The BLTS Archive- Playing The Hand You're Dealt
Sixth in the Winning Hand series
by AdmiralTAG (althea@yahoo.com)
and 
Astra (astraplain@yahoo.com)

---

Another Astra/AdmiralTAG collaboration, but this one (surprise,
surprise) is not a resident in our House of Angst. Humor, parody, just
plain ol' silliness--you tel us! 

As always, feedback is craved. We're begging. (No, we're not on our
knees, but hey, ya never know...).

Standard disclaimer: Paramount owns the whole deck and we won't play
with it. Wanna bet? ;-)

---

"Jean-Luc, wake up," she insisted, prodding him gently in the side.

"What it is?" he mumbled, blearily trying to focus. He caught the look
in her eye and groaned, "Beverly, not again."

She at least had the good grace not to laugh - this time. "Afraid so.
I did warn you this would happen."

Jean-Luc sighed. "Damn you Will Riker." It was said without much
conviction. Beside him, Beverly snickered.

She rose to her knees, running her hands over his chest lightly
teasing his skin, making it tingle. He loved it when she did that. He
reciprocated by drawing her down and licking that sensitive spot on
the side of her neck. She gasped in pleasure.

He rolled her onto her side and twined his legs with hers, moving his
hands down the length of her back. She mirrored his caresses stroking
his back, then his backside and those marvelous thighs. Yum.

There was a spot at the nape of her neck that he had discovered quite
by accident one night. A few lights strokes and she was instantly
aroused, slightly different pressure to the same spot and he could
bring her to swift, shattering climax.

He sometimes used this when they were alone together in the turbolift
or his ready room - times when her condition left her nearly mindless
with frustration and there wasn't time to make love properly. It kept
her sane and satisfied and, although he would never admit it, he
enjoyed the erotic control it gave him.

He reached for that spot now, only to have her grasp his hand, raising
it to her lips for a lingering kiss.

"No shortcuts tonight, my dear captain. I want the full treatment."

"Beverly," he groaned, "Four times in one night is more than any
man...." She wasn't convinced, so he tried a desperate, pleading, "I
can't."

She just smiled and spent the next 30 minutes proving that, indeed, he
could.

Afterwards, she managed one sleepy, "I love you" and fell asleep
immediately, leaving Jean-Luc breathless and wide awake. He watched
her sleep, caressing her and marveling at what she was capable of
until, finally, he fell asleep too.

He never saw the flash of white light in the corner of the bedroom.

---

Will Riker was depressed. She was with him. Again. Or should he say
still. He'd asked the computer for updates on their location every
hour for the past four. It was still the same.

Trust that runty little admiral to come up with such a fool proof
plan. The only thing it had accomplished was proving that he was a
fool to have gotten himself into such a situation in the first place.

Not only had that admiral's magic potion not killed Beverly's sex
drive and driven the couple apart, it had made her more sexual,
placing her in the equivalent of a Betazoid phase forcing her and the
captain even closer than they had been.

He remembered his time hosting Odan vividly, especially making love to
Beverly. He didn't have to imagine what she was doing to keep the
captain looking so happy. He knew. And the thought of them together
filled him with desperate envy.

He would see them separated, whatever the cost. Not just for the bet.
Not just for his career. Now it was personal.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. Such black thoughts about one's fellow officers."

The voice came from nowhere, but Riker knew who it was instantly.

"Go away, Q."

The being appeared before Riker with his usual flash of light. He was
wearing black from head to toe. The outfit of a spy.

"I don't think you want to send me away so quickly, Commander. I've
come to offer my services."

"What services?"

"Why, the services of a spy. A strategist. A master plotter. I've come
to help you win your little bet."

"Why would help me?"

"Why? Why? Why because, Commander Riker, the sight of those two
together makes me sick."

Riker thought hard (it was, truthfully, the only way he could think).
If Q had said anything else, Will would have believed that what he
just said was the truth. But since Q did say it, it had to be a lie.

"You wound me, Commander. For once I tell the truth, and you don't
believe me."

Riker tried to strike back. "You're just upset that your pet's petting
someone else."

"Petting, my dear Commander, is the least of what they're doing. Or
have you forgotten so quickly? I could remind you..." He brought his
hand up, and Riker hurried to stop him, afraid of just what Q would
do.

"All right, all right. I accept your services. After all, I've made
every other mistake already."

---

"Good morning, Jean-Luc," Beverly purred. Picard opened his eyes,
vowing to spike every one of her meals from here on in with a
sedative. Where she got her increased sex drive from he knew. What he
couldn't understand was where she got the energy to do something about
it. He was exhausted. Ecstatic, but exhausted.

"Go back to sleep, Beverly," he mumbled and turned away from her warm
body.

Only to encounter another warm body lying beside him.

"Good morning, Jean-Luc," Q purred.

Jean-Luc sat up and backed up at the same time, sending Beverly right
out of bed with a "Whooof."

Ignoring her cry of protest, he demanded, "What do you want Q? And get
out of my bed."

Q raised the covers and peered down at himself, then looked back at
Picard coyly. "If you insist... but I might get cold." At this last
part, he looked up, eying Jean-Luc's naked chest.

"What are you doing here?" Beverly demanded, finally having untangled
herself from the blankets and standing up.

"Oh go back to sleep, Red, Jean-Luc and I have something to discuss."
With a flick of his wrist, Q sent out a tiny bolt of light that struck
Beverly. She slid bonelessly to the floor, fast asleep. Q snickered.

"Q!" Jean-Luc nearly shouted. He slid towards the edge of the bed, but
Q stopped him by touching his wrist.

"Don't go yet, mon capitaine, I have news." He leaned close, his
breath warm against Jean-Luc's ear. "There's a mutineer among your
precious crew."

"What is Commander Riker doing now?" Picard asked without missing a
beat. Q would never warn him about a real mutiny, so this had to be
personal.

"Sulking in his quarters. Seems the commander is feeling a little
green."

"Any particular reason?" the captain asked. He had slid backwards
until his back was pressed against the wall. He would have preferred
getting out the bed entirely, but he didn't want Q getting more of an
eyeful than he'd already had. Besides, he might step on Beverly. As it
was, he knew she would not be pleased when she awoke.

Q sat up and leaned back against the wall, mirroring Jean-Luc. "Now
isn't this cozy?" he cooed. Beside him, Jean-Luc made a disgusted
sound. "My, my we're testy this morning. Red keep you up too late?" Q
grinned at the expression on Jean-Luc's face. "Okay, okay. Your
redoubtable Commander Riker had declared war on you, mon capitaine. He
wants to separate you and Red. Permanently."

"I know about the bet, Q."

"Ah, but you don't know about the commander's rather brainless lust
for the good doctor. Seems he's jealous of you."

"And what does that have to do with you?"

"Why, I offered to help the poor man. He's having a hard time of it."

"You're going to help Riker interfere with Beverly and me?"

Q nodded smugly.

"And is there a reason you're telling me this?"

"Of course." Q placed a hand on Jean-Luc's leg. "Face it, Jean-Luc.
You and Red don't stand a chance against me. I'm just evening the
playing field ... a little."

"And why would you want to do that?"

"I told you before, Jean-Luc. In all the universe, you're the closest
thing I have to a friend." Picard snorted derisively. "Oh, all right.
The real reason is that I'm cosmically bored. And pitting you and
Riker against each other with Sleeping Beauty down there as the prize
is just too too delicious to resist." He licked his lips and vanished
in his usual flash of light. Then, still invisible, added, "Oh, and
captain, you might want to get some rest. You'll need to be at your
best. You've only just begun to experience Red's appetites."

Leaning his head back against the wall, Jean-Luc let out a sigh. He
really didn't need this.

From the floor beside him came the sound of gentle snoring.

He slid back under the covers. From what Beverly had said, from what Q
had intimated, he would need all the sleep he could get.

---

In his quarters, Riker dreamed of sweet revenge. All of his life he
had been mocked, kicked around. Kyle Riker's little boy. The big fat
galoomph who was too afraid of the big chair. But he'd show them. He'd
show them all. He'd not only make captain, but with Q on his side,
he'd take Picard's command. And then he'd take Picard's woman. It only
seemed fair--he'd been there first, after all.

From his place in the corner, unobserved, Q yawned. Riker's fantasies
were so prosaic. At least Picard's fantasies had a little spice to
them. Not as much as his own fantasies, but Picard was only human.

Oh, well, at least tomorrow would be interesting...

---

By the time Beverly woke up, Picard was gone. She stretched, trying to
work out the kinks gathered from sleeping on the floor. Why had she
been there? The details of last night came rushing back. Q. Riker. She
had a score to settle. But first, she had to get Jean-Luc. She needed
to speak with him. (Actually, she thought, speaking is entirely
optional...)

She tracked the captain to his ready room, barging in unannounced. He
was speaking over subspace; she couldn't tell to whom. Frankly, she
didn't care, either. Whispering to the computer, she secured the doors
and began removing her uniform, daring her lover to react.

Picard hurried to conclude his conversation before Nechayev could
attribute his arousal to herself. He slammed his hand onto the
console, closing the channel forcefully. "What the hell are you doing
here, Beverly?" he hissed. When they had learned what was happening to
Beverly they had established guidelines, and Beverly had just crossed
every one of their red lines.

"I need you, Jean-Luc." He had never heard her sound so desperate. He
reached for her and began to stroke that sensitive spot on her neck.

"No." She grabbed his hand, slithering it down her body. With a
strength neither knew she possessed, she ripped his uniform off of
him, without any regard for how he would be able to leave the room
later. Backing him up against the window, she began to satisfy herself
with his body, caring for his pleasure no more than she had for his
uniform.

