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


Although Naomi regarded it as such, their stay on the Enterprise
was not an extended vacation.

While they would not reach the temporal anomalies they had been
sent to study for several weeks, there were other things that
they could and would be doing during that time.  It was
mandatory, partly because Starfleet wished it so, and partly
because Q would have started working before then, if only to
avoid insanity from forced inactivity.

During those weeks, there were other missions scheduled of what Q
considered to be made-up nonsense having nothing to do with
anything *really* important, which of course was defined as
anything he was interested in.

Data, although now second-in-command and not actually in charge
of the science department, gave them the news.  "Dr. Teller has
requested your advice on his research.  He is the senior member
of the physics staff and will be able to assist you during your
stay on the Enterprise."

"Oh, don't spoil everything by giving us something to *do*,"
Naomi said, grinning.

Data cocked his head.  "I fail to see how giving you 'something
to do' could be considered spoiling everything when that is the
purpose of your presence aboard the Enterprise."

"That was humor, Data," Naomi said.

"Ah.  Please explain how that was funny."

"Umm..."

Q looked at Naomi and said drily, "I told you having a sense of
humor is against regulations."

Harry, who'd been spending much of his free time with them,
laughed.  "That's all too true."

Naomi grinned at Q.  "But *I'm* not in Starfleet.  By definition,
I'm allowed to have a sense of humor."  She looked at Data. 
"Ever seen 'The Song of the South'?"

"No."

"Well, then, we're going to have to broaden your cultural
heritage, aren't we?"

Naomi kept Data busy on the walk to the physics lab by explaining
things he didn't understand such as the relevance of tangled
masses of prickly plants to large-eared, hopping lagomorphs of
the family Leporidae and why contradictory interrogatives
produced altered motivations in malicious people involved in
crime.  He failed to comprehend the humor she claimed was
embedded in it; however, the discussion was most enlightening.

Harry and Q had walked along behind them, with Naomi blithely
ignoring the snide comments from Q and Harry's own laughter.  She
knew it was pointless to try to explain it to Data, but he didn't
seem to mind, and she was having fun.

Data left them in the care of Dr. Teller, someone whom both Q and
Naomi were acquainted with, although Naomi remembered him better
than Q did.  He had come to visit them on the starbase, and while
he wasn't in the class of, say, a Markow, he wasn't a complete
puddinghead either.  And since he had come to visit during
Naomi's tenure, he hadn't learned to hate Q the way some of the
earlier scientists had.

After more than an hour of babble back and forth, with no signs
of anyone going for anyone else's throat or professional
reputation, Naomi bowed out.  "I'm going to go pick up Ariadne. 
I'll see you back at our quarters."

Q held up his hand, an indication that he didn't want to be
interrupted right then, "Fine, fine.  Run along."

Naomi rolled her eyes and looked at Harry.  "Meet us for dinner
later?"

Harry shook his head, grinning.  "I've got a date."

"A date?" Naomi asked, curious.  "With who?"

"Oh, no one you'd know," Harry said coyly.  "I never kiss and
tell, not even with people I haven't kissed yet."

"Well, knowing you, Harry, he's tall, dark and handsome,
impressively intelligent, and inclined to sarcasm.  I think some
judicious sorting of the Enterprise's roster should give me a
short list of names I could look through."

Harry looked thoughtful for a moment.  "You really could do
that?"

"Sure.  Wouldn't take very long at all."  Naomi's eyes glinted. 
"Are you worried about me finding out the names of all your ex
and future lovers?"

Harry shook his head.  "Actually I was wondering if you *would*
do that for me.  It'd eliminate all that tedious getting to know
people to find out who's suitable for me.  I could just go right
down the list, checking off names one at a time."

Naomi grinned at him.  "You're incorrigible, Harry."

"I know, I know.  I consider it one of my better qualities."

Q looked irritably at them.  "I thought you were leaving, Naomi. 
If the two of you can't stop flirting, why don't you go to Ten
Forward where you won't bother those of us who're working?"

Naomi made a face at him, but gave in anyway.  "I'll see you both
later, then.  And good luck, Harry."

"Thanks.  I'll need it."

****

By the time Q returned home that evening, he was wheezing
horribly, and if he could have gotten enough air to speak without
problems, would have been whining about it as well.

Naomi finished with trying to get Ariadne to eat and looked over
at Q, concerned.  He'd stayed very late at the lab, and she'd
already gone ahead and started in on feeding Ariadne before he
came back.  When he came in, she had offered him food.  Q had
refused, and Naomi had let him get away with it, figuring he
might not be very hungry if he were obsessed with some sort of
problem.

But she couldn't ignore what was right in front of her eyes.  Q
looked worn-out, slumped on the couch in a tired heap, and he
*sounded* horrible.

Ariadne squirmed out of her chair and ran over to the couch,
climbing up on it and snuggling down next to Q, who didn't
protest at all, moving his arm to accommodate her.  His eyes
stayed closed, and he almost seemed asleep.

Naomi gave up on dinner and came over to them.  Q didn't say a
word as she knelt down next to the couch and felt his forehead. 
He was warm, but that didn't tell her anything.  What was
worrying was the way he was breathing, like he had a large heavy
weight on his chest, even though Ariadne wasn't sitting on him.

