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Subject: New: TNG - Q et Chemise - 12 - P/C/Q
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Foreword:
First of all, I would like to say this story is neither original, nor
particularly good. As such, it is not meant to be taken seriously. Also,
although English is my mother-tongue, I am not used to writing in it, so
some of the sentences might look strange (or indeed, be strange). This
story is rated 12 for sex (I don't know the rating system in the US) and
contains some scenes of a homosexual nature (as you will have guessed from
the title). Be warned that there are some extended characters used in the
body of this message.
Pointful comments are very welcome, pointless flames rather less so.
This is a draft... do not archive. Thanks.

Notes:
- In French, the name of the letter Q has exactly the same pronunciation as
the word *cul* ("arse"). (Can't wait to see what they call him in the
French version ;-)
- "Cul et chemise" is an derogatory expression meaning that two people are
made to get on well.
- Bon sang = dammit, c'est pas vrai = this can't be true. The rest you can
sort out with the help of a dictionary and a bit of imagination.

Disclaimer:
The characters and the world they live in are copyrighted property of
Paramount. The story itself is copyright 1996 by Ariana.

Q et Chemise
by Ariana

     It was about an hour after the beginning of the Enterprise's night,
and the captain was walking the chief medical officer back to her quarters.
Their romantic dinner in a Holodeck Egyptian restaurant, followed by some
classic ballroom dancing, had left them happy and content. They silently
trod the soft carpet of the brand new vessel, walking a little way apart
from each other, as if for fear that a random security patrol might
surprise them, although their presence together alone at such a late hour
would be quite enough to add yet more gist to the ship's rumour mill.
      They reached the door to Dr. Crusher's quarters and stopped there,
facing each other in the dimly lit doorway.
      "Thank you, Beverly, that was a great evening," said the captain
gently. "That restaurant you chose was wonderful."
      Crusher smiled. "So was the company."
      Picard leaned forward slowly, and the doctor parted her lips in
anticipation. But instead of kissing her, her commanding officer just
rubbed the tip of his nose gently against hers. She closed her eyes briefly
as she felt her pulse quicken at this simple, sensual gesture. Opening them
again, she directed her calm, blue gaze at his hazel eyes and this time,
she was the one who moved forward. Their faces were level, and she tilted
her head slightly to one side, pressing the tip of her nose against his
cheek, and her lips onto his mouth.
      She heard him let out a little gasp and he took one step backwards,
as if he were avoiding her touch. But he was now backed up against the door
frame, and she soon cornered him with an arm across his only means of
escape. She pressed her body against his, letting out a little sigh of
pleasure at what she felt against her hip.
      Her lips were pressed against his again, and her tongue tickled his
lower lip ever so gently. A violent shudder racked his body and he groaned.
His lips were parting and she pressed even harder against him, savouring
the thrill of anticipation as he surrendered.
      "Kiss her, you idiot!" ordered an impatient flash of light beside
them.
      The lovers reluctantly turned to look at the light, while still
remaining in each other's arms.
      "Not now, Q..." croaked a visibly aroused doctor, her voice husky
with desire.
      The entity, who had resumed his usual male form and dressed himself
in a old captain's outfit, looked them both over with obvious disgust. Not
only were they both exuding heat, but their breathing was uneven, their
eyes clouded with lust, their pulse irregular. To the Q, they both looked
profoundly silly. Especially Picard, who didn't even have the sense to
order him off his new ship. Perhaps the fact that he had his hands on the
backside of the doctor's dress was clouding his judgment. Q probed both
their minds and found the same old emotion -- lust.
      "You both look terrible!" he exclaimed. "This business doesn't agree
with you humans at all. You lose all sense of decorum: one minute you're
walking around pretending you haven't noticed who you're walking with, and
the next you're practically fornicating in the corridor! And what is the
point of these silly games, anyway? Just get on with it."
      Sensing that the entity had no intention of leaving them to 'get on
with it', the lovers reluctantly separated. Crusher leant against the door,
her arms folded, while Picard remained in his cornered position, with just
one arm around the doctor's waist.
