Xenon

Give and Take

He was avoiding her. And it wasn't like he was doing a very good job of it either. He was avoiding her and he didn't even care if she noticed or not. In fact, he probably wanted her to notice, the bastard.

Amanda waded through the continuum, passing other Q, brushing against their energy. She searched for him, trying to quell that human desperation that rose inside her. He had avoided her for months, had then left on some secret mission, and now that he was back he was still ignoring her. Oh no, he was going to talk to her. He was going to talk even if she had to force him.

A few turned at her passing. Normally Amanda could barrier her emotions well enough that they would ignore her. It was easier that way. But her creeping desperation was making it difficult; it lashed out, curling around her. A beacon screaming I'm here, I'm worried, lonely, angry-

The last time she saw him was in front of the council, nearly a month back. She'd been watching from outside the ring of Q, listening with the others. They always fell silent when he spoke; it was a gift he knew to use in his advantage. His words were precious to the others, even though he always took that petulant tone with the council. He argued more than most would dare, and perhaps he had been even worse before Amanda knew him. Q was always hesitant in speaking about the time the continuum kicked him out, but Amanda thought it must have sobered him a bit to the rule of authority.

At that time she had already been worried about his attitude. After their brief interaction on her birthday she'd passed him more than a dozen times in the continuum. When he would see her coming he'd duck away into an unknown dimension, or, once, simply turn away. Selfishly Amanda thought it was her own emotional response that caused it, that the kiss had somehow made her a danger to him. But that was so selfish. He could simply be pushing her away as part of her training, weaning her from his tutelage. A part of Amanda wanted to believe the latter with every part of her being… but she just couldn't.

At odd moments she would recall, with stunning and unwanted clarity, the way his hand had fisted itself in her hair, right against the back of her skull. The way he growled his possible danger to her. The way her human heart had spiked and raced-

He had been speaking to the council about a task in which he had to leave the continuum. He could have no contact, no open channels with them. It had to be handled with the utmost care and secrecy. He had refused their orders at first, claiming that the matters of other beings were 'none of their concern', but by that time Amanda knew he was simply negotiating. If he put up enough of a fight they'd restore a bit more of that sought-after prestige he's lost after his unceremonious exclusion from the continuum. Besides, he was the best choice for the job. He had the experience. They needed him, and he knew it.

Amanda had watched, transfixed. He railed against them, yet inside he was so clam. She rippled. Was she was the only one who could see it? She could read him, perhaps a side effect of spending so much time by his side. He rarely raged for the pure joy of it. In a way he was just like Captain Picard- calculating what to say in order to get what he wanted. Only Picard did it with a smile and a cup of tea. Amanda really didn't know which one she preferred.

Before he was about to dispatch she had cornered him, finally.

"You're leaving," she'd tried to force an edge to her voice.

Q had barely glanced in her direction, "I'm following our oh-so insightful council's orders." The sarcasm was thick, even for him.

"How long are you going to be gone?"

"How long?" A flicker of recognition passed through him, "A human month. And what did I tell you about that linear timing?"

She'd understood he couldn't talk about it, knew it was against their protocol, but she had expecting something more from him, some small precious bit of information. He was her teacher, he was everything to her, and he was her connection to the Q. Surely something had bonded between them. Surely he trusted her.

"Is there something else I can help you with?"

"I- no," the hurt was hard to conceal.

He flashed confidence, but it was somehow hollow, "Good."

Suddenly she spoke, almost cutting him off, "You're scared." She didn't even know she was about to say it. There had been nothing and then knowledge. It was so heavy and resolute.

Q laughed, "You're weighing too much on that pitiful human emotion again, my little Q. The Q do not fear."

Amanda drew towards him, "What are they having you do?"

He steeled, and it drew away that precious veil of spite and vindictiveness. It was involuntary; he probably didn't even know he was doing it. "Do not concern yourself. It means nothing." But then she could feel him against her, perhaps the human equivalent of a hand on her arm. "You are to continue your studies."

"If-" She searched for words, "If you don't come back?"

He drew away, "You still have many trials and tests to perform before your training is complete."