"You must be ill," Naomi said.  "Lying down without eating?  I
mean, I might take advantage of you if you aren't careful."

Q didn't respond to the barb, and Naomi felt even more worried. 
No matter how horrible he felt, he should be sarcastic.  He was
always quick with a reply, no matter whether he was trying to
kill himself or about to die.  That he wasn't at the moment was a
sign something horrible was wrong with him.

"Dr. Allen to Sickbay."

A voice responded promptly.  "Sickbay, this is Dr. Crusher."

"Q's sick."  Naomi paused, half-waiting for the "What else is
new?" syndrome she was familiar with from Li.

"What are his symptoms?"

"He's having trouble breathing, and he's very out of it.  He's
not talking to me at all."

"I'll have a medical team there immediately.  Crusher out."

Naomi felt a little more reassured by that.  The Enterprise
people were obviously not going to mishandle Q as had been done
to him on the starbase.  That was a good thing, because she
wasn't sure she could have explained why she knew there was
something wrong with him.  His symptoms were distressing to her,
but they had sounded like nothing when she was describing them to
Crusher.  And while Naomi was perfectly willing to throw a temper
tantrum to make sure Q was being properly taken care of, she felt
better when the situation could be resolved without such extreme
measures.

The medical team arrived with commendable speed, before Naomi
could even get the remains of dinner cleared away.  They checked
Q over, then conferred among themselves.  Without any further
delay, all of them, including Naomi and Ariadne, were transported
to Sickbay, and put into isolation.

Almost immediately, people were scanning them and injecting them
with things.  Ariadne clung closely to Naomi, who was sitting up
on a bed.  Q was nowhere in sight.  Naomi let the medical staff
do what they were doing, but felt better when she saw Dr. Crusher
enter the room.

"What's going on?" Naomi asked as she saw the doctor.

Crusher came over to her, expression serious.  "You've all been
infected with an airborne virus, and one of the nastier ones at
that.  Only Q actually has it in the full blown form, although
you and your daughter would have developed symptoms before
morning.  From the progress of the infection, I would say that
you and your daughter were infected by Q, although it's hard to
tell because children are frequently affected faster by illness."

Naomi felt relieved at first, then apprehensive again.  "How did
he get it?  It wasn't some sort of deliberate poisoning or
something like that, was it?"  The incident with D'oritt flashed
through her mind again, how the programmer had inserted Nausimal
in Q's food, causing him to have a heart attack.  Something like
that could happen here; Naomi didn't have the kind of privileges
she did with the Enterprise's computers that she had had on
Starbase 56.  However, there had to be someone she could talk to,
to make sure that the security hole was closed.  If it wasn't
already too late.

Crusher shook her head.  "I doubt it.  We don't know yet who gave
this to Q, but it's most likely that someone he saw today also
has the same illness, possibly in a more mild form."

Naomi nodded.  "He was in the physics lab most of the day, with
Harry and some other people.  I stayed for part of it, but not
all of it.  Maybe it's one of them."

"I'll have the physics people followed up on, then," Crusher
said, still looking concerned.  "While this isn't a serious
illness if it's caught early enough, it *can* become fatal if the
victim loses the ability to breathe."  She didn't say that Q had
been very close to that point.  There was no reason to alarm
Allen over a might-have-been.

"Will Q be all right?  He's not in danger, is he?"

"Yes, he'll be just fine," Crusher said, smiling reassuringly. 
"Let me take you to him.  He should be feeling better now."

Naomi picked up Ariadne, who was clinging tightly to her, unhappy
about being among so many strange people especially after having
been poked and prodded by some of them, and followed the doctor.

Q was sitting up on a bed, looking disgruntled.  As soon as he
saw Naomi, he started complaining.  "I knew you were behind this. 
I would never have voluntarily agreed to come here."

"If you were capable of disagreeing, I wouldn't have had to bring
you," Naomi said, unruffled.  She was very glad to see him, and
even happier to hear him, to hear that he was back to normal.

Crusher cleared her throat.  "While we've stopped the progress of
the virus, there's going to be some lingering effects.  I want to
give you something for that, Q, and then you can be on your way."

"And the sooner the better," Q sniped.

The doctor went away and came back with a hypo which she pressed
into Q's arm.  "Now, be careful," Crusher cautioned them.  "This
can have side effects."

"What kind of side effects?" Naomi asked sharply, remembering how
D'oritt had almost killed Q with a purgative.  While she didn't
think Crusher would give Q anything like that, she didn't
particularly trust anyone in the medical profession.

"Nothing harmful."  Crusher looked at Q.  "You may sleep a lot; I
wouldn't recommend any complicated holodeck scenarios until it
wears off.  It can also produce a mild degree of euphoria, but
most people find that pleasant.  In any case, I'd recommend that
you get some rest and try to stay in bed as much as possible."

"It's not addictive, is it?" Naomi asked suspiciously.

Crusher shook her head.  "In large doses, yes, but not what I've
given him."