He tried to stop her, to slow her down, but it was like trying to
confine a soliton wave. Afterwards (long afterwards) she lay against
him on the floor, apologizing.

"I don't know what came over me."

"Q."

"Jean-Luc, we have to do something. We can't just let him..."

Picard kissed her forehead. "I have an idea."

---

Neither knew of the small machine in Riker's quarters which had
recorded every sound, every groan, every satisfied sigh, and every
word of their conversation.

But Q knew, and he was delighted. It was nice being able to count on
Riker's actions - nothing he did was a surprise, unlike Red who was
having a very unfavorable influence on Jean-Luc. The man was showing
all the warning signs. If things kept up the way they were, he might
actually do something spontaneous. That was something Q just could not
tolerate.

He blew the little recording device a kiss and vanished out of Riker's
quarters.


---

Deanna was very uncomfortable as she went to the replicator for yet
another glass of ice water. Something was going to have to be done
about Beverly's condition soon or the counselor wouldn't be able to
function.

She was about to cancel her day's appointments and take a cold shower
when her comm pin chirped.

"Picard to Troi."

She tapped the pin, "Yes, Captain."

"Counselor, I need you to go to my quarters and replicate uniforms for
Beverly and myself and bring them to my ready room. I suggest you
clear your appointment calendar for the remainder of the day. Oh, and
Counselor, I know I can trust you to be discrete."

"Of course, Captain, Troi out."

She tapped the pin again to close the channel then did a quick
meditation exercise to get her mirth under control. It would not do
for Beverly or the captain see her like this.

---

Beverly lay sprawled on the floor of the ready room, her hair splayed
around her and her skin flushed. Jean-Luc studied her prone form and
felt just the slightest sense of satisfaction. He'd finally mastered
the Vulcan neck pinch.

He tidied himself up as best as he could in the tiny bathroom,
smoothing the fringe of hair into place and straightening his
underwear. The uniform, unfortunately, was not fit to wear, even to
preserve his modesty. He just hoped Deanna would hurry.

He answered the door chime with dread. "Yes?" he called through the
closed doors. "Who is it?"

"Captain?"

Damnitall. Riker. He certainly couldn't let him in.

"I'm sorry, Commander. Whatever it is will have to wait. Beverly and I
are conferring on a matter of critical importance."

"Yes sir." Riker answered smartly. Picard swore he could see the smirk
through the door. Merde.

He was almost grateful for the Q's customary flash of light.

"My, my, Jean-Luc, no wonder Red loses so many patients. She does
spend an inordinate amount of time lying around."

"You said you'd help, Q. So help, or get out."

"Oh I am helping, Captain. You just don't realize it yet. But you
will. In fact, you should seem some dramatic changes very very soon."

"I already saw changes, Q. And not for the better." He indicated his
torn uniform. "Did you do that to Beverly?"

"Me? Why no, Jean-Luc. I warned you about mutiny. Riker wants your
job. He wants your ship. And, my dear captain, he wants Red. He's
changed her dosage."

"And you've come to gloat? Don't waste your time, Q, I've got too much
on my mind to give you a good show."

"On the contrary, Captain. But I won't keep you, the mind slut's on
her way."

Just then the door chimed again. Picard walked to the door and, from
the corner of his eye saw Q vanish.

It was, indeed, Deanna, carrying the uniforms concealed in officious
looking attache case. "Nicely done," he commended her, then hastily
retreated to the head to dress.

By the time he returned, Deanna had wrestled the semi-conscious doctor
into her new uniform. Picard helped her lay the woman on the couch,
then motioned the counselor to a chair.

"Deanna, I must ask for your help..."

---

Sitting on the bridge, it was all Will Riker could do to stop himself
from laughing out loud. He had a very good suspicion about what was in
that case Deanna was carrying.

He ran the hand over the arm of the captain's chair. Soon, he thought,
soon.

---

The first conscious thought Beverly had was that she was hungry. Not
that was unusual for the doctor. She'd always had a healthy appetite.
But lately, her condition had had her focusing more on another of her
appetites. It felt great not to be frustrated.

She kept her eyes closed wondering what she'd like to eat. Something
sweet, maybe. Or maybe a nice plate of pasta. Or vegetable soup. Maybe
a little of each. Yummmm.

She didn't realize she'd said it loud until she heard Deanna giggle.

She ignored Deanna for the moment, feeling far too good to deal with
the counselor just now, and tried to order some food from the
replicator. Jean- Luc stopped her.

"Will's up to his old tricks. I don't think you should use the
replicators."

The three of them went down to Ten-Forward, trusting Guinan to serve
untainted products. Beverly was bubbling over with energy, trying to
bounce off in three directions at once. She was beginning to exhaust
Picard again, this time with her babbling, so he sent her off to
sickbay to deal with her overdue workload.

She was so full of energy that she didn't even mind being called in
for emergency surgery, and felt blissfully clearheaded. Maybe it was Q
countering the effects of the drugs, but she didn't care. She might
even thank him if she ever saw him again--right after she knocked him
unconscious.

After the surgery, she instinctively reached out her hand for the
glass of cold water she always drank after surgery, knowing one of the
nurses would have it ready. She drained the glass in three quick
gulps, and then stared at it in horror, remembering too late that she
was not supposed to eat or drink on her own. She looked at her trusted
sidekick, standing near her, grinning. Alyssa was Tonto to her Lone
Ranger, Starbuck to her Ahab, Robin to her Batman, Butthead to her
Beavis. Alyssa would never cooperate with Riker. Or would she?

She would. She had. Or someone had slipped her a mickey to give to the
doctor. Whatever had happened, the need was back, and more intense
than ever.

Beverly rushed to her quarters, hoping she could fight this battle
alone. She tried every trick in her arsenal, and over the years as a
woman alone, she had learned some very intriguing tricks. When none of
those conquered the aching need, she tried some of the tricks she had
recently learned from Jean- Luc. The thought of him only heightened
her tension.

"Q," she called in frustration. "Where are you?"

The flash of light didn't even faze her--she was far beyond that in
her desperation. "I thought you said you'd help us."

"I also said I'd help Willy-Boy. Besides," he picked up the uniform
she'd so hastily cast off by her bedside, "today's the maid's day off.
Clean up your own mess."

So she dressed quickly, throwing on her uniform over bare skin, and
rushed for the captain's ready room. She rang for admission, but got
no answer. Riker was sitting in the center seat, smirking at her.

Oh, but Riker was in fine form today. Surrounding him was an all-girls
crew, and she knew who had arranged that. He was sprawled in
Jean-Luc's chair, his oversized body taking up far more space than had
been allotted.

"The captain's busy."

"It's an urgent matter, Commander." It was difficult to talk through
the haze of lust.

"He's got a code 47. You can't go in there." Beverly had a good idea
who had arranged for someone to call Picard using one of Starfleet's
top secret communication codes.

She hadn't even noticed Riker rising and walking over to her. The next
thing she did know was that Riker had his arm around her shoulders,
and was leading her into the conference lounge. "Is there something I
can do for you, Beverly?" he asked in a low voice.

She was about to say, "I may be desperate, but I'm not that bad off,"
when Riker accidentally brushed against that spot on her neck. The one
Jean-Luc had discovered. And suddenly, she was that desperate.

She closed her eyes and moaned, her body wresting control from her
frantic mind. Riker smiled at her reaction and caressed her neck
again. She was lost.

Throwing her arms around him, she backed him up against the wall and
kissed him hard. Will responded, kissing her back, his hands pressed
into her back. She was hot as liquid fire, nearly scorching him where
their flesh touched. This was even better than he remembered.

She was tugging at his uniform top, her deft fingers unusually clumsy
as her mind warred against her actions. She had to buy some time, to
give herself a chance to regain control.

"Not here." She managed to gasp as last, though her fingers were still
working at his uniform fastener. "Please."

Will smiled at her, not kindly, and stilled her hands. He straightened
his uniform and stepped back, grinning when she moaned in frustration.

"Go to your quarters," he instructed, "and put on something...nice.
I'll make my excuses and join you as soon as I can."

Helpless, Beverly could only nod her agreement.

Riker gave her one last long leer and walked away. Just before the
door closed, he thought he heard her sob.

---

Beverly threw her uniform carelessly over a chair and slipped on her
sheerest gown. The cool silk teased her burning skin making her
shudder. This had to stop soon or she would go mad.

She punched the communications panel, desperate to reach Jean-Luc, but
he was still in communications lockout and would remain that way until
the priority transmission ended. It could be hours and heaven help her
for what might happen in the meantime.

To actually consider Riker's offer was a sign of just how far he had
driven her. Her condition had never been this bad. She tried one more
desperate plea to Q, but the being was obviously off somewhere
laughing at her expense. Damn him.

She caught sight of some of her toys, left carelessly strewn across
the bed, all tried and then abandoned. It wouldn't do for Riker to see
those. She scooped them up and stuffed them all in a drawer just as
her door chime sounded.

He didn't wait for to answer, but tapped in her private code and
strolled right into her bedroom. He eyed her appraisingly then quirked
a smile and said, "Nice."

From somewhere Beverly found a tiny bit of strength. Ignoring her
body's desperate need, she moved out into the dining area and ordered
champagne. Yes it was probably spiked, but maybe at least she could
get drunk and not have to think about what was going to happen.
Synthahol was almost as good as the real thing as long as you didn't
will yourself to be clear-headed. In her condition, she didn't think
clear-headed was a possibility, anyway.

She turned away from the replicator to see Will opening a small silver
carrying case. She hadn't even noticed he was carrying it.