No. He couldn't do it. He couldn't be a goddamn martyr. She wouldn't let him, not alone.

"I want to go with you."

He had laughed at her, really guffawed, and Amanda, in shocked silence, shrunk away even further. In that laugh she could identify all the inadequacies of her being. She was worse then useless to the Q, she was a liability. Amanda had turned from him, cursed him, and cursed her high hopes of someday teaching him. If he died she would never get the chance to show him, really show him what it was to be human.

And now he was back and he hadn't even taken the time to say "hi" or "I'm not dead after all" or something.

Of course she was angry, but to identify herself as being wholly angry was a lie. Moreover she was glad that he was home safe and sound. That shocked her: home. When did she start thinking of the continuum as 'home'? Perhaps it was during the last time she visited her adoptive parents. Walking into their home, her old room, it suddenly seemed alien upon reflection. But that was normal, she reasoned. A man or woman upon growing up would not view their parent's home as familiar ground. It was nearly the same, although 'growing up' almost never involved becoming a new species.

She was about to ponder it further when she caught him; Q speaking with a member of the council. They were receded from the rest of the continuum, conversing privately within a sub frequency. She hung back, watching. She knew he was there, could feel some base sense of him. All she had to do was wait the relatively short time it took for them to finish. When pair rejoined the continuum Amanda could see how exhausted Q was. He seemed to be deflated, less like his buoyant self then usual. Amanda nearly felt bad for cornering him at a time like that. Nearly.

When he saw her coming he didn't turn away. In fact, she could see the plain happiness in him. Well, maybe 'happy' was too broad of a term. He looked contented, like he had expected her to eventually find him. She made a considerable effort not to throw herself at him. It would be… inappropriate… and she was half afraid she'd never let go.

He made a flourish, "I have returned!"

"In one piece, I see."

He continued quickly, she suspected to waylay her from voicing any more concern over him. "Have you been studying, my ever obedient pupil?"

More like fretting, she thought furiously, remembering that she should be angry with him. But all she could feel was this great big whump of satisfaction that he wasn't dead. And no, she hadn't practiced at all.

"I tried to get someone to help me," she confessed, "but they were unwilling. I mainly fooled around on my own. You know the usual. I visited my parents too. They were very happy to see me. " He took the information in without saying a word. "They asked about you, of course," she continued. They always did for some reason. Q scoffed. "You know I couldn't tell them you were "fine" because you weren't, obviously. It's very disconcerting not knowing where you are."

Q seemed to finally get her frustration, why she was angry. He attempted a nasty tone, but it was softened by just how tired he was, "I had no idea I was 'mother duck' to you."

"Are you kidding?" He couldn't be that thick. "You're the only one around here to talks to me. I sulk around here like I've got the plague or something. I know I'm young but I'm not that naïve. You're like the very dim light at the end of a very dark tunnel, Q. I'll take what I can get, thank you very much. " That seemed to silence him, and Amanda suddenly felt so very bad. He must have been out there among the stars, risking his life, and he'd come back to her screaming at him. She pulled herself together, "I'm sorry… I was just worried. You must be exhausted."

He mumbled in assent, remarking quietly, "The council's relentless…." He had that look Amanda knew too well, the look she got when the continuum grew too loud, when it felt like you were stuck in a crowded container ship with millions of chattering voices. It was the feeling that made her take vacations from the Q. And she'd only been there a few years. How sick would she been after millennia?

An sudden idea struck her.

"I know a quiet place, come on." She beckoned to him, slipping between the continuum's fabric into three-dimensional space. She swirled her energy inward, gathering the folds of space as she would a long piece of cloth, overlapping huge segments of the galaxy. Infinity bunched. When she found what she was looking for she let the bundle loose, snapping it straight, ending thousands of light-years from where they started.

Coming into clearer focus a planet loomed before them, the side just creasing into daybreak. Amanda-land.

"My, my you have been busy." Q's usual human form- mocked in khaki- materialized. He actually looked impressed. Well, he should be, Amanda thought. The planet had flourished under her; the sparse green now lush and vibrant against its surface.

