters a whole lot more how
bright Jason Hartfeil was.  Of course, he *was* a Nobel prize
winner, so you can't think he was entirely stupid."

"Who's Jason Hartfeil?" Crusher asked, entirely at a loss.

Naomi cocked her head at the doctor.  "You don't know who Jason
Hartfeil is?"  Naomi had gotten so accustomed to every detail of
her life being common knowledge to the people around her that it
hadn't quite occurred to her that someone *wouldn't* know.

Crusher shook her head.  "It sounds like you're saying he's your
daughter's father.  But that can't be right."

"It can't?" Naomi asked, amused.  "I'd've thought it was the
other way around.  That it'd be obvious Q *couldn't* be Ari's
father."

Crusher spread her hands.  She wasn't going to keep this up any
longer, not when she was losing.  "I don't understand.  Who *is*
her father?"

"Jason Hartfeil, of course."

"But her genetic pattern could only have come from you and Q."

"And Jason Hartfeil," Naomi said, smiling enigmatically.

"Are you going to tell me, or are you going to just hold it over
my head for the rest of your stay here?" Crusher asked, a hint of
a smile on her face, suspecting she was being led a merry chase
rather than being denied the information outright.

"Q *is* Jason Hartfeil, or rather, another way of saying it is
that the body he's currently wearing is a copy of Hartfeil's." 
Naomi looked down at Ariadne, who had decided that the
conversation was boring and was taking a nap.  "I wanted a child,
and I knew that Q couldn't have one.  So I looked up the person
who Q had taken his body from, and found that while I couldn't
have *Q's* child, I could have one from someone who looked like
him.  Not quite the same, but good enough under the
circumstances."

The light had dawned for Crusher.  She looked sympathetically
down at the smaller woman.  "And it worked."

"Very well, in my opinion," Naomi said, smiling at Ariadne.  "I
wouldn't have it any other way."

Mystery solved, Crusher was able to wrap the rest of the
examination up quickly.  Both mother and daughter were in good
health, which left little to do, and when the detailed histories
she requested arrived, that would give her the rest of the data
she needed.  Crusher made a mental note to request Jason
Hartfeil's medical history as well.  The man wasn't familiar, but
if she could get that, it would probably be revealing of problems
facing both Ariadne and Q.

She approved of Naomi, especially as Q had not yet called or
visited Sickbay once, despite having been onboard nearly a full
day.  That had been the most annoying thing to her and her staff
about him being on the Enterprise before, the way he wasted their
time with things which were routine, and completely minor. 
Apparently that wasn't going to happen this trip, and that gave
Crusher a slightly higher opinion of Q.  He had adjusted to being
human, and even if she couldn't like him due to all that had gone
before, including the deaths of 18 people in an incident that
should never have happened, she didn't have to hate him either.

****

Q didn't know how he'd let himself get sucked into an interview
with Counsellor Deanna Troi.  He *had* been having a nice chat
with Harry, and then, somehow, the counsellor had managed to
badger him into this.  There was no one he wanted to see less,
with the possible exception of Guinan, and even Guinan he would
have enjoyed seeing, if only because he had something to hold
against her.

But he had no such protection with Troi, and worse, she had a
weapon against him.  If he didn't keep what little shielding he
had learned he had during the run-in with the Dilkineers, Troi
would be able to feel his every emotion.  She already knew
exactly how pathetic he really was from when he first boarded the
Enterprise, when he hadn't realized he had any ability to shield
and had been too terrified and miserable to do so anyway.

So, why exactly was he here, sitting across from her, talking to
her?

"You're frightened of other people?" Troi asked, returning to the
attack.

"I am *not* frightened.  I merely have a vested interest in
maintaining my own appearance.  Although I cannot fathom why, I
do try to lend a small air of dignity to my surroundings."

"And it bothers you when you can't maintain that appearance?"

"Why shouldn't it bother me?" Q snapped, feeling defensive
without knowing why.  "I'm not going to cringe for everyone's
amusement, even if I can't hide it from your mental prying.  I
don't want everyone ridiculing me."

Troi nodded.  "That's good."

"*Good*?  Are you deaf, woman?  How could any of that *possibly*
be good?"

Troi's impassive expression didn't change a bit, and Q hated her
in that moment for being so difficult to provoke.  "You appear to
be making a good adjustment to your environment.  You've
internalized social concepts, and are progressing in..."

