Fic: Bright Young Thing (JLU/Star Trek)
I present you what would be the most self-indulgent fic ever, if xparrot hadn't asked for it in the "fics you'll never write" meme:
fic you won't write, because you're not, y'know, insane: Q/source!Lex (with Lex still secretly pining for Clark, such that Q might be inspired to get them together just to get him to shut up)
But, you see, I am that insane.
Title: Bright Young Thing
Rating: PG
Fandom: crossover JLU/Star Trek
Characters: Q, Picard, postDestroyer-toon!Lex
"Q!" Picard protested. "You said you would not take me to another world of smoke and mirrors created by you."
Q gave him a wide, encouraging smile. But still something serious lurked behind the mischief in his dark eyes, something that Picard had seen there more and more often in the last few years. It was one of the reasons Picard had accepted Q's offer, despite his wariness concerning dinner with the entity. The suspicion that there was something more to Q's visitations, some deeper reason behind tormenting Picard and his crew, had grown slowly in Picard.
"Smoke and mirrors? I don't know what you're talking about, my friend!"
Picard stopped, surveying their surroundings with a deep frown. "You're telling me this is real?"
They were in a tavern, a rustic looking place with heavy wooden tables and chairs, a bar that smelt of smoke and beer, real beer, not the synthehol imitate served in most Federation establishments. Some of the bottles on the shelf behind the bar looked ancient, but the barman, heavy-set and bearded, looked even more so. The place was too old to be anywhere but on Earth, but the barman's blackened teeth made it highly unlikely that they were anywhere with proper medical care. The device playing recordings of music was definitely an antiquity. But a historical setting was also impossible, since most of the customers looked alien, ranging from species that looked vaguely familiar to completely strange entities, many-limbed and colourful, some gaseous and featureless, others dark and star-filled.
Q chose a table in a quiet corner.
"It is," he said, fully serious for a moment. "A piece of advice, mon capitaine. Do not talk too loudly of such lofty concepts as 'reality' in this place. You might provoke a metaphysical argument with one of the customers - and believe me, you would find yourself to be thoroughly humiliated in the process."
Picard's eyes widened, and he sat down opposite Q, leaning over the table, unable to hide his fascination and urgency. "Where are we, Q?"
"In terms you can grasp? No Man's Land. Neutral ground. A place to meet and mingle for all the minor gods."
Again, Picard glanced around. "And it looks like this? It strikes me as rather… anthropocentric."
Q laughed. "What you're experiencing is only a metaphor."
Picard tried to process it. With Q, it was always important not to fall prey to hasty conclusions. Probably, what he was experiencing was similar to how Kathryn Janeway had described her stay in the Q Continuum - what he was seeing wasn't the true nature of things, but his actions would have very real consequences, which made it different from Q's usual tricks.
"Plato's cave," Picard mused. "I'm looking at the shadows of images of true things."
"I always preferred Socrates."
Picard regarded him for a while. There was wine on the table now, and a basket of bread, and Q was busying himself with both. That Q would say anything positive at all about a human philosopher… it was rather amazing how much the entity had changed.
"You would," Picard agreed, then poured himself a glass of wine. The label was impressive - even if it was just a metaphorical bottle of wine.
"Oh, it's a personal thing. A friend of mine highly estimated him."
Picard raised his brows. "A friend of yours?"
Glancing up at him with a wicked grin, Q replied, "A very depraved member of the Continuum who believed in teaching mortals, if you can believe it."
Picard had a pretty good idea who Q was talking of. The subject of the Q who had committed suicide on the Voyager had fascinated him since he had read the report on it.
Before he could formulate a response, however, Q perked up visibly, staring intently at something across the room. Picard followed his gaze and spotted a man who had just entered the tavern. As the heavy door fell shut behind him, Picard got a glimpse of a vast field of glittering stars. Then there was just the warm light of the tavern, the music, the smoke in the air. The man by the door looked human enough. He was bald although he was a lot younger than Picard, no older than in his late forties, and dressed like someone out of a 20th Century holodeck program, in a suit and tie that clashed with the setting. He scrutinized the room and its occupants with a sharp, piercing gaze before heading straight for the bar.
"An acquaintance of yours?" Picard asked politely.
Q shook his head, still staring at the stranger while a slow, devious smile spread over his face. As ridiculous as it seemed, he appeared almost smitten. "Not yet!" he replied and got up, prowling over to the bar.