"What's that?"

Riker's blue eyes sparkled at her. "A surprise." He told her.
"Something to make this afternoon special."

Beverly's hands began to tremble.

---

Picard nodded his head again, feeling like a marionette. "Yes,
Admiral. Of course, Admiral. I understand." He'd spent the last 45
minutes saying the same three phrases over and over. At this point he
wasn't even really listening anymore.

The captain had the most uncomfortable feeling that something was not
right. There was no reason for this particular Admiral, stationed on
one of the least used starbases in the Federation, to be calling,
especially not using this level of security. He'd spent nearly fifteen
minutes just talking about his fish.

And that's what this was. Fishy. Picard smelled a rat. Specifically a
Number One rat. Finally hearing a break in the Admiral's monologue, he
broke in. "I am so glad you informed me of the situation, Admiral. I
will give it due consideration. I do apologize, but I have a pressing
matter I must attend to. Thank you for calling. Picard out." With a
deliberate motion, he severed the communication.

Tapping his communicator he said, "Picard to..."

Only to have Q appear in his fish tank. "No, no, Captain. Red's rather
busy at the moment." A flash of light and the being was standing in
front of the desk. "In fact, so is Riker."

Picard knew what that meant immediately. "I though you were going to
help us, Q."

"But I am, mon capitaine. In fact, I'm going to take you to the
lovebirds right now."

And with a flash they left the Ready Room and reappeared in Beverly's
quarters. Picard cried out her name, but Q smirked at him. "Sorry,
Captain, we're doing the Dickens bit. They can't see or hear us."

But Jean-Luc could see them. Beverly, wearing the nightgown he had
bought her in Paris, was lying spread out across her bed while Will
Riker, wearing only shorts and a smile, was sucking warm cheese sauce
off her toes.

Beside him Q sniffed indignantly. "What, no nachos?"

Q snapped his fingers, and a vendor began pacing the room. "Hot dogs,
popcorn, nachos! Getcha ice cold beer here!"

Q motioned to the man, and a plate of nachos in cheese sauce was
passed to him. "What can I get for you, Jean-Luc?" Q asked.

"You can get Riker out of here!"

"Temper, temper, mon capitaine. Besides, I also promised to help your
Number Two."

Picard ignored the jibe at his first officer, though it described
exactly how he felt about the lying, cheating, spineless, sniveling,
sorry excuse for an officer and a gentleman who was presently busy
making the woman Picard loved moan by dragging cheese-filled pretzels
up her thighs. "You may have promised to help him," he answered Q,
"but surely you didn't promise to help him to Beverly!"

Q pointed a loaded nacho at him. "You have a point." He considered.
"Not as big a point as you'll have if you keep staring at the bed like
that, but a point."

"What do you expect me to do, Q? Just sit here and watch while Beverly
is humiliated?"

"That's exactly what I expect--unless you can think of something
better." Q turned his back on Picard and watched the action on the
bed, munching noisily on his nachos.

Picard circled the bed, trying to think a way out for Beverly. She lay
there, eyes screwed shut. It was unlike her to have her eyes closed,
he knew that. Evidently, so did Riker.

"Beverly, look at me," Riker said. Beverly mustered up all her
strength and shook her head.

"Beverly." He reached up and stroked her neck. He didn't know what
luck had revealed the prize spot to him, but he had no use for gift
horses' mouths, just Beverly's. Her eyes flew open, against her will.

"Do you want me, Beverly?"

He hit a particularly sensitive spot on her neck. "Please..."

He persisted. "Say it, Beverly. Say: 'Will, make love to me'." He knew
one of the bugs he had planted--the one in her communicator, or the
one in her nightstand--would pick up her words and record them. Then
he could prove to the Admirals he was doing everything he could to
keep the lovebirds apart. Then he could taunt The Old Man with proof
his lover was unfaithful. Then he could get everything he had ever
wanted.

Beverly was silent.

"Would you rather I left?" he asked, running the palms of his hands
over her hips.

Yes. Get out. Cover up those stupid McTribbles boxers and get the hell
out of my life. She knew what she wanted to say, but her mouth
betrayed her. "Please..."

Horrified, Picard turned to Q. "What did I ever do to him that he
should hate me so?"

"You stood in his way. He wants to be you, but you won't step aside.
What's the matter, don't like the Starfleet pension plan?"

Will stood. "All right, then, Beverly, I guess I'll just go." He bent
to suckle, briefly, at the long slope of her neck, setting her teeth
to grind in frustration, and her body to demand her mind surrender.

"Will..."

Jean-Luc grabbed Q by the shirt. "All right. I give up. Stop this,
now. What is it you want from me?" He thought of the one sure way to
secure Q's cooperation. "What do you want? Do you want me to say I
need you? Fine! I need you!"

Q smiled, and Picard realized he had just made a terrible mistake.

A wave of the hand and everything vanished but the couple on the bed.
Q pointed towards them forcing Jean-Luc to see that which he most
wanted not to see - Beverly reaching out to Will in just that way of
hers.

"You just think you need me, mon capitaine, but it's false. You want
me to believe you so that I will stop this rather nauseating little
tableau. You want Beverly to be with you. You want Riker to be his
old, dull, unambitious self again."

Q touched the captain's chest with a single fingertip. "It's all about
you. I don't want you to want, my dear captain. I want you to truly
need. I want you to need me - with as much passion and desperation as
your beloved Beverly needs. Only with better taste, of course."

He turned once again to the couple on the bed and smirked as Riker
used a cheese curl to ease the strap of Beverly's nightgown down and
off her shoulder. Beside him Picard stiffened. The captain turned,
unable to watch any more. He clutched at Q's uniform shirt.

"Q, stop this."

"Ask me again."

"Please stop this, Q."

"Beg me."

"Q, I am begging you. Stop this now."

The corner of Q's mouth turned up in an unpleasant smile. "Much better
Jean-Luc. True desperation. But not passionate enough - yet. Tell me,
mon capitaine, what would you do to stop this spectacle?"

And again Jean-Luc's eyes turned towards the couple on the bed. Riker
was feeding Beverly cheese whiz, having her lick and suck it off his
fingers. Her hands were clenched into fists at her side, the only sign
of her continuing struggle to resist.

"Would you take her place?"

Picard whirled to stare at Q, appalled. "Commander Riker is not my
type."

"Who said anything about Riker?"

"Q..." Picard's voice dropped to a dangerous rumble. "You're not my
type, either."

"You never know," replied Q flippantly. He sighed. "I didn't say
anything about me, either, did I? It's your own sordid little
imagination supplying the fantasies, not me."

Picard stared at him silently.

"Very well, Captain. If that's the way it is, I think we'd best leave
the young lovers to their privacy." He stopped to look at the couple
on the bed. Riker had spread crumbs of grated Romano cheese along
Beverly's body, and was following the trail with his tongue. "Is that
what you do with Red? Disgusting."

Picard didn't want to look. He desperately, passionately did not want
to look, but he had no choice. Poor Beverly was lying on her bed,
limp, trying not to react. Her fists had unclenched, and now made
languid trips to Riker's back before reminding themselves that the
cottage cheese lumps beneath them were not Jean-Luc's lean muscles.
She tried not to respond to Riker's demands. She called him by name,
gasping out small "w" sounds and then masking them as sighs. Crystal
tears dropped from her eyes, giving Riker occasion to lick her face as
he had been licking her stomach.

Rage. Hate. Disgust. Picard weighed each one and discarded it as not
being strong enough to describe how he felt. Not at Beverly; never at
Beverly, his helpless, sweet love. Not at Riker, the obnoxious
usurping class clown who had yet to realize he was a pawn in someone
else's game. At himself. How many times had he been prepared to die to
save some alien civilization or some Starfleet principle? And
now--could he do anything less to save Beverly from this humiliation?

He turned to Q, his voice ragged. "Yes."

"Yes, what, mon capitaine?" Q knew, of course. He knew everything;
that was the definition of being omniscient. But he wanted to hear
Picard beg.

"Yes. I will change places with Beverly." He closed his eyes even
before Q had a chance to snap his fingers....

....and opened them to look up into a pair of the deepest, most loving
eyes he had ever seen. The lovelight shining in Beverly's eyes as she
abandoned all propriety in his arms was nothing compared to these
eyes. He could lose himself in these eyes--anyone could. Many had.
Vash. Nella. Beverly.

Picard strained upward to look more closely at the man above, and felt
something strange brush a shoulder. Hair, he realized with a start.
Long hair. Red hair. Q had taken him at his word.

The haze of need which had enveloped Beverly began to overwhelm him.
How had she stood it? If he had felt this all the time, he'd have been
ordering the staff into his ready room one at a time and bending them
over his desk. But Riker was Beverly's first indiscretion, and she'd
fought that, even.

Picard's thoughts scattered as the man above pressed his lips to that
spot, the spot. He shuddered, trying to fight the need. He tried to
maintain the consciousness that he was Jean-Luc Picard.

Except he now was Beverly.

And he was being made love to by Jean-Luc Picard.

But where was the real Beverly?

And where was Riker?

And Q?

And who was this Jean-Luc Picard now nuzzling his neck?

---

"Will?" she managed to gasp.

The burning need was gone suddenly leaving her as breathless as if
she'd been dropped into a bath of frigid water.

"He's there." the voice replied, pointing towards the couple on the
bed. Beverly squinted, still lightheaded from her transformation.

"But that's us." She said it in that little girl voice of hers. The
one that made Q's teeth hurt.

"Partially right, Red. Jean-Luc's there but obviously you're not."

"Then who's in my body?"