"Excuse me?"

This time she smiled a little.  "You're doing well, Q.  I'm proud
of you."

"Well?"  Q still didn't get it.  She was giving him a runaround
full of psychological psychobabble.  "None of that explains how
you suddenly jumped to such a ridiculous conclusion."

"One of the basic factors of socialization is learning to fit in. 
Most people learn this in childhood, frequently by being
ridiculed for being different," the counsellor explained
patiently.  "After a while, they learn to internalize these
instructions in order to fit in with their peer group.  It seems
to me that your fear is not at all a negative thing, that instead
you have learned to adapt your behavior to fit with your
surroundings."

This time Q understood her perfectly.  Far better than he wanted
to understand her, in fact.  Knowing that his face was slowly
turning red and that, if she hadn't already picked up exactly
what he was feeling through the inadequate shielding he was
holding up, she would very soon, he stood up.  "Thank you for
that pithy analysis, Counsellor.  If you don't mind, I'll be
going now."

"Not at all," Troi said, and to Q it seemed as though she were
trying to avoid laughing.

****

Q stalked back to his quarters, ignoring anyone and everyone in
his path, then made straight for his and Naomi's room, throwing
himself face down on the bed.  "I am *not* internalizing social
concepts!"

"Of course you're not," Naomi said soothingly, without having the
smallest clue what he was talking about, or even who he'd just
been with.  She came over to him, sitting down next to him, hands
going automatically to his shoulders.

"She doesn't understand me at all and even if she did, she's
completely wrong!"

"Absolutely," Naomi said, kneading his shoulders, hands calming
him down.

"I mean, really!  She's a counsellor and she can't even manage
her own life!  How dare she tell me how to run mine?"

"The nerve," Naomi agreed.

Q grabbed onto that tangent.  "Neither of them are here, you
know.  Riker is off captaining some bathtub and pretending that
the rubber ducky is really alive, and Microbrain is beating his
chest on a rundown space station."

"Uh huh," Naomi said, just beginning to get the idea.  There was
only one counsellor that she knew of onboard.  Q must have talked
with her, and whatever was said had upset him, which was at least
an improvement over how little effect Medellin had had.  She
continued rubbing his back, trying to soothe him rather than to
work out any tension.  He wasn't terribly tense at the moment,
not physically.  Not as badly as he had been at other times.  But
then, he was taking better care of himself now.  Of course, if he
kept letting himself get wound-up like this, that could change.

Q felt encouraged by Naomi's agreement with him, and just a
little lulled by the warm relaxation spreading through his body. 
"If she can't even manage her own life, she shouldn't be
presuming to tell me how to run mine."

Naomi grinned.  "But that's what counsellors *do*, Q.  If they
were able to run their lives properly, they wouldn't be
counsellors."

Q scowled at the bedspread.  "In my experience, no human is
competent at their professions.  You're all children, playing
with your toys."

Naomi got a sudden picture of the upright Picard on his knees,
holding a starship and making "vroom-vroom" noises.  She bit her
lip, but it didn't help, and she started giggling.

Q took that as an affront to his already wounded dignity, which
started a fight that lasted well into the afternoon, and didn't
stop until Q had almost forgotten all about the incident with
Troi, and Harry showed up to ask them to dinner.

****

Naomi looked around her.  Ten Forward.  She hadn't forgotten what
Q had told her about this place and the person who ran it like
her personal domain.  She had also checked the crew roster to
make sure that she was still aboard.

And she had found Guinan's name on that list.

Q was absolutely terrified of Guinan and with good reason, in
Naomi's opinion.  He had told Naomi a little about the Enterprise
and its crew when he had thought they were going there before. 
He had not been so outspoken this time, but it didn't matter. 
Naomi didn't forget things like that, would never forget anyone
who had deliberately injured and hurt Q when he was at his most
vulnerable.

She reached over and squeezed his hand reassuringly, before
letting go.  Q didn't want to be here.  That was obvious from his
posture, which was at his most stiff and unapproachable.  The
outfit he was wearing was also a direct clue.  He only dressed
the role of a medieval courtier in long skirts when he was
feeling particularly threatened.