Picard blinked, then leaned back into his seat, resigning himself to watching Q… do whatever it was Q was doing. He had now picked the bar stool next to the stranger and addressed him. The bald man looked less than friendly, in fact rather suspicious. He was leaning back and listening to Q with a haughty frown while holding a glass of some golden liquor.
Q hopped off his chair, rounding the man, touching his shoulder, leaning close to whisper in his ear. Picard had been in the stranger's position many times. He knew how irritating it was, and how intimidating. He was, however, not prepared for the bald man to whirl around, grab Q by the collar of his Starfleet Captain's uniform and punch him in the chin when Q made some clearly mocking remark.
Q stumbled backwards, then straightened, wiping a small trickle of blood from his mouth. The two stared at each other fixedly for a moment, reminding Picard of the one time he had witnessed a confrontation between Q and Guinan. Then Q grinned, executed a small, no less mocking bow, and returned to their table. Picard released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding when the entity at the bar stopped glaring at Q's back and returned to its drink.
Despite his split lip, Q looked immensely satisfied.
"Who is this?" Picard demanded.
"Oh, don't be jealous," Q said airily. "Just some bright young thing."
Picard ignored the usual teasing and insisted on his point. "He was able to harm you. Unless that was just another metaphor."
With a tilt of his head, Q admitted, "No. He did try. Not as powerful as a Q, but…" his eyes strayed to the man by the bar once more, brightening. "It's beautiful."
"Beautiful," Picard echoed in disbelief.
Q leaned closer, hushing his voice to a whisper. "He was human before his apotheosis."
"You don't usually show such enthusiasm for the human species."
"When they go about their tedious, petty little lives thinking they're the height of creation? Certainly not. But this one's different. You have to understand, he's not Sisko. He wasn't elevated to his state by others. Q was wrong when he thought teaching mortals would be a good idea. You people never learn anything except through adversity. You have to figure it out on your own. He did that."
It was the closest Q had ever come to revealing the intent of his tests. Picard searched his face for any sign of a lie, but he found none.
Q smirked. "And he's also the proof that you're wrong, Captain. Riker might not have been the ideal candidate, but humans are capable of handling this much power without being corrupted by it, if it comes with the right kind of understanding. Of course, most mortals are too moronic to ever get that far."
"Then why did he punch you?"
"I told him that the best way to escape godly ennui would be a hobby. I fear he didn't like what I suggested, though."
fic you won't write, because you're not, y'know, insane: Q/source!Lex (with Lex still secretly pining for Clark, such that Q might be inspired to get them together just to get him to shut up)
But, you see, I am that insane.
Title: Bright Young Thing
Rating: PG
Fandom: crossover JLU/Star Trek
Characters: Q, Picard, postDestroyer-toon!Lex
"Q!" Picard protested. "You said you would not take me to another world of smoke and mirrors created by you."
Q gave him a wide, encouraging smile. But still something serious lurked behind the mischief in his dark eyes, something that Picard had seen there more and more often in the last few years. It was one of the reasons Picard had accepted Q's offer, despite his wariness concerning dinner with the entity. The suspicion that there was something more to Q's visitations, some deeper reason behind tormenting Picard and his crew, had grown slowly in Picard.
"Smoke and mirrors? I don't know what you're talking about, my friend!"
Picard stopped, surveying their surroundings with a deep frown. "You're telling me this is real?"
They were in a tavern, a rustic looking place with heavy wooden tables and chairs, a bar that smelt of smoke and beer, real beer, not the synthehol imitate served in most Federation establishments. Some of the bottles on the shelf behind the bar looked ancient, but the barman, heavy-set and bearded, looked even more so. The place was too old to be anywhere but on Earth, but the barman's blackened teeth made it highly unlikely that they were anywhere with proper medical care. The device playing recordings of music was definitely an antiquity. But a historical setting was also impossible, since most of the customers looked alien, ranging from species that looked vaguely familiar to completely strange entities, many-limbed and colourful, some gaseous and featureless, others dark and star-filled.
Q chose a table in a quiet corner.
"It is," he said, fully serious for a moment. "A piece of advice, mon capitaine. Do not talk too loudly of such lofty concepts as 'reality' in this place. You might provoke a metaphysical argument with one of the customers - and believe me, you would find yourself to be thoroughly humiliated in the process."
Picard's eyes widened, and he sat down opposite Q, leaning over the table, unable to hide his fascination and urgency. "Where are we, Q?"
"In terms you can grasp? No Man's Land. Neutral ground. A place to meet and mingle for all the minor gods."