Q leered at the couple. "Apparently Jean-Luc. Or at least he will be."

She really truly wanted to punch him out. Instead, she looked down at
herself for the first time and nearly choked. She was in Will Riker's
body.

"Riker's in my body?"

"No, Red. He wanted to be but your noble captain saved you from that
rather disgusting fate. Really you should see a real doctor about that
condition of yours. It could lead to all kinds of nasty diseases."

"Q, just tell me who the players are."

With a flash a large card with crude lettering appeared before her.
The word "Scorecard" was scrawled across the top. Underneath were two
columns one labeled Mind and the other, Body.

"Jean-Luc's mind is in my body and Will's mind is in Jean-Luc's body?
Do they know?"

"Again the brilliance of your mind underwhelms me doctor. Of course
they know who they are - but not who their partner is." Q raised his
hand. "But that will all change with just one wave..."

"Q, stop this. Please."

Q lowered his hand and looked at Beverly, smiling. "Funny, your
beloved captain said exactly the same thing. He wanted to save you
from Riker. He offered to take your place. Such nobility. Such
sacrifice. Such maudlin sentimentality. The whole thing makes me
queasy."

"Send me back, Q. I can't let him do this. Please, send me back."

Q crossed his hands over his chest and looked at her hard. "You would
willingly return to..." he gestured towards the bed where Jean-Luc was
lying beside Beverly licking her ear and caressing her hair.
"...that?"

"Yes. Just send me back now."

Q pretended to mull the idea, then finally turned back to the frantic
woman. "No, I can't send you back. Jean-Luc and I made a deal." He
held up a hand to stop Beverly's argument. "However, there is another
way."

Beverly knew she wasn't going to like this.

"What other way?"

"I can trade places with Riker."

"You? Why can't you just put us all back the way we should be...oh
never mind. I know better than to expect any kindness out of you."

She scowled at the writhing bodies on the bed. The scene was
fascinating, yet horrible because of the true identities of the
players.

"One more minute and they'll discover who their partners really are."

She could not let this happen. She'd been on the receiving end of that
glutton Riker's so-called affections. She could not let that happen to
her Jean-Luc.

"Promise me that he won't know who you really are."

"I can't promise that."

She whirled on the cosmic pest, hands half raised to strike, then
quickly forced herself to calm down. On the bed, the nightgown was
pushed lower, exposing most of Beverly's body to however many greedy
eyes were watching. She quickly looked away from herself.

"Then promise me you won't hurt him. That you'll be gentle, and that
it will be over quickly."

Q took her hand and shook it. "That I can promise, my dear doctor. You
have yourself a deal."

A flash of light and everything changed again.

---

"What the hell is going on?"

Beverly looked up and found herself facing Will Riker. Apparently the
complete Will Riker. And she... she looked down. Evidently she was now
in Q's body. Which meant that Q and Jean-Luc were indeed together on
the bed. She looked towards the couple, kissing again after a moment's
disorientation. But which one is Jean-Luc?

She watched for a second, contemplating her next move and watching the
couple on the bed. Would Q be an incredibly skilled lover, or a cosmic
flop?

"Damnit Q, what is going on?"

She had to answer. But he thought she was Q...It might work. As long
as she remembered not to snap her fingers or try any of that
omnipotent nonsense...

"We're doing the Dickens thing, Number Two."

"Number One," Riker protested.

"Actually, by this time, you're number 567,268,678,621. Prisoner
number that is. After you and your admirals are court-martialed. And
true love prevails." Beverly-as-Q lifted her fingers to her eye and
pretended, in a grossly theatrical gesture, to wipe away a tear.

"You mean we're in the future?"

"And they said all your brains were between your legs."

"I thought you said you would help me!" Riker screamed. Of the
passionate couple on the bed, one did not hear, the other did not
care.

"I am helping you, you foolish human. Helping you see where your
obsession will lead."

Riker began to pace. Was he thinking about this "future"? Beverly/Q
decided to take a chance. "Would you like to see yourself in this
time?" Riker hesitated. "It's quite cozy, actually. You and a big,
ugly--did I mention big?--Selay. Do the words, 'Wonky Willy, I'm
home!' ring a bell?"

Riker didn't respond, but his eyes went wide. Beverly returned her
attention to the bed. It was pretty obvious which one was Q by
now--and she'd never let him try to pull that "omnipotent" garbage
after, not after this sorry show.

She watched for a moment, fighting hard against the urge to laugh out
loud. The look on Jean-Luc's face said it all - well actually it was
her face but Jean-Luc had to be the one grimacing like that. Above
him, Q kept up (just barely) his pathetic attempts at lovemaking.

Beside her Will was still sputtering about the "future" she'd shown
him. But, long after even the dimmest would have noticed, he realized
there was something not right about the couple on the bed.

"Wait a minute!" he demanded in his best "I'm in charge" voice.
"Something's not right here."

And that was when Jean-Luc-as-Beverly began to laugh.

The stunned stupid expression on Q-as-Jean-Luc's face was enough to
increase the laughter and encourage Beverly-as-Q to add her own.

Q was furious. How dare they laugh at him. He, like all Q, was above
such primitive games anyway. Oh, he would repay that upstart Picard
and his red-headed bitch (he did like her so much better as a dog).
Let's see how she liked being in this awkward position, what with
having to keep track of all appendages and such. Ridiculous. Time to
teach the doctor a lesson.

With a casual wave light flooded the room...

While at the same moment, Will Riker decided he had had enough.
Whatever trick was being played on him, it was clear that his alliance
with Q was only making matters worse. He turned with a snarl and
launched himself at the cosmic pest who was still laughing too hard to
defend himself. Riker struck Q, the force of his weight throwing them
both to the ground. Just as he hit, light flared around him and then
was gone...

....leaving Q's body pinned helplessly. Riker rose to his knees ready
to strike when he realized that the hand he had used to lever himself
to kneeling was stuck in some sort of yellow goop. And his knees were
sinking. It was like being stuck in Armus the oil slick again, only in
a worse color.

And then he realized that Q was no longer pinned to the floor.

---

From somewhere above him (a long way above him) he heard a voice
whining, "There's an insect in my pasteurized cheddar spread!"

And then came a familiar voice, a hated voice. Q's voice. "It's just
one of my humans. Leave that junk alone and come with me, Q--I've got
an entertaining little experiment running on that ship of theirs."

There was a flash of light and a small shockwave in its wake, which
pushed Riker further down into the gloppy, cheesy mess.

---

Beverly was disconcerted by the rapid change, and was getting tired of
the whole ordeal. Sure, it had gotten her away from Riker's clutches,
but all this switching of bodies was getting ridiculous. She wondered
who she was this time. Where she was she knew, feeling a slight breeze
on her back and her mouth full of flesh.

Instinctively, she snaked out her tongue for a taste, and realized
that she was licking a body part she had never touched this way
before. Well, that answered a few questions, but now, what was she to
do? Having been a woman alone for so long she was no stranger to
pleasuring herself, but this was going too far.

She sat back on her heels, not looking at her partner, vaguely
embarrassed to see herself as a man would. She did look down at the
body she inhabited, though, interested in this unique perspective, and
realized that she had never seen this set of equipment before. She
kept staring, trying to make certain that she wasn't mistaken due to
the unexpected angle of sight, but no--this body was not familiar.

The woman on the bed (she knew who the woman was, but whose was the
mind in it?) sat up. "Q! I should have known. Omnipotent, indeed. Give
me back my body, right now."

She wasn't Q, no matter whose body she was in. She couldn't give him
back his body, but someone else could, and the room filled with light.

The need was back, stronger than ever. And Jean-Luc was here beneath
her. "Beverly?" he asked.

"Jean-Luc?" He nodded. "Are you all right?"

"I need you. Whatever Q did, I think he left me with your condition.
Please, make love to me."

She bent to kiss him, catching her reflection in the window above her
bed. She gasped--it wasn't her body at all. "Jean-Luc, who am I?"

"You certainly look like Beverly--it is you, isn't it?" She nodded,
and he reached up and stroked her neck, just at that perfect spot.
Somehow, Jean- Luc was seeing her real body, and he wanted to make
love. That was all she wanted, too, but she knew the form she wore was
male. Jean-Luc was running his hands down her back, trying to urge her
down onto him.

Thinking fast, Beverly flipped them over. Let him try to enter her,
and then see whose perception was real, and whose an illusion. She
could feel him pushing against her, and then...

It was a scream of pure pleasure. Looking up, the couple on the bed
saw the image of Will Riker, lying spread-eagled on a smooth yellow
surface while what looked like cheese was drizzled over him. He turned
his head from side to side frantically and moaned.

The couple looked at each other and shrugged. Typical Riker. Then
Jean-Luc's eyes widened and he backed away suddenly.

"Jean-Luc, what..." Beverly stopped talking, realizing she knew that
voice only too well. A quick look down confirmed it. Now she was in
Jean-Luc's body. She looked up. So was he. They could have been mirror
images.

"Immortal or not, Q, if you don't put both of back into the right
bodies RIGHT NOW, I'll find some way to make you miserable for the
rest of your pathetic existence."

There was only silence.

Looking at Jean-Luc, she saw him staring at her, a thin line of sweat
beading his brow. His fists were clenched at his sides. She'd suffered
from that "condition" enough to know exactly how he was feeling.
However, there was one aspect that she had never had to deal with,
thankfully, because even from here his erection looked painful.

"Jean-Luc, I know this looks... well, odd, but it is me. Beverly. I
can help you, well, temporarily at least, just until we can get Q to
put us back."