Naomi nodded, then looked at Q, who was still seated on the bed. 
"Ready to go?"

Q had a slight smile on his face, and his eyes didn't quite focus
on her.  "Go where?"

Naomi stopped and stared at him.  "Oh, dear."

****

She had to lead Q back to their room, one hand on Ariadne and the
other on him.  He was floating already, only kept on the ground
by Naomi's hand on his arm.  This was wonderful stuff, much
better than anything Li had ever given him for pain.

A brief thought passed through his mind that he should be more
frightened of this.  Something about iolera root, and being too
terribly happy.  But Q found he couldn't focus on anything,
especially not anything unhappy for more than a few seconds,
before it flitted away.

Nothing wrong with that, he supposed.  He looked at Naomi, and
his heart swelled with emotion for her.  She was so good to him. 
He didn't know what he would do without her.

"I love you," Q said out of the blue.

Naomi looked up at him.  "You *are* euphoric," she observed. 
"Dr. Crusher didn't exaggerate at all.  I'd better get you back
before you say something that's going to embarrass you later."

He had a hurt look on his face.  "Don't you love me?"

"Yes, I love you, Q," Naomi said.  Thankfully, they were close. 
Trying to manage him and Ariadne was not her idea of a fun way to
spend the afternoon.  She gave him a slight prod, and Q floated
lightly into the room, like a balloon in a breeze.

Naomi heaved a sigh of relief as the door closed behind them.  It
was one thing for Q to be in a drugged happy state, it was quite
another for it to be happening in public.  He'd hate that, even
if he didn't seem to care right now.  She wasn't overly worried
at the moment though.  Obviously whatever the doctor had given
him had loosened his inhibitions a little.  She already knew that
he loved her, even if he never said it.  Hearing it was good, but
not essential.  And a little euphoria never hurt anyone.

She watched as Q wandered over to the replicator, and looked at
it.

Q was entranced.  It was such a *beautiful* replicator.  "I love
you."

Naomi groaned and covered her face with her hands.  This was
going to be a very long day.

****

When Picard stopped by to visit, Naomi knew she couldn't let him
stay, or even let him in the room.

"Really, captain, you don't want to come in."

"I don't?" Picard asked in an utterly calm voice.

Naomi shook her head.  "Q isn't feeling well..."

"Is anything wrong?  Dr. Crusher informed me that he had been
ill, but I received the impression that he was recuperating..."

"Oh, he is," Naomi said, interrupting him.  "But he can't see
anyone."

"Can't see anyone?  Why not?"

Q happened to pick that moment to wander into the room.  He
spotted Naomi trying to fend Picard off and homed in on them with
all the instincts of a drunk man at a sorority party.  "Jean-Luc! 
How nice to see you!"

Picard looked at Naomi, who sighed and stepped back, letting him
into the room.  The door finally closed behind him.  She was
going to regret this, she knew that.  It was a very bad idea, but
she couldn't do anything else now without being extremely rude,
even more rude than she was capable of being.

"I came to see how you were doing, Q.  Beverly told me that you
had been ill."

"Oh, that," Q said, dismissing it as something of no importance. 
He looked at Picard again, and got the expression on his face
that Naomi most dreaded, the one that said he was feeling
sentimental and nostalgic.

But she didn't have time to avert the coming catastrophe.

"Did I ever tell you how much I love you, Jean-Luc?  You've been
such a *wonderful* friend to me.  I can't imagine what I would
have done without you.  Having me on your ship... coming here...
you're *too* good to me."

Picard looked utterly stunned, as if he couldn't tell whether Q
were lying and what to do if it turned out he wasn't.  "Q..."

Naomi couldn't take any more of this.  "C'mon, Q, you need to lie
down now."

He looked fondly down at her.  "Naomi.  I love you."

"I love you, too.  Now let's go."  She draped her arm around his
waist and he allowed her to lead him away.

When she came back, Picard was still standing there, that strange
expression still fixed on his face.  "Did he...  he couldn't
have..."

"He's on a medication that makes him say things that I'm not sure
he means," Naomi said.  "He's already vowed his undying love to
just about everything in here, except the carpet, which I'm sure
is feeling scorned right about now."

"Oh.  Ah..." Picard didn't seem to know what to say.  If Naomi
didn't know better, she would have sworn he was mortally
embarrassed.

"That was why I was *trying* to keep you out of here.  I'll do my
best to convince him that part of it was a dream, but I don't
think he's going to be terribly pleased when he wakes up and
remembers this, if you know what I mean."  Naomi glared at the
captain, who had the grace to finally look ashamed of himself.

"I'm sorry, Doctor.  It won't happen again."

"Thank you."  She ushered him out, then went to check on Q.

****

The drug wore off the evening of the second day.  By then, Q
didn't need it for what it had originally been prescribed for,
but he found out how horrible it felt when it was gone.

He had been sleeping; one of the effects of it was to send him
into pleasant daydreams that were almost better than real life,
which was also fairly entertaining at the moment.

Q wasn't sure what woke him; perhaps the twinge in his shoulder,
the pain that didn't belong there after so many hours without
feeling pain of any kind.  But when he did wake, it was to a
bleak, empty world.