But Harry had insisted, and they couldn't put this visit off
forever.  In fact, Naomi was rather looking forward to it. 
Adrenaline was running through her, and she was poised to do
battle.  No one was going to harm Q while she was around, and if
she could, she would do her utmost to make sure that Guinan got
the message that Q was not to be threatened *ever*.

The woman behind the bar stiffened as they entered.  Naomi got a
good look at her and felt herself tighten even further.  That was
Guinan; she matched perfectly the picture in her file, as if she
hadn't aged at all since it had been taken.

"Speak of the devil," Guinan said softly, but loud enough to
carry.

Harry didn't seem to hear it, but Naomi did, placing herself
between Q and Guinan.

Then the woman moved, coming out from behind the bar, and Naomi's
own internal radar spiked.  But before she could do anything,
Sanaharrar was standing in front of Q, teeth bared and growling. 
The feline bodyguard was very sensitive to thoughts and emotions,
and she could feel the fear coming off of Q and the distrust from
Naomi, and would brook no violence against either of her charges.

Guinan stopped short, taken aback by the reaction.  She scarcely
noticed the small, redheaded woman at Q's side, and would not
have recognized her as a threat in any case, but it was hard to
miss a four foot high hissing cat.

"Really, Q," Guinan said with every appearance of amusement. 
"Are you that frightened of me?"

Q didn't feel overly reassured by her statement.  He had every
reason to be frightened of her.  The first thing she had done to
him after he had become human was to stab him with a fork.  The
second was to cause him greater pain than he had imagined
possible at the time, while simultaneously ending up sobbing on
the floor of Ten-Forward, making a fool out of himself in front
of everyone there.

But he couldn't show her that he was indeed frightened.  The last
thing he wanted was to give Guinan any hint of his weakness.  He
looked at Naomi and Sanaharrar, "Shoo, shoo.  Go sit with Harry."

Naomi looked at him.  There was nothing she wanted to do less,
but she wasn't going to humiliate him by making a scene right
now.

However, while Naomi might be meekly tripping off to Harry's
table, Sanaharrar was having none of it.  She curled up and sat
watchfully at Q's feet, great eyes trained on Guinan.

Q stood stock still, looking at Guinan.  He was terrified, and
perhaps there was no sense in hiding it from Guinan, who could
read it as easily as Naomi could, but he had his pride. 
Unfortunately, that was just about all he had.

"You can stop quaking in your boots," Guinan said with a tone of
disgust.  "I'm not going to hurt you."

Q firmed his posture even further.  Sanaharrar was between him
and Guinan, and he *knew* that the feline would never let Guinan
do to him what she had before.  "How strange.  I seem to recall
you being the first person *to* hurt me."

She didn't say anything for a long moment.  Then finally, as
though it were difficult for her, she said, "I apologize for
that, Q.  It's not the sort of thing I do."

Q was taken aback that *Guinan* should choose to apologize to him
at all.  Then he realized what her words actually meant.  "But
not, of course, for having hurt me."

"I'm sorry for having enjoyed it," she said, looking at him.

He wanted to hurt her then, wanted with great intensity to make
her feel as shattered and horribly broken as he had felt.  It
would be easy enough.  He had a little bit of experience now with
how such a thing would be done, given his abortive attack on
Azoth after he had thought the guard had killed Naomi.  And
Sanaharrar might actually serve as protection for him, long
enough for him to do it.  But even if he could get away with it,
it would be pointless.  It would only serve to demonstrate that
he was as brutal and violent as she, which was not true.  And as
much as he despised her for having done that to him, it was a
relief that she had finally shown her true colors at last, even
if no one seemed to care.  She was a dangerous, vindictive woman,
and if no one believed him, then they simply weren't paying
attention to the facts.  He was better than that.

Settling his dignity around him, Q said, "How very gracious of
you.  I accept your apology in the spirit it was given.  You can
go on about your life without carrying the truly enormous burden
of guilt you must feel for having committed such a heinous act. 
Do write and let me know if you get real work."

Before she could settle on a retort, Q walked away, leaving her
standing in the middle of the floor, alone.  He felt curiously
better now, lighter.  There was something very good about having
finally had the showdown between himself and Guinan -- and
declining to fight.

Naomi was showing inclinations of wanting to fawn over him when
he sat down with her and Harry, but Q ignored her.  He didn't
want to discuss the incident or admit that it affected him in any
way.

