#captkathrynjaneway

A flash of irritation sparks through her. It’s hard to miss the rest of the Continuum’s mistrust of her, the human made Q. They’re her only option, but just the thought of suggesting Q take on such a role is mortifying. Instead, “Are you all this irresponsible?”

“The pronoun you’re searching for is “We”. Q, if I were trying to inject more responsibility into the Continuum, you would not even be on a list of considerations. But yes probably.”

The designation gives her pause. She’s grown used to, and even thinks of herself as such, though she’ll also always be Kathryn. Somehow it’s strange coming from Q, though.

Q notices and raises a privacy barrier around them so no particularly nosy Q can listen in, at least not right now. “What is it, Kathy?”

Stranger still. “Why did you do that?”

If they were now inhabiting corporeal forms, the sensation radiating strongly from Q would be equivalent to a heavy sigh with full mellow-drama intact. “Addressing one with a name is really quite gauche,” but there’s a softness attached to the sentiment.

“Oh,” she says when she just knows what Q is actually trying to tell her. Names, in the Continuum, are a tender form of intimacy. “...Q, I never see you.”

“Yes, well. That’s typically what happens when one is being avoided.”

Okay then. She watches as soil and greenery blooms along what will be the crust of this world. “Why?”

They’re not even looking at her anymore, seemingly involved in their creating as they heave what would be another oh-so-put-upon sigh. “It’s not that I like you any less, it’s just that I want to be around you less. A lot less.”

Another glimmer of irritation rises to the surface as she tries to puzzle out just what the hell they’re talking about. Q is moody, she knows that well, but this is beginning to border on neurosis. “You offered this!”

“Yes, Q, I was there,” the way they barely glance at her before returning to carving out mountains carries a tone of ‘you’re still here, because?’.

She’s tempted to throw the still forming planet at them. “Q!”

They finally put their project aside to give her their full attention. “You’re part of a collective,” how they manage to get that drawl when they don’t even have a voice at the moment is an especially annoying mystery to her, “the collective I was specifically created to shun and question, the collective which barely tolerates me on a generous up swing. You know, I’ve told you all this before. And now you’re Q. It is what it is. Surely you’ve noted a severe decline in general patience for me. And my endearing antics, of course.”

Well. They’re not wrong. Q is not easy to deal with but she doesn’t remember them seeming quite so impossible when she was human, and she’s been wondering where previously mentioned patience took off to. Patience she’s always prided herself on maintaining, apparently lessened now because those she shares a consciousness with don’t have any. She frowns. “I don’t know if I’ve made the right choice.”

Q doesn’t have eyes, at least not in the way she was once used to, but somehow she knows they’re rolling them. “Of course you do,” scoffing at the very audacity of suggesting otherwise. “You know everything.”

She can’t argue with that, but she also doesn’t have to let them so casually write her off. Q more than owes her, and now she has no qualms with collecting. “What I know is irrelevant if no one will teach me what to do with it,” she asserts, and knocks the sun they were shaping right out of their immediate field of influence. Q manages to actually pout and she feels like she’s going crazy. “You will show me how to do this. All of it,” and it comes out like growling steel, her best captain’s tone still every bit a part of her. It is both surprising and comforting.