Only Human by Alara Rogers  
  
Part III: Yamato  
  
With minor revisions to the parts posted before, here is all of  
Only Human Chapter III. 
  
Paramount owns Q and the universe; I own the original characters. 
No copyright infringement is intended.  Not to be sold for profit.   
 
ONLY HUMAN (for those who haven't caught the story thus far) is an  
alternate universe, based on the premise that Q lost his powers for  
good in "Deja Q."  In exchange for protection, he offered the  
Federation the benefit of his advanced knowledge, and was transferred  
to Starbase 56.  Three years later, miserable beyond endurance, Q  
attempted to kill himself.  
  
Dr. T'Laren, Vulcan xenopsychologist and former Starfleet counselor,  
turned up at this point, claiming that Starfleet had hired her as Q's  
therapist.  In fact, it turned out that she was really hired by the Q  
Continuum, in the person of the Q who got Q thrown out, whom T'Laren  
refers to as Lhoviri.  T'Laren persuaded Q to accept her help and  
allow her to counsel him through his depression.  To that end, they  
left Starbase 56 on T'Laren's ship Ketaya-- a gift from Lhoviri, with  
some surprising capabilities-- and headed for the starship Yamato,  
which was currently hosting a physics conference.  
  
Over the course of the past weeks of travel, Q has come to trust  
T'Laren, more or less, though they've had some knock-down-drag-out  
fights in the process.  At the end of Part II, Q decided that he no  
longer wanted to die.  Part III details 's adventures at the scientific  
conference aboard the Yamato, T'Laren's problems as her  
somewhat shady past comes back to haunt her in the forms of her  
young sister-in-law and her former lover, and the ups and downs  
of Q and T'Laren's relations with one another.  Section 14 also  
deals explicitly with sexual themes, though I consider it suitable  
for teens and mature Congresspersons (like Patrick Leahy, who  
opposed the CDA.)  
  
Note that elements of this chapter and previous ones contradict 
the Voyager episode "The Q and the Grey."  I remain convinced 
that my version of the Continuum is more interesting than the 
vision we were presented with in that episode, and so I have not 
revised to fit that episode, as it's too stupid to be canon. :-) 
 
Parts I - III are all available at the following sites: 
 
FTP: 
 
ftp://ftp.netcom.com/pub/al/aleph/startrek 
ftp://ftp.europa.com/outgoing/mercutio/alt.fan.q 
ftp://aviary.share.net/pub/startrek/tng 
 
Web: 
 
http://www.europa.com/~mercutio/Q.html 
http://aviary.share.net/~alara 
http://www1.mhv.net/~alara/ohtree.html 
 
Send comments to aleph@netcom.com. 
             *                   *                    *   

	This sort of serious overreaction was not like Q.  Or rather, it 
was not like Q when he wasn't suffering from something that he wouldn't 
readily admit to.  T'Laren puzzled over his behavior as she got 
dressed, her exercise session shot to hell.
	Q had sounded almost panicked.  His voice had been shrill and 
hysterical as he insulted her for daring to exercise in his presence.  
T'Laren didn't believe for a moment that he was as disgusted as he'd 
claimed; if he hadn't stalked off and taken a shower before she could 
respond, she would have pointed out to him that he hadn't shown any 
sign of such disgust when he'd walked in on her exercising in Vulcan 
gravity on Ketaya, or when they exercised together for that matter.  
She fully intended to point this out to him when he got out of the 
shower; apparently she had made a mistake when she'd let him simply go 
to bed without talking about whatever had bothered him on the holodeck.  
Whatever it was, it could well be related to whatever pain he'd 
suffered that had driven him out of his bed and out of his room in the 
middle of the night, and subsequently led him to scream at her for 
exercising.
	She walked back out into the common room, listening for the 
shower.  It was an annoying grinding noise at the low range of her 
hearing, with less unpleasant overtones in the higher ranges.  All a 
human could hear were the higher ranges, which made sonic showers 
popular among humans.  On Vulcan, the sonic freshers were much quieter, 
or operated in a much lower sound range, depending on how you wanted to 
look at it.  But even here, the sonic showers could be set to be 
practically inaudible to Vulcans; T'Laren always used water when she 
could get it, water symbolizing luxury to a girl who'd grown up in dry 
Texas and then on Vulcan, but she knew that the showers *could* be set 
to levels she was comfortable with.  Was Q deliberately being rude, or 
did he simply not know she could hear it?