   The captain cleared his throat and tried his voice. It did work, but
sounded a bit strained.
   "Q, this really isn't the best time..." he started.
   "This is most unlike you, mon capitaine!" interrupted the entity,
visibly angry about something. "A few nights with your lady friend here and
you've become an absolute sop... You haven't even ordered me off your ship
yet!"
   "Now there's a good idea," said Crusher wistfully.
   "There had better be a point to all this, Q," said the captain as his
body started to return to normal -- not half fast enough.
   Q waggled a warning finger at Picard.
   "I haven't finished, you useless human. But yes, there is a point to all
this. I've been observing your species closely for the past decade of your
years and you know how much I care about you. I have great hopes for your
future development, especially since you've turned out less savage than I
had initially imagined. By some aspects, you can nearly reach
non-corporality. But the minute your body starts clamouring for this...
sex," -- he spat it out as if it were a dirty word (which it once was, in
fact) -- "you lose all faculty of reason and become little more than
rutting animals!"
   The captain just sighed. He was in no state to argue the point. Why
couldn't the entity just bugger off and let him recover? 
   "That's precisely the point, mon capitaine!" Q was relieved to get at
least one coherent thought from his favourite case study. "And I am
especially disappointed in you. I have seen the effects lust has on your
species, and I'm sad to see you are not immune yourself. You're normally so
in control -- at least when I'm not around, of course. But these past few
days, you seem to have regressed into a lifeform that kowtows to his lowest
instincts. And all because of her."
   He pointed at Beverly and, indeed, as she was the only female around,
that was probably who he was talking about.
   "No need to go blaming me," protested the doctor. "Anyway, we haven't
done anything wrong. We're both mature adults and we can do what we like."
   At the sound of her voice, Picard turned to look at her. There were lots
of things he liked doing with her.
   "When you are quite finished, doctor," sneered the entity, "I might just
add that our dear captain here hasn't had the best effect on you, either."
   But Beverly felt Jean-Luc's hand gently rub the small of her back and
turned to find him gazing at her. They smiled at each other as if sharing
some private joke, though Q could find nothing funny in their minds. Just
some mushy, warm affection and a good deal of lust... as usual.
   "Stop that!" he ordered.
   Just as he said those words, a security gard appeared around a bend in
the corridor.
   "Halt, who goes there?" she challenged, using a phrase which had not
been improved on since Roman times.
   "It's all right, Ensign," said Picard with a calming wave of his free
hand. He felt a lump of embarrassement in his throat as he wondered how he
was going to explain his presence there with an arm around his chief
medical officer's waist. Though, of course, he wouldn't have to explain
anything -- anyone who heard of this would know exactly what he was up to.
   The explanation would have to wait, though, since by a wave of Q's hand,
they were now all three in the doctor's quarters. The captain, who had been
leaning quite heavily against the door frame, nearly fell over. Q steadied
him and then separated the lovers so they stood over a meter apart.
   "Yes, I am really disappointed, my dear captain," he said cooly.
"Sitting up there on your bridge, pretending to be the cool, reserved
captain, when all the time you're just thinking about this woman." The
entity circled Crusher as he spoke, looking her over from top to bottom, as
if he was trying to determine what was so attractive about her. But when
she saw the expression on his face, she knew that he understood all too
clearly. His look was very, very familiar. She could hardly believe it: Q
was giving her the eye!
   "What do you think you're doing, Q?" Picard had caught the look as well
and grunted involuntarily as he realised the entity was paralysing him.
"Stop it!"
   Q payed no attention, but Beverly looked at him and gave him a little
reassuring smile. She was actually rather flattered and thought she should
be able to handle the situation.
   The entity was now standing behind her, and placed his hand on the nape
of her neck.
   "He's quite terrible, you know. You'd think to look at him that he was a
dignified old man, but in fact, he spends his time imagining his hips
against yours, the pair of you at it in your quarters... or his quarters,
or sickbay, or his ready-room, for that matter."