The last vestiges of the drug had worked their way out of his
system while he slept, and in its absence, it left him deprived,
a backlash of depression hitting him as strongly as the euphoria
had taken him over, perhaps even more.  It was the hangover to
end all hangovers, and Q wanted to die.  It wasn't even the
memories of what he'd done that made him feel that way.  He
scarcely remembered those; they were like vague dreams that
flitted away when he tried to pin them down.  It was the absence
of all that happiness, all that wellspring of contentment that
reminded him so much of what he'd lost when he'd been tossed out
of the Continuum that was what was killing him.

He forced himself up.  If he was going to kill himself, he
couldn't do it there.  There were a number of different ways he
could do it, things he could use, but not a whole lot to work
with in the bedroom, and certainly nothing in the bed, other than
the sheet, and he knew he didn't have the mental determination
for that right now.

Shakily, he made his way across the room and out into the main
room of the suite.  There were a number of lovely items there
that he could use, all out of Ariadne's reach, something Naomi
had insisted on and Q found quite unfathomable.  How was natural
selection supposed to operate if you continually pampered and
coddled your offspring?  In a world with all threats removed,
both the stupid and the worthwhile would have a chance to
survive, a concept that made little sense to Q, but had earned
him a tongue lashing from Naomi when he had attempted to explain
it to Naomi.

All it meant now was that he'd have to reach a little to get at
the item he wanted.

There was nothing good about his life, nothing worth saving. 
Ever since he had become human, it had been nothing but misery
and pain, with episodes of depression that had almost, but not
quite, equalled what he felt now.

Then, though, someone had always managed to stop him.  Very
disappointing.  If they hadn't stopped him, then he wouldn't be
here now, wouldn't have to do this again.

Q reached up and took down a knife-edged sculpture.  It would do,
although the multiple points would be rather awkward.  He held it
in one hand.  Someone had always stopped him before, and even as
he stood there, holding the sharp object, he half expected
someone to come in now.  But no one would stop him this time.

But when he had felt this way before, and someone stopped him,
the pain went away.  There were moments between the hopelessness,
times when even Q could admit that life wasn't all that bad, even
good occasionally.  Maybe the pain would go away now.  Maybe he
didn't need to die to escape the rampaging darkness inside his
head.

Even as he thought that, even as he had changed his mind and made
the difficult decision to live, the door was opening, and
Sanaharrar came through it without stopping, making directly for
him.

Q held up his hands to fend her off, but it did no good.  She
barreled into the room, heading right for him, then skidded to a
halt instead, stopping just short of knocking him to the ground.

Her head rubbed against his leg, her body twining around him, as
if she were trying to offer comfort from sheer physical presence.

But it was the mental addition to that which did Q in, the
emotional aura rising off of her, of reassurance and caring.

He collapsed to his knees, then slid sideways onto the floor, the
sculpture falling from his hands.  Somehow, her head found its
way into the circle of his arms as Q sobbed out the pain and the
frustration that he felt.

She started purring, and all Q could do was cry, in long racking
sobs that shook his whole body.

****

"Come in."

Troi walked into the room, and Naomi could *see* her stagger
under the onslaught of emotions.  The counsellor came across the
room to them.

Naomi was half-seated, half-lying on the bed.  She didn't look up
at Troi, being completely involved in holding Q.  Naomi had
walked in on what looked like Sanaharrar holding Q down, and
after getting over her shock, had realized that Q had tried to
kill himself and had been stopped by Sanaharrar.  Naomi had just
as immediately realized what needed to be done.  She had turned
Ariadne over to someone else; there was no chance that Naomi
could pay attention to her now.

Q wasn't struggling much now; he *had* been frantic at first, and
she hurt from it.  There was a nasty bruise forming on her cheek,
and she had fingermarks on her arms, but Naomi didn't hold them
against Q.  He didn't know how strong he was, and he'd been
hysterical when he grabbed onto her.  The bruise on her cheek had
resulted from her getting in the way of his shoulder, and wasn't
anything worse than anything she'd gotten in the holodeck due to
falling rock.  You naturally could program the holodeck to remove
such hazards, but to Naomi, that not only took all the sport out
of it but kept her from being prepared for the real thing.  What
Q had done was minor in comparison.

Sanaharrar lay curled up at the foot of the bed, preventing an
escape.  She lashed her tail at the counsellor's approach,
watching her warily.

"Are you all right, Q?" Troi asked.

"Go away!" Q said, huddling closer to Naomi.  His voice was
choked with tears, and the last thing he wanted right now was a
prying empath rummaging through his mind.  He couldn't throw up
shields without blocking Sanaharrar out as well, and even as
confused and unhappy as he was, he knew that would be wrong.  The
only thing keeping him from drowning in the depths of his despair
was the emotional feed coming to him through Sanaharrar and
knowing that Naomi loved him.  He *had* made the decision not to
kill himself, and they *were* comforting him, but it did no good,
hardly seemed to affect the despair that he felt.

Naomi glanced up at Troi.  "Can you do anything for him?"