Amanda folded her arms neatly. "I told you I'd been just fooling around." He gave her a look and she flushed. "So I sped up the time a bit. I wasn't going to wait a billion years for the plants to grow! And besides, it's peaceful. No annoying council, no chattering continuum. You'd pay a premium for this on Earth you know. Come on, I've been wanting to show you."

They reappeared on a sandy beach near the meridian. Amanda kicked the pearlescent sand as she walked the length of the coastline. It skittered and shimmered in the sunlight. "It all took considerable effort. The first time I tried you had to help, remember?" Q followed her a few feet behind. "But like I said, you were gone. Kind of a good thing actually, otherwise I wouldn't have figured out how to do it on my own. I reshaped the landmasses a few weeks ago. It nearly folded in on itself."

"You are inexperienced, and that's what happens to you petulant youth. Biting off more than you can chew."

"But I did it in the end," her raw elation was impossible to hide. It was sad, really, how much she vied for his approval. They rounded the inlet, entering a bowled cove, and Amanda waded out to the shallows. It was so warm, like bath water. "Have you ever been to the Caribbean on Earth? My adoptive parents took me there one summer. The oceans clear as glass…" She dipped down, running a hand over the translucent surface of the water. Q was watching the lapping waves with a note of trepidation. "You can't tell me in all your travels you've never gone swimming."

A plush sofa appeared behind him, completely out of context, sunk down into the sand. Amanda was incredulous. That wasn't the point; you were supposed to enjoy the beach on its own, not put furniture on it! Q took a few steps back and sunk primly onto the cushions, arms stretching back over the center pillow. "This," he sighed deeply, "is preferable."

Amanda rolled her eyes, wading back to the beach. She dried her legs with a flick of her wrist, materializing a comfy t-shirt and cotton shorts. She regarded the couch for a moment, trying the place it. It seemed awfully familiar….

Oh.

She had to hold her tongue, knowing that if she pointed out that he'd replicated furniture from the Enterprise he'd throw a hissy fit. But the Captain's sofa? Really? But it did look comfy... As she sat beside Q he tilted his head, a triumphant smile plastered all over his stupid face, before saying, "You said you visited your… Earth parents." Amanda quirked an eyebrow, nodding.

He only met them once, when she said goodbye to them before joining the continuum. She remembered him sitting stiffly on her mother's sofa, watching in silence as Amanda tried to explain, interjecting when more information was needed. At one point, as her mother's eyes welled with unshed tears, Amanda had almost broke. She'd nearly lost it. But Q had reached out and touched her, a warm undercurrent in the back of her mind, and it had bolstering her. She never thanked him for that.

But all she said was a soft, "They're doing well."

Q stretched out his legs, "The concept of 'family' is not dissimilar to the continuum. The Q are your brothers and sisters."

That was a laugh! "They could at least pretend to like me."

"They don't dis-like you."

Amanda picked at the sofa's threading along the cushion.

"However there is no familial bond between parents and children as with humans…." Q continued. "However your true parents were the exception. Tell me, do you still conjure them?"

Ah, they were back to that?

"They're dead. They don't deserve being unceremoniously resurrected every time I have a bad day."

"Very good."

Good? She took offense. "What do you mean by that?"

Q turned to lean in, Amanda freezing as he stopped mere inches from her face, nose to nose. "If you ever want to truly master your powers you must lean to control that human part of you." He eyed her, gaze flitting over her face. "Especially those wants of yours." A knowing smile, vicious, twisted his lips. Amanda didn't wince away, she wouldn't allow that weakness to show, but god could he use her very mind against her. There was something about his expression, the low tilt of his shoulders. He looked predatory. Fight or flight? Part of her was setting off alarm bells, warning that he was so very dangerous- but rest of her didn't seem to care. She settled on a challenging expression, even thought she knew he could read past it. His smile grew, and he pulled away, laughing.

Well, she could throw it back at him. "Are you ever going to tell me what you were doing for the council?"

"Nope," he chimed, almost cheery.