   With a shudder, due either to the hand on her neck or the thought his
words evoqued, Crusher looked over at her lover with a surprised smile.
Picard put on a nonchalant expression, looking up at the ceiling, before
clearly indicating his guilt with a wink in her direction. In spite of his
embarrassing situation, he felt he could endure any humiliation for that
smile. The feeling didn't last too long.
   Q was dismayed. They really weren't paying attention to him. He moved
his arms so that they were encircling Beverly's body. She placed her hands
on his and tried unsuccessfully to remove them.
   "Of course," said the entity gently, "that means Counsellor Troi enjoys
her bridge duty as never before. All those thoughts of you..." He moved his
hands, sliding one further down and the other futher up.
   His words got the captain's attention, at least. His face was the
impassible mask of mortification he put on when he was embarrassed. Easily
embarrassed as he was, the expression was quite common. In this particular
case, he was remembering some of the daydreams he had indulged in, and a
cold pall of anguish seized him as he realised what Troi could sense when
her mind was open.
   "She wouldn't open her mind unless there was a good reason," he
protested uncertainly.
   This time it was the entity who wasn't listening. He was presently
kissing Beverly's neck. "In fact, I don't know how the Counsellor gets any
sleep... with your thoughts in her mind... every night... and day, and any
time you are alone in a room for more than a couple of minutes... His lips
on yours, your bodies entwined..."
   The doctor let him caress her for a moment. "You sound quite
well-informed, Q. Sounds like you're the one not getting any sleep."
   The entity lifted his lips off her skin and placed them near her ear. "I
don't lose any sleep, believe me. In fact, I don't sleep at all... or had
you forgotten, doctor?"
   The lowest hand went even lower and, with a gasp, the doctor broke from
his embrace. She turned to face him.
   "What game are you playing this time, you useless entity?"
   "Why, doctor, I thought you were a woman of passion..." An impish smile
lit up his pale face. "...in fact, I know you're a woman of passion. That's
my only game, and, let's face it, it's a pretty human one, isn't it?"
   The doctor smiled reluctantly. "I may be a woman of passion, but I'm not
interested in you. You should know that."
   Q looked petulantly offended. "Not interested in me? Why not? Don't tell
me you find me ugly. I took great care to choose this shape so that people
of your race would find me handsome."
   "Handsome is pushing it a little," she laughed.
   "Attractive, then?" 
   "Hmm..." She seemed reluctant to answer. He moved closer and stood
behind her (something he really couldn't resist), gently holding her by the
shoulders so that she turned and looked at Picard.
   "Because if you think he is attractive, I must say I have very little
confidence in your judgment. Do you find him handsome?"
   Beverly smiled. She was relaxed and confident, despite the omnipotent
entity standing behind her.
   "I definitely do."
   "He's twenty years older than you --"
   "Nineteen."
   He sighed, exasperated. "At my level, that makes very little difference,
doctor. Anyway, he's in his late sixties. He doesn't have a hair on his
head. His nose is too big and his eyes are too small. He is as stodgy as
they come --"
   Beverly let out an "Oh" that indicated she didn't agree with that.
   "It took him a quarter of one of your centuries to get around to
admitting that he loved you, and he only did _that_ under duress..." He
gently pulled the woman around to face him. "Whereas I am aesthetically
pleasing, offering you a male of your species both younger and
better-looking than... him." He indicated Picard with a dismissive wave of
his hand. "Far better company, of course --"
   "...With such a lovely personality, too..."
   "And..." He drew his face nearer to Beverly's. "I am omnipotent."
   She moved her face nearer his, mimicking his expression. "I don't
require omnipotent lovers. A potent one is quite enough."
   He tentatively fingered a strand of her blond hair. "Don't worry,
doctor. I think I can lower my potency to your requirements..." He looked
at the pale strand in his hand. "...I'm almost positive your hair used to
be red."
