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3. An Offer I Can't Refuse

"Excuse me?" Trip's eyebrows shot up at this question.

"Your life," Q repeated patiently. "Have you been happy with it?"

"Kind of a personal question, isn't it?"

"You thought I was God not too long ago. You would've told me anything then," Q pointed out. Trip harrumphed and took a gulp of his coffee. "And you haven't answered the question."

"What does it matter?" the engineer scowled into his mug. "If I'm not dead I can go back and fix it. If I am dead there's nothing I can do about it now. If I'm neither and I'm both, as you tell me I am, then how does being here help me?"

"Aha! We come to the material point," Q rested his chin on his palm. "I'll make this very simple since I know your poor synaptic pathways just can't take too much confusion." He leaned forward. "I'm giving you one chance to fix where you went wrong. Just one."

"Can you do that?"

The omnipotent entity gestured to the room and its occupants around them, in which he and Trip were currently invisible. "You tell me."

Trip's mind raced. Fix something? Hell, if it were metal and clicked and whirred a lot he could probably fix it, but this was his life. Was he supposed to know what exactly it was he had to fix? Was he supposed to stop himself from dying? Save Lizzie? Find a cure for Elizabeth? Not go on shore leave with Malcolm on Risa? Where had he gone wrong? The more he thought about it, where hadn't he?

Q heard the rumblings of these mental stirrings and rolled his eyes. "Don't give yourself a stroke, Commander Tucker. It's really not that difficult to understand."

"Wait a minute. If I change something, won't that change a lot of other things as well?"

"Very clever." Q's sarcasm grated on Trip's nerves.

"So if I change something it could have a huge impact on the future. I could end up killing thousands of people accidentally, or erasing some important event in history…"

"I assure you, Commander, nothing of significance will change. In fact, I'll do you one better. Nothing of significance in your paltry existence will change. No bringing back the dead, no accidentally killing off Ma and Pa. The bookends of life and death are unavoidable for your kind, and you won't escape yours." Q smiled. "See? That narrows your choices down, too."

"How…" Trip cast an eye around the room. "Okay, let me start over. Where—and when—am I? Is this an alternate universe?"

"Not exactly. It's the future. Couple hundred years. But then the future is just an alternate timeline waiting to happen, isn't it?"

The commander ignored this last comment. "How does being here help me make a choice about my life? I don't even know these people."

"I've never understood it either, but I'm told it works for some…Oh, don't worry, you'll find something of use around here."

Trip was silent for a moment, letting all this sink in. "Why are you doing this?"

Q smirked. "Because I can."

A split second later Trip was alone at the table, staring at an empty seat.

Q watched the engineer glance uneasily around himself before scooting his chair closer to Worf and Troi's table. He really had his doubts that this was going to be productive.

"For all you berate the human need for answers, I found that to be a valid question." The second Q followed his companion's gaze to where Tucker sat. "Why are you doing this, Q?"

"I gave a perfectly valid response," Q said shortly. His reasons were his own and he wasn't about to let anyone pry them loose.

"I know you. There's more to this."

"Don't be ridiculous. What more could there be?"

I don't know…but it's not like you to play the benevolent God."

"You just don't know the depth and breadth of my multi-faceted character," Q sniffed. "Am I violating any of the Continuum's precious rules? Has anyone complained?"

"No…not yet. When you act out, we get worried. When you act out of character, we get very worried, that's all."

"Oh, be gone with you," Q flapped a hand in annoyance. His friend complied and disappeared.

One thing in my life. Well, it would be nice to think that whole blowing myself up thing a little more—but my strange friend made it clear that's not going to change. And I can't bring back Elizabeth or Lizzie either. What does that leave? I think back over the entirety of my life.

Sure, there are things I wish I'd done a little differently. Breaking up with Natalie in that first year on Enterprise was hard. Breaking up with T'Pol hurt like hell. Leaving Enterprise for Columbia was a bad move. Blaming the Xindi for Lizzie's death for so long wasn't too bright…

I think what amazes me most is that when I look back at my life so much of what was good and bad is filtered through my time on Enterprise. So much of me was tied to that ship and Starfleet. I don't know if I should be proud of my loyalty or ashamed of my exclusionary focus. If it didn't fit in Starfleet or my position as engineer, I kinda lost sight of it after awhile. I lost a lot of friends that way…and more.

Had it always been like that? My thoughts are interrupted by conversation from the next table.

Deanna and the Big Guy are having a good time. At least, I think they are. They're talking about work. Hey—they're talking about Will, the guy from the lift.

"It was so nice to see him smiling. He works too hard," Deanna is saying. "I'd like to see him spend more time in the holodeck, get some more rest."

The Klingon does not comment. Even he knows that when a woman talks about an ex-boyfriend on your date it's best to stay quiet until it passes. Deanna, who seems to notice everything, notices this.

"Oh, I'm sorry Worf. How was your day?"

"It was…acceptable," he rumbles. "We reconfigured the forward phaser banks, but their efficiency only increased by 2.5, so we had to reroute the main power banks…" he goes on. In detail. For several minutes. Looks like I've found the tactical officer. Malcolm would be so pleased to know he has a lot in common with an enormous Klingon from the future.

Deanna seems pretty interested, but I can't help feeling that her mind is elsewhere at the same time. Worf must too because he suddenly stops.

"Deanna, are you alright?"

I turn and look at her. Hell, if they can't see me, why am I still sitting here? I get up and go around their table; my conscience is learning to accept eavesdropping.

Deanna is resting her head in her hand, rubbing her forehead. "I'm fine," she says. "Just a sudden headache."

"Are you sure?" Worf asks, concerned.

Deanna nods, face pale. "Yes," she manages to smile. "Yes…I think I'll go lie down for a moment." She starts to rise.

"I will escort you, Counselor."

"Oh no, Worf, I'll be fine. I'm sorry about this. Can I get a raincheck?" She barely waits for his affirmative before heading out the door.

Interesting.

Well, I can stay here with the Klingon or go with Deanna.

Naturally, I follow the woman.