	When the sound stopped, she'd wait a decorous ten minutes or so 
for him to get dressed and go back to his bedroom, and then she'd 
confront him.  In the meantime, she should figure out a line of attack.  
In what way might the holodeck incident have triggered this outburst?
	Well, the holodeck incident had shown that Q had a far deeper fear 
of sex than she'd thought previously.  When he'd explained what Amy 
Frasier did to him, T'Laren might not have placed quite enough weight 
on the incident.  She'd known that he'd thought of it as being 
molested, even though it was clear to T'Laren that he had, at best, 
sent confused signals, and at worst led Frasier on.  The fact that 
*she* could see clearly that it hadn't been an attempted rape, and that 
she'd explained her perceptions to Q, might have led her to undervalue 
*his* perception that it was.  Nothing could explain his overreaction 
to being touched by the prostitute hologram but a fear of being 
sexually molested.  
	And then he'd panicked when he'd seen her dressed for exercise... 
T'Laren put her hand to her head and allowed herself a sigh.  He hadn't 
gotten it into his head that *she* meant to molest him, had he?  She'd 
*told* Q she wasn't attracted to him, with the blunt honesty he seemed 
to respond best to, and at the time she'd thought he believed her.  Had 
she done anything to give him cause for concern since?  
	She didn't think she had.  In fact, she and Q hadn't gotten along 
awfully well since they'd come about Yamato, and that was her fault, 
her distraction.  She'd let him get to her with his nasty digs about 
Sovaz and his insinuations about Tris-- and dammit, if he was afraid of 
her sexuality why did he keep bringing up her relationship with Tris 
and her betrayal of Soram?  She knew Q targeted any weaknesses he 
found, but it seemed a curious weakness to harp on if he was afraid she 
would molest him.  Or had this fear come up just recently?  Did he 
think she had set him up to be molested by putting him in that 
scenario?
	That sounded painfully likely.  T'Laren leaned up against the 
bathroom door, closing her eyes in anger at herself.  She should have 
checked more carefully.  She should have remembered what the prostitute 
did if you bought her a drink-- she'd tutored enough Vulcan students of 
both sexes through it, she'd seen the prostitute's antics often enough.  
The fact that it had been twenty years ago was no excuse.  She 
shouldn't have exposed Q to a holodeck scenario she didn't fully 
understand.
	...was that *crying* she heard in there?
	She turned her head, laying one ear directly against the door, 
after brushing a few errant curls out of the way.  The sound of the 
shower grew louder, of course.  She focused on the filtering 
discipline, concentrating on blocking the annoying shower noise and 
magnifying the other sounds in the room.
	That sounded very much like Q was crying.  Sobbing hysterically, 
in fact, or she'd never have heard it over the shower.  Aspects of the 
All, what had she done?  Horrified, her mind raced ahead to the next 
logical conclusion-- if Q thought she had set him up to be molested, if 
he feared she would attack him sexually, he must be terrified.  He must 
be utterly certain that there was no one in the universe he could 
trust, that the one person he thought he could depend on would betray 
him.
	If she tried to call him now, he would perceive it as another 
betrayal, another intrusion.  She'd been eavesdropping on him, invading 
his privacy.  He might well have gone and hidden in the shower as the 
one place in the room he could reasonably expect her not to overhear 
him.  As much as it tore at her to do nothing, knowing he was in there 
sobbing because he thought she'd betrayed him, there was nothing she 
could safely do until he got out of the shower and composed himself a 
bit.  He wouldn't be able to take an apology when he was this raw; if 
she let him get his facade back up, she had a much better chance of 
being believed.
	She waited a decorous amount of time before ringing the chime for 
his room.  "What is it?"  his voice came, snappishly she thought.
	"It's me," she said hesitantly, waiting for an answer to guide her 
as to what she should say next.  When none came, she tried what had 
worked last time.  "I came to apologize."
	The door slid open as she was speaking.  "Apologize for what?"  Q 
asked.  He was dressed for bed, but it was clearly still armor-- ornate 
silk pajamas in the style of Terran Chinese traditional dress, with a 
high-necked collar and many, many buttons, and a heavy velour robe 
wrapped around him.