   Beverly laughed gaily at the non-sequituur, placing her hand on Q's.
"Now, now, who said you could touch?"
   The entity removed his hand. "Very well, doctor. May I touch your hair?"
he asked with just a hint of sarcasm.
   "Well, all right, but no sudden movements." That didn't have much
relevance to the present situation, but neither seemed to mind.
   Meanwhile, Picard was still standing like a lemon watching his nemesis
fingering his lover. The fact that she seemed quite willing was almost as
irritating as the fact that they were ignoring him. Though the combination
of both was having an unexpected effect on his body. "Since you obviously
don't need me, perhaps you could let me leave," he snorted impatiently.
   Without so much as a wave of his hand, Q threw Picard on the couch and
pinned him there, unable to move, and, for a moment, unable to speak as
well. The doctor looked at him in concern.
   "He doesn't look very pleased," she said uncertainly.
   "Believe me, he's loving every minute of it." Q's hand was now caressing
her thin white neck.
   "I don't think so." Beverly took his hand and removed it, holding it in
hers.
   "You forget that I can read his mind."
   At this, Picard flushed violently. Beverly and Q looked at him, and then
at each other. Q twisted his hand around in Beverly's to seize it, while
his other hand appeared on her hip, both conspiring to draw her nearer. She
moved with very little reluctance and lifted her face towards his with a
smile.
   The captain had again recovered the use of his voice. "Beverly!" he
hissed, all the more remarkably as there were no hissing sounds in the
name.
   She thought it was rather unfair of him to call her name when it was the
entity who was doing all the seducing. Admitedly, Q wasn't using many of
his powers, so she could have resisted. Just a little extra electric tingle
from his lips on her neck, and a third hand that seemed to be holding her
in place. She didn't bother to pinpoint his special touches, there were
more pressing things at hand. Or rather, more pressing lips against hers
and a warm mouth that was quite convincingly human.
   Her evening dress didn't so much disappear as magically rematerialise in
a messy pile of bright blue at her feet. Her underwear, which was meant to
be invisible anyway, vanished completely, and Picard, whose forced seat
afforded him a very good view, admired the contrast between her white skin
and Q's predominantly black uniform. He noticed for the first time that Q
was wearing the black and red jumsuit and grey turtleneck that seemed to be
standard for deep space exploration. Hardly surprising, considering the
entity's predilection for elegant atire. This momentarily distracted the
captain into wondering whose idea it was to change Starfleet uniforms every
couple of years or so. And in particular who had designed the latest black
and greys that made the entire crew feel as if they were at a funeral
(except the Asians, who usually wore white at funerals).
   A moan from Beverly distracted him from his sartorial concerns and he
watched, fascinated, as Q carressed her body, running a hand over her hips,
her back, her breasts, back down her stomach... It was a while before
Picard realised he was gaping, open-mouthed. Annoyed, he tried to move,
furious that the entity was intent on making love to his lover and that she
was planning to go along with it. But most of all furious because he was
finding it exciting as hell. 
   A sudden yelp from Beverly just added to this feeling. She looked so
vulnerable, and yet so happy. He knew from experience how much she enjoyed
this sort of activity (most women did, but she just did it differently). Q
probably knew from experience how much she enjoyed this, too. From Picard's
experience, possibly. But the captain didn't feel like thinking that out
just then.
   The entity bent down ever so slightly to kiss the doctor's cheek and
then looked at his hand, with a slight expression of disgust. He thought
his hand clean, and then, without so much as a flash, the doctor and he
disappeared into the adjoining bedroom. Picard found that he was now free.
Confused and irritatingly aroused, he waited for a moment, trying to calm
his senses with a great deal of mental discipline (past mind-melds with
Vulcans were useful in such occasions). He was angry that neither Crusher
nor Q had paid the least bit of attention to him. His past experiences with
both of them (very recent ones in the doctor's case) had brought him to
believe, were a sexual situation to arise, that he would be the focal point
for their attention. Obviously not.