Again, Picard glanced around. "And it looks like this? It strikes me as rather… anthropocentric."
Q laughed. "What you're experiencing is only a metaphor."
Picard tried to process it. With Q, it was always important not to fall prey to hasty conclusions. Probably, what he was experiencing was similar to how Kathryn Janeway had described her stay in the Q Continuum - what he was seeing wasn't the true nature of things, but his actions would have very real consequences, which made it different from Q's usual tricks.
"Plato's cave," Picard mused. "I'm looking at the shadows of images of true things."
"I always preferred Socrates."
Picard regarded him for a while. There was wine on the table now, and a basket of bread, and Q was busying himself with both. That Q would say anything positive at all about a human philosopher… it was rather amazing how much the entity had changed.
"You would," Picard agreed, then poured himself a glass of wine. The label was impressive - even if it was just a metaphorical bottle of wine.
"Oh, it's a personal thing. A friend of mine highly estimated him."
Picard raised his brows. "A friend of yours?"
Glancing up at him with a wicked grin, Q replied, "A very depraved member of the Continuum who believed in teaching mortals, if you can believe it."
Picard had a pretty good idea who Q was talking of. The subject of the Q who had committed suicide on the Voyager had fascinated him since he had read the report on it.
Before he could formulate a response, however, Q perked up visibly, staring intently at something across the room. Picard followed his gaze and spotted a man who had just entered the tavern. As the heavy door fell shut behind him, Picard got a glimpse of a vast field of glittering stars. Then there was just the warm light of the tavern, the music, the smoke in the air. The man by the door looked human enough. He was bald although he was a lot younger than Picard, no older than in his late forties, and dressed like someone out of a 20th Century holodeck program, in a suit and tie that clashed with the setting. He scrutinized the room and its occupants with a sharp, piercing gaze before heading straight for the bar.
"An acquaintance of yours?" Picard asked politely.
Q shook his head, still staring at the stranger while a slow, devious smile spread over his face. As ridiculous as it seemed, he appeared almost smitten. "Not yet!" he replied and got up, prowling over to the bar.
Picard blinked, then leaned back into his seat, resigning himself to watching Q… do whatever it was Q was doing. He had now picked the bar stool next to the stranger and addressed him. The bald man looked less than friendly, in fact rather suspicious. He was leaning back and listening to Q with a haughty frown while holding a glass of some golden liquor.
Q hopped off his chair, rounding the man, touching his shoulder, leaning close to whisper in his ear. Picard had been in the stranger's position many times. He knew how irritating it was, and how intimidating. He was, however, not prepared for the bald man to whirl around, grab Q by the collar of his Starfleet Captain's uniform and punch him in the chin when Q made some clearly mocking remark.
Q stumbled backwards, then straightened, wiping a small trickle of blood from his mouth. The two stared at each other fixedly for a moment, reminding Picard of the one time he had witnessed a confrontation between Q and Guinan. Then Q grinned, executed a small, no less mocking bow, and returned to their table. Picard released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding when the entity at the bar stopped glaring at Q's back and returned to its drink.
Despite his split lip, Q looked immensely satisfied.
"Who is this?" Picard demanded.
"Oh, don't be jealous," Q said airily. "Just some bright young thing."
Picard ignored the usual teasing and insisted on his point. "He was able to harm you. Unless that was just another metaphor."
With a tilt of his head, Q admitted, "No. He did try. Not as powerful as a Q, but…" his eyes strayed to the man by the bar once more, brightening. "It's beautiful."
"Beautiful," Picard echoed in disbelief.
Q leaned closer, hushing his voice to a whisper. "He was human before his apotheosis."
"You don't usually show such enthusiasm for the human species."
"When they go about their tedious, petty little lives thinking they're the height of creation? Certainly not. But this one's different. You have to understand, he's not Sisko. He wasn't elevated to his state by others. Q was wrong when he thought teaching mortals would be a good idea. You people never learn anything except through adversity. You have to figure it out on your own. He did that."
It was the closest Q had ever come to revealing the intent of his tests. Picard searched his face for any sign of a lie, but he found none.
Q smirked. "And he's also the proof that you're wrong, Captain. Riker might not have been the ideal candidate, but humans are capable of handling this much power without being corrupted by it, if it comes with the right kind of understanding. Of course, most mortals are too moronic to ever get that far."
"Then why did he punch you?"
"I told him that the best way to escape godly ennui would be a hobby. I fear he didn't like what I suggested, though."