	T'Laren blinked.  "Apologize for what"  was not the reaction she'd 
expected.  "It seems odd that you should ask that question, when half 
an hour ago you were screaming at me."
	"Oh, for that.  You commit so many transgressions, I can't keep 
track of them all."
	"Not only for that," she said.  "Q, I am terribly sorry about what 
happened earlier, on the holodeck.  I never meant to put you in that 
situation, and I am deeply sorry if I caused you any kind of 
discomfort, then or later-- it was certainly not my intention."
	All the blood drained from his face.  "You were *spying* on me," 
he breathed, as if it were the most horrifying thing he could imagine.
	He had cried in front of her before.  Why was he reacting this way 
to the notion that she'd overheard him?  "I-- I did hear you crying, 
yes, but--"
	"You voyeuristic, filthy sow, *don't* try to play games with me!"  
he shouted, face white with fury.  "Tell me, is all this vastly amusing 
to you?  You enjoy tormenting me this way and then gloating over how 
far I've fallen?  Or are you merely trying to collect evidence on 
exactly how human I am?"
	"Q, I've *heard* you crying before.  Why does it disturb you so 
much--"
	"I *told* you not to play games!"  he snarled.  "You know quite 
well what I'm talking about, you disgusting pig.  This is all part of 
some kind of plan, isn't it?  Did you put Elejani Baii up to it?"
	"Up to *what?  *Q, I came here to apologize for having 
accidentally put you in a situation that you found uncomfortable.  
After your reaction to me when you came in tonight, I deduced that 
you'd become afraid I'd molest you, and then I heard you crying in the 
shower.  I *assumed* you were crying because you were afraid I'd 
betrayed you, and I came to assure you this is not true.  What does 
Elejani Baii have to do with anything?  Or are we talking at complete 
cross-purposes here?"
	Q went even paler.  "You... didn't hear anything else.  Just me 
crying?"
	"I barely heard that much.  I wasn't trying to eavesdrop on you, 
Q, but you were crying loudly enough that I could hear it over the 
shower."
	He walked back to the bed and sank down on it as if everything 
holding him up was suddenly gone.  "You didn't know.  You-- oh, no..."  
Q put his head in his hands.  
	"What don't I know?"  T'Laren asked, following him deeper into the 
room.
	"Well, if you *still* don't know, I'm certainly not going to 
*tell* you," Q snapped, looking up at her for a second.  His face was 
flaming red, which gave T'Laren a clue as to what was really going on 
here.
	"Q..."  T'Laren hesitated.  He was so easily embarrassed on this 
subject.  "I think we need to discuss what happened today."
	"I think we don't," Q retorted, still with head in hands.
	She sat down in a chair across from him, folding her arms over her 
breasts and composing herself to present as asexual a mien as possible.  
"Some weeks ago, you raised a question-- a fear, really-- that I might 
molest you.  I explained to you why I would not do that, and you seemed 
to believe me.  Do you still believe me?"
	"Of course," Q snapped.  He looked up again.  "You think I'm 
repulsive-looking.  I'd hardly have forgotten *that*."
	"I never said that."
	Q rolled his eyes.  "Of course you didn't.  What you *said*, if I 
recall correctly, was that 'my appearance is not ideal' or some such 
circumlocution.  Which, when translated from therapist-spare-the-
patient's-feelings gobbledygook, means, 'Q, you're repulsive-looking.'"
	"That is *not* what it means.  I don't think you're repulsive-
looking."
	"So you admit you lied?"
	"I didn't lie.  You misinterpreted me.  I said, firstly, that you 
were my patient, and I don't take advantage of my patients.  Then I 
said, 'Your health is poor, your appearance is not the best, and you 
would make an unattractive meld partner,' due to your fear of 
telepathy.  That last is still true, as is the part about you being my 
patient.  But when I said 'your appearance is not the best', I *meant* 
'you look positively skeletal from illness.'  Since then you've 
regained a good deal of weight and your appearance is much improved.  
And I *never* thought you were repulsive, merely that you were 
unhealthy."
	"But you still don't think I'm attractive."
	"I think you are quite attractive.  I simply am not attracted to 
you."
	"That makes no sense."
	She sighed.  "Q, among most humanoids it is possible to perceive 
aesthetic attractiveness without actually feeling sexual desire.  For 
instance, if I were to look at-- oh, take Elejani Baii for an example, 
since you brought her up.  I can tell that she is quite beautiful, but 
because she is a woman, I feel no desire for her."
