By the end of the night the accurate descriptor was sullen. Q was as sullen as an entity who was anticipating getting back the power to unequivocally alter the fabric of the universe could be. And why? Because Chakotay's vegetarian...lump things were actually quite nice? No, that wasn't it at all.
It was because in the grand scheme of things Q had never felt so small.
It suddenly seemed to matter not a single jot what he wanted, because the universe - damn the thing - had to come first. He couldn't whisk Kathy away from her miserable timeline because that miserable timeline needed her. Who would there be to convey messages between Starfleet Command and her fleet in the future like some overpipped version of a space secretary? No, she had to forget, they all did, and that made all of this rather pointless, didn't it?
Q was the one who still had a fifty-fifty chance of remembering, when all was said and done. And if it came to it, he couldn't even obliviate himself! And so he also had to sulk about whether or not he even wanted to. He'd earned Chakotay's respect, Kathryn's love, the friendship of Chekov, the ability-to-exist-in-the-same-building as B'elanna. He felt human, and it felt wonderful, and it would all soon be gone. It made him want to go straight to the labs and smash the transporter to pieces with his own hands, just to have some sort of power over it.
But he also missed his son, wanted to go home, needed to get back to the Continuum and fix whatever might have happened in his potential absence, make his excuses.
It was too much uncertainty, too much choice, too much regret for a Q to bear. It was like the weight of the universe had been put on his shoulders--you know, if it had ever felt like there wasa weight to the universe in Q perspective.
And of course tonight was lousy for other reasons. Chakotay was being friendly, offering him food and generally not throwing him out the door on his ear. Q had briefly considered acting up just to make it stop, but he'd been too miserable about his lot to even do that. Janeway hadn't come near him in hours, not even to make some remark about behaving himself so that the rest of them could hear. It was most unusual, and it made him feel even more useless. A dead weight. Perhaps he should transform himself into a piece of furniture for the rest of the night...
He blinked as she found him at last, startling out from his self involved stupor to look up at her.
no subject
It was because in the grand scheme of things Q had never felt so small.
It suddenly seemed to matter not a single jot what he wanted, because the universe - damn the thing - had to come first. He couldn't whisk Kathy away from her miserable timeline because that miserable timeline needed her. Who would there be to convey messages between Starfleet Command and her fleet in the future like some overpipped version of a space secretary? No, she had to forget, they all did, and that made all of this rather pointless, didn't it?
Q was the one who still had a fifty-fifty chance of remembering, when all was said and done. And if it came to it, he couldn't even obliviate himself! And so he also had to sulk about whether or not he even wanted to. He'd earned Chakotay's respect, Kathryn's love, the friendship of Chekov, the ability-to-exist-in-the-same-building as B'elanna. He felt human, and it felt wonderful, and it would all soon be gone. It made him want to go straight to the labs and smash the transporter to pieces with his own hands, just to have some sort of power over it.
But he also missed his son, wanted to go home, needed to get back to the Continuum and fix whatever might have happened in his potential absence, make his excuses.
It was too much uncertainty, too much choice, too much regret for a Q to bear. It was like the weight of the universe had been put on his shoulders--you know, if it had ever felt like there wasa weight to the universe in Q perspective.
And of course tonight was lousy for other reasons. Chakotay was being friendly, offering him food and generally not throwing him out the door on his ear. Q had briefly considered acting up just to make it stop, but he'd been too miserable about his lot to even do that. Janeway hadn't come near him in hours, not even to make some remark about behaving himself so that the rest of them could hear. It was most unusual, and it made him feel even more useless. A dead weight. Perhaps he should transform himself into a piece of furniture for the rest of the night...
He blinked as she found him at last, startling out from his self involved stupor to look up at her.
"Is it traditional to have fireworks?"
Totally missing the point.