Unfortunately, Harry was not as sensitive as Naomi to the signs
that a topic should be dropped.  "So what is it between you and
that woman?  There's something there, Q, don't try to deny it. 
You looked like wild dogs circling each other."

"A long-standing disagreement, Harry.  We once wore the same hat
to a party.  I *tried* to explain to her that since mine was the
original, and hers the cheap knock-off that *she* should leave,
but she refused to believe me."

Harry grinned.  "You mean you don't have that hat she was wearing
stashed away someplace in your closet?"

Q shuddered dramatically.  "If I do, then feel free to have me
brought up on charges.  I've never seen anything as ugly in all
my life."

"Well," Naomi said consideringly.  "There *was* that hat Harold
Godfrey had.  I think that might be worse."

Harry flinched at the sound of the name, and Q looked offended. 
"Please don't mention that name in the same conversation as taste
in fashion.  The man has none."

"Man?" Harry asked, giving every sign of being completely
repulsed.

Naomi grinned.  "Why, Harry, I thought the two of you were
soulmates.  You even have the same name."

Harry shook a warning finger at her.  "If you don't drop the
topic, I'll give Diana Ashe a call and tell her that you miss her
motherly advice terribly and wish that she'd talk with you more
often."

Naomi held up her hands in surrender.  "That's perfectly all
right, Harry.  You don't have to do that.  I give up."

"Good."

The conversation got brighter after that, and Q's altercation
with Guinan was never mentioned, as the table got merrier and
merrier, and even Q unbent enough to allow himself to have a good
time.  Not that doing anything else would have been easy with
both Harry and Naomi there, making wisecracks and doing their
best to top each other in a bid to entertain Q.

When they finally left, Naomi lagged behind.  "I just need to get
something," she said.  "I'll catch up."

"Fine," Harry said gaily, oblivious to any undercurrent and not
asking what mysterious, invisible object she might possibly have
left.  "I'll just drag Q off and have my wicked way with him in
your absence."

"Don't keep him out too late," Naomi advised Harry.  "He turns
into a pumpkin at midnight."

With a laugh, Harry escorted Q out, Sanaharrar at their heels. 
Naomi watched them go, then turned toward the bar.

Guinan was standing there, behind it, watching her.

Naomi stalked over to her.  "I don't think you know me."

"Dr. Naomi Allen," Guinan said, identifying her.

"Very good," Naomi said, smiling tightly, no emotion reaching her
hard eyes.  She might have been laughing and joking with Q and
Harry just moments before, but she felt no humor now.  "I see I
won't have to waste time with introductions.  I can just get
right to the point."

"Which is?"

"Leave Q alone.  Or you'll regret it."

"Oh, really?"

"Oh, yes."  Naomi's tone said that she'd relish the possibility. 
"You may have been capable of getting away with kicking him in
the balls before, but you won't be able to now.  If you so much
as touch him, I'll make sure it's the last thing you ever do
here."

"Death threats.  How original."  Guinan didn't seem ruffled at
all.  Someone else might have been intimidated by her calm
manner.  But Naomi didn't get intimidated.  Not by anyone.

"They're not threats.  They're promises.  And I'm not going to
kill you or anyone else without a damn good reason.  But I *will*
do my utmost to get you thrown off this ship and out of Starfleet
if you ever even think of trying something as despicable as
harming a vulnerable, unarmed civilian."  Naomi's voice was low
and hard.  "You may have gotten away with it once, but you won't
again, I promise you."

With that, she turned away and marched out.  There was nothing
Guinan could say that Naomi wanted to hear.  Promises would be
empty, because Naomi did not and would not ever trust that woman. 
And there was nothing else Guinan could say that would be worth
listening to.

Guinan watched her go, a thoughtful look on her face.  She had
apologized to Q because she felt she needed to.  It hadn't been
an admission that she was wrong so much as an admission that she
had violated her standards for herself, and they had both
recognized that.  The apology had been more to salve her own
conscience than to do anything for Q.

But watching Allen walk out, and after having watched what
appeared to be Q having a good time with his *friends*, she began
to think that maybe something else was going on that she hadn't
been aware of, that she hadn't even believed possible.  That
somewhere, somehow, Q had managed to attract someone to him who
genuinely cared about him and wanted to protect him.  Because
while she could believe that someone might care for Q only out of
charity, that had not been charity she had seen from the good
doctor.  That had been the fierce protectiveness of a lover
defending her mate.