Amanda ground her teeth. This is how Picard must feel! Well how dare he? She was Q just like him, just like the rest of them. If he didn't want to tell her then she could just find out on her own. Amanda gathered herself and, quashing a flare of trepidation, lashed out and touched him, his mind, his Q-ness . He was unprepared, Amanda being the last person to try something so incredibly aggressive. Sharing information between Q was nothing special, but an unprovoked probe into matters one tried to shield… well, it was rash, but she had to try. For a brief instant she was swimming in him, could see segments of him she knew were too personal, too intimate. But she was untrained for this kind of search, and so she blundered on, tripping over his thoughts-memories-feelings- It was so dense, thousands of years of thought, millions, each flaring and bright against his backdrop. Recent experiences were colored more vividly, and they flicked against Amanda like old movie projections.

Picard and the others on trial, a beautiful woman she did not know fighting back before freezing into solid stasis- anger, elation, amusement-

The flashes were almost instantaneous

Guinan jabbing a well-aimed fork into Q's human hand- horror- pain-

Amanda gasped, remembering the stories of Q's temporary exile. She watched, transfixed, as the flash of pain skittered across his face.

Amanda tossing Q as easily as a ragdoll against the wall of her room on the Enterprise- disoriented- surprise-

And she was kissing him, the quasar lighting up space, her tongue sweeping his mouth-

His burst of shock and lust was so powerful she felt as if it had reached out and actually struck her. But those nanoseconds were enough for Q to collect himself and throw her out. She didn't even get the chance to find what she'd been searching for. His power, doubled by his anger, flung her backward. The beach on her planet came rushing towards her, rocketing her mind back to her body. She had tumbled off the couch and onto the sand, sucking in a surprise breath so sharp it hurt. Her vision swam.

"Wretched child!" She could hear him curse, but she was still gasping, unable to breath properly. The sofa was gone, and Q bent to take hold of her shoulders, pulling her roughly to her feet. He started shaking her. "I should jettison you into space! I should strip you of your powers!"

"I…"

"It's my own fault, obviously. I've let you get away with murder!"

"I didn't know-"

"I didn't know," he mocked. "Someday that excuse isn't going to work. Someday you'll be up against more powerful beings that won't take kindly to such invasions. They will turn against you and destroy your mind, or worse yet you'll be trapped roaming there forever, too deep to extract yourself and I won't be there to mother you along."

Amanda drew herself up, pulling from his grasp, "I'll fight them!"

Q made a noise partway between humor and disgust. "You don't know what it means to fight," he snarled, "You know the basics. You can traverse time and make pretty little planets floating out in space. Oh how wonderful your powers are, Amanda, oh how entirely useless."

She tried to collect herself, fortify herself against him, but he was right… he was so right.

"Teach me then."

He laughed at her.

Amanda recoiled, biting hard on her lower lip to keep from shaking with rage.

Q cocked his head to the side, "Oh do start crying, that always makes things better."

He was a monster. He tortured her and he enjoyed it. And that made loving him even worse, didn't it? Her stomach dropped. Oh no, she thought, not that. Not true. But of course it was. And he must know and simply spurn her for his own amusement. Did he like to see her squirm under his barbs and slander? He'd insulted her intelligence, her lineage, her humanity, her choice in clothing- on more than one occasion- to name a few. Perhaps she should fight back. Maybe that's what she should have done from the beginning.

She attacked, and was surprised how simply it had happened. She had just thought of getting him away and her energy had done the rest. It was clumsy, and not at all graceful, but it struck Q across the chest. He stumbled back, nearly fell, but kept his footing.

"Again," he said, a hard edge to his voice. She stared at him. "Again, or do I need to spell it out for you? Concentrate!"

This time Amanda squared her shoulders, supping up her energy from the tips of her toes all the way to the very core of her. It pulsed like a heart, so dense it felt weighted. Concentrating she gathered it and she rushed him, darting out of space and in again, coming up fast on his right shoulder. He knelt, shielding, and her attack ricochet off him, a deafening boom shuttering the very ground they stood on. Amanda was thrown back but landed on her feet.

Rising, Q threw her a disappointed look. "You're thinking too much with your body. You are Q, you have a power greater then physical strength. You are not some human gifted with psychic abilities, you are a higher being! We have other ways; better ways. Try again!"

