Broccoli and Q:
Authors notes:
For before you read it:
Broccoli and Q is about two of the most disliked characters in star trek. At least, according to everyone I know; Reginald Barclay and, of course, the infamous Q.
Rating: T, must be at least 14, okay?
Why: Mild Swearing, potential violence, funky relationships, strange freaky people, and girl scouts.
Quick description:
Broccoli and Q is about what would happen if Q and Barclay got stuck together in a house, with virtually no other contact, except to keep them alive. It's got some hidden and not so hidden plots. Some of the plot may be exposed, some may not. The story could, and probably will, be hard to follow at times, just because that's the way I write.
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Barclay walked down the corridors of the Enterprise with speed. He was not worried. Oh no, not him. He wasn't late for an important staff meeting; Commander LaForge was not going to be mad at him. Deanna would not be upset by this set back (even if she didn't show it, he could tell. Those eyes may be pure black, but they still showed a lot of expression). Data would definitely make no unintentional comment. And Wes would certainly not refer to the name "Broccoli" again.
He might be a little worried.
Absently he tapped the spot on his neck Deanna had showed him. It usually helped him relieve stress, but today he couldn't shake the feeling something worse than a sub-par report was going to happen.
And then quite suddenly, a single hand covered his mouth as a simultaneous arm pulled him….
Into a wall.
He felt like screaming, but the hand barely allowed him breath. He closed his eyes, trying to remember his self defense training, wishing he hadn't slept through so many classes.
A voice sounded in his ear, rather loud and obnoxious. It reminded him of someone. The voice was obviously male, and Barclay guessed the man to be about 6' 2", relatively muscular, with brown hair, blue eyes, and a somewhat spotty complexion.
Good thing he hadn't slept through all the classes.
"Don't scream," the voice said. "Not that anyone can hear you, the Enterprise is several thousand light years away right now."
Barclay looked around, surprised; a small dimly lit room greeted him. The furniture consisted of two chairs (both a lovely shade of lavender), and a somewhat matching blue couch. The walls were tan with red wood highlights. There was tile covering the floor in a blue-green sea with artfully arranged carpets dotting the landscape.
He felt like laughing.
The person was talking. "All right, I am letting go now." He quickly let go of Barclay, who promptly fell over in a heap.
"What did y-you do?" he asked, turning to face his assailant.
"None of your- oh wait, it is your business. Well…" The man stared at him. "You know of the Q, I suppose?"
A nod from Barclay confirmed this.
"Well, then you know of THE Q. The one who came and harassed you people?"
More nods.
"Well, good, it is now your job to teach him about Humanity."
"WHAT????"
"Well, we figured he's done such a bad job of learning that we'd just stick him with someone who knows what they're talking about and see what happens. He'll be semi-powerless, of course."
"B-but, I'm no expert at h-humanity. I barely get by as it is."
The Q (for by now that's obviously what it was) shrugged. "So, you're the most objective, and smart for your kind, too. Picard was our next choice, but he and Q got along too well. We couldn't do Data because, technically he's not human. You just didn't interact with him at all, so neither of you knows what to expect from the other. At least, not really." He shrugged.
"Bu-"
"Okay, bye for now."
And Q was gone.
Of course, seven seconds later Q appeared to take his place. Barclay stared at him from his position on the floor.
And Q stared back.
For about ten minutes it wasn't very interesting, then:
"I DON'T BELIEVE IT!" Q roared.
Barclay gulped. "B-believe what?" he managed to stammer.
"THAT THEY PAIRED ME WITH, WITH, with, well, with you." He tapered off as Barclay merely flinched away from him.
"S-sorry," Barclay murmured. "I didn't choose this job." He shivered a bit. The room was rather cold. "And I'm going to be in so much trouble, I was already very late for my shift."
Q glared. Then his expression went back to that 'you're-such-a-cute-petty-little-mortal' look.
"Q obviously didn't explain things very well." He sighed in melodramatic exasperation. "This room, actually this HOUSE is out of time restraint. When you go back, no time will have passed." He scowled. "But that also means I'm stuck here until you hurry up and teach me this lesson I'm supposed to learn!"
Barclay had managed to stand up by now. He made use of this by scurrying away to stand behind the farthest lavender chair. "I can't teach you w-what I don't know," he practically whispered.
Q was glad his body was equipped with exceptional hearing, but not overly so. "You don't KNOW?" he said angrily, "Why would they be so stupid as to send me an incompetent teacher?" He glared at Barclay, silently wishing he had his powers so as to make Barclay's head explode.
But it didn't, so Q slipped absentmindly into sarcasm mode.
"But of course, the great and powerful Reg Broccoli could not stoop so low as to not know something. He may not tell you he knows, but watch out! He knows!"
Barclay was surprised; he had never really claimed to be great and/or powerful, //And how does Q know my name? Oh, duh, he's Q// "I never said I was much of anything." He sighed as he felt his fleet self defense training kick in. //Better late then never// he thought grimly. "But it doesn't matter, why am I here? I can't teach you anything you don't want to learn. Surely the other Q knows that. And anyway why-"
Q interrupted him. "Shut up. I think this is supposed to be a mutual learning experience. Or something, I wasn't paying too much attention at the meeting. When they said they were teaching me about the race I was supposed to be teaching them about, I naturally figured they would pair me with Picard, and he's not so bad once you get to know him."
"He scares the living daylights out of me."
Q was surprised at this latest, but refused to let his shock show. "Well, good. You think far too much of yourself, I'm sure."
Barclay surprised himself: "Shut up, I don't care, I'm out of here."
Barclay glared at Q for several seconds, thinking; //I could take you with one hand tied behind my back// But then his strength dissolved. He slumped slightly. "Sorry, can you please explain to me what's going on?"
Q shook his head. "No, I'm not allowed to. No more than has already been said. Besides I've… forgotten most of it." He stopped talking and stared. Then started again. "But anyway, now that we're here, we might as well get used to each other. I call first bedroom!"
He turned and dashed out of the room. Barclay stared, and then followed. Q bounded up several flights of stairs, opened the door at the top and slipped in. The door snapped shut behind him.
Barclay took his time, worriedly observing his surroundings. The rest of the house seemed to have been put together by a hippie. Swirly colors and shag rugs greeted him everywhere he looked. To his left were wood bookshelves and stands, while to his right everything was cold harsh metal. He thought he smelled something sweet, vaguely like burning bananas. When he got to the top of the stairs, he hesitated, and then knocked on the door.
"What?" said an exasperated Q from the other side.
"W-where are the other rooms?"
"All along the hallway, now go away."
Barclay nodded at the silverish door, and decided against asking where anything else was today. Especially not the kitchen. He wasn't very hungry anyway. Though he vaguely remembered not eating for several days…
He looked in each door, astounded at how badly each one was decorated. As though a blind Klingon had decided to go pastel, and mauve. For some reason the house was very mauve oriented. Each room had different lighting. The first four where draped in dramatic reds and blues, while the last had normal lighting.
He choose the farthest room. It was slightly more tastefully designed, and the lighting actually accentuated the room. Only one color was prominent, blue, with maybe a few silver overtones. So he took off his boots, locked the door, and collapsed on the bed. He wondered, for a while, what Q was doing in his room. And then decided, that, no, it wasn't his business, really. He rolled over and promptly fell asleep.
