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[ he succeeds in doing just that, something breathy and wonderful escaping from between her lips. she holds on to his shoulders as he moves her, still caught up in the atmosphere of it all — she refuses to call it magic — snapping back to reality to moment her boots touch the ground, as if the click of her heels against the steel bottom of the carousel is a loud gong. it takes her a moment to become fully aware of her surroundings, of her company. last she checked, she was dancing with q on the roof, not down in the city below, standing between q and a fiberglass horse.

her posture resumes its former rigid stance when he touches his thumb to her lips, resisting the urge to wipe her mouth off properly on the back of her hand. it would likely cause both injury and insult, and if and when (sooner, later, etc.) kathryn decides to inflict pain upon q, it won't be this way. it isn't disgust that fills her so much as frustration, annoyance, and exhaustion. kathryn's notorious for running herself ragged, but this day in particular has taken a lot out of her emotionally. ]

Well, [ she didn't realize how breathless she was until she attempted speech ] that was certainly something. So much for putting ourselves above the issue.

[ Breathless, yes. Flushed with exertion, with breathlessness--it's a strange feeling, but a welcome one none the less, and this from a man who treasures his self control; but he's never kissed like that, never been kissed like that, and it's not a human interaction he minds having experienced. When she has her own weight again, he disengages, moving carefully aside. The carousel still turns with rhythmic certainty, and there's something comforting in that.

Now came the important decision: comfort, compliment or crow? ]

Certainly something. I suppose that's an acceptable description. You were magnificent, by the way.

[ There. He wouldn't embarrass her by being anything but himself, therefore allowing her to be herself. No questions asked. No dramatic reshaping of the status quo. They could carry on right where they left off. ]

I don't think it'll pick another fight with either of us tonight, and if you mind me saying, Kathy, since home is twelve flights of stairs, we really should get going. [ He offered his hand toward her. ] May I help you disembark?

Of course I was.

[ in the midst of all the awkwardness these kissing scenarios have produced, kathryn's grateful he doesn't attempt to conjure up any more. it would've been detrimental to his health, otherwise. she grins, chin held high like there were pips pinned to the collar of her coat, and brushes past that offered hand, stepping down off the carousel of her own accord. ]

Not bad — for a non-human.

[ Such self confidence! He stands there dumbstruck for a few moments, rotating a little further around the carousel before he stumbles suddenly off it, as though tugged after her clumsily by an invisible leash--and perhaps it's true. Was that a compliment he'd heard? Why, he's flabbergasted. And scuttling to catch up, moving into her wake as they return toward building twelve.

The headache is there now, persistent as a drum against his temple, but Q gallantly decides not to whine and sulk about it. What would it mean for his image? But it's still something that he's not whipped them away on a shortcut back to the apartment, to safety, and more importantly up those twelve flights of stairs without having to get into the elevator. He hasn't ridden in one even once since Kathryn had taken him up to her apartment the first time. And perhaps he'd been foolish to choose an apartment on the top floor, but it gave him immediate access to the stars and a feeling of being able to see everything even if he couldn't--both equally important to keeping him sane. ]

Let me in on the joke. I'm dying to hear what's so funny.

Edited 2013-12-18 02:35 (UTC)

[ would you have been satisfied with anything other than self-confidence from kathryn janeway, q? just because she hasn't actively participated in the act of kissing for some time doesn't mean she doesn't remember how to do it, that she isn't still damned good at it. like riding a bicycle — or piloting a shuttle or starship, going by this place's certain lack there of. same principle applied; she could sit down at the helm after six months of not having so much as stepped foot on a space-fairing ship proper and be able to navigate her way through an asteroid field without so much as grazing the hull. ]

You. [ she answers after a moment, trailing slightly after him now that they're in the building. an odd role reversal, but she doesn't exactly know where she's going. ] This day, these scenarios. Like a kissing Kobayashi Maru, only I think I've actually beat the no-win scenario in this instance in successfully pinpointing the one angle that's not going to end in apologies or a change of address. And it's you of all people. [ throws her hands up. ] Go figure.

Edited 2013-12-18 02:52 (UTC)

[ He briefly steps behind, but only to hold the door open to the stairwell and allow her to step past him. The only way is up from there, and he joins her again. If she was breathless before, the twelfth floor will be exhausting. Fortunately his prediction still seemed to be holding water. The mistletoe was nowhere to be seen, not lurking under doorways or around corners, and their way remained relatively unimpeded, but for the stairs.

He rolled his eyes at her explanation. He was the solution to the unwinnable scenario. Him. He didn't know whether to be offended or flattered. ]

Oh, I see how it is. In that case I'm glad to be of service. I'll be sure to invite you over the next time the city sets about humiliating everyone in sight.

[ A tinge of sarcasm, maybe, but if there was it was to mask something compassionate about the offer.

