Alara Rogers (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
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crack_van2005-01-30 07:15 pm
alara-r.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2005-01-30 07:15 pm
Entry tags:
Past Duties, by Shalott (PG)
Fandom: Star Trek: TNG
Pairing: Picard/Q
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
astolat
Author Website: Intimations
Why this must be read:
As a meditation on mortality, this feels all too plausible, all too real. Shalott can make a young person understand what it feels like to be old, to be desperately fighting the decay of the light.
As a P/Q fic, this is entirely smut-free and doesn't even have to be interpreted as slash, but it manages to be suffused with love and the tentative admission of trust despite the fact that neither character actually comes out and says any such thing. The characters are perfectly in character, the banter is witty, and the ending brought tears to my eyes. I also think the solution in this story is blindingly obvious and wonder why no one thought of it before in a P/Q fic.
So now here he was at last, duty performed, his well-earned rest stretching before him, and nothing he particularly cared about to fill it with. He shook his head at the gloom of his own thoughts. Once he'd had enough of a rest to get his energy back, he'd finally have time now to go back to his old interests, discover new ones. He was eighty, he might have as much as three or four decades of life still ahead of him.
Ignoring his own lack of enthusiasm, he made himself open the book. This one had been sitting on his shelf for at least five years, and for all of them he'd have given a great deal for the time to read it. It would be stupid not to enjoy it now.
Except, of course, if it vanished out of his hands before he had the chance to read a word.
"So, Jean-Luc, enjoying the first day of the rest of your existence?" Q, stretched out in a second chair that hadn't been there a flash of light before, turned the book sideways to study the spine. "Oh my, how bleak." He dropped it on the table between them.
"Q." Picard tried to be annoyed. It was too appalling to consider that he might have gotten used to these sporadic visits. Even more appalling that he might even be a little bit pleased by this one. "What do you want now?"
"Can't I just be dropping by to say hello to an old friend who suddenly has a great deal of time on his hands?"
"No."
"Mm, perhaps not. I know... why don't we try something different this time?" Q leaned forward towards him, eyes bright. It was a sight that ought to have inspired unease, not this faint thread of anticipation. "Ask me to leave -- and I will."
"That certainly would be different," Picard said ruefully, even though he knew perfectly well that the only thing out of his mouth should be that very request. Trust Q not to let him get away with anything, even inside his own head.
For once, he could see the point of Q's actions right away. They had a pattern and a well-established one at that: Q would appear, tease, turn things upside down, and eventually vanish. In turn, he would tense up, snap, struggle out of the resultant mess, and eventually realize that the experience had left him--enlarged, at least, if not necessarily better off. They had played it out on an almost regular basis since Q had first descended on him, once a year on average, he'd once calculated.
Now Q was demanding a break to the pattern. Not sending him away would require Picard to acknowledge that there was something about the visits that he appreciated. And that meant Q would be admitting that these visits weren't simply about tormenting him for amusement. An offer of something beyond what they had now, something perhaps more real, and both tempting and terrifying--even without considering the very real possibility that Q would just mock him for the acknowledgement and teach him a nasty lesson about trusting omnipotent beings.
Every report he'd ever written for Starfleet files about these visits carefully emphasized Q's amorality, his capricious nature, and how very dangerous he was. He'd deliberately avoided adding his long-held suspicions about Q's motives. He didn't want anyone else encountering Q or any others of his race to be even slightly tempted to go in with the assumption of an underlying benevolence. He knew better himself.
And yet--
"I'm waiting, Jean-Luc. Say the word, and I'll be on my way."
Practicality could win him another moment to think. "If whatever you're planning--"
Q waved an airy hand. "Yes, yes, I'll spare you the easy excuses as usual. No effects on anyone but you, blah, blah, blah. It's just you and me."
It was extraordinary how Q could make the simple act of speaking feel a great deal like taking a leap off a cliff with an uncertain parachute. "In that case -- you're welcome to stay." A touch of whimsy struck him. "May I offer you some wine?"
