by Joanne Collins

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This one just insisted it be written, don't know exactly where it came from. Okay, this is all Margaret's fault For those of you not on the CPSG, we have been having a lot of fun lately with the C/P version of this story, and I decided that it could be fun to do it as a P/K.

Just a note, this is not to be taken seriously in any way. No distribution other than the PKSP list and my page.

Characters belong to Paramount, not me. Tom and Harry belong to each other (or Chakotay).

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Paris idly racked the balls again, wondering if he should call up Ricki's program again, or just call Megan Delaney. She would give him no complications, unlike some of the others, he thought.

"Or there's always me, mon amour," came a French accent.

"Sandrine?" Tom asked, surprised, wondering how in the galaxy she could know what he was thinking. She was a hologram for gods' sakes.

"Oui, mon amour," she said, stepping out from behind the bar.

"Computer, delete holocharacters," Tom said, panicked. This couldn't be another alien being taking over the holodeck, could it?

With that command, the holographic patrons disappeared, but Sandrine kept moving toward him predatorially.

"Oh, gods," he groaned, wondering what manner of creature it was this time.

With a gesture of disdain, Sandrine changed from her attractive blondness to a tall, reddish-haired woman in a Starfleet uniform.

"Q!" he exclaimed, not as shocked as he might have been, "What are you doing here?"

"Don't you think I might just be. . . curious about your. . . charms, Helm Boy?"

"Not in a million years," Tom said, unable to resist looking her up and down.

"Well, you're right. There's a huge problem with the fabric of the universe. And you have to do something about it."

"Why should I believe you?" Tom asked, with a show of false bravado.

"Because I have no reason to lie to you."

"There is that. But then again, you could lie without reason, just to amuse yourself."

"To paraphrase from one of your favourite movies, the problems of one little pilot don't amount to a hill of beans in the Q Continuum."

Tom wasn't sure whether to be insulted or relieved at that statement. At least it seemed that Q was here for legitimate reasons. As legitimate as Q ever got, he reminded himself.

"So why are you here?" he asked again.

"To repair the damage done to the space-time continuum. When was the last time you had sex?"

"Uh. . . .counting the Captain on the swamp planet?"

"No, of course not. When you were. . . yourself."

"Uh. . . Lidell?"

"You slept with her?" Q sounded outraged.

"Hell, I don't remember. For all I know, we did the horizontal tango while I was out of it and she was implanting those memories."

"Ugh," Q shuddered, "I think it's best that unless and until we find out otherwise that we both believe that you didn't. Aside from that little incident?"

"I honestly don't remember. There was probably a drunken interlude or two with Megan."

"Hardly what you'd expect of the man with the most active sex life in the Delta Quadrant."

"I'm sorry?"

"Oh, not you, specifically. Tom Paris in general."

"Tom Paris in general? Q, what the hell are you talking about?"

"Tom Paris is the man with the most. . . intriguing sex life in the four quadrants. Well, with the possible exception of Julian Bashir," and a faraway look came into Q's eyes for a moment.

"But I haven't had sex in months," Tom said.

"No, you haven't. But there are an awful lot of alternate Tom Paris's out there, and some of them have been having a very interesting time of it."

"Really?" Tom asked, intrigued despite his senses telling him not to listen, "So who have they been having sex with?"

"Well. . . a lot of them have been having sex with. . . B'Elanna," Q said with a kind of accepting resignation.

"Hmmm," Tom mused, "They must be doing better than I am at persuading her to have dinner with them."

"Some of them are having sex with Kathryn," Q added.

Tom choked on the sip of holographic beer that he'd just taken.

"The Captain?"

"Oh, yes. It's amazing how well that relationship can work, actually."

"Anyone else of note?"

"Hmmm. . . .Kira Nerys in one universe."

"Kira Nerys? Of DS9?"

"Yes. It's a double-parallel universe though. Those things give me a headache trying to figure out where they belong in the scheme of things. I generally ignore them unless I'm in the mood to visit them."

"Okay," Tom said, only half-believing this at all.

"Then there are the Tom Parises who are having sex with Julian Bashir."

"Julian? You have got to be kidding me. The guy was so uptight at the Academy that it wasn't funny. There's no way he'd ever unbend enough to have sex with me."

"Not in this universe," Q said with the resignation of someone who has pointed out this fact several times within the same conversation.

"Who else?"

"Well, there's one universe at the moment where you're having intensely passionate sex with James Hawk."

"Okay, that's that pilot, isn't it? From the Academy?"

"Yes. I'm very pleased that that universe exists. The time I had bringing it into being. . . ." Q trailed off.

"Anyone else?"

"Well, there are a great many universes where you are having intensely romantic, passionate, loving sex with Chakotay."

Tom collapsed in a fit of the giggles. Q waited patiently for him to compose himself.

"Ch-Chakotay? I mean, I have no problem with having sex with a man, but Chakotay?"

"Yes. There are so many alternate universes where you are having sex with Chakotay that we in the Continuum have had to give them a separate name. We call them C/P universes."

"Ceepee?"

"No, C/P. Like the two letters with a slash between them."

"Okay, so what's that got to do with me?" A look of utter horror crossed his face, and he asked, "You don't meant to tell me that I've got to have sex with Chakotay, do you?"

"No, in fact, the problem with the space-time continuum is that there are too many C/P universes out there. The problem is, there are now other universes that are destabilising and collapsing."

"And these are universes where I'm having sex with B'Elanna? Or the Captain? I can't do much about the Bashir or Hawk universes from out here, I'm afraid."

"Well, there is one other major group of universes that we haven't discussed yet, Tom. There are P/K universes."

"Peekay? Like in the movie and book The Power Of One?"

"Nice thought, but no. P/K like C/P. Well. . . not exactly like C/P, but you get the idea."

"But who is K? There's no one on this ship with a first name starting with K, is there?"

"No, not a first name. P is for Paris remember?"

"Then who. . . not Harry?"

Q just nodded.

"I can't have sex with Harry. He's my best friend!"

"So who do you have more in common with? Who do you open up more with?"

"No. . . " Tom whispered, knowing what he wanted, but knowing that it wasn't possible.

"Yes. This is a P/K universe, and because you're not together, the C/P universes are threatening to take over the multiverse."

"So I'm supposed to go up to Harry and tell him I love him and want to have sex with him?"

"Well, that might work. But I suggest that you wait until you're in a Jefferies tube before saying that. Just go and see him. Your instincts will tell you what to say and do," and Q disappeared.

"Weird," Tom thought, "I really should go and tell Chakotay what happened," but Tom was seized by an uncontrollable desire to go and see Harry.

"Could Q be manipulating me? Did she get inside my head and see what I really wanted, and twist it around so that I would go and humiliate myself in front of Harry and ruin my chances with him, slim as they are, forever?"

"No, Tom," Q appeared again, "I can't manipulate your feelings like that. It's not within my powers."

"Okay," Tom said, somehow unsurprised to find himself at Harry's door. He could hear the clarinet music playing through the doors, and Q smiled at him and said, "Good luck," before disappearing again.


Tom rang the door chime, and heard Harry's voice call, "Enter."

He came into the room and Harry smiled at him. "What can I do for you, Tom?" he asked.

"Harry, can we talk?"

"Of course."

"There's something I've been meaning to tell you," Tom began.

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End