   A wanton shriek from the bedroom encouraged him to get up. To hell with
the stoic captain bit, he placed himself in front of the door and it
obediently opened. The scene which awaited him inside the doctor's bedroom
was exactly the one he expected to see. The entity looked like nothing so
much as a naked human busy trying to perpetuate the species. The fact that
Q couldn't possibly be trying to perpetuate the human race didn't strike
Picard as a paradox. The sight, on the other hand, did strike him as one
conducive to a great deal of mental discipline if he wanted to keep his
body under control. The door tried to contribute to his discipline by
closing on him, which would certainly have given his thoughts another
direction, but he stepped forward into the room before it got a chance.
   The only parts of Beverly's anatomy that he could see clearly were her
long white legs, entwined with Q's, and her hands pressed into the entity's
back (as well as part of her arms, since her hands were attached to them).
A movement of Q's head revealed Beverly's flushed face and crumpled yellow
hair, and he looked down at her tenderly. It was rather interesting
watching her with another man... entity... lover, whatever.
   "Jean-Luc..." she breathed, just before a sudden wave of pleasure shook
her body. Wherever he had been the last couple of years, Q seemed to have
picked up a trick or two.
   The captain intended to sit on the bed, but found that the entity wasn't
perhaps quite as concentrated on his lover as he had presumed. Some sort of
invisible something pushed him off. So instead, he knelt beside the bed,
and kissed Beverly's hand as she reached out to him. He was vaguely aware
that he looked rather silly kneeling on the floor, but since the only
possible spectators in the room were otherwise occupied, he presumed no-one
would notice. Besides, he had a rather good view from there.
   The little hand he was holding was beginning to grasp his harder,
digging her nails into his flesh, harder and harder, until she released the
tension in her body with a lovely feminine groan, and let go of his hand.
He automatically flexed it a bit, to see if it was still working (and,
unsurprisingly, it was).
   Q turned his face towards the captain, and for a moment, looked very
much like a tired, happy human being. The illusion didn't last, as the
entity opened his eyes, and, finding Picard's face at eye-level, gave him a
rather self-satisfied grin, the one he kept for when he was really,
extremely pleased with himself.
   "Enjoy that, did you, mon capitaine?"
   The captain looked away as his mind unleashed the full force of his
ridiculous and shameful behaviour in one big wave of embarrassment. Not so
much a wave, in fact, as a slow moving flood that didn't wash away. The
entity rematerialised on the edge of the bed, still naked and remarkably
human-looking. Picard couldn't help but notice that his face was now level
with Q's lap. He had seen the entity's human form naked before, of course,
but circumstances were somewhat different. He had a feeling of dejà-vu,
except that that occasion had occurred about forty years ago and that
particular man had been a blond Ensign. Couldn't remember his name, either.
   Beverly was recovering from the experience and drew herself up on one
elbow. She observed the unusual sight of her commanding officer kneeling at
Q's feet, and found it rather troubling. A little shiver ran through her as
she thought of what could ensue. Her thought was not unlike Jean-Luc's
memory, in fact.
   The entity was suddenly fully dressed and looked at the two humans with
an interest tainted by the slightest trace of disgust.
   "Do you really think I will indulge you both in your repressed little
fantasies?"
   The apparent irrelevance of his remark threw Picard completely. He had
obviously forgotten that Q could read his mind. Beverly, on the other hand,
knew exactly what he was talking about, and was rather hoping the fantasies
would remain repressed. There were some things she prefered not to know
about her captain. Nonetheless, she gave the entity her best seductive
smile. "Well, you just did, didn't you?" she remarked truthfully.
   "Evidently," he conceded, speaking more to himself than her. "I think
this is contagious."