She moved a step towards him and felt something brush against her
thigh. Looking down she decided this was just too strange. Her second
thought was to be very very grateful that women didn't have to worry
about these... outward displays of affection.

He watched her move towards him, watching the way his body moved. Damn
this condition. He was actually finding this whole damnable mess
arousing.

He had intended to back away, to not let Beverly near him, at least
not as long as she wore a copy of his body. But as she moved he found
his body would not cooperate. In fact, he took a tiny half step
towards her.

They stared at each other for a moment, studying this body each from
their own perspective. It might have been fascinating were it not so
frustrating.

"Jean-Luc." His own hand was reaching for him. Frowning he backed
away. He couldn't do this. It didn't matter what kind of sick game Q
was playing. It didn't matter that he was so desperate with need that
he was sure he would pass out. None of it mattered. He could not
accept anything from Beverly as long as she was in this form. Ever.

It was the need in his eyes that made her overcome her whatever-it-was
she was feeling. How could she possibly describe it all let alone
understand it while things were happening so fast? No, what mattered
now, the only thing that mattered now, was helping Jean-Luc. She may
not know how to use this body to make love to a woman, but she did
know how to make love to a man who needed her desperately.

And so she reached out to touch him in that intimate way she knew he
loved. "Close your eyes," she whispered, amazed and aroused by her
words coming out in that beloved baritone. If there weren't so many
better things to do with the mouth she wore, she would have further
explored this lovely rumble in her chest as she spoke.

She was surprised to find that it didn't feel any different to be a
man doing this to another man than it had ever felt to her, but
noticed that it was easier to push Jean-Luc back onto the bed than it
ever had been, and that Starfleet beds were not made for men to kneel
beside easily, at least not in an aroused state.

---

On his cheese wheel, Riker was moaning in pleasure, but still mustered
enough coherent thought to hope he had remembered to activate the
video log before he had entered Beverly's quarters. If he lost his
chance at the captain's chair or the captain's woman, at least he knew
he could make a fortune selling copies of "Bev and Will and Q and
Johnny."

---

On the bed, Jean-Luc was trying to abandon himself to Beverly's mouth,
but he could feel the difference in the lips, the teeth, the shoulders
between his thighs. Several times he reached for her hair and then
shrank back at encountering a smooth scalp.

On the floor, Beverly's mind was racing as she ministered to her
lover's needs and tried to decipher how to satisfy her own. She knew
what to do to heighten her own pleasure, at least when she was in her
own body. She knew when and where to rub against the furniture while
her tongue was feasting, but this new body, for all she knew about it,
was a puzzle. Her breasts were far out of reach of anything (stupid
useless things. I mean, what's the point of nipples on a man, anyway?)
and she was beginning to actively hate the inconvenience between her
legs. It seemed to go off at a new angle every time Jean-Luc moaned,
as though it had a mind of its own. From prior experience with
Jean-Luc's body, though, she was reasonably sure it did have a mind of
its own. Certainly the one she now wore did, encouraging her to climb
up onto the bed and rub herself in the most delicious ways against the
prototype Jean- Luc.

While her gyrations heated her blood, they cooled Jean-Luc's, forcibly
reminding him that, for all that it was Beverly in his arms, the arms
holding him were his own. Some people got headaches from
time-shifting; he got them from body-shifting.

Beverly noticed that his ardor had cooled, knew why, and resolved to
remedy the situation. She got a wicked idea, and reached up to grab
some of the dripping cheese sauce she had noticed earlier. Gently, she
ran a finger over Jean-Luc's lips until he opened his mouth. She had
already plunged her finger into that hungry mouth and he had already
cleaned off the cheese before she remembered where she got it.

She sat bolt upright and grabbed the cheese wheel, turning it over and
over frantically. "Jean-Luc, we'd better get you to sickbay. I think

---

Will Riker was nauseous. Positively green in fact, if he could have
seen himself. But right now he couldn't see anything. It was
completely dark and the only sensation he was aware of was the
all-encompassing oozing slime. It pressed against him from all
directions, covering his naked flesh. It even felt as if it were
filling his lungs. Desperately he opened his mouth to scream and felt
more of that viscous ooze rush to fill his mouth. He felt himself
drowning. Specks of light pulsed against his closed eyelids and his
chest heaved. His last conscious thought was of Q.

---

Jean-Luc stared at himself, well Beverly actually, but still in a copy
of his body (no longer even the tiniest bit aroused he noted). What
was she babbling about?

"I said, 'get up'." she demanded, hauling him off of the bed.
"Clothes. Where are our clothes?"

He studied the cheese wheel she'd shoved into his hands. Now he really
had a headache. "Beverly, what the devil are you talking about? How
could I possibly have swallowed Will?"

The voice was Jean-Luc's but the exasperation was pure Beverly.
"Remember we saw him on the wheel. He was being covered with cheese
sauce and you just ate cheese...." the sound of laughter interrupted
her tirade.

"Oh, doctor, you are most amusing today. I may have to rethink my
earlier assessment of you."

"Don't just stand there, Q. Jean-Luc just swallowed Will. We have to
get to sickbay." Beverly struggled into her uniform as she talked,
oblivious to the fact that it just would not fit this body. She kept
wriggling and tugging.

Q laughed harder.

Jean-Luc sat on the edge of the bed and rested his head in his hand,
the cheese wheel in his lap. He really needed a hypospray for this
headache.

At last, tears streaming down his face, Q relented just a little.
"Relax, Red - although I guess I can't call you that any longer. Riker
is not nestled uncomfortably in mon capitaine's adorable little tummy.
He's not even in this room any longer. I've sent him back to the
Continuum to play. I'm afraid he's not enjoying himself as much as I'd
hoped. You should add that to his record, Picard, 'does not play well
with others'."

"Q." Beverly said menacingly, almost distracting herself by the lovely
way the letter sounded in this voice. She'd abandoned her efforts to
dress and had settled instead for Riker's pants. They were too big of
course, but they would do in an emergency.

Q looked back and forth between the two Jean-Lucs, his gaze coming to
rest at last on the real one. "I had expected, mon capitaine, a much
more amusing reaction from you. You told me you needed me. That you'd
do anything to stop Will from having his way with Red here. But then,
after I work so hard to set up a little diversion, you turn into a
real prude. Absolutely no fun at all." He turned to look at Beverly.

"But you, doctor, are another matter. You are proving far more
interesting that I had imagined. But I wonder... how would you react
if your situation were reversed?" Q mimed The Thinker's pose, then
dramatically rose, gesturing widely. "Here is my proposal - I have
three tests for you, doctor. Oh, and you too Picard, but mostly for
Red here. If you pass them, I will save Riker (who's currently being
turned into a giant cheese ball), return you all to your rightful
bodies and destroy all video and audio recordings that Riker has of
the two of you."

"Recordings?" Picard demanded.

"Dozens of them. You and the doctor are most imaginative." Q said it
with a leer so like Riker's that Picard had to blink hard to remember
who was talking.

"What about Will's bet with the admirals and my condition?" Beverly
wanted to know.

"I'm not your personal do-gooder, Red. You'll have to handle those
matters on your own." He looked between the two of them, then mimed
looking at a watch. "You've got about 30 seconds before Riker gets
dipped in nuts and boxed for the holidays."

There was a real temptation to let the commander be a cheese ball (as
if he weren't already) but that wouldn't get their right bodies back.
Together Beverly and Jean-Luc accepted the terms of the agreement.

Q clapped his hands with childish glee. "This is going to be so much
fun." He looked at Beverly one last time. "Remember, doctor, three
tests." As he vanished they heard him say, "Let the games begin."

---

And as the flare of light faded, Beverly found herself faced with... a
duplicate of her self. She dropped down on the bed beside Jean-Luc who
was now a copy of herself (at least she hoped it was him). Now she had
a headache too.

At least that she could handle. She hauled herself out of bed and
grabbed her medkit, preparing a hypospray full of Aerosal and
injecting it. She prepared another for the bed's occupant. Over her
shoulder she called out, "Want anything else in here? Uppers, downers,
barbiturates? I'd offer hallucinogens, but I think things are strange
enough without them."

"Just something for this headache, thank you."

Is that what her voice sounded like? It was actually kind of nice...

She kneeled on the bed and injected the hypospray. Was her skin really
that soft? Experimentally, she ran her fingers across her partner's
skin, accidentally brushing that spot. Her partner moaned in response.
Was that what she sounded like? It was so...sexual. And so
disconcerting. But she still needed it so much.

She tried to focus on practicalities. "Who are you--really?"

Her own voice answered. "Jean-Luc." God, no wonder he had fallen for
her. The way she said his name would be enough to make him weak at the
knees.

"Prove it," she insisted.

"Beverly..." Though it was her voice, it was his tone. Then again,
Riker did a fairly good impression of Picard, so that was no proof.

He tried again, running a fingertip down the slope of her nose. "Mon
chat."

Well, that was a better proof, the name he called her only...but Q had
said Riker had audio and video logs, so anything said in the privacy
of the bedroom was no longer private.

What would only Jean-Luc know? "Tell me how you met Jack," she
insisted. He hesitated--was he trying to come up with a plausible lie?
"Go on, tell me--how you were giving that speech to the new cadets..."

"You know very well that's not how I met Jack. I was an
upperclassman,he was a freshman. I caught him standing in a lab at the
Medical Academy, mooning a group of cadets standing on the lawn
outside." Beverly had never seen Jean-Luc blush, but now, wearing her
own fairer skin, she could see the color rising to
his...her...whoever's cheeks.