Troi reinforced her shielding and came closer to them.  Q's face
was hidden from her, but he was "shouting" his unhappiness and
despair telepathically, and she couldn't help but pick up some of
the sheer emotion behind it, despite her shields.  Troi shook her
head.  "I could talk to him..."

Without even realizing that she was doing it, Naomi shook her
head emphatically.  "No."

"Why not?" Troi asked, curious.

Only then did Naomi realize what she had done and how quickly she
had reacted to ensure that Troi didn't get to talk to Q.  She
didn't know why she'd done it; she simply had an instinctive urge
that Q would not want to talk to Troi and should not be asked to
do so.

"I don't know," Naomi said, embarrassed.  "But it wouldn't do any
good anyway.  He doesn't even want to talk to me; he's definitely
not going to talk to anyone else."

That was quite correct.  Q kept his eyes tightly closed, hoping
that the other woman would just disappear.  He didn't want to
talk, didn't want to make the emotions plaguing him that much
more real.  Having Naomi there kept the worst of them at bay,
gave him some hope, but it also made him paradoxically that much
weaker.  He *knew*, although he couldn't say how he knew, that if
she hadn't been there, if Sanaharrar hadn't interrupted him, that
he would not have killed himself, that he would have somehow
found the strength to turn away from that choice.  But the only
way that could have happened was if Sanaharrar didn't exist, if
Naomi didn't exist, if no one cared about him at all.  That was
more than possible; Q knew all too well what it felt like to be
ignored and hated.  However, even if that were the case, he still
wouldn't have done it, still would have turned away from killing
himself.  But it would have left him empty, much harder, much
colder.  He could have borne it all alone, but it would have been
at a much higher cost to his self.  Somehow, strangely, having
Naomi there, being *allowed* to be weak made all the feelings
well up worse, made them come out instead of just being savagely
suppressed as he had suppressed his other feelings, had beaten
down every feeling before Naomi had come into his life and
started making things complicated.

"Perhaps Dr. Crusher could prescribe something?" Troi suggested.

Naomi shook her head again.  "I don't think so.  Her last attempt
at prescribing something for Q was not what you'd call
successful."

"If I call her, will you at least let her examine him?"

Grudgingly, Naomi nodded.  She didn't want to say yes, and she
didn't think that the doctor could do anything constructive, but
she didn't know what else to do.

****

Crusher came and took a look at Q.  She had to examine him while
Naomi held him, because Naomi wouldn't move and wouldn't even
consider having him shifted to Sickbay.

The doctor straightened up.  "There's nothing *physically* wrong
with him."

Naomi could hear the slight stress on the word "physically", and
she didn't like it, didn't like the implication that Q was
mentally unwell even if it did happen to be true.  "So?"

"There's nothing I can do.  Not without giving him an anti-
depressant, which might very well *cause* the same syndrome all
over again if Q is as vulnerable to them as he was to the
Opanethine."

Naomi shrugged.  "That's about what I expected."  Her shoulders
were tensed, as if preparing for some attack.

Crusher looked at Naomi, and Q, whose head was huddled in her
lap, and felt a little sorry for him.  It was hard to feel sorry
for Q, far easier to despise him for his weakness, but there was
something very touching about the scene.  And Deanna had asked
her as a special favor to see if she couldn't do *something*.

"I *could* prescribe a sedative.  Something to help him sleep
through this.  It's not a solution, but if this is an artificial
condition brought on by the earlier medication, then time is the
only thing which will cure it.  And a sedative might help him get
through it."

Naomi looked down at Q.  She had never seen him quite this
pitiful, quite this needy, and she was ready to try just about
anything to help him.  Nothing she said seemed to do any good,
unlike the other times he'd been depressed.  Maybe a
pharmaceutical solution was the answer.

"All right."

****

After getting Q to sleep, Sanaharrar and Naomi could have stopped
watching over him so closely.  There was little danger of him
hurting himself, little danger of him even being able to get out
of bed without assistance, but Naomi felt, and Sanaharrar
apparently agreed, that he needed them.

They left him only for the briefest of times, and never both left
together.  Only when it was absolutely necessary would either of
them get up, and they couldn't, wouldn't leave him alone.

Sanaharrar's long body was stretched out all the way along Q's,
her head resting on a pillow and her tail wrapped around his
ankle.  She was purring in a way that was meant to be reassuring,
but made the whole bed tremble slightly from the force of it.

Naomi couldn't quite match Sanaharrar's ability to stretch out
and apparently nap all day, and instead contented herself with
being propped up against the head of the bed, padd in hand, Q's
arm wrapped around her waist, anchoring her to the bed.

He was lying half on his side, curled up against Naomi, and for
all intents and purposes was dead to the world.  The soporifics
Dr. Crusher had him taking were enough to put him into a doze
about half the time.  And when he wasn't sleeping, he was crying.

But that was better than trying to kill himself.

Naomi didn't know if he actually would have tried or not.  She
would have liked to think that he had too many reasons to live
now for that to occur to him, no matter how depressed he was. 
She could understand him *wanting* to, or talking about it, but
if he had actually been so unhappy that he had tried...  She
shuddered.  She didn't even want to think about it.

