Reality, by Tiggy Malvern (NC-17)

[alara-r.livejournal.com]

Fandom: Star Trek: TNG
Pairing: Picard/Q
Author on LJ: tiggymalvern
Author Website: Tiggy Malvern's Slash Fanfiction
Why this must be read:

I recced the prequel to this story, Sanity, today, but if I keep reccing stories that have no sex in them people are going to start to think I'm a prude or something. :-) Besides, after the setup established by that story, I remember I was pretty eager to see if it was ever going to be resolved. Well, it was, and here it is.

This story doesn't shy away from some of the harder issues P/Q fanfic has to deal with -- can Picard trust Q? How does a mortal maintain self-determination when involved with an omnipotent being? Is it ever fair to call on the help of such a powerful entity, and if so, when? It also deals with romantic issues without devolving into the kind of "let's endlessly discuss our relationship" conversations that actual men in gay relationships have very rarely and men as repressed as Picard or as proud and invested in personal image as Q *never* really have. It also finally gets around to the sex, which is worth the wait.



These reports to relatives were by far the most unpleasant duty he had to perform. It was markedly worse this time, when he had no explanation, no small comfort to offer in the form of heroism or a painless demise. Just an unfortunate blank space of three weeks. Was she dead or was she incarcerated in some Dominion prison somewhere?

"I can tell you."

Picard started at the voice behind him, and swivelled his chair around. Q stood staring out of the windows at the star-streaks. It made Picard distinctly uncomfortable that he had no idea how long Q had been there.

"No, that won't be necessary." The stiff formality his refuge as ever. He'd seen relatively little of Q over the past months, his occasional visits tending to deteriorate into bickering and a rapid exit. There wasn't much left of that short period when they had been something like friends.

"Why not, Jean-Luc?" Q turned serious eyes upon him, staring down a little imperiously. Picard ignored it. He'd learned decades ago not to be intimidated by a disadvantage in height, and the fact that he was seated made no difference to him.

"Because you were right the last time." Picard smiled somewhat acidly. "Be grateful, Q, you won't hear me say that very often."

"Of course I was right." Q gave him an equally non-genuine smile in return before his expression softened. "But this isn't telling you the future, this is about the past."

"It's information that I don't have access to through normal methods, and I don't want it from you." Picard heard the edge in his own voice. Right now he couldn't stand another long argument with Q; the last one had been more than enough, weeks ago though it was. He could barely remember now what had triggered it, just the helpless inability to stop the downward spiral of sniping.

"And what makes me such a special case, Picard?" Oh, God, there it was, that peevish note in Q's voice, and they'd barely exchanged five sentences. Q strolled closer, seating himself apparently casually on the desk, but Picard knew all the rigid tension below the surface. "You'd be only too pleased to have the Vulcans tell you what happened to your little minion. Even the Romulans would have your gratitude and thanks. Tell me, why exactly is it that *I'm* the only alien you won't accept anything from?"

"It's not the same thing at all, Q, you must see that!" Picard was openly snapping now, the tensions of the last few days wearing at him. All he really wanted was for Q to go away.

"What harm can it possibly do, Picard?" Q leaned over to glare his anger directly into Picard's face. "What disaster is going to befall the Federation and the universe if I reveal to you the fate of one pathetic, lowly human being?"

Picard hung onto his temper with difficulty, well aware that Q would only retaliate in kind. He had no desire for this to escalate into a yelling match. He closed his eyes and controlled his voice into calm. "It's not that simple," he stated.

Surprisingly, it actually had some effect, as Q himself spoke more softly in reply. "Would it really be so appalling to accept help from me when you would take it from races you despise, those you consider to be duplicitous and secretive?"

Picard felt that those particular words might just as well be applied to Q on certain occasions, but this was hardly the moment to point it out. "There's a difference in scale between exchanging intelligence with other mortals and asking you for information, Q," he pointed out dryly.

Q blinked in obvious astonishment, then abruptly burst into laughter. "You consider it to be cheating!" he howled in apparent delight. He bounced away from Picard's desk, taking several steps before stopping and turning back to face Picard. "Your entire species and their little friends face being casually squashed and Captain Jean-Luc Picard has to play by the rules!" he declaimed to the room in general.