This person was not Riker; he would have fallen for the false story
she had tried to feed her partner. These was no test of speech or
memory that would catch up Q, though. The only way she could tell him
apart from Jean-Luc would be to do with him the one thing at which she
knew her lover excelled and Q was a dismal failure. But the whole
reason she wanted to know the identity of this person in her bed was
to now if she could safely indulge in just that activity. Her body was
demanding action as insistently as her mind was crying for certainty.

His body was screaming for fulfillment, as well, and he began to touch
her in his usual, familiar ways. Beverly was a bit hesitant at first,
but as long as she kept her eyes closed, she could pretend everything
was back to normal-- until he bent to kiss her breast, and cursed
softly. "How the hell to do you keep all this hair under control?" Her
doppleganger sat up and spit out a mouthful of hair.

"Hair?! Well, I can see why you'd find that a problem," she screamed
at him. "But for a gender that's managed to figure out how to walk
around with erections and not stumble over themselves..."

"Erections?! At least they're only temporary conditions." Now he was
screaming at her. "If you truly want to consider the absurd, let's
talk about breasts. How do you manage to get close to anything? They
just...sit there."

"I never heard you complain before," Beverly pouted.

"I never had breasts before," he answered.

"Technically speaking, that's not true," she said, reaching for her
trusty "doctor" tone of voice. "But. That brings us back to our
original question-- how do we get you back into your own body?"

He leaned in close to her, his version of her hair falling into her
face, slightly blocking her vision. "First thing after I get back into
my own body," he whispered, "I am going to get into yours..."

Beverly wished the body Jean-Luc now wore didn't sound so feminine,
feel so feminine, because she very much needed to touch him, but had
no idea how to proceed. Oh, well; she had often felt some slight
regret that there was nothing new to try with him--everything they did
they had each done before with other lovers. But he had never been a
woman before (as far as she knew) and she had never before made love
to a woman. But where to start? She thought of asking Jean-Luc to take
charge, since he knew well--very well--how to please her body, but Q
had said it was a test for her, and it would be just like him to toy
with her and refuse to restore them simply because Jean-Luc had been
in control.

And then she realized there was one way she knew to please the body of
Beverly Crusher. She leaned over the bed, pulled open her nightstand
drawer, and pulled out a small vial of peppermint oil. It was one of
her weaknesses and she'd been reluctant to share it with Jean-Luc. He
already knew her body and her responses so well. She'd needed to keep
some tiny thing to herself for those horrible times when they were
apart. But now it was time to share.

She opened the vial carefully, tipping it until a few colorless,
fragrant drops pooled on her palm. With practiced ease she closed the
vial and set on the nightstand.

"Jean-Luc, relax. I have a way to help you - to help both of us.
Here." She touched a fingertip to the liquid and used it to draw a
line of moisture up his stomach. Jean-Luc sucked in a breath at the
icy cold sensation. Beverly drew another line along Jean-Luc's neck
and finally smoothed the last of the oil over the peaks of both his
nipples.

If he were not so very aroused, Jean-Luc would have stopped her
teasing motions. He was not at all comfortable with this situation.
While he did not find this quite as detestable as when Beverly had
been in a duplicate of his body (though he wouldn't admit why), he
still could not bring himself to completely relax.

Beverly had her eyes closed, moving solely by touch as she lay beside
Jean- Luc and started exploring that body she knew so well. It was no
different than loving herself, she insisted. Nothing to be awkward or
upset about. If only Jean-Luc would relax and let her pleasure him.

She slid down the bed, rising over him and placing a line of light
kisses over the path of the peppermint oil. Beneath her, Jean-Luc
responded the way she herself always did. The oil, which went on cool,
quickly turned icy then, as she kissed or licked or rubbed it, it
became deliciously warm. Beneath her Jean-Luc groaned.

Against his will, Jean-Luc found himself reaching for Beverly, drawing
her up to him. He needed to taste her; to feel her pressed against
him, and to hell with anything else. Damn Q and his interference! He
loved Beverly and nothing that cosmic pest did would change that.

Beverly was over him now, so close he could breathe her breath. She
was waiting, unwilling to pressure him into anything he was not ready
for. He had to show her he was ready. Lifting his head slightly, he
parted those lips, those wonderful soft lips (ignoring the fact he was
currently wearing an identical pair). He extended his tongue, cat
like, and ran it lightly over those lips, barely touching them.
Beverly loved it when he did that. Above him, she shuddered.

There was a moment of awkwardness as he pulled her down to him, her
breasts meeting and pressing against his. For a moment, just a moment,
they both tensed, afraid the other would withdraw, but neither one
did. They both needed this too desperately to stop now.

---

He could breathe again, barely. But he still could not hear or see or
even move. The only other thing Will Riker was aware of was the
overwhelming odor of cheese.

---

He let her take the lead, letting her set the pace of their loving.
After all, who knew better how to pleasure this body? He was far from
comfortable with this situation, but he would do nothing to make
Beverly feel he was rejecting her.

She was using the oil again, stroking his inner thighs with it and
making him squirm. She had insisted on bringing his release first,
then he would bring her to hers. She knew her own body well enough to
know he wouldn't last much longer. His ivory skin was rosy pink and
his head was thrown back, eyes closed. His hands lay on her head,
stroking and playing with her hair and the nape of her neck.

He was writhing under the first tremors of orgasm when Q appeared
again, laughing.

"My compliments, doctor. I didn't think Johnny was capable of...
adapting so quickly. Question is, how will either of you adapt to..."

The usual flash of light filled the room, covering Q's departure. What
it didn't cover was the sudden change in sensation that the couple on
the bed were experiencing. Looking down, Beverly found herself changed
again - back into the body of that unnamed man. The one she'd worn
before. And Jean-Luc?

His hands tightened on her as she tried to push away. "Mon chat?" he
asked in his own voice. Oh but she loved that voice. She looked down.
And that body.

"Yes, Jean-Luc." She felt him tense and started to pull away but he
stopped her.

"Q has had his fun, Beverly. Now we will have ours." He looked
directly into her eyes. "Regardless of our outward appearances."

"Are you sure?" she had to ask. She had an idea just how much of a
concession this was for her lover. But he would not be stopped this
time.

Before she could speak, his mouth met hers in a passionate kiss. Oh
the things that mouth could do. She let him guide her down, rising
over him, feeling his hardness brush against her, then realizing she
was in the same state. She'd never been sexually adventurous,
especially since she'd rejected Odan once she'd become a woman. But
this was Jean-Luc and she needed him as much as she needed air. She
would do anything for him. And to prove it, and to make sure Q could
not fault her in his test, she caught Jean-Luc and laid him on the
bed. She reached across him, feeling the slight prickling of his chest
hair against her sleek chest. It made her shiver with pleasure and she
felt her erection pressing hard against him.

Retrieving the peppermint oil, she used it to draw patterns on his
chest, chasing the cooling oil with her hot mouth. Slowly she moved
down, feeling him guiding her gently until she was smoothing the oil
over his hardness, delighting as she always did in making him moan.
Before she could take him into her mouth, he reached for the oil
himself, and mirrored her actions, soothing her chest, then her
erection, making her moan and cry out.

"Together," he insisted, turning himself around so his feet were near
her head. She leaned over and kissed the sensitive tops of his feet.
He wriggled his toes in pleasure, then kissed her feet. They kissed
their way down to their goal, Beverly setting the pace and Jean-Luc
mirroring her. By the time she took Jean-Luc into her mouth, she was
sure she was going to explode and, from his ragged breathing, she knew
he felt the same way.

As she tasted the beginning of his release, she suddenly became aware
of another flash of light. With a sigh, she released Jean-Luc, moved
off of him, and tried to figure out who she was now.

Oh, no, this is too much She wanted to talk, but could not. Idly, she
wondered if she were still female. At least Jean-Luc was still male,
though if he hadn't been in her mouth at the time, she might not have
been able to tell for all the fur. Cute, Q. Just because you think I'm
a bitch...

She still needed Jean-Luc, especially after their mutual ministrations
of a moment ago. She had taken a short course in veterinary medicine
as part of her studies to be CMO on a family ship, but damned if she
could remember how dogs went about it.

Either Jean-Luc did know (he had been a glorified farm boy, after all)
or his new body was clueing him in, because he was nipping at her
neck, trying to gain her submission. What odd sort of dog was he,
anyway? It took a moment before she identified the breed--a Mexican
Hairless. Q just got cuter and cuter. From the corner of her eye she
could see some of her own coat of long red hair. One of these days she
would find a way to pay back Q, and when next she saw Riker, she would
make him wish he were still a cheese ball at a Continuum party.

---

And at that party, Riker could finally see festivities around him, but
no one offered him a drink to wash down all the cheese.

---

Jean-Luc had taken charge, despite the difference in their sizes. At
least he knew what to do, and oh, did he know what to do. It had never
felt like this before (of course it never had--I've always been human
before!) and she thought she liked it. As the pounding from behind
grew stronger and faster, as she pushed back on him, she was sure she
liked it.

And that's when the light flashed again--and Riker was dropped into
her bed with them.

With a growl, Beverly reached forward taking Jean-Luc with her. Before
Riker could react she had a very sensitive part of his anatomy in her
mouth and was baring her fangs around it.

Riker started to gibber.

Jean-Luc continued thrusting into her, moving even harder and faster
now. Beverly moved with him, keeping Riker locked in her mouth. Her
teeth were grazing the skin of his sensitive flesh and, normally, he
would be enjoying this but right now, facing down this crazed dog and
its unlikely mate, he was terrified. It didn't help that he had a
sinking suspicion he had seen that dog before.