But she had walked in and found what looked like Sanaharrar lying
on top of Q, holding him pinned to the ground.  There was no way
to know then what his original intentions had been, although the
sharp edged metal sculpture lying next to him had been a good
clue.

And now, he was too shattered to tell them what he'd actually
meant to do.  But Q was not violent or suicidal anymore as far as
they knew.

****

Q came out of it gradually, spending more time waking than
sleeping, and less time crying.  He was still very clingy,
seeking out Naomi whenever she wasn't immediately present, and
staying less than a meter from her as much as he possibly could.

Which only made his actual *attitude* that much harder to put up
with.  He might be physically clingy, but verbally, he was more
abusive than ever, as if desperate to put back the emotional
distance that had been destroyed over the last week.

And Naomi let him.  There was something to be said for someone
who was telling you that everything you thought, said or did was
inutterably stupid and pathetic while they clung to your hand and
refused to let go of you.  If she'd thought Q meant any of it,
she might have been hurt, but as it was, she simply ignored
everything that came out of his mouth in favor of what his body
language was saying, which was that he needed her.

The only problem was that *Q* didn't seem to realize that he
needed her, didn't seem to realize he was following her around
and trying to be close to her.  Naomi was somewhat at a loss of
what to do with him.  He wanted to be with her, but wanted her to
leave, and if she'd ever said he was easy to understand, she
should have been shot on the spot, because she had obviously been
lying.

"How could you possibly have thought that coming here was a good
idea?" Q asked.

Naomi shrugged.  "I don't know.  I think it had something to do
with the way you practically jumped up and down for joy when
Riker showed up and first suggested it."

"That's got nothing to do with anything.  That wasn't even the
*real* Riker."

She was sitting at his feet, one arm up on the couch next to him,
and he was consciously or unconsciously stroking her hand as he
held it.  "From what I hear, see one Riker, you've seen them
all."

That was true enough, but Q didn't care about any good points she
might make.  "It's all your fault.  We would never have come here
if it weren't for you."

"Well, yes, but only because you would have spent forever packing
and the Enterprise would have left without us.  Do you know that
it took you and Harry longer to get him packed than it did for me
to pack everything of ours?"

"Only because you got rid of some of my best things," Q said
sulkily.

"I'll have you know some people think I have excellent taste."

"These people must be blind or suffering from a large influx of
gold pressed latinum."

Naomi couldn't help herself.  She knew that was supposed to be an
insult, but she laughed anyway.  "I love you, you know."

"What a nauseating sentiment."  For a moment his fingers seemed
to cling more tightly to her hand, as if reassuring himself that
she was still there despite what he was saying.

"You didn't seem to think so a few days ago," Naomi said
tauntingly.  "I clearly remember you telling me that you loved
me."

"And you *believed* me?  Really, Naomi.  Such desperation isn't
becoming."  He didn't quite remember that, but then, he didn't
know that it was the truth either.  Naomi was quite capable of
making something up just to tease him with.  What he *did*
remember was intensely embarrassing, and if he thought for a
moment that his hazy memories of having sworn undying love to
Picard were true, then he would really have been suicidal.

Naomi blithely ignored him.  "The only thing I didn't get was why
you chose to fall in love with the *replicator*.  Now, your
wardrobe I could have understood -- you're very attached to your
clothes, but the *replicator*?"

"Between you and the replicator, I would definitely choose the
replicator."

"All right, fine, I can take a hint," Naomi said.  She wasn't
truly annoyed with him, but he did seem to be tiring of her and
in general.  "I'm leaving."

"Good riddance," Q said.  Naomi looked at him, not moving, until
Q finally got irritated enough to say, "Well, aren't you going?"

"Are you going to give me my hand back?"

"Oh."  Q let go of her hand, then felt curiously lost, as though
something were missing.  "*Now* will you leave?"

"Of course I will.  I *said* I was going, didn't I?"

"Since when does what you say you'll do have anything to do with
your actual actions?"

Naomi stood up and went over to the table where she grabbed a
padd.  After pulling on her shoes, she came back over to him. 
"I'm turning over a new leaf.  Starting today, I'll mean
everything I say except when I don't feel like it."

"That's *so* reassuring."

"I know.  I'm just that kind of person, I guess."  She leaned
over him and kissed him, and then she was gone.

The room was quiet in her absence, and immediately, Q felt that
weight of silence descending upon him.  It wasn't anything like
the depression he had endured before, but being left alone was
still difficult, still felt wrong.  He wished suddenly that she
hadn't gone, that he had said *something*, anything to keep her
there.

On the other hand, now that she was gone, he could lie down and
take a nap.  That didn't sound bad at all.

He put his feet up on the couch and pushed a pillow over to go
under his head, then laid down and closed his eyes.  Ah, yes. 
That did feel good.

The quiet of the room and the haziness of his own thoughts closed
around him, and after not very long at all, he fell into a tired,
halting slumber, filled with disjointed nonsensical dreams where
various strangely dressed people obsessed over the movements and
emotional states of little green pieces of paper, which was odd,
because on the whole, it wasn't the little green pieces of paper
who were unhappy.