"It's a matter of Federation principle, Q." Picard kept his annoyance from leaking out with a deliberate effort. "I assure you it wasn't intended for your amusement."

"Federation principle?" Q looked somewhat put out. "Not all of your colleagues would seem to agree."

Picard sighed, prepared to defend his beliefs yet again, but found himself silenced by Q's blazingly serious gaze. Q walked towards him and crouched by the side of his chair, eyes locked to Picard's in direct challenge.

"Do you know why your Federation still exists right now, Jean-Luc?" he asked in little more than a whisper. "Why it is anything more than a pitiful few broken ships?" Q paused expectantly, the edges of his lips curling into something that wasn't quite a smile. "Because your Captain Sisko cut a deal with those wormhole aliens of his," he announced with evident relish. "If he hadn't, this sector of space would be crawling with Jem'Hadar warships and your principles wouldn't be a great deal of use to you."

Picard felt his fingers tighten on the chair arm, muscles reacting unbidden to the information Q was giving him. He believed it all. And so few people knew just how unbelievably close they'd come...

He hadn't known the details, but he'd known that something unusual had occurred in the retaking of DS9 - Sisko's report was classified above his authority, marked only for certain Admirals to view. He'd had his own suspicions, and all of them totally overwhelmed by the truth, by the magnitude of Sisko's actions.

But Sisko was an increasingly unconventional officer. The man had been posted to a backwater to keep him out of trouble until retirement, and had ended up at the forefront of this war due to an unpredictable event.

Sisko was a man who hated and despised him without ever knowing him, who condemned him through the years for something he had no control over.

Q was still gazing across at him intently, gauging his reactions. "It's down to each individual Starfleet officer to make the decisions they consider appropriate, Q," he said stiffly.

"Oh, come now, Jean-Luc," Q baited in the old, familiar, faux-innocent voice. "Surely what's good enough for one Starfleet captain -"

Picard shoved his chair back and stood, glaring down at Q in icy fury. "I am not Benjamin Sisko!"

He strode away from the desk, away from Q, ruthlessly subduing his temper in a way that had suddenly become so well-practiced again under the pressures of war. "Tea, Earl Grey, hot." Grounding himself in the mundane, the familiar, managing not to snap at the replicator with an effort. His skin prickled with the knowledge of the eyes on his back. The tea hummed gently into existence and he took his first cautious sip.

"Jean-Luc?"

Picard smiled tightly at the subdued voice. He'd finally made Q back down, acknowledge that he'd pushed too far. The thought was enough to complete his control and he replaced his cup and turned back to face Q, his expression schooled into absolute neutrality.

Q hadn't moved. Dark eyes fixed on Picard for long moments until the tension visibly left the large frame and Q rose to his feet. "I'm not offering you secrets." Same quiet tones that had spoken his name. "I'm not telling you anything about your shapeshifter, how or when it got on board your ship." And Picard was enfolded in the vivid memory of a tropical beach and salt air, the only other time he'd ever seen Q so serious in anything other than threat. "Nothing that could affect the course of your war." Q moved towards him as he spoke, halting bare inches away. "What can be so impossibly complicated about having some answers for a grieving family?"

And with Q so close and so sincere, Picard found his need to get *rid* of Q so much more acute. "Because it wouldn't end there. I know you, Q, and I know human nature." He spoke slowly, choosing his words with care. "The next time the favour would be a little bigger, the next more important still. That path isn't easy to leave once it's trodden." And confessing his own weakness and uncertainty to Q really didn't bother him at all.

Sometimes the easiest way to deal with Q was simply to give him the truth.

Q's direct gaze was unaltered, no external reaction to Picard's words. Picard held himself still, unblinking, determined not to give Q anything that could be interpreted as shame at having to admit that he was merely human. Enterprise hummed low around him in the near-silence.

Q's mouth quirked into a slightly bitter smile. "The offer stays open, Jean-Luc." He leaned forward swiftly and brushed soft lips once against Picard's. "They both do."



Reality