"Nice dog," he stammered, reaching up slowly to pet her. She bared her
fangs again and growled deep in her throat. Quickly he dropped his
hand back to the bed and screamed, "Q!"

Less than a meter a way, Jean-Luc was quickly reaching his limit. He
was aware of what Beverly was doing to Riker, and would have laughed
had he been able. Instead, he took great pleasure in increasing the
depth and speed of his thrusts. Once and for all, damnit, he was going
to prove to Riker that the better man (present circumstances not
withstanding) had already won. He took himself as far into Beverly as
he could go and stopped, howling as, finally, he reached his climax.
Beneath and around him, he felt Beverly spasming. She let Riker's
abused organ go, ignoring the bitter taste of cheese, and raised her
head up to howl too.

And the couple was still howling when, seconds later, Q changed them
back to their own bodies.

They were still locked together, their bodies sweaty and flushed,
their breathing ragged. Q walked around them, surveying the scene from
every angle, making the occasional comment. They didn't hear a word.

Freed from Beverly's grip, Riker propelled himself off the bed and
into the far corner of the room. It was too much. Far too much. He'd
call the admirals now and admit defeat if only he had a computer
terminal. He'd do just about anything if it meant he could get away
from Beverly. The captain he could trust not to kill him. He had no
such illusions about a wrathful Beverly Crusher.

Which is why, when she separated herself from Jean-Luc and climbed off
the bed, Riker started gibbering again.

Beverly looked towards the noise and made a face. Pathetic. Then she
looked towards Q. That smug bastard. Problem was, who to take care of
first? And how?

She turned toward Picard, who was reaching for something with which to
cover himself. "You behind me on this?"

"He certainly was behind you a minute ago," snickered Q.

That does it. She descended on Q like a wrathful Valkyrie. She still
wasn't wearing anything, but what did that matter? Jean-Luc had often
see her with nothing on. Riker even had (oh, God, how could she have
stooped so low?) And Q had probably been staring at her through her
clothes for years. "You impotent, obnoxious, tin-plate twaddle with
delusion of Godhood..."

Unimpressed, Q turned to Riker, his partner in crime. "You can take
the dog out of the bitch, but you can't take the bitch out of the
doctor." He should never have turned. Omnipotent being that he thought
he was, he never saw Picard's fist coming.

Q looked up at him from the floor. "And I told Sisko you never hit me.
Janeway..." He gulped, swallowing back his almost slip-of-the-tongue.

"I want the recordings, Q. Now."

"I'll just destroy them."

"I want them. Now."

"And if I don't hand them over?"

Picard smiled. It wasn't one of his sunny, uncaptainlike smiles he
wore when he thought no one was looking. It was the smile he reserved
for Cardassians, Romulans, Starfleet admirals, and other assorted scum
of the galaxy. "Listen to me, and listen well, for I shall only say
this once. Someday, the Continuum will come looking for you. And they
will find you. And they will punish you for what you've done to
countless species across the galaxy. And on that day, you will come to
me for help. Omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent--and at my mercy. I
think it behooves you to cooperate."

"Behorses have behooves," Q murmured, before producing a mound of
audio and visual logs in a flash of light.

"Have you made copies for yourself?" Picard demanded.

"No."

"I don't trust him," said Beverly.

"Q may be many things--impostor, charlatan, sadist--but he is not a
liar."

Beverly nodded, and turned her mind to other matters, like the
cowering excuse for a first officer. She strode over to him and
planted a bare foot in his ample gut, forcing the air from him. "Give
me one reason why I shouldn't ask Q to turn you into something useful,
like a proctology scope."

Riker couldn't really think of a reason. "You wouldn't like the price
you'd have to pay."

Beverly considered, grinding her heel into Will's solar plexus. "I
don't know about that. Q does show a certain intriguing imagination in
the price he demands." She glanced back over her shoulder at Jean-Luc.
True to Q's word, the need was not gone, and was nowhere near sated.

"Why, thank you, Doctor," Q preened. "If you liked that, there's
plenty more..."

"Shut up, Q!" Beverly and Jean-Luc chorused.

Riker was beginning to black out. "Q," he screamed. "I thought you
said you'd help me."

He heard Q's voice in his ear. I said I didn't make a copy of those
logs for myself, you fool. I never said I didn't make a copy for you
and your admiral friends. Problem is... it's going to cost you extra.

The look that flickered across Will's face didn't last long, mere
seconds, but it was enough to make Beverly suspicious. They'd missed
something - something important about those tapes. But what?

She put just a bit more pressure on Riker's gut before removing her
foot and stepping back. She was biting her lower lip, the way she
often did when trying to puzzle something out, and Jean-Luc noticed.

Ignoring Riker's gasps and moans, but still watching Q, he went to her
and placed an arm around her. Drawing her in close he whispered, "What
is it?"

As quietly as she could, Beverly explained her suspicion. Before
either of them could speak again, Q started laughing.

"My, my, my, the captain and the CMO of the mighty Enterprise, pride
of the Federation, and together you haven't enough intelligence to
solve a very simple, very old puzzle." A flash of light and Q went
from lying sprawled on the ground to standing before them in the full
dress uniform of an admiral.

He cast one disdainful glance at Riker who was just dragging himself
up off the floor, then turned back to Beverly.

"It was most amusing, doctor, but now, as usual with inferior
lifeforms, you've had to result to violence. I'm no longer amused." He
motioned as if to leave, and Beverly boldly grabbed his arm to stop
him. She was surprised that it worked. He gave her a withering look,
which didn't faze her a bit, and spoke before she could.

"Spare me. I made our arrangement clear when this started. But I will
do this, only because you've entertained me so well. I will give you
one more challenge - but I won't tell you when or what kind. If you
pass it in a way that amuses me, I will give you one clue to help
solve your puzzle." And then Q was gone, completely ignoring Riker's
cry.

Beverly looked at Jean-Luc, her expression worried. What kind of a
challenge would Q throw at them next?

Days passed, and the tension mounted. It was like waiting for the
other shoe to drop--what would Q's test be, and when? Each time a
patient walked into sickbay, each time a spatial anomaly was
discovered, each new communication from Headquarters was weighed and
tested for hints from Q.

And the wondering--what had passed between Q and Riker about the
tapes? They each had scanned both their quarters searching for bugs,
and uncovered quite a few, but could there be more hidden? Almost more
embarrassing than the thought of admirals watching their antics for
salacious gossip was the thought of what Riker would use them for.

And the need--that hadn't changed. In fact, it intensified, as Troi
had said it would. There seemed nowhere safe on the ship to indulge,
until Beverly was inspired to break into Riker's own quarters. A
sensor sweep revealed no bugs in these rooms, and for good
reason--even Riker knew he was too unphotogenic to be erotic. It was a
wonderful place to rendezvous--until the night Q appeared in a flash
of light.

"Don't stop on my account," he smirked, and then leaned low,
whispering in their ears. "Woof, woof."

Reluctantly, painfully, they pulled apart. "What the hell do you want,
Q," Picard growled, surreptitiously feeling along his own body and
Beverly's to make sure they stayed unchanged.

"Challenge time," Q announced, and suddenly Beverly was gone.

---

She blinked, trying to dispel the spots dancing in front of her eyes.
She didn't mind the transporter anymore, but traveling with Q left a
lot to be desired. Beverly checked her surroundings. She was in some
sort of cell, a suspended one. And there were people all around her.
Starfleet people. And the music was blaring. She looked down, hoping
against hope that Q would have at least had the decency to clothe her,
and was surprised to find that he had. If you could call what she wore
clothing.

She looked out at the crowd and saw a group of admirals at a table
front and center. They were watching the action, playing cards, and
there was a mound of brownies on the table in front of them. Beverly
smiled--here was her quarry.

A man whose manner reminded her of Riker and who looked almost like Q
walked up to her, unlocking the cage and helping her down onto a bar.
"You're up, babe. And try to get some of those lap dances; your tips
are way low." The music started up again, and Beverly was on. She
didn't dare risk bringing attention to herself - well, not that kind
of attention. She did want the kind of attention all half-naked exotic
dancers wanted. So she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, called Q
something really obscene under her breath and started dancing.

Well, maybe dancing wasn't the right word for it. It was more like
slinking with a lot of slither thrown in. It was actually a variation
of something she choreographed for herself, but never dared perform.

Throwing back her head, she wrapped herself around a decorated pole
and slid her top half down to the bar backwards, forming a perfect
arch with her body. Her quarry was directly in front of her and she
knew she was giving them a splendid view.

Easing herself down, she lay stretched full out on the bar. Slowly she
undulated her hips, making the man closest to her gasp. What a
delightful sound. Turning over, she raised only her top and slithered
down the bar towards that table. They were all looking at her now, as
were many of the other patrons. She could feel their eyes watching
her. It was surprisingly erotic.

Of course, she reminded herself, considering my condition, damned near
everything is erotic.

Then there were hands on her, grabbing at her and she had to remind
herself harshly not to remove the man's hand from his body. All of
this was for a very good cause.

She was at the end of the bar now, and sat up, twisting her legs
around and swinging herself off the bar. The table was close and
everyone at it was watching her. Even the short one with the brownie,
clutched forgotten in his hand.

She danced over to the table, then reached over and snatched a brownie
off the tray. With a half-turn, she dropped into the lap of a tall
dark-haired man with a smarmy smile. He was hard as a rock. Good.

She popped the brownie into his gaping mouth, then used a finger to
close it. She sealed his lips with a kiss. Convulsively, the man
chewed and swallowed. Beverly felt his erection twitch. He was going
to explode. Time to slow down and tease a little. After all, she
wanted him, actually all of them, desperate enough to tell her
everything she wanted to know.