Perhaps, just perhaps, it was possible that Q *had* changed.

****

Naomi helped him go to sleep that night, and it *did* help Q to
some extent, since he didn't spend his second night on the
Enterprise staring at the ceiling and wondering why this had
happened to him.  But it didn't stop his dreams.

This one was one of his most frequent dreams.  He had his powers
back, and he was in Picard's ready room, tormenting him.  He had
his feet up on the desk, and the only thought in Q's mind,
besides the fun he was having, was the fear that this might be a
dream.

He had so many good dreams that he had, at times, wanted to kill
himself.  Dreams where he had his powers back, where he was
magically reinstated into the Continuum, where he'd never been
thrown out.  All of them infinitely tempting.

And entirely false.  As this one was.  He didn't have powers. 
This was a dream.  Only a dream.

Q pulled his feet off the table, willing the dream to stop, to
change, anything.  He didn't want to be having it, didn't like
the sick feeling of guilt and shame he got from his vague
presentiment that none of this was real.

And then Picard moved behind him.  "You don't seem to be so cocky
now, Q."

Q turned on him verbally, already forgetting this was a dream,
caught back up in it.  "I've lost my powers.  How did you expect
me to act?"

He turned around in the chair to see Picard sitting on the desk. 
Q half-expected to see that same look of complete disdain that
Picard had worn when telling him that he, Picard, had no use for
him, couldn't help him.

But that wasn't the look Picard was wearing at all.  On his face
was an expression of such knowing sympathy that it hurt Q to look
at it.  "Q, I'm sorry for how I treated you in the past.  It
never occurred to me that you might be telling the truth, that
something might be wrong."

It was all Q could do to keep from burying his face in Picard's
lap and crying.  When he spoke, his tone was uncertain, despite
the brashness of his words.  "Yes, it was rather short-sighted of
you, Jean-Luc."

Picard reached out a hand to Q, cupping Q's cheek and staring
intently into the other man's eyes.  "I truly am sorry."

Q leaned into that touch, *feeling* the comfort radiating from
the captain, and needing it in a way he'd never needed anything
else before.  Picard was the one person whose approval mattered
at all to him, and to finally have some admission of sympathy
almost broke him.  He covered Picard's hand with his own and
looked up again.  "Do that again and I'll forgive you."

"What?" Picard asked.  "This?"  He reached his other hand out to
Q, until he was holding Q's face in his hands.  Then he drew the
other man up to him, until they were pressed together, Q leaning
over Picard.

Their faces were very close together, and Q felt a hot
anticipatory tension run through him.  "Yes, that."

Picard's face was very serious, and he didn't let go of Q.  "I
need you, Q.  I have always wanted you, and I need you now."

The sincerity in the captain's eyes was undoubtable.  Q swallowed
hard, not moving away, not sure he even wanted to move away. 
"That's very flattering, mon capitaine."

He watched in helpless suspense as Picard leaned forward, lips
touching his.  The small contact was enough, and yet not enough. 
He felt as if the two of them were touching more than physically,
could feel not just the leanness of the other body pressed up
against his own, but also Picard's desire pounding at him, the
hot need and even the love, the total acceptance of him that was
so very like the kind of intimacy and acceptance he'd been forced
to leave behind him when he'd been thrown out of the Continuum.

Picard pushed him slowly backwards, and Q went, finding a couch
somehow behind him.  He went down on it, letting himself be
positioned on his back, Picard leaning over him, touching him in
an embrace that seemed perfectly right and inevitable.

Q pulled his head away for a moment, and Picard looked at him,
expression sultry.  "You're not going to get coy with me now, are
you, darling?"

Q shook his head.  The last thing on his mind was playing coy. 
He needed this in a way he could never explain, not even to
Picard.  He was the only one who mattered to him, the person
whose approval was everything to Q even if that was something
that could never been said.  Having Picard reject him when he'd
become human had been shattering, culminating in the first of
what were to be several failed suicide attempts.  He was a
failure at everything he'd done since becoming human, and having
Picard accept him now was too deeply moving for any kind of words
to express.  Fighting back an inexplicable impulse to cry, Q took
refuge in the sensual need that was almost as great.  "You're the
experienced one, Jean Luc.  Why don't you give me the benefit of
your guidance?"