In truth, he understood. In the end, Q and Janeway were equals, would always be (no matter how he waved his hand and insisted otherwise). It was she who had saved his life in the Continuum, she who had walked into the enemy camp with nothing but a white flag to try and bargain for a truce. They had an understanding, a strange but functional relationship that wouldn't have been easy to explain--oh, he wished he could see her report to Starfleet about his appearances! Before a board of enquiry, perhaps, or a classroom full of cadets. That would be delightful!

Here, though, their equality played a different role. No delicate chain of command constrained them, and at the end of the day Q would still be Q, and she would still be no less 'Kathy', meant endearingly but with no more respect for human protocol or etiquette than usual, and with no sulking about wishing for things to be different.

No, they were both, Q thought, quite happy with the status quo, thank you very much. No dynamic shifted. The City couldn't win. Their shields were permanently up. Perhaps there was something funny about that. ]

Ha! [ He said, at last. Ha! Take that, Mistletoe! ]

[ oh, how she was looking forward to those debriefings. ~~if and~~ when she got voyager back, she'd likely spend the first month or so rotating from one debriefing to the next. she imagined they would be as baffled by her insistence that q wasn't necessarily a problem for her so much as he was an annoyance, something she could easily tune out when she'd had enough as long as he didn't snap his fingers — and even then, it wasn't so much a danger as it was an exercise in patience while waiting to be put back. of course, the problem with starfleet's reports on q was that the majority of them were written from picard's perspective.

as if there were some unwritten law hidden deep in the margins of some sub-article of an obscure, forgotten regulation that the word of enterprise captains was to be taken as gospel truth.

she was still displeased with kirk and spock's reaction to her informing them of q. starfleet command wasn't likely to respond any better. ]

I'll take you up on that the next time the City's overrun with zombies.

Edited 2013-12-18 03:47 (UTC)

[ In this instance he misunderstands the meaning of her use of the word zombie, and it's probably for the best. They set off up another flight, and then another, and he feels himself flagging already. He's out of shape, really, but then he's never really been in shape. Who needs boundless energy when you can summon immeasurable strength from nowhere, bend reality, move without taking a single step. This human exertion had long since lost its novelty.

Although speaking of curses. ]

There's something I need to ask you, Kathy. And please don't think to shield me from the truth, I won't stand for it. Is it true that there are curses that...make you forget entirely who and what you are?

[ There's no doubt this time: there's worry in his voice. ]

[ probably for the best. she likely would've misunderstood it herself if not for the fact that she has tom paris for a pilot. he tends to carry on conversations with harry about the strangest things, as if the people filling the space on the bridge between the helm and ops aren't even there. ]

Who and what you are, as well as who and what you're going to be. I spent a weekend as an ensign, fully convinced that I was as a I should be, that tales of "Captain Janeway" were just that — tales. Fiction, and not a reality I'd eventually be facing.

[ Out of all the things he'd found out during his conversations with others, the idea that he might soon lose his own sense of self was by far the most unnerving thing. He could stand the idea of dying and being brought back--not so strange, that one. But losing himself? It sounded like a fate far worse than death. To lose his powers but still know himself to be Q was one thing. To lose them and forget who he was...?

Janeway having experienced it only really brought it home to him. There was no laughing this one off, no sidestepping it. Ginny had insisted that it would happen, and since Kathryn only confirmed it, it seemed to him a threat looming increasingly on the horizon.

He studied his shoes as they climbed up another flight of stairs, keeping quiet for once, and not just because he was out of breath. Only one more to go. At last he spoke. ]

I appreciate you being honest with me.

Edited 2013-12-19 21:43 (UTC)

There's a slightly outdated uniform in science blues hanging in my closet if you want further proof of how far reality can be bent in order to alter your state of mind and being.

[ "your welcome" goes unsaid, but is implied. kathryn has no reason to lie to him — not about that, anyway. she lies when necessary, but withholding basic information about the curses is not one of them. ]

Jim spent some time as a dog, or so I'm told. I missed out on that one.

Well that I absolutely must see.

[ And at last they're on the top floor, and Q stops to catch his breath under the illusion of holding the door open for her. ]

A dog. Oh, well that suits him perfectly.

I'll take that as an offer to help me with my things. [ she'll hold him to that, too. ]

Of course you'd think so.

[ shaking her head, kathryn steps into the apartment. she's in a decent enough mood right now, all things considered, but she's likely to be set in a foul one come morning. ]

I suppose clicking my fingers is out of the question?

[ She seemed to have some particular desire to work him down to the bone. Something about humility, he supposed, though he didn't understand it even a little bit. Humility implied humanity, and since he wasn't actually human it seemed like a waste of time.

Q's rooms were bare bones - that was the only way to describe them. He barely lived here, couldn't stand being inside, didn't like sleeping, didn't own anything because he didn't understand owning things. There were two rooms though, out of luck perhaps because he'd had the number chosen for him. Two rooms, and the second one to be Junior's, should he happen to appear. Janeway was a good close second. He led her toward it, hovering quietly in the doorway. ]

Well, this is it.