She held his gaze for a long moment before her eyes fluttered closed. Concentrate, he'd said. She had to concentrate and hit him without using her body as a vessel. She let her mind go blank; let it float away and up and into something else. She felt weightless and airy, much like when she inhabited the continuum, but here she was alone. Well, almost.

"Ah, ma chérie, that's it," his voice was here and there, next to her and far away, all around. It was a strangely pleasant.

"Where are you?" But she could see, just not visually. She could feel him, where he was. "It's warm," she voiced without having to speak, marveling in the new feeling. And then he attacked, compressing her energy and drawing the life right out of her. He seemed to reach inside her being, taking hold of something singular, something precious, and wrenching it. When she played human Amanda could feel pain if she concentrated hard enough, and when operating in the continuum there was no concept of physical hurt, but this was entirely different. It felt as if her life were diffusing right out from under her, as if her body were being sucked through a keyhole. She cried out, he let go, and the sensation died quickly.

"That is what you're up against, my dear."

After a moment she found her voice, "What was that?"

"A drain on your essential power, your force of being."

It was frightening, maddening. Any more and Amanda might have lost herself, gone careening into space. "Is that how the Q fight each other?"

She could very nearly see the smirk rise on his lips, "One of the more painless ways. A quick, satisfying end. You'd be dead with just the briefest of twinges. Although there are other creatures, not unlike the Q, who prefer… other ways." He drew away, "Your turn. Attack me."

Amanda flinched, "No. I don't want this."

"But you wanted to learn," Q snarled, "You wanted to defend yourself."

She shook her head, uncoiling from the subspace, sinking back into her body on the beach. She was still trembling when her eyes opened, focusing on Q. He looked murderous. Two strides and he towered over her, taking hold of her upper arm in a tight, unyielding grasp.

"No," she tried again.

His voice raised an octave; "You are not allowed a free pass just because this is unpleasant for you!" She felt him attempting to pull her back to that null space, to that place of pain. Amanda struggled, projecting barriers. He ripped them as easily as crêpe paper. She tried again, stronger this time, spurred on by a survival instinct. He faltered, once, before he executed one hard yank. Amanda felt herself begin to drift.

"I said no!" And she yanked back, hard, and more forcefully then she ever tried with any energy before. The prospect of hurting him, of giving him that kind of pain, it was unbearable. She'd rather die; she'd rather be ripped to pieces by her own uncontrollable power then go back to that place and fight him.

The world around them shimmered. Amanda-land seemed to quaver like a bowstring, distorting so much the beach became elongated and stretched. Q faltered, unsure for the first time, but Amanda was determined.

She gave her powers one final draw, trying desperately to root herself firmly on the ground. She surged dangerously. Distantly she could hear Q's voice-

"Amanda!"

Her eyes were screwed closed, but they shot open at the tearing sound. All around them the world fractured, spider webbing into a billions fragments. The fissures ran up and out from her, splintering into space, running out from the source. There was a suspended moment where the rupturing ceased, where the cracks sped away into oblivion, and then it fell. Amanda, empty to the point of unconsciousness, fell to the ground as the beach, forest, ocean, atmosphere, sky- all of it- rained down in confetti sequins over the now barren planet.

All she had made, the beauty of it, dead and gone.

Amanda-land…. once again floating lifelessly in the vastness of space.

And she was hollow, running dry. Unbridled by her lacking experience she had expelled too much. Would she die? Would it be over? Her lips formed words, half-hearted sounds and murmurs. She did not want to die.

Someone was touching her, turning her over. Q was on his knees drawing her up into his lap. "Oh precious…" his voice was soft. Blearily Amanda smiled. She liked it when it spoke that way to her. It made her heart soar and the hurt ache less. She tried to ask what happened but it took too much effort. He noted her confusion, explaining quietly, "You culled too much of yourself. Your essence could not produce the amount of energy you demanded of it. It began drawing power from other sources, namely the energy you invested in the planet. It was all much too thin after that…" He propped her head against his chest, tucking back the hair that had fallen over her face. It was such an out of place gesture.