	"Why not?"  Q asked, sounding utterly bewildered.
	"Because I'm heterosexual.  So I don't feel desire for women."
	"You actually don't feel it?  At all?"  A thought seemed to occur 
to him then.  "Oh, you mean that mentally you have no desire for them.  
But your body feels something."
	"No, Q," she explained patiently.  His lack of comprehension 
answered the question of his own sexual orientation fairly 
definitively, she thought.  "My body doesn't feel anything.  I'm not 
attracted to women."
	"Is this a Vulcan thing?"
	In a way, this was hilarious.  Q, who claimed to feel no sexual 
desire at all, apparently made no distinction between aesthetic 
appreciation and sexual desire.  And this was the man who claimed to 
have a small libido.  Uh-huh.  "Do you understand the term 
'heterosexual'?"
	"Certainly I do.  I'm hardly stupid, T'Laren.  It refers to a 
person who, for cultural or personal reasons, chooses to engage in 
sexual activities with members of the opposite sex only.  Or, in the 
case of multi-sexed species, engages only with those partners that make 
reproduction possible."
	"Where did you get that definition from?"
	He shrugged.  "You pick things up when you're omniscient."
	"Obviously you continue to maintain your interpretive bias even 
when omniscient, however.  Heterosexuality has nothing to do with 
choice.  One can behave in a heterosexual fashion without being 
heterosexual.  For instance, for cultural reasons, all female Vulcan 
citizens who are members of our species behave in either a heterosexual 
or an asexual fashion.  That has nothing to do with their natural 
inclinations, or what they would desire were they free to choose.  I 
happen to be heterosexual, and I was before I had any sexual experience 
whatsoever.  I simply do not feel desire for women."
	"Well, why not?  They don't look *that* different from men."
	"It's not a concept that's possible to explain, Q.  Take my word 
for it."
	"You also want me to take your word for it that you think I'm 
attractive but you don't.  I *still* don't understand that.  I think 
that's so much psychobabble on your part, T'Laren."  He smiled smugly.
	She tried another tack.  "It's... as if a male patient were like a 
brother to me... why are you laughing?"
	"You're not going to get anywhere with that analogy either," he 
predicted.  "T'Laren, if the Q had sex, which we don't, but if you 
could analogize such an undignified and disgusting process to the far 
more sublime things we do for pleasure with one another... who would we 
engage in such acts *with*, if not our brothers and sisters?  Since, as 
nearly as I can translate the human concept of sibling, it applies to 
the relationships of all the Q within the Continuum.  So telling me I'm 
like a brother to you is not going to make your case."
	"So you're saying that you feel sexual desire for anyone who you 
find aesthetically attractive."
	"I didn't say that," he said hastily.
	"Then what *did* you say?  Since you don't seem to comprehend how 
the two sensations can be separate--"
	"Only to you mortals, since you perceive your bodily sensations as 
integral parts of your psyche.  I don't."
	"So what you're saying is that when your mind experiences 
aesthetic pleasure at looking at someone, your body responds sexually."
	He looked embarrassed.  "I can't very well control what my body 
does."
	That was a "yes".  "What if you find the individual's personality 
unpleasant?"
	"What would that have to do with it?"
	"Well... most of us do not want to have sex with people who we 
don't find pleasant."
	"Whatever gave you the idea I wanted to have sex with *anyone?  
*Sex is disgusting."
	Wonderful.  His rationalizations to himself that his body was the 
source of all the sexual feelings he didn't want to deal with, and that 
they had nothing to do with the real him at all, had left him incapable 
of modulating physical desire with emotional concerns.  "What about 
children?"  she asked, not entirely sure she wanted an answer to this 
one.
	"What about them?"
	"If a child was aesthetically attractive, would you-- or rather, 
your body-- respond to them sexually?"
	"I've never seen an aesthetically attractive child.  There's 
nothing that particularly appeals to me about runny noses and grubby 
faces."
	That hardly described all children, but she wasn't going to press 
him on it.  "What about nonhumanoids?  Or inanimate objects?  You have 
a large collection of art; I must assume you perceive aesthetic beauty 
in other than the humanoid form."
	"Of course I do.  In fact, I consider the humanoid form in general 
to be fairly hideous, though some individuals rise above their status 
as hairless monkeys to achieve some measure of beauty."
