Author's Note: Due to technical issues, this piece is very late and I'm sorry for that.

Chapter Seventeen: Q

Q

Kirk sighed as the hot water ran over his shoulders; the shift on the bridge had been a long and tense one, plus the fact that he had been awake for thirty-six hours straight. Being so close to the Romulan neutral zone put everyone on edge, and it didn't help that a Romulan patrol had paralleled their course until they pulled away from the zone. Thankfully for Kirk, they made it through Alpha shift without incident and he had been able to go back to his quarters and relax.

Fifteen minutes later, Jim stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel to dry his hair. Looking in the mirror, Kirk saw a flash of red in the corner. Spinning around and dropping the towel so his hands were free, Jim looked around the small bathroom. When he didn't see anyone, he cautiously lowered his hands and tried to process what he had seen.

Suddenly, a man appeared in front of Kirk with a flash of light. Jumping back, the blond pressed himself against the wall. The tall man said in a surprised voice, "Oh, you're not Captain Picard."

"Wh-who. . . Wha. . ." After Kirk got over his shock, he sprung towards the communicator, to call security.

"Oh, here we go," the man mumbled. Snapping his fingers, Kirk reappeared in front of him, but this time he had a uniform on. Looking down, Jim realized he was wearing some sort of demented security uniform. It was a red and black jumpsuit with circular gold pins on the collar.

After a moment, Kirk decided that there was no way to alert security to the intruder. Maybe if he kept the guy talking, someone would realize something was wrong.

The man smirked and placed his hands on his hips, apparently trying to look heroic or awesome, but he ended up just looking egotistical.

I can pull it off so much better, Jim thought.

"I am Q," Q said. Jim raised an eyebrow at the man's response, wondering whose name was a single letter.

"Was your father P?" Jim asked sarcastically.

"No, my father was Q." Q furrowed his eyebrow, wondering how stupid this man was; everyone knew of the Q.

Jim began to wonder if the guy was completely batshit insane, but at that point, he didn't care. He just wanted this Q character off the Enterprise.

"I don't know who you are, or what you're looking for but if you're not off my ship in the next minute. . ." Jim trailed off as the man in front of him looked more and more confused.

"What's the Stardate?" Q asked

"Twenty-two fifty-six point four two," Jim replied warily; the last time he had dealt with someone who wasn't from their time, an entire planet had been destroyed.

Apparently, the pieces fit together in Q's mind, because he was suddenly nodding like everything made sense.

"Ah. It appears I'm in the wrong century. What did you say your name was?"

Jim frowned. "I didn't; it's James T. Kirk."

"Well then, Captain Kirk, it was wonderful to meet you but I must be going. Keep the uniform." With that, Q snapped his fingers and he was gone.

Wondering if he was delusional, Jim thought back to everything he had done or consumed in the past day. When nothing came to mind, he decided to talk to Giotto later.

"There was a what in your quarters?" Jim's security chief asked with disbelief.

"Some guy named Q. I got out of the shower and he was just there. When I tried to call security, he snapped his fingers and I was back in front of him again, except I was wearing this uniform." Kirk pointed to the jumpsuit he was still wearing.

"Then," he continued, "He asked the Stardate and my name. When I told him the date, he said something about being in the wrong century and then snapped his fingers again and disappeared."

Giotto looked at Kirk like the Captain had two heads, asking cautiously, "Sir, what have you eaten or drank today?"

Jim thought for a moment, wracking his brain to remember all the way back to breakfast. "Pancakes with maple syrup, eggs, bacon, and orange juice from the replicator, a cup of coffee and a granola bar and Bones made me eat those nutrient cubes for lunch but I also snuck a piece of cake onto the bridge." As Jim spoke, he counted on his fingers the different things he had eaten.

Giotto wasn't sure if he should ask the other question in his mind, thinking it might offend his Captain. Giotto certainly didn't think Kirk would, but. . .

"Have you had any alcohol or synthohol today sir?" Jim got a stony expression on his face and Giotto knew he asked the wrong question.

Kirk narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms, saying, "No, Lieutenant Commander, I haven't. If you believe it's possible I would do something like that, which would put both the crew and ship in danger, than I'm doing something wrong."

Giotto sighed and ran a hand through his greying hair. "I'm sorry, Captain, I didn't mean to imply anything. I'm just trying to figure out what happened."

Kirk's shoulders drooped and he nodded, realizing that his security chief was just doing his job.

Thinking back on the day, Jim decided that he was probably just suffering from lack of sleep. But that still doesn't tell me where the uniform came from, Jim thought.

"What, sir?" Giotto asked, leaning a little closer like he was trying to listen to something.

I must've said that out loud, Jim thought.

"I was thinking out loud. I'm sorry I bothered you, Giotto. I think I'm going to get some sleep." Jim walked out of Giotto's office, yawning as he went.

Samuel Giotto shook his head and headed towards his desk. Pressing a button, he said into the speaker, "Giotto to McCoy."

A gruff voice replied, "McCoy here."

"Is there anything I should know about Kirk's eating habits?"

There was silence on McCoy's end as he thought about that question. "He usually tries to eat something loaded with sugar and fat, so I steal his food and replace it with something like nutrient cubes. I swear, if he doesn't start listening to me, he's going to end up fat and balding by the age of thirty-six."

"Would anything like, I don't know, pancakes with maple syrup, eggs, bacon, and orange juice from the replicator, a cup of coffee and a granola bar, nutrient cubes, or cake cause him to hallucinate?" If the doctor thought it was weird that Giotto remembered everything Kirk told him, he either didn't say anything or chalked it up to being a security chief and noticing everything.

McCoy sighed rather loudly and then a muffled bang could be heard.

"What, what is it?" Giotto asked with concern.

McCoy sighed again and answered, "The kid doesn't sleep, so I put him on a new medication. That's the only thing I can think of that would cause him to hallucinate. Why did you want to know anyway?"

Giotto explained everything to McCoy, from the being awake for thirty-six hours to Q to the piece of cake in the afternoon on the bridge. When he was finished, McCoy was cursing up a storm.

"Really? A man with a single letter for a name teleported on his own accord into his quarters and. . . and. . ." McCoy trailed off, continuing to curse and mutter under his breath.

"Just go check on him," Giotto suggested. "Will you?"

"And the cake, goddamn that man and his fucking cake. I swear, I'm going to. . ." Realizing he was getting nowhere, Giotto cut the transmission.

The doctor did end up going to check on Jim and the resulting yelp from the harsh delivery of a hypospray could be heard across the deck.

This did not come out the way I wanted it too and I'm not too happy with it. I know, I know, I kind of cheated because I used a name of a character, but I honestly couldn't think of anything. Mikaela II offered the wonderful word of querulous and XxTheMoonRiddlexX offered quiet, but my brain simply said that Q was it's top priority (must need to stop having random TNG marathons). So, thank you to Mikaela and MoonRiddle, sorry I couldn't work with the words, though they both were good ones. Also (I know, this is getting long), my wonderful beta, CurbItKirby, was very helpful with this piece. There would be no ending if it wasn't for her. It just seemed to ramble on and on and on (kind of like me). Apologies to anyone who hasn't seen TNG and doesn't know what I'm talking about, but the combination of Q and Kirk was too hard to resist.

P.S. This conversation went on in the work as different drafts were being edited.

CurbItKirby: . . . f*ck you for making me want cake.

Me: Well, f*ck you for saying f*ck me because I made you want cake. Wow, that was an awkward sentence to write.

CurbItKirby: I still want my goddamn cake.