"Wh- wh-"

"Shh," and he took her into him, his Q form. They were very nearly joined; almost one being at that point, and in that intimacy Amanda couldn't shield herself from him. All the pain and confusion, happiness and desire, it lay before him easy to see. From that connection life flowed back into her. He was siphoning it from himself, giving it freely. Amanda leaned against it, boneless, basking in it.

Eventually he pushed away, extracting her very slowly, as if any harsh movement would break her. The awareness of her human body seeped back bit by bit. From here position she could hear his human heart beating in time with her own.

"Q?"

"How do you feel?"

"Better. Thank you."

He mulled over her words, "About your planet…" Amanda felt a pang of loss, "It was wrong of me to expose you in such a way, you have my apology. It seems your little vacation spot paid the price."

Amanda nodded, sitting up slowly. She shook the fuzziness from her head. Looking about it was hard to compare this barren moonscape to the thriving world just moments before. She stood on shaky legs, turning a full three hundred and sixty degrees. The planet's blank canvas ran off into the distance; she could see its curvature where earth met the blackness of space.

She did not need to breath, yet she raked in a long, deep breath.

There was a moment of complete silence, and then he spoke.

"The Q do not have much in the way of lovers." He stood, arms folded, watching her with that unreadable expression, like he was trying to solve a particularly difficult puzzle.

She expected this line of questioning. Now he knew how she really felt, thanks to their temporary joining.

"I guessed as much," she shrugged. It wasn't her fault, she reasoned. She couldn't choose how to feel, she just felt, and that's what mattered. A breathy laugh forced its way past her lips, "I told myself I'd try and teach you what it was like to feel human. I was so angry when you left the continuum… I was afraid I had missed my chance. But… how can I teach you about human nature when I can't even understand my own feelings? I- I don't even know what I'm talking about most of the time." It was hard to admit defeat.

Q tilted his chin up a fraction; it made him look even more arrogant than usual. "Would it be so bad to love one another? Is that not what human do?"

She turned imploringly to him, "It's not the same."

"Why? What better way do you see to teach me? Should I let you drag me around that blue planet of yours? Would that make me more human?"

"I don't want to 'make you' human," she whispered. Q quirked an eyebrow. It was true. Making him human would subtract from him, make him less of the person she- well, damn it- loved. His sadistic humor, his taunting, the confusing way he complimented her very existence, that's what stayed with her. She just wanted him to understand. And maybe he was right; this was the best way to really show him. Amanda reached to brush his temple with her fingertips. "No," she said, answering his previous question, "It would not be so bad to love you." He was smiling a very small smile. She grinned, tipping up to kiss him.

Again it took him a moment to respond, but he eventually grasped her arms, rooting her to the spot as he pressed his mouth against hers. She felt her heart skip. Like every other aspect of him the kiss was calculated. He never simply slapped things together; it was methodical. In fact, it was rendering her thoughts to gurgling schoolgirl prattle with its soft pressure and- oh god, she thought, opening her mouth to his- she was going to explode.

It was over much too quickly, and Amanda's head was spinning by the time they broke apart. Q 'humm'ed slightly, wearing a mischievous smile, "What an interesting and complex aspect human behavior. A sign of affection, romance, love, eroticism-"

How did he manage to say everything with an undertone of pure sex? He could read the Enterprise's dinner menu and have it come out a dirty romance novel.

Amanda gestured to the planet around her, "We could try again? With more kissing this time. You know," she added quickly when he flashed her a look, "for research purposes."

He gently took her face in both his hands. "You are never to loose that part of you, Amanda, despite how the others treat you. The Q have no concept of what you truly are, what potential you have, how key you are to our future, and for that I love you."

She tried to look displeased, but it was too hard, she ended up grinning like a fool. "And here I thought you just like to torment me."

"That place is reserved for a very special Frenchman."

"Come to think of it, we haven't visited the Enterprise for a while. And Amanda-land could always wait."

"Those fools could do for another dose of Q."

"I'd love to see Beverley again."

Q bowed in a very gentlemanly manor, "Shall we depart ma chérie?" Amanda took his outstretched arm, giggling despite herself, and they vanished in a bright flash of light.

A/n- I'm sure Picard's going to be so very pleased to see them

Read and review!