****

Q woke up after a while, and then he felt cold and quite alone. 
After a minute, it occurred to him to tug the blanket from the
back of the couch down on himself.  He considered not doing it --
the blanket did not match his outfit, and would indeed make him
look ridiculous if anyone were to see him -- but there was no one
to see and no reason not to do it.

He still felt very weak, even though there was no medical reason
for it.  He certainly wouldn't let Crusher give him anything for
it under any circumstances, but all he wanted to do was sleep and
be left alone.

Which of course, naturally, he could not do.

He was almost happy Naomi had left and Sanaharrar was outside. 
They had been with him so constantly during his depression, and
while he appreciated their presence then, and maybe even a little
bit now, he couldn't bear their company.  They were like salt to
a raw wound, exacerbating what he already felt.

And then he heard a sound.  A door opening.  Not the door to the
outside, but...

"Dada!"  A tiny shape deposited itself on him, Ariadne asserting
her rightful place in the universe by taking up residence on his
chest.

Q sighed as deeply as he could under the circumstances. 
Unfortunately, it seemed that Naomi had not taken the child with
her when she left.  That Naomi might have deliberately left
Ariadne there to keep him company did not occur to Q.  He wrote
it off as just another example of Naomi's thoughtlessness.  He
didn't feel like dealing with anyone right now, not even Ariadne,
and particularly not if the child were feeling hyperactive.

He looked grumpily down at the child sprawled across him, acting
for all the world as though he were some sort of superior piece
of furniture.  "What are you doing here?"

Ariadne regarded him gravely.  Taking a deep breath, she said,
"You ovvious... ovviously have no con... consip-shun ov... ov..."
then couldn't get the next word out.  Ariadne looked stricken. 
She couldn't remember everything she had wanted to say, and even
though she *knew* it, could hear it right in her head, she
couldn't make it come out.

With a frustrated shriek, she hit him, then threw herself against
him, arms around his neck, crying.

Q didn't quite know what to do.  He hadn't even known she talked,
much less talked like a normal person.  And the fact that she was
crying disturbed him even more.  He didn't know what to do with
someone who was crying, particularly not a child, *his* child.

He put his arms around her and held her.  "No crying.  This is a
no crying zone, and if you don't stop, I shall have to call your
mother."

That didn't seem to have any effect other than to make the child
cling more tightly to him.  Q felt desperate then.  He couldn't
stand it when anyone cried.  He only cried when he was truly
heartbroken, and it was a horrible, shaming action.  When Naomi
cried, it made him feel guilty, and when *Ariadne* cried...

"How about this?  I'll tell you a story.  Would you like me to
tell you a story?"

Ariadne looked up at him, still sobbing a little, and nodded.

"All right, but you have to promise not to cry."  If she kept
crying, *he* might start crying, and that would be truly
horrible, because as vulnerable as he still felt, he might not
stop.

She nodded again, and he cleared his throat.  He didn't actually
have anything in mind, but he'd listened to Naomi tell Ariadne
stories dozens of times, and he was sure that he could do better
than anything she might dream up.

"Once upon a time there was a little girl who wanted to grow up
to be an engineer.  And while her mother, being dangerously
misguided, saw nothing wrong with this, it was still the wrong
choice."

Q looked down at Ariadne who was nestled trustingly against him
and listening intently.  "You see, engineers are the kind of
people who take things apart to see how they work, then can't put
them back together again.  Occasionally, they manage to get it
back together differently, in which case they call it a 'design
change'."

She didn't say anything, which Q felt was an improvement over the
way Naomi had behaved the one and only time he had told her a
story.  She had interrupted him every other sentence, and then
had the nerve to have a baby before he could finish it.  How
appalling.

"Now, what you want to grow up to be is a god.  However, being a
god is a very big responsibility.  You have to learn a lot of
different things, including Reeling, Writhing and Fainting in
Coils, and you have to do them all well or very bad things might
happen like the return of bell bottoms as a fashion statement or
whole planets suddenly turning purple for no particular reason."

He looked at Ariadne.  "Now, what do you want to be when *you*
grow up?"

"Dada!" she said happily.

Q sighed deeply.  Of all the words she had to pick to repeat over
and over again, why did it have to be *that* one?  Why couldn't
it have been something like "eggplant" or "linen"?  Why "Dada"? 
He didn't even *like* that kind of art.

"You can't be that," he explained, and then continued with his
story until she fell asleep.  Q looked down at her, a fond
expression on his face.  She was almost adorable when she was
asleep.  He knew he should get up, should put Ariadne to bed, but
decided instead to just close his eyes for a moment.  Nothing
more.  Just a very little while.

****

At first, Naomi had intended to do some actual work while she was
gone.  She didn't have a job she was neglecting as had been the
case at Starbase 56, but there were a number of things she wanted
to do to expedite Q's adjustment to the Enterprise.  Other than
this particular incident with the drug, Q seemed to be doing all
right.  He'd been getting along famously with the physics
department here, and aside from one rather uncomfortable
confrontation with the manager of Ten Forward, everything seemed
to be proceeding smoothly.  And, assuming Q didn't remember and
Picard never reminded him of their meeting while Q had been
drugged, everything should be going smoothly there as well.