You haven't exactly made yourself at home.

[ she's likely the only person in the entire city who would approve of just how bare bones this place is. it had been strange, living with kirk and mccoy, who were content to put things up on shelves like they had just moved into a new set of quarters for however long they'd be staying in them — or chakotay, who'd taken the time to dress their apartment with all the basic comforts of an actual home. perhaps it was in attempt to feel settled or comfortable with this place, but kathryn refused to settle and she'd never be truly comfortable in this godforsaken city. ]

I couldn't tell you what a home is. I've never had one.

[ Oh, the Continuum counted, to a certain extent. It was home because it had always been a place he belonged, but it wasn't a home in the mortal style. It wasn't a den or an earth, a roost or a sty. It was the Continuum, and therefore not really a place at all. A plane of existence--that was different. ]

Is it okay? Because I can change it.

[ Actually he was all out, and the lights were making his head hurt. ]

[ she doesn't call him on his bluff, knowing full well that he's fresh out of tricks, otherwise he would've made their ascent up those flights of stairs considerably more easier. or transformed the elevator into a turbolift. he snapped his fingers one time too many for her tonight, and she suspects he had something to do with the mistletoe's retreat. it's a wonder he's not suffering from the same excruciating headache he had the day he tried to pull in the delta flyer — or maybe he does, and he's taken a page out of her book and is hiding it well.

either way, she smiles softly and shakes her head. ] No, this will do. Though you're wrong about not having a home.

Home doesn't necessarily have to be a place. It can be a state of being, the presence of an object or set of objects, or even another person. And for you, I think you're son is home. Now, anyway.

[ No, definitely suffering, although in the absence of a steady stream of analgesia, he's learned that - at least - going to sleep tends to cure the problem. Of course if he'd turn the lights off it'd probably be easier, but he's not that brave. So stubbornly holding out against the pain it is, and he thinks he's doing quite a manly job of it, actually.

There's that softness again, and at the hint of it he inclines his head toward her slightly, considering. She's incredibly compassionate; it's one of the things that Q had suspected would make her such a good influence on the Continuum. She's certainly been a good influence on Junior (and arguably him, but don't tell anyone.) Here she demonstrates it again, and Q places a hand against her shoulder, stepping back into the doorway. ]

Then until I see Junior again, I won't be settling for anything less.

[ If his son was home... If his son was home, if she was right, then he would never feel comfortable here, no matter how hard he tried to fit in. Did that make his efforts pointless? No--not so long as those efforts were directed toward escape. Like Janeway, he couldn't afford to be truly happy until they'd been sprung from this trap. ]

[ she could've easily shrugged that hand off, stepped away from it and closed the door in his face, but she refrains and holds her ground. her stance isn't nearly as rigid as it was when he touched her after their kiss, but it isn't completely relaxed either. honestly, it's a miracle she's hovering somewhere in between the two after the day she's had. likely just preserving all her sharp angles and hard lines for the morning when she's bound to be less tolerant of everything she's been setting aside in favor of doing everything in her power to avoid locking lips with any more strangers. ]

Good. I wouldn't expect any less out of a citizen of the cosmos.

[ He releases her shoulder again quickly enough. He needs to put his head down, or else he'd linger and milk the moment for all it was worth; but they're both tired, and a few moments alone before sleeping wouldn't go amiss--and for Janeway, the chance to better settle into the new environment. ]

There should be spare blankets in the wardrobe, all the usual...hygiene things... [ He hovers halfway out the door, his hand on the edge of it, looking back at her as he gestures toward the bathroom. ] Is there anything else you need?

[ she wouldn't sleep comfortably if she were in the bed she'd grown accustomed to in the apartment she left behind or the bed in her quarters back on voyager. either she's waking herself up in fits of paranoia, instinctively jolting awake ready to deal with whatever's caused the ship to drop out of warp, only to realize that the reason she can't feel the hum of the engines from the lower decks is because she isn't even on the ship; or she's simply too restless and plagued with thoughts she refuses to share with anyone else to sleep soundly. fueled by caffeine, it's rare she gets a full night's worth. ]

No, I'm fine. Thank you. [ the words carry unspoken weight. she's grateful to him today, but she knows it likely won't stay that way. ] Goodnight, Q.

Goodnight, Kathryn.

[ He steps the rest of the way through the door, glances across the room once more, then gently closes it behind him. Only then does he stop to knead his hands into his head, doubling forward slightly to duck his face away from the bright lights. Time to sleep this migraine off; and hopefully they could avoid vicious brainmelting mistletoe for a while yet. That is to say: he sincerely hoped he wouldn't be here if, as some people on the network had mentioned, it came around after another year. Considering it had been mere weeks, the idea of holding out for 52 of them seemed remote. He head for bed. ]