	"Well, do you feel sexual desire for attractive art objects?"
	Q recoiled.  "You are the most disgusting individual it has ever 
been my misfortune to encounter."
	"I'll take that to mean 'no'," T'Laren said dryly.  "My experience 
of people who are aesthetically attractive but I do not find desirable 
is similar to that."
	Q looked at her sidelong.  "You think I'm a work of art?"
	"Yes, Q.  You're a lovely work of art and I wish only to pose you 
in my living room, in one of those equally artistic outfits you're so 
fond of wearing."
	"T'Laren.  Please try to remember.  *I* am the witty one.  You are 
a Vulcan.  I'm growing tired of reminding you."
	She ignored that.  "So.  Now that we have established to 
everyone's satisfaction that no, you do not repel me, and no, I am not 
going to molest you, I think we should discuss what happened tonight, 
instead of sidetracking onto a discussion of heterosexuality, art and 
wit."
	Q laughed.  "Too late for that, I'm afraid."
	"Well, then, perhaps we can get back on track."
	Q did not appear to be paying attention.  He was staring into 
space distractedly.  "Q?  Can you tell me about what happened in the 
holodeck?"  
	"What if I weren't your patient?"  he asked suddenly.
	"What?"
	"Precisely.  Your stories are very pretty, T'Laren, but I want 
some independent corroboration.  What if I weren't your patient?"
	He was tense, and pretending not to be, his body sculpted into a 
studied pose of relaxation, but betrayed by his curled hands and pale 
knuckles.  He was obviously trying to pretend that he wanted the answer 
to catch her in a lie, but since he had to know that she wasn't stupid 
enough to slip if she were lying, his motives were transparently 
something else.  "Are you attracted to me, Q?"  she asked calmly.
	He maintained his perfect insouciant pose, apparently unaware of 
the slow red flush betraying him.  "Not at all.  I'm merely wondering 
how thoroughly to trust your answer.  And you haven't answered the 
question."
	She should have expected that.  Q would never answer such a 
painfully revealing question without getting assurances from her first-
-  he would never put himself into such a vulnerable position.  This 
was not territory T'Laren wanted to be dealing with-- she wanted Q to 
be able to talk to her about anything, without being entangled in 
questions about her feelings toward him or his toward her.  It would be 
better if he still perceived her as essentially asexual.  But she knew 
better than that, too-- Q was physically much healthier than he'd been, 
and emotionally as vulnerable to transference as any patient.  In fact, 
given his lack of friends and support structure, he might be more 
vulnerable than most people, despite his formidable defenses.  They had 
to talk about this, to bring it out into the light so it wouldn't run 
like a subterranean undercurrent beneath all their interactions.  "If 
we had met under completely different circumstances, and you didn't go 
out of your way to antagonize me immediately, then yes, I might well 
have found you attractive.  You can be quite charming when you want to 
be, and I tend to prefer highly intelligent men.  Does that set your 
mind at ease?"
	He shrugged.  "You *could* just be saying that.  Damage control 
and all that."
	"Sooner or later you're going to have to make a decision as to 
whether you trust me not to lie to you.  I'm not going to be very 
effective in helping you if you think everything I say might be a lie."
	"True."
	"On the other hand, I have a suspicion that *you* have lied to me.  
Or at the very least, attempted to mislead.  Why were you panicking 
over my attire earlier?"
	"Panicking is hardly the word I would use."
	"You're well-known for playing games with semantics.  For 
instance, you're perfectly capable of answering a question about your 
own feelings 'no' when anyone else would have said 'yes' because of the 
artificial distinction you make between your bodily sensations and your 
personal will."
	"What does that have to do with anything?"  he asked 
belligerently.
	His defenses were far less coherent, and yet more desperate, than 
she'd ever seen them.  Q didn't usually say things quite *that* obtuse, 
even at his worse, and she could see his carefully constructed facade 
of control starting to fracture, and the raw panic underneath.  "You 
know perfectly well," she said.  "Q, listen to me.  If you are 
physically attracted to me-- which, aside from your fearing that I 
might molest you, is the only reason I can think of for your reaction 
to my exercise session--"
	"You're making mountains out of molehills.  I merely thought your 
appearance debased and animalistic."
