The BLTS Archive - Hint of The Century 3 I've Mistaken You . . . by Ruth Gifford (ereshkgl@cyberg8t.com) --- This is the third story in my series of short P/Q stories (the first was "Hint of the Century," and the second was "I Never Had It Like This), and takes place approximately six months after "I've Never Had It Like This," which means that it's roughly a year after "First Contact.". The first two stories were written to get to this point, although right now, I'll only say that this is in answer to a challenge. Which one? Read the story, or if you really must, skip to the end where there are more notes. Thanks to atara for her proofing, and to my beta-reader Vaorneeka. I'm so *tired* of trying to be clever when it comes to making up clever ways to acknowledge that I'm doing something that, while ignored, just happens to be technically illegal. So let me just say that Paramount-Viacom, Inc. undoubtedly has better ways of making money than suing an unemployed fanfic writer who uses their characters for the entertainment/edification/whatever of her fellow fans. For atara, because she is happily ever after. (c) 1997 --- Somewhere along the line I must've gotten off track with you Excuse me, think I've mistaken you for somebody else Somebody who gave a damn Somebody more like myself These foolish games are tearing me apart Your thoughtless words are breaking my heart You're breaking my heart Foolish Games by Jewel --- "NO!" Jean-Luc Picard cried out as he struggled out of the dream. He lay still for a moment, letting his racing heart slow, before rolling over. The other side of the bed was empty and he sighed with relief as he sat up. The last thing he wanted right now was the company of his lover. As he headed for the living room and his replicator, he tried to remember the dream. It hadn't been a really bad one; the drones hadn't even stripped him of his uniform before he was able to wake up. He got a glass of very cold water and drank it quickly, letting the faint cold ache in his teeth convince him that he was awake. The dream hadn't been one of the "communication" type dreams he'd had back before the Borg had attacked Earth for the second time. It was just a nightmare of the kind he supposed he'd suffer from for the rest of his life. He carefully recycled his glass and glanced around to make sure everything was in its place. For some reason he felt a vague sense of dislike for what he saw, but he shrugged it off as a lingering effect of the dream and headed back to the bedroom. The next day was busy and full of minor irritations, so by the time Picard went off duty, he was heartily glad to do so. He was seated at his desk, reading a long, boring, badly written article in an archeological journal and thinking that he could have done a better job at both the article and the research, when Q appeared. "Evening Johnny," Q said, a wicked little smile on his face. "Q." "Well, don't go wild with delight or anything," Q said archly. He walked up to the desk, grabbed the padd out of Picard's hands and tossed it over his shoulder. "So, are you really grumpy, or are you just misbehaving so that I'll do something mean, like turn you over my knee or something?" Picard just looked up at Q, and the entity raised his eyebrows. "Grumpy," Q said, and sighed. "Well, how about dinner? Have you had anything to eat yet?" "No," Picard replied. He wished he could relax and appreciate an evening with Q, but his mood wasn't so easily dismissed. Still, Q's presence and his threat of doing something mean were having a certain effect on Jean-Luc. "I'm sorry Q, I'm just in a bit of a mood." *At least he won't pry and prod at me to find out why,* Picard thought. As he stood up from his desk, he spoke aloud, "let's have dinner and then go fuck wildly for a couple of hours." "Now there's an offer I can get behind," Q said, his voice oddly subdued. Picard looked at him curiously, but the entity shrugged and leered at the captain. "Or, should I say that *you* are something I can get behind?" He sounded flippant again and Picard just assumed he'd misread Q. "Idiot," Picard said, laughing "I thought we were working from *my* agenda tonight." "Oh we are," Q replied. He grabbed Picard's arm and hauled him toward the bedroom. "As long as your agenda involves me fucking you but good, and damn dinner." As usual, Q was as good as his promise, and several minutes later, as Picard groaned into his pillow, the captain tried to cling to his usual thought of how perfect this all was. And it was perfect, hot and hard and oh so good. Both of them were moving into a hard driving rhythm now and as Q's cock moved in and out of his ass, Jean-Luc tried to speak. "Soo good," he moaned. "Ohhhhh . . . it's so . . . damn good . . ." "Tell me." Q demanded suddenly. He stopped and Picard frowned. He wasn't sure why, but he didn't want to play this particular game tonight. "Please . . . Q" he managed to get out. "Just don't . . . stop fucking me .. . . please?" "Come on Johnny," Q teased. "I want to hear you tell me how much you love this, how much you want it and need it." "Q . . ." Picard began, his irritation growing. "I really don't . . ." He didn't have time to finish the sentence, because Q started up again, fucking him hard and fast, almost angrily. It didn't matter, Picard was a little annoyed himself and when he came it was more a relief than anything else. They were silent afterward, with Q collapsed on Jean-Luc's back for a short time. When he moved, he didn't merely roll over, but got up off the bed. There was the small flash that Picard associated with Q's "little cleaning service," and the captain rolled over to look up at Q. The entity was glaring down at him and when he knew Picard was looking at him his eyes narrowed. "Want to put me back in the drawer now?" Q asked, his voice biting. "What?" "In the drawer with the lube and that cock ring that Phillipa gave you and the things you've made for us that you haven't bothered to recycle." "Q! What the hell are you going on about?" "Just shove me in with the rest of the sex toys, Picard," Q said bitterly. "At least until the next time you want to get off." "Look!" Picard replied angrily. "I'm sorry, but I just