Next was the short one with the unkempt brown hair. She slid off
smarmy's lap into this one's. He was as aroused as his partner.
Lovely.

Around the table she went, teasing and taunting until she thought the
lot of them were going to embarrass themselves right here at the
table. She was about to make another circuit around the table when she
felt warm fingers at her waistband and something cold and plastic
slipped into her costume. A doorkey. She planted another kiss on
brownieman's lips, then let herself be led away.

She palmed the key while her keeper groped her looking for tips. There
were a few credit chips stuffed in her top, but not one of those lousy
admirals had given her a thing. The keeper took those and cursed at
her, telling her she may as well stay right here in the dressing room
and let someone who could earn him some money take her place. Beverly
didn't even bother to pretend to be upset.

As soon as he was gone, she looked at the key. Probably some cheap
hotel. Only question now was - could she actually go through with
this. She didn't like the idea of being alone with all those
overheated admirals. If they were willing to meddle in her and
Jean-Luc's lives, who knew what else they were capable of.

She looked at the key. Well, only one way to find out, and if she
wanted those tapes, she'd have to do it. Q hadn't really let her get
into trouble with Riker; maybe he'd protect her now, too. Nahhh.

---

She stood in the lobby of the seedy motel. She had been right about
its nature and price range--it was the type of place you'd go to if
you'd spent all your credits paying for a partner. It was probably the
type of motel Data and Geordi frequented on their shore leaves.

She unlocked the door and slowly opened it, warning whoever was inside
that another was joining the party. The room smelled of smoke and
bodily fluids. What we won't do for Starfleet, she thought as she
gathered her courage and her cloak around her.

"Hello, boys," she said in a low bedroom voice. "Miss me?"

Sounds of incoherent agreement filtered from the dark recesses of the
room where the brownie legion hid. Finally, one voice spoke. "Come
here, babe, and I'll show you how much we missed you."

Suppressing her fears and the odd spike of excitement, she slithered
over to the voice. It was brownieman. She lowered herself into his lap
and breathed softly into his ear. "You ready to party, babe?" he
asked.

"What's in it for me?"

"Before the end of the night, there'll be plenty in you," he leered.
Then he pulled away. "Someone turn on the lights."

He looked at her, hard. "What's your name?" he demanded.

Had she been discovered? "B...Bambi."

He stared at her a few seconds more, then exhaled a soft laugh when
she wriggled against him. He pulled her to standing, posing her in the
center of the room. "Hey, guys," he called. "Look at her. Are you
thinking what I'm thinking?"

"What are you thinking, sweetcakes?" Bambi asked.

"Bambi," another one of the admirals said, "we've got a little
business proposition for you."

---

"I don't know about this," Bambi hesitated. "I don't like the idea of
going on some starship, pretending to be a doctor..."

"Don't worry," brownieman assured her. "We'll set it up with the first
officer. You won't have to go into sickbay. And besides, it's not like
she knows how to be a doctor, either."

"I don't care about that," she said. "But the part about seducing the
captain? I don't like dealing with strangers."

"But we're strangers," said an admiral who didn't quite fill out his
Starfleet issue boxers.

"I chose to come here," she said, proudly. "I want to see this guy."

One of the admirals pulled up Picard's biography on a PADD. "Old
geezer," muttered Bambi. "I don't do grandpas."

"He acts much younger than his age," brownieman assured her.

Her eyes narrowed. "How do you know?"

"Hit it, Admiral," he called to one of his companions. The lights
extinguished, and a film started running against one of the white
walls. One of Riker's films. From around her, she could hear that the
men were enjoying themselves, and she had to admit to a certain
frisson of an emotion she didn't want to name at the whole scene.

"So, what do you say, Bambi?"

"Not bad."

"The captain or the doctor?" called a labored voice from the darkness.

Beverly thought a second before answering. "Both. I'll do it. I've got
to see how that old man is able to keep it up so long." Long, of
course, being a very apt word...

Brownieman leaned over her. "Very good, Doctor." His voice had
changed. It sounded familiar.

Still, though, she played her role. "Doctor? Oh, yeah, right, that
woman. Doctor--I could get to like that."

Brownieman took her hands and they stood. She wondered if everyone now
saw him as Q, or only herself. "I'm going up to my room, gentlemen. I
think Bambi here needs a little briefing."

"Yeah, yeah," called one of his now disgruntled colleagues. "You mean
you need a debriefing."

The mood in the room was getting tense with unfulfilled need. Beverly
decided to tone it down some. "Plenty to go around, boys. If the
admiral here doesn't mind, once we're through."

"We'll see," he said, placing a wet kiss on her neck. She tried very
hard not to shudder from disgust and from need. She had to
choose--should she trust Q or this group of oversexed admirals? There
really wasn't a choice, and so she left the room with her new date.

"You gave me more than a hint," she thanked him when they stepped into
the elevator.

"You were so entertaining this evening I thought you deserved a
reward."

"Thank you." She didn't add a catty comment or nasty remark, and Q was
shocked.

"Just for that, I might let you get all those copies. I'll be back."

He was off in a flash of light, and so was she.

He had returned her to her own bedroom, alone. But the need was still
there, and the need to plan. Sex was best hot, she thought, and
revenge cold. But best of all was when you could combine the two.

Her thoughts led to their inevitable conclusion. "Crusher to Picard.
Jean-Luc, if you have a minute, I'd like to talk to you..."

---

Will Riker paced the bridge and scowled. Usually he could hide his
emotions better than this but he had been on edge since the incident
with Q and things were not getting better. He'd heard Beverly's call
to the Captain nearly an hour ago. It had not been the usual woman
desperate for sex tone he was used to. This time she had sounded calm
and almost amused.

He had the feeling he was in big trouble.

---

Beverly and Jean-Luc lay together on Will Riker's bed panting in the
aftermath of an extremely athletic afternoon. The whole room smelled
of their liaison.

Slowly they got up, showered together, dressed and left just before
the commander returned from his duty shift. In their hands were tapes
they had made of their afternoon's activities.

Much later Beverly looked up from the computer terminal and smiled.
"It's done. Want to inspect my handiwork?"

Jean-Luc took the tape she offered him and slipped it into his viewer.
There on screen was what looked like Beverly (Bambi he corrected
himself) and Will Riker.

"Very nice. Now it's time to call in Mr. Data."

Beverly agreed and made the page for him. Moments later the android
arrived. It took a few minutes to explain the situation to him,
leaving out most of the details. Then the captain swore him to
secrecy.

True to his nature, Data accepted the orders with no objections and
quickly set out to make the necessary adjustments to the tape,
changing settings which should be unalterable. When he was done, there
was no evidence that the tape had been altered in any way. Then he
adjusted copies of Riker's tapes showing Beverly and the Captain
together, making subtle changes so that anyone looking for it would
find evidence that the tapes had been altered to change another image
to that of Picard.

It wasn't conclusive evidence. After all, the admirals had a set of
tapes too, but it would raise enough questions that it would make Will
Riker subject to some very uncomfortable questions.

Now, to play their final card....

Jean-Luc adopted his most captainly voice and called for Q.
Astonishingly enough, he appeared. "I think we've more than amused
you, Q. Now what are you going to do for us?"

Q, omniscient Q, was startled by this outright expectation. Do for
them? But Picard was right; he had been more amused by their little
antics than at anytime since he had created his first ant colony. Of
course, that was a whole world and these were just a few little
people, but...And then Q realized what these Humans could do for him.

"Let me borrow Riker."

"Why?"

"Do you care?"

Picard thought about that for a split second. "Not really, but I hate
paperwork, and if he should go missing or be hurt..."

"Relax. I just need him for the evening. I'll even wipe his memory, if
you like."

"What are you going to do with him?" Beverly insisted on knowing.

"What's the matter, Red? Don't trust Grandpa to negotiate a deal?"

Jean-Luc turned to Beverly, startled. "Grandpa?"

She leaned over and gave him a quick but passionate kiss. "Long
story," she breathed into his ear. "Maybe I'll tell you sometime.
Maybe not."

Jean-Luc stared at Beverly, and then his glance changed meaning.
Beginning to feel left out, Q played his hole card--his reason. "My
son needs something to bring to show and tell tomorrow."

That brought the attention back to him.

"Your son?"

"You have a son?"

"Yes, I have a son," said Q in a bored tone of voice. "Big deal. I
don't notice you show much interest in Red's little puppy any more,
now that he's housebroken. Anyway, my son needs something to take with
him. I offered him something interesting, like a Medusan, but no, he
wants one of Daddy's toys. 'Q Jr.,' I told him, 'Daddy's toys are very
delicate. Why don't you take a nice Borg to school with you?' But no,
his best friend brought a Borg last month. So I need a Human. Riker
qualifies, if only barely."

"And what do we get if we let you take Riker?" Beverly was impressing
Q; he had never realized she could be as shrewd as she was shrewish.

"The admirals' tapes?"

"Not good enough," Picard piped up. "With Data's tapes, no one will
believe the admirals'."

Q sighed. It was difficult to negotiate when you knew everything,
including what your opponent would accept. "I'll wipe Riker's memories
of this past week."

The couple looked at each other. It wasn't a perfect solution, but
they knew from Q's tone it was the best they could do.

"Take him."

"He's all yours. Have fun with him."

---

Two days later, Riker woke up in sickbay. He had a monumental
headache, and couldn't remember how he got it. In fact, he couldn't
remember much of anything recent, nothing at all since the crew
evaluations the week before.

And none of what he remembered explained his fleeting memories of
being pinned like a butterfly to a black velvet board.

---

The End