The BLTS Archive- Love Comes Quickly
by Laura Jacquez Valentine (jacquez@dementia.org)

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There was a cold mug of tea next to my bed.  I sniffed it--Earl Grey,
but not mine.  My yeoman would have cleaned it up this morning if it
was.  I should have reported the cup to Security, but I was tired and
did not feel like having them crawling over my quarters when I wanted
to sleep.  A cup of tea was innocent enough.

And I must admit that I had my suspicions.  Had had my suspicions for
quite some time.

I replaced the mug on the nightstand.  Not that Q would come back for
a cold cup of tea, but it would at least remind me of him.  These days
I tried so hard to forget--

I tried to forget my brother and his family, tried to forget the Borg
whispering in my mind, tried to forget everyone I've ever cared for. 
I had enough scars as it was; the last thing I needed was Q tormenting
me.  He was, after all, very good at getting under my skin.

Very, very good.  At least I hadn't been dreaming of him.  I don't
think  I could have stood that.

For a moment I let myself imagine that he was with me, that he spooned
himself behind me and held me against him, that I could smell him--he
smells slightly spicy, a little like sage--and feel his arms, warm and
solid.

I sat down on my bed and wrapped my arms around myself.  Love is a
strange thing when it happens.  I never would have expected that Q, of
all people (when did I start thinking of him as a person?) would be
the one I wanted.  He wasn't exactly the perfect partner.  He was
overbearing, too smart for his own good, pushy, arrogant--and,
unfortunately for me, tremendously attractive.

He had indicated that his gender was not a fixed thing--that was
attractive.  He was tall.  He had tremendous eyes.  His hands were
large, capable, and skilled.  His mouth--

I couldn't allow myself to go on.  There are certain things I cannot
afford--that no starship captain can afford.  Loving a dangerously
powerful alien is one of those things.

There was, however, nothing I could do to stop this.  Love, when it
happens, is even more sure in its conquest than the Borg.

I lay back and closed my eyes.  The scent of sage washed over me,
rising  from the bed.  Q was not there, but he had been.  I let myself
fall sleep with his scent surrounding me.

I should have changed the bedcovers.  My dreams were disturbed by
visions of him.  He stole me from the bridge, taught me to fly, held
me close at night, made love to me over and over.

Near ship's dawn, I woke, trembling.  I had been correct--I could not
stand dreaming of him.  "By God," I whispered to my quarters, "what
shall I do?"

I felt rather than saw the flash of light, felt his weight settle on
the  bed, felt sage wash over me and one of those glorious hands
alight on my  chest.

"You could always try kissing me, Jean-Luc."

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The End