wasn't in the mood to be coerced tonight! All right?" Q stared at him and for the first time in months, Picard thought about who his lover really was. Something happened inside his chest, although he couldn't be sure what it was. "Coerced?" Q said, his voice quiet. "Coerced?!" "Well perhaps that wasn't . . ." "COERCED?" Q yelled. "Johnny, I could have coerced you at any point in the last ten years!" His hands bunched. "But I didn't. I could have flung you over a table that time in Ten Forward, but I didn't because you didn't want it." He turned away. "And now you use the word 'coerced' with me?!" "What time in Ten Forward?" Picard asked, sitting up. Q looked at him. "Are you asking?" "I thought I just did," Picard replied. "Q what is this all . . ." A memory hit him then, one that hadn't been there a moment before. "Oh God . .. ." The memory stood out in stark relief. Compared to his current thoughts and feelings, the desire he'd felt for Q then and the hope in his mind that someday he'd feel more, that someday he'd trust Q enough to be with him seemed somehow more real. Was it age? Was it the ten years, and ten hard years at that, that made everything he was now seem somehow . . . shallow? "I knew I'd regret it," he said softly. He looked down at his hands and then up at Q. "What's wrong with me?" "I don't know," Q replied. "All I know is that the only time I get anything out of you, any genuine feeling or emotion, is when I force you to tell me you like the sex." The entity shrugged. "And I don't like that very much. I could have had sex from you any time I wanted. I could have conjured up a fake Picard for all I get out of being with you." "Oh really?" Picard asked, anger forcing its way to the surface of his mind. Suddenly he was furious and it felt amazing to actually have an emotion that felt so insistent. "And *you've* put so much into this, haven't you?" "You didn't want . . ." "Did you *ask* what I wanted beyond the sex?" Picard snapped. He leaned off the bed and grabbed his briefs. Pulling them on, he then got out of bed and pulled on his pants. "No, you seemed happy enough to play games with me. Suddenly, tonight, when I don't want to play, then I'm not giving you enough emotion." "You gave me more emotion," Q retorted, his voice low and angry, "before we were fucking every night! You're so happy to play with me, but heaven forbid that I ever get close to you." "Again, did you ever tell me that was what you wanted? Did you ask if I was ready or even able to give you . . ." Picard stopped, aghast at what he'd started to say. The silence in the room was overpowering, it battered at him and left him feeling that unease he'd felt after the dream the night before. Silence . . . his life was so silent, except for Q. "I haven't felt anything," Picard said softly, backing up to sit on the bed. "Since this last incident with the Borg," he continued, aware that Q was watching him, "I haven't let myself feel anything." He looked up at Q. "Did you even notice?" "I noticed that you seemed . . . different, but what do I know of how you are with your lovers?" "But it's bothered you?" "Sometimes, when things aren't . . ." Q stopped and took a deep breath. "When things aren't going my way." Picard nodded. "This," and he gestured to the rumpled bed, "was a mistake. Wasn't it?" "I don't know," Q replied. "I'm not particularly adept at relationships." "Maybe the sex was all we had," Picard said. "We never even tried to go beyond that. We should have . . . I don't know . . . gotten more comfortable with each other instead of just jumping on one another that night." "What," Q asked scornfully, "gone on dates?" "Talked a little, maybe." He looked up at Q and, suddenly saying what had to be said was almost impossible. "Q . . ." "No!" Q's voice was a little desperate. "I'm sorry Jean-Luc, I shouldn't have started this argument. Let me start the evening over and . . ." "That's your answer?" Picard asked. "Wipe the whole thing out of my mind? I don't think so." He paused. "Don't you see? I need time. I have to figure out why I shut down, and do something about it." "Without me." "Are you willing to be that much a part of my life, Q?" Jean-Luc asked. "Are you willing to sit around and deal with my moods and my problems?" "You don't seem to think so," Q replied bitterly. "And what about you?" Picard asked, ignoring Q's remark. "What about your feelings? I have no idea how you feel about anything. Are you willing to share some of yourself with me? Or have I been as much your sex toy as you've been mine?" "I don't *know*!" Q snapped his fingers and was dressed again. "I can't let you . . . I don't know how . . ." "Right now, Q," Picard said, "I don't even know what I want from you. And, I imagine I'm pretty safe in guessing that you don't know what you want from me." "Why?!" Q yelled. "Why do you always have to be so . . . complicated? Why do you confuse me so much? Of course I don't know what I want from you! Half the time I admire you because you're everything that I'm not and half the time you terrify me for the same reasons! And now you want me to let you in? Want me to . . . I don't know how!" "Time," Picard said into the silence that fell after Q's outburst. "I think we need some time." He rose from the bed and walked over to Q. "You must mean something to me, or this wouldn't hurt so much." "Then why do it? If it hurts you and it's hurting me, can't we just . . ..?" Q stopped and sighed. "No, damn you Jean-Luc. You're right." He sighed. "Again." He reached for Picard's shoulders and pulled him close. "Can we . . .?" Rather than finish his sentence, he bent his head to kiss Jean-Luc. By the time they separated, Picard was blinking rapidly. It was he thought, the first time he'd felt something beyond lust while kissing Q. "Maybe," he said quietly, "Maybe, someday, we can." --- The End --- OK this whole series of stories started out as a response to Alara's break-up challenge. Being who I am and because a friend asked nicely, I'm not going to leave it at this. What's in store for Q and Picard? I'll never tell, at least not until I write the next story. :-) So I must also say that this is for Alara who gets tired of happily ever after.