Picard's hand stroked down Q's side, running over his hip in a
seductive fashion.  Somehow, their clothes had disappeared, and Q
wasn't about to question that good fortune as Picard's touch met
bare skin aching for physical contact.

"You want me, don't you, Q?"

It seemed a little thing to admit, and an obvious one, given his
current physical state.  "Yes."

Picard's expression was triumphant and slightly mocking.  "Good. 
I've wanted to have you like this for years."

"What?"  Q panicked for the first time, trying to move.  But
Picard stopped him, strong arms turning him over and holding him
down.  Q struggled, but couldn't get away.  He was trapped,
helpless, as Picard's hands went between his thighs, spreading
his legs, pulling him up and holding him steady for the same
horrible, unavoidable experience he'd gone through with Harry.

Only this was different.  Even as Picard's fingers dug into his
hips, and he felt himself rudely penetrated, Q could also feel
that same sense of caring, of being wanted for himself.  He was
frightened and not frightened all at once, a delicious terror
running through him as the driving rhythm continued, and a hand
released his hip and slipped around to find the center of his own
desire, and all of a sudden all the pain and pleasure were merged
together in his mind until all that mattered was completing that
need, finding a release for that wonderful, horrible, destroying
tension.

Q felt himself coming, felt the pleasure wash over him, feeling
rather than hearing Picard find his own release.  It went through
him in a tingling rush, and he couldn't imagine ever having been
happier in his life.

And then he woke up.  Naomi was lying next to him; he was in his
own bed, in their quarters aboard the Enterprise.  The encounter
with Picard had never happened, *would* never happen.  Even if he
wanted something that basely disgusting, which he didn't, Picard
despised him.

The bleak thought spread through him until Q banished it.  He was
sticky now, and he couldn't bear to be like this one more moment. 
Ignoring the early hour, Q slipped out of bed, stripping off his
pajamas in preparation for spending a good part of the rest of
the morning in the bathroom.

****

Naomi wasn't overly concerned to find Q awake when she got up. 
That was pretty much as it should be.  She *was* concerned though
that he hadn't woken her up to deal with Ariadne.  She'd told him
not to do that, of course, but she didn't expect him to have to
handle a hyperactive toddler, and neither did he.

However, occasionally miracles occurred, and she wasn't about to
second-guess them.  Q did genuinely enjoy Ariadne's company, even
if he wasn't actually going to admit that to anyone, and it might
be that the child was worn out enough that Q felt capable of
coping with her.  Or that Q was in an expansive mood and the two
of them were off somewhere, shrieking and destroying things, as
also occasionally occurred.

Yawning, Naomi came out into the common room of the suite.  Q was
sitting on one of the couches, his own rather than Starfleet
issue, sketching out a plan of where he wanted all of his
sculptures, wall hangings and miscellaneous decorative items, to
go.  The larger things had been placed, but it wasn't all there,
and he wanted a new layout anyway, something which reflected his
change in status.

Naomi requested and got from the replicator a glass of orange
juice and some cinnamon toast and wandered over to Q.  "Where's
Ariadne?"

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Q said, not looking up.

"It's not."

"Well then, just don't talk.  I'm busy right now.  Go on, shoo."

Naomi took a swallow of orange juice.  "How about this, just tell
me what you did with Ariadne, and I'll leave you alone?  How's
that?"

"I didn't do anything with her," Q said irritably.  "She's
probably sleeping."

Naomi shrugged and went into Ariadne's room.  She found it
difficult to believe that Ariadne would still be sleeping at this
hour, but it was possible.

However, Ariadne wasn't there.  Naomi came back out.  "No.  Not
there.  What did you do, call Maintenance to take her away?"

"If I thought they would, I'd consider it," Q said, not looking
up.

Naomi stared at him for a long moment.  "Q, where is she?"

"I don't know!" Q said, finally irritated past all measure at
being continually interrupted.  "And I don't particularly care
either.  I think I'll go down to the brig.  I might be left alone
there."

Naomi shrugged.  Right then, it didn't particularly matter to
her.  What was more important was that she find Ariadne.  She
looked over at Sanaharrar.  "Do *you* know where she is?"