Past Duties
Pairing: Picard/Q
Author on LJ:
astolatAuthor Website: Intimations
Why this must be read:
As a meditation on mortality, this feels all too plausible, all too real. Shalott can make a young person understand what it feels like to be old, to be desperately fighting the decay of the light.
As a P/Q fic, this is entirely smut-free and doesn't even have to be interpreted as slash, but it manages to be suffused with love and the tentative admission of trust despite the fact that neither character actually comes out and says any such thing. The characters are perfectly in character, the banter is witty, and the ending brought tears to my eyes. I also think the solution in this story is blindingly obvious and wonder why no one thought of it before in a P/Q fic.
So now here he was at last, duty performed, his well-earned rest stretching before him, and nothing he particularly cared about to fill it with. He shook his head at the gloom of his own thoughts. Once he'd had enough of a rest to get his energy back, he'd finally have time now to go back to his old interests, discover new ones. He was eighty, he might have as much as three or four decades of life still ahead of him.
Ignoring his own lack of enthusiasm, he made himself open the book. This one had been sitting on his shelf for at least five years, and for all of them he'd have given a great deal for the time to read it. It would be stupid not to enjoy it now.
Except, of course, if it vanished out of his hands before he had the chance to read a word.
"So, Jean-Luc, enjoying the first day of the rest of your existence?" Q, stretched out in a second chair that hadn't been there a flash of light before, turned the book sideways to study the spine. "Oh my, how bleak." He dropped it on the table between them.
"Q." Picard tried to be annoyed. It was too appalling to consider that he might have gotten used to these sporadic visits. Even more appalling that he might even be a little bit pleased by this one. "What do you want now?"
"Can't I just be dropping by to say hello to an old friend who suddenly has a great deal of time on his hands?"
"No."
"Mm, perhaps not. I know... why don't we try something different this time?" Q leaned forward towards him, eyes bright. It was a sight that ought to have inspired unease, not this faint thread of anticipation. "Ask me to leave -- and I will."
"That certainly would be different," Picard said ruefully, even though he knew perfectly well that the only thing out of his mouth should be that very request. Trust Q not to let him get away with anything, even inside his own head.
For once, he could see the point of Q's actions right away. They had a pattern and a well-established one at that: Q would appear, tease, turn things upside down, and eventually vanish. In turn, he would tense up, snap, struggle out of the resultant mess, and eventually realize that the experience had left him--enlarged, at least, if not necessarily better off. They had played it out on an almost regular basis since Q had first descended on him, once a year on average, he'd once calculated.
Now Q was demanding a break to the pattern. Not sending him away would require Picard to acknowledge that there was something about the visits that he appreciated. And that meant Q would be admitting that these visits weren't simply about tormenting him for amusement. An offer of something beyond what they had now, something perhaps more real, and both tempting and terrifying--even without considering the very real possibility that Q would just mock him for the acknowledgement and teach him a nasty lesson about trusting omnipotent beings.
Every report he'd ever written for Starfleet files about these visits carefully emphasized Q's amorality, his capricious nature, and how very dangerous he was. He'd deliberately avoided adding his long-held suspicions about Q's motives. He didn't want anyone else encountering Q or any others of his race to be even slightly tempted to go in with the assumption of an underlying benevolence. He knew better himself.
And yet--
"I'm waiting, Jean-Luc. Say the word, and I'll be on my way."
Practicality could win him another moment to think. "If whatever you're planning--"
Q waved an airy hand. "Yes, yes, I'll spare you the easy excuses as usual. No effects on anyone but you, blah, blah, blah. It's just you and me."
It was extraordinary how Q could make the simple act of speaking feel a great deal like taking a leap off a cliff with an uncertain parachute. "In that case -- you're welcome to stay." A touch of whimsy struck him. "May I offer you some wine?"
Past Duties
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