	"Which, I suppose, would explain your strenuous objections the 
last several times you saw me exercising?"  she asked dryly.  "The most 
significant difference between my exercise session tonight, and the one 
you walked in on in your pajamas back on Ketaya a few days before we 
got here, is that you are physically much healthier, have put on more 
weight, and seem generally less depressed-- all factors that would act 
to restore your libido to more normal levels.  Earlier, I drew the 
wrong conclusion, because another difference is that today I brought 
you into a holodeck session in which someone touched you and you 
reacted very badly.  My first guess was that you felt that the holodeck 
character had molested you, that it was my fault, and that you feared 
I'd do the same.  But that isn't it, is it, Q?"
	"You're the psychologist.  You figure it out."
	"Well, then.  My best hypothesis is that you are attracted to me 
physically, and that you are afraid of and disturbed by your own 
feelings."
	Q leaned forward, trying a different tactic.  "Are you sure you're 
not projecting your own fantasies onto me, dear doctor?"  he said 
coolly.  "You just admitted that you find *me* attractive, after all.  
Wouldn't it be far more gratifying to your ego to believe your 
disgusting fancies were reciprocated?"
	"I must be right, then.  You're never so vicious, or quite so 
willing to contradict the facts we both know, as when I'm on the right 
track."  She was annoyed with him-- she had spent a good deal of time 
explaining to him that she was *not* attracted to him, but might have 
been if he hadn't been her patient, and as usual he was discarding the 
facts in favor of making his point.  But snapping back at him wouldn't 
gain anything-- Q wouldn't be doing this if he weren't terrified.  "Q, 
you needn't fight me so hard.  If you are physically attracted to me-- 
or your body is, at any right-- that's an entirely natural and normal 
occurrence.  People become attracted to their therapists all the time.  
It's called 'transference.' In fact, it often manifests as the patients 
believing they are in love with the therapists."
	"How repulsive.  I certainly don't suffer from *that* delusion."
	"Of course not.  But I would find it surprising if you hadn't 
started to find me attractive.  I spend a great deal of time with you, 
I act as your confidant and your closest advisor, and now that you're 
feeling better I suspect that you're likely experiencing many more 
sexual feelings than you did when you were suicidal and half-dead.  
Your body would probably latch onto anyone close to you who was not 
ill-formed at this point."
	"But you're above all that, of course," he said bitterly.
	"I'm trained to have defenses against this sort of thing.  You 
aren't."
	"And your defenses are, of course, so finely honed and so 
exquisitely Vulcan in their perfection."
	"No, you misunderstand.  My defenses are as much because I'm a 
psychologist as because I'm a Vulcan.  Therapy invokes powerful 
emotions, Q.  The therapist steps into a role that normally only 
family, friends and lovers occupy in a patient's life.  It's easy for a 
patient to convince himself that a therapist is a best friend or a 
potential lover... and unfortunately, the therapist can sometimes be 
just as easily convinced of the same thing.  That's called 
'countertransference', and it's almost as common as transference.  The 
reason there are strict ethical prohibitions against a therapist 
becoming sexually involved with a client isn't just that it's easy for 
an unscrupulous therapist to pressure a vulnerable client into having 
sex, but because it's painfully easy for therapist and patient to 
become mutually convinced they are in love.  But that 'love', while it 
is real in the sense that it's a genuine and powerful emotion, is 
artificially evoked by the situation.  The therapist should ideally be 
working to make the patient no longer dependent on the therapist, and a 
therapist suffering from countertransference hasn't as great a motive-- 
people don't want their loved ones to be independent of them."
	"Why not?  It would be enormously dull if they weren't."
	"Perhaps for a Q.  Human emotion thrives on interdependency, 
however.  Patients may lose their motivation to get well, when getting 
well would involve the loss of the therapist's care, which they 
interpret as love.  So for the protection of both parties, therapists 
must learn to recognize and master feelings of countertransference 
within themselves.  And my Vulcan training makes me much better at it 
than many therapists.  So you're not in any danger."
	"I wouldn't be anyway," he said harshly.  "None of this nonsense 
applies to me.  The idea of being dependent on *anyone*, even a 
putative 'loved one', makes me nauseous.  In fact, the notion of love 
makes me nauseous.  I certainly am not in love with you, and even if I 
were, I would be uninterested in being dependent on you.  We're just 
friends, and I am perfectly happy with that."