   Evidence of Q's omniscience had finally dawned on Picard and his
embarassment levels were reaching an all-time high, when he suddenly felt
an invisible hand under his chin, pulling his face upwards. The rest of his
body was again paralysed, which was just as well, as that meant he wouldn't
have to make any effort to prevent what was going to happen, and might just
as well relax and enjoy it. Q's familiar face leaned down towards his and
after a moment's gaze in the entity's black eyes, he felt its lips on his
and a tongue exploring his mouth with a gasp. But the gasp he heard came
from Beverly, who was possibly the only one in the room who hadn't expected
this turn of events from the start.
   At first, the kiss was just a kiss. Picard had indulged in many kisses
of this type, and so far, it was pretty familiar. While it remained
familiar, it also grew more passionate as he started to respond. This was
pretty much a human kiss, and a very exciting one, as well. With his eyes
closed and his head pushed back like this, his mind began to concentrate
only on the feeling of Q's mouth on his, while his brain started preparing
his body for the possible follow-up operation. Meanwhile, the kiss was
becoming a little more than just a kiss, as it seemed to be effecting his
shoulders as well. Those are hands on your shoulders, said his mind when
his brain had finished processing the information. And the hands were no
longer on his shoulders, they were everywhere, especially in the right
places. Definitely the right places.
   The kiss stopped as he pulled away from it. His body was free and he
tumbled back a bit, holding himself up with his arms stretched behind him.
His mind and brain seemed to be having a chase around his head, feeding him
conflicting emotions and bodily responses. The result was that he was quite
dizzy, visibly aroused (owing to his tight trousers, product of the
brainstorming of some sadistic 24th-century designer) and, second-nature
kicking in, positively mortified.
   "Come now, mon petit capitaine, why so coy?" cooed the entity.
   He reappeared beside Picard, his lips dangerously near the man's ear.
   "Don't forget that I can read your mind, Jeannot."
   The name seemed to clear the human's mind almost instantly. "Don't call
me that!"
   "Why not?"
   *Because I'm not one of Beatrix Potter's rabbits.* 
   "Just don't. My name is Jean-Luc."
   "Because you're not Peter Rabbit? Or just because you don't like the
name?"
   "I don't like the name."
   "You read that tale in French when you were a child and your brother
thought the name suited you. I agree with him."
   "So you can read my mind. Great. You should go and swap gossip with
Lwaxana Troi."
   "No need to get so het up about a name. I'd quote Shakespeare on that,
but you'd be quite capable of quoting right back, and we would never be
finished."
   Picard straightened up and looked at the bed.
   "Where's Beverly?"
   "Sleeping peacefully in your quarters where the sight of our proposed
debauchery cannot harm her petty mind."
   "She does not have a petty mind."
   "Does, too."
   "She does not."
   "Does."
   "No, she... Takes one to know one, anyway. And debauchery seems
unlikely."
   With that he realised that he was naked and again kneeling at the foot
of the bed. He tried to move, but found that, as usual, Q had the upper
hand. "I told you to cut out the debauchery bit," he said, resting his chin
on his hands on the edge of the bed. "I'm not in the mood any more. I was
about half an hour ago, but now I'm not. I could have done with a bit of
attention earlier, but since you were so busy seducing my chief medical
officer, you missed your chance. Besides, you talk too much."
   "Hah," snorted the entity. He resisted the temptation to use a cliched
rejoinder like 'look who's talking', and instead placed his mouth on the
nape of the captain's neck. The kiss seemed to send little sparks
throughout the human's nervous system. Perhaps debauchery was a good idea.
Q's hands started to caress his buttocks. On second thoughts perhaps not.
   "There's not much point in this if you use your powers."
   "There's not much point in this if I don't."
   The tingling sensation the human felt throughout his body at that
precise moment seemed to confirm the truth of the entity's statement. This
promised to be interesting. But this was *Q*. He'd never be able to face
Riker again. The tingling became more precise, more like being covered in
ants. Distateful as the correlation his mind came up with was, the
sensation was exquisite, and he shuddered with pleasure. Now, this was
really something new. But this was *Q*. He'd never be able to face Beverly
again. Mind, he'd probably never be able to face Beverly again anyway. Q's
human form was pressing gently against his back, and though the ants were
still there, he was acutely aware of smooth human skin against his, and a
wet mouth on his neck. That touch was so familiar, and yet it had been such
a long time since he had been in such a position. He should do this more
often. But not with *Q*, _bon sang_!