Sanaharrar stretched out, having been asleep up until a few
minutes before, and looked thoughtful.  After no more than a
minute, she got to her feet, and walked out.

Q followed her out of the room, still miffed by Naomi's attitude.

Naomi was past caring.  She had to do something about Ariadne. 
"Computer, who left the suite this morning?"

"Lieutenant Samuel Morris, Ariadne Allen, Sanaharrar and Q."

"Computer, who is Samuel Morris?"

"Lieutenant Morris is a steward."

"Is he now?" Naomi said to herself.  And Q had obviously spent
the early morning working on refurbishing the suite, since she'd
almost ran right into a coffee table that hadn't been there the
night before.  "Computer, did Ariadne Allen leave with anyone
else?"

"Ariadne Allen left with Lieutenant Samuel Morris."

Naomi nodded, finally satisfied.  Assuming no kidnapping was
involved, which she didn't believe there was, then Ariadne had
somehow managed to get out while Lt. Morris was also leaving. 
Naomi had to figure out a way to stop that, or at least convince
people to be more careful about who was going along with them.

And she also needed to get Ariadne a badge so that the computer
could locate her.  Sanaharrar might not always be so conveniently
handy.

****

Sanaharrar brought Ariadne back promptly, then left to take up
her post guarding Q.  Naomi took charge of her erring daughter
and began by extracting the events of the morning from her.

"And then what happened?" Naomi asked Ariadne gravely.

"Dere was a big man an he was nice onny he couln't see but he
*coul'* see an den I got tooken 'way," Ari said, sitting on
Naomi's lap and looking rather put out at having been so
summarily removed from Engineering *again*.

"Well, you're not *supposed* to be in Engineering," Naomi said,
trying to keep the proper maternal attitude about her daughter's
exploits.

Before she could get any further with her lesson, Q came in the
door and saw Naomi talking to Ariadne.

"I see you found her.  Are you still trying to pretend that child
talks?" Q asked acidly, still irritated at Naomi having
interrupted him before and made wild accusations about what he
might have done with Ariadne.

"Dada!  Dada!"  Ariadne jumped off of Naomi's lap, an
irresistible force, and ran to Q, wrapping her arms around his
legs.

Q looked at Naomi triumphantly.  "See?  She doesn't speak at all. 
She's developmentally backward and it's entirely your fault."

"My fault?" Naomi asked, amused.  She knew there was absolutely
nothing wrong with Ariadne.  "How is it my fault?"

Q, on the other hand, had no such assurance.  Although Naomi
didn't seem to care, it worried him that Ariadne might be turning
out to be stupid.  The idea frightened him in a way he couldn't
explain.  "They were *your* genes, weren't they?"

"And Jason Hartfeil's," Naomi reminded him, watching Q do his
best to walk over to the couch with a toddler attached to one
leg.  "Don't forget about that.  And *you* picked him."

"It's all Li's fault," Q muttered, sitting down on the couch. 
Immediately, Ariadne swarmed up on him, sitting on him with every
appearance of adoring him completely.  He unconsciously shifted
to hold her close to him.  "He should have known better than to
let you use sperm that had been sitting around for a century."

"Far be it from me to accuse Brian Li of competence, but I think
Ari turned out just fine."

"Of course you do, you're her mother.  You'd think it was just
fine if she never learned to talk."

"There *are* men who would consider a woman who doesn't talk to
be a good thing."

Q stared at her, disgruntled, and dropped the subject.  "Where
was she this time?"

"In Engineering, where else?  She's a budding engineer," Naomi
said, smiling at Q, who was holding Ariadne close to him, with
every appearance of enjoying her presence.

"An engineer?  How horrible.  Send her back immediately and get a
refund."

Naomi glared at Q.  "There's nothing wrong with engineers."

"Nothing wrong that a permanent stay in a gravity well won't
fix."

"Yes, but you say that about everybody."

"That doesn't mean it's not true," Q said with an air of
superiority.

"Oh, yes, yes, of course.  So do you think it's too soon to
enroll our daughter in a good engineering school?"

"What do you mean, *our* daughter?  *My* daughter is going to do
something better with her life," Q said with a superior attitude,
looking fondly at Ariadne.

But Naomi was collapsed in laughter and couldn't make any
coherent reply to that at all.


-the end-