	She wondered if she should point out to him that they weren't even 
really that-- he was assigning her the value of "friend"  because of 
the role she played in his life, not realizing that that was as 
artificial as assigning her the value of "lover"  would be-- but there 
really was no kind way to tell someone that they weren't even friends, 
and after Q had stopped fighting her on the question of whether he was 
attracted to her or not, a tacit admission that he was, she couldn't 
cut him down that way.  "Few patients are as fiercely independent or as 
strong-willed as you are, Q.  I'm glad you're comfortable with our 
relationship as it stands, but I do want to make sure we both 
understand what that relationship is, and what it entails."
	Q leaned back.  "This should be entertaining."
	"As you've seen, my style of therapy includes physical contact, if 
I feel the patient needs it and can handle it.  You seem to need some 
level of physical contact-- backrubs, for instance.  As long as you're 
comfortable with that, I don't see any problem with continuing to do 
that.  But if you ever do feel uncomfortable being touched by me, in 
any way, I want you to tell me immediately, and I'll stop.  I will try 
to avoid making you uncomfortable by exercising in front of you, if I 
can, and in return I want you to feel free to talk to me, as you have 
been, without worrying about whether I might think less of you.  I 
become completely ineffective as a therapist if you decide you need to 
impress me, or to censor yourself when talking to me, because of the 
desires your body experiences.  Will you do that?"
	He shrugged elaborately.  "I suppose I can manage that."
	"I'm glad.  So will you tell me about what happened in the 
holodeck today?"
	"Nothing to tell.  You were there."
	"I was, yes.  But my interpretation of events may well be 
different than yours."
	Q sighed.  "I don't see the point."
	"You were very upset, Q.  If that had happened in a real life 
situation, you would have been terribly humiliated by your own 
reaction.  I'd think you'd want to seek to avoid that, in the future."
	"It seems fairly simple to me.  Avoid bars, and don't buy drinks 
for prostitutes."
	"That will not prevent people from making a physical pass at you."  
T'Laren leaned forward.  "Q, the entire reason for the scenario 
training is to acquaint you with human reactions.  It would be natural 
for a human who finds you attractive to put her hand on your leg, and 
if it was a woman, it probably wouldn't occur to her that that might 
upset you."
	"More of the human double standard?"
	"Human males are somewhat more statistically likely to desire sex 
with random female strangers than vice versa.  And the sort of woman 
who would be overly bold like that also might not care if she offended 
you, or assume that she is sufficiently attractive that her intentions 
will appeal to you."
	"And they call *me* arrogant."
	"You are arrogant.  Just not about sex.  Which might well make you 
more intriguing to some than the sort of person who is convinced he 
knows everything there is to know and that sexual partners should be 
swooning at his feet."
	"You sound like you're speaking from experience."
	"I've known a certain share of sexually arrogant men, yes.  The 
sort of man who believes he can seduce a married Vulcan woman with his 
good looks and charm generally has a weak notion of his own sexual 
limitations."
	"People like, oh, Tris for example."
	He was so transparent, T'Laren almost smiled.  "No, Tris is not an 
example."
	"Well?  You *did* say men who try to seduce married Vulcan 
women..."
	"Tris didn't try," T'Laren said solemnly.  "He succeeded.  I'd say 
that demonstrates a fine understanding of his limitations."
	Q scowled slightly.  "How enormously talented of him."
	"At the moment, I would rather talk about you than Tris.  Why did 
you react that way when the prostitute touched you?"
	He sighed defeatedly.  "You just don't give up, do you."
	"Rarely."
	Q stared into nothing, face flushed.  "My-- I... you were right, 
when you said... about my body... being healthier now.  I-- I'd started 
to think... I'd be free of this.  That was the only good thing about 
being depressed.  My body hadn't... had... reactions... in a few 
months..."  It seems to be growing progressively more difficult for him 
to speak.
	"But it's coming back," she suggested.
	"Yes."  Q was clearly mortified.
	"Did your body--"  She was careful not to say 'you', knowing he 
needed the distancing mechanism of pretending it was his body only-- 
"experience a reaction to the hologram woman?"
	"I can't control what it does!"  Q shouted suddenly.  "I don't 
*want* to feel these things, but I can't-- I can't make it stop..."
	"No one can," T'Laren said gently.  "At least, no humans, and 99% 
of all humanoids.  Most Vulcans are an exception, I think, but 
certainly humans have no control over when they feel desire and who 
it's for."