   //Stop debating with yourself, Picard. Relax and enjoy. Let me do the
thinking.//
   Q thought slightly exasperated, though Picard was too surprised at
finding a Q thought in his head to pay much attention to the tone. Besides,
while his mind had been going around in circles, his body had reactivated
its manifestations of desire. And when it started doing that, the Picard
mind found it difficult to concentrate. "Oh..." he said, though he had
originally been intending to say something completely different,
"...oui...".
   Strangely enough, he was now on his back on Beverly's bed, with Q giving
him another of his human kisses while the invisible ants seemed to have
grown warmer feet. In fact, his entire body was feeling warmer and the kiss
was a delightful icing on the cake. He closed his eyes as his hands reached
out and came in contact with the entity's skin, exploring it, caressing it,
forming in his mind the topographical image of every piece of anatomy that
they encountered. The mental image of this lover felt reassuringly
familiar, but his effect was not. The sensation all over his skin had
transformed into a warm, humid feeling, still in movement, as if it were
made of a hundred tongues. His mind tried to sort out his body's sensory
input as his awareness flew from one sensitive spot to another. It would
never have occured to him to ask a lover to lick him in the fold of his
elbow, but what a pleasant sensation that was. 
   He pulled his lover closer, just as particular attention was paid to his
sex. "Ah oui, c'est bon..." *Wrong language, Jean-Luc* came the automatic
response in his mind, well trained after fifty-odd years of
Standard-speaking partners. But there was no need to worry, Q knew what he
was talking about.
   //You really want me, don't you?// The thought had a triumphant edge to
it but Picard was past caring. His mind couldn't even sort out what
language the remark was formulated in. Probably none. But he opened his
eyes as the sensations lessened. Q was apparently waiting for an answer.
   "Of course I do, _imbécile d'entité_!"
   Q pulled way slightly and spread his hands as a rather smug smile lit up
his face. "Well, you can have me. What should I do?"
   Picard wasn't prepared to give him instructions, though he had a pretty
good idea. Q caught the thought anyway.
   "Captain, I am at your service," he said, lowering himself onto his
lover once more.

   "Franceschi to Crusher."
   Sleep was drifting away, ushering the dream out before it. He tried to
recapture it, but the movement as the bed shook and lifted slightly beneath
him dragged his reluctant mind to awareness.
   There was a small thump as something fell to the floor and then a
familiar cough, the chirp of a combadge, and a rather groggy female voice
said, "Crusher here."
   "Doctor... er... is everything all right?"
   "Yes, Franceschi, I'm fine..."
   "It's just that, well, er, it's 0930... and we wondered if... if you
were all right."
   The female voice near him gave a sotto-voce "shit", before continuing.
"I'm sorry, I overslept."
   *Oh God, she's not the only one! How am I going to explain this?*
   He roused himself enough to turn and look at her. She had her back to
him and was struggling into her uniform. Her untidy mop of blond hair was
sticking out at wrong angles as she pulled on her turquoise turtleneck.
   "I'll be right there," she added, slipping her arms into the top part of
her thick black and grey jumpsuit.
   Jean-Luc was too tired to move just yet. He was thinking about a dream
he had had that night. It wasn't the one he had just awoken from, and yet
it must have been a dream. It wasn't the first time he had had that sort of
dream, or indeed that sort of fantasy. It must have been a dream. Surely.
   While he was puzzling about that, Beverly's combadge chirped again.
"Crusher here," she said, trying to smooth down her hair.
   "Er... Doctor... could you also ask the captain to report to the Bridge,
please?"
   "Damn computer", swore the captain as he swiveled his legs out of the
bed to sit up. A movement which was a bit more painful than usual. He
pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead as realisation struck. "Oh
merde, c'est pas vrai!"