Not that things couldn't be better.

However she never got a chance to put any of her planned
improvements into action because, on her way out the door, she
ran into Harry, who looked as though he'd been about to visit
them.  "What's up, Harry?  Were you on your way to see Q?"

Harry nodded.  "Is he feeling better yet?"

"A little."  Harry at least had possessed the grace and wisdom to
stay away from Q when Naomi had told him not to come by.  "I
think he's trying to sleep now."

"Is it a good idea to leave him alone?" Harry asked anxiously. 
He knew enough about what was going on to be worried about Q.  He
did care, whether or not he ever said or did anything about it.

Naomi nodded.  "He's not really alone.  Sanaharrar's here, and
she'd know if anything were wrong."

Harry looked down at the black shadow curled up outside the door
and shuddered.  While he knew that Sanaharrar wouldn't hurt him,
she always gave him a look like she knew he was frightened of her
and was telling him that he had the right idea.

"Want to go get something to drink?" Naomi offered.  "I haven't
had a chance to talk to much of anyone at all since Q got sick. 
You can tell me outrageous lies about your romantic exploits and
I can pretend to believe them."

"Well, they wouldn't be lies," Harry said smoothly, accepting. 
In a moment, they were headed off to Ten Forward.

Naomi ignored Guinan and sat down with Harry and her hot cider. 
"So what did you mean, they wouldn't be lies?  Idle boast or do
you have actual facts this time?"

He didn't say anything for a long moment, just held his coffee
and stared into it.

"If you don't want to talk about it, that's all right," Naomi
offered quietly.  "I didn't mean to pry."

He looked up with a start.  "Oh.  No, you're not prying.  I
just..."  Harry smiled wryly.  "I just don't quite know what to
say."

"Start at the beginning, and when you get to the end, start
making more stuff up."

He smiled at her, a more genuine smile this time.  "I'll do that,
thanks.  It's just... well, I didn't want to say anything because
I've said this so many times before..."

"You've fallen in love!" Naomi said happily.  "That's wonderful,
Harry."

His face fell.  "I don't know how wonderful it is."

"Why?  What's wrong?"

He turned the cup in his hands, and Naomi wanted to warn him to
drink some of it before he spilled it on himself and burnt his
hands.  "Nothing's *wrong* exactly."

"Then what's the problem?"

"He's not my type." 

"In what way?"

"He's shorter than I am, for one.  And..." Harry's voice dropped. 
"He's nice."

"Oh, horrors," Naomi said, pretending to be shocked.

"I know," Harry said mournfully.

"So, how did you happen to meet up with this guy?  He doesn't
sound like the kind of person you would have sought out."

"He isn't.  I was after the guy he works with.  That's the one I
told you about, that I wanted.  And then Josh asked me out."

"And?"

"It's..." Harry got a faraway look.  "Like no relationship I've
ever been in before.  I think I... I could really care about this
person."

"That's wonderful, Harry."

"But it scares me."

"Why?"

"He's not my type!  I can't possibly be attracted to him.  It's
all going to fade away and I won't like him and I'll be attracted
to other guys who *are* my type and it just won't work."

"Harry..." Naomi said, wanting to give him some reassurance, but
not being sure what to say or where to start.

"What?"

"Do you like him?"

He nodded.

"Care about him?"

Another nod, not as certain.

"Want to go to bed with him?"

A grin this time.  "Frequently."

"Well, then, why worry about it?" Naomi asked, smiling.  "Have
fun, have a relationship -- and try to make it work.  If it
doesn't, well, you've had a lot of practice at that."

"And if it does?"

"Is that so bad?"

He looked at her for a very long moment, then nodded finally.  "I
think that's it.  That's what I'm scared of."

"That it *will* work?"

He nodded again.  "I've never had a relationship that did work. 
I've always broken up with them or them with me before it ever
went anywhere, sometimes even before the sheets had gotten cold. 
And it hurt, but that was the way it was.  But with Josh... it
feels like this might actually be something.  And I'm
frightened."

Naomi reached across and clasped his hand.  "It's all right,
Harry.  If you get married, I won't make Q sing at your wedding."

He grinned at her, fond of her as he could only be of someone who
had once threatened his life.  She'd pulled him out of his
attempt at a bad mood.  "I just want a promise that *you* won't
sing."

"Done!"

They talked a while longer, but mostly about other things, until
Harry's coffee finally got cold and Naomi started getting hungry. 
She excused herself and let Harry find his way to wherever he
felt was appropriate.

When Naomi got back home several hours later, Q and Ariadne were
still on the couch, both fast asleep.  She pulled the blanket
that had gotten pushed down to the end of the couch up over them
and let them sleep.  It was an entirely adorable picture and she
smiled.  This was what she'd seen when they had visited Dharvi
and Helen.  Q had ended up asleep in bed with a child under each
arm.  Even if he still sometimes denied it, he did like kids, and
she was very glad she'd made the decision to have Ariadne.

She didn't think she'd ever been happier than she was right now.


-the end-