	"So I suppose you're totally immune," he said bitterly.
	"I said most Vulcans.  Aside from the fact that I require 
telepathic contact, my libido is almost indistinguishable from a 
human's.  My ability to lack desire for a patient is one many human 
doctors practice successfully.  But I have had serious problems... with 
inappropriate sexual urges, in the past."
	"Inappropriate?  Like what, fetishes for socks?"
	"Vulcans are entirely monogamous, and we do not mate outside of... 
well, you may have heard of a Vulcan mating cycle.  I believe most 
Vulcans do not have sex outside the cycle.  When my marriage and sanity 
started falling apart, I began to find it impossible to remain celibate 
for seven years at a time."
	"Seven *years*?"  Q choked.  "What is the *point?  *Either you 
don't have sex at all or you do.  Why would you do it and then *not* do 
it for seven years?"
	"It's not something I want to discuss."
	"I've talked about plenty of things *I* didn't want to discuss."
	"And you're sidetracking from them.  I could easily understand you 
experiencing a physical reaction to the hologram.  Why did it panic you 
so badly, though?  You fell out of your chair and screamed at her not 
to touch you, as if she'd just tried to rape you in public.  That seems 
like an overreaction."
	"It does, does it?"
	"After incidents like the one with LeBeau, you cannot afford to 
overreact so badly.  What happened?"
	Q hesitated for several seconds.  "I thought... I thought she 
might... try to..."
	He stopped there, without elaborating.  T'Laren filled in the 
blanks.  "She was a hologram, Q.  They don't do anything you don't want 
them to, and you can turn them off if you wish.  She couldn't have done 
anything you didn't want."
	"That's the problem," Q muttered.
	"You were afraid you might want to?"
	"No!"  he snapped automatically, and then reconsidered.  
"Sometimes... if my body wants something too much... I can't control 
it.  Like, like falling asleep.  Or screaming if it hurts.  Even if I 
want not to do it, I can't stop myself.  Like that."
	T'Laren nodded, finally beginning to believe she understood.  "You 
fear your body subverting your will."
	Q nodded quickly, almost eagerly.  "Like that, yes."
	"But by reacting to that fear as you did, you open yourself to 
potential humiliation.  I don't think I need to tell you that if it had 
been real humans you'd done that in front of, instead of holograms, you 
would have suffered deep humiliation."
	"Like I didn't?"  Q muttered.
	"Not to the extent you would have with anyone other than me in the 
room."
	"So what am I supposed to do about it?"  he asked harshly.  "Put a 
'Do Not Touch Me' sign on my chest?"
	"I think we should continue the scenario training.  This sort of 
situation is one you can learn to handle gracefully, as with most human 
endeavors."
	"If I get molested on a regular basis, I'll learn to smile through 
it, is that it?"
	"I hope you never have to learn how far from genuine molestation 
what happened to you today was," T'Laren said softly.
	"Oh, I know.  You don't need to tell me.  It was nothing at all," 
Q said, sarcastic and bitter.  "Nothing I suffer ever is."
	"Your suffering is not nothing, Q.  It is undeniable that these 
things cause you pain, and if most normal humans had to function under 
the level of physical and psychological pain you experience regularly, 
they would turn to addictive psychoactives or religion or destructive 
behavior to escape.  But many of the things that cause you to suffer 
cause at most mild discomfort in humans.  Part of what I see as my goal 
is to teach you what kinds of suffering you can fix by changing your 
behavior, and what kinds you must simply learn to deal with.  Nothing 
you do will prevent people from touching you, not unless you take up 
residence on Vulcan.  You must learn to handle it."
	Q sighed tiredly.  "As pleasant as the prospect may seem at the 
moment, I really would rather not condemn myself to the utter dullness 
of the planet Vulcan, so I suppose it behooves me to do as you 
suggest."
	She nodded, acknowledging his capitulation.  For a minute, then, 
they sat in silence.  Finally Q stood up.  "It's exceedingly late, and 
I for one need sleep, though I suppose you don't.  You can go back to 
your little exercise session."
	This might be a good sign-- Q rarely ended a conversation just so 
he could sleep.  Perhaps he was finally taking more responsibility for 
his health.  T'Laren stood as well.  "That's a good idea.  Good night, 
Q."
			*				*				*