Fate Needs a Push

Part 1: Sweet Dreams are Made of This

She couldn't remember the last time she had set foot in the old, dingy
bar with its stained glass windows and call girls hiking up their
skirts on the counter.  The whole place reeked of bad wine and broken
hearts, and Janeway loved every bit of it.  She sipped on her usual cup
of black French vanilla coffee, but one thing no one else knew was that
Janeway came to the bar to enjoy another habit more sinful than
caffeine.  As she let the Marlboro drift away from her lips she watched
the smoke mingle with the gray fog and stink of her beloved haunt.
Finishing her cup of coffee she wandered over to the pool table and,
polishing the end of her cue with blue chalk, she broke with the
cigarette dangling out of the corner of her mouth and so much attitude
oozing from her pores.  Taking her smoke in her hands and leaning
against the edge of the table, she eyed the newcomer, the young, supple
blonde that had just walked through the doors of Sandrine's.

She stood with her hands behind her back and stared with an edge that
could cut glass.  Janeway was intrigued.  She put down the cue and
began to advance towards the young lady, but the girl was too fast for
her.  Everyone else in the bar seemed to disappear as the blonde
bombshell wrapped her long, sinewy arms around Janeway's waist and
lifted her up onto the pool table.  "So strong, so irresistibly sexy,"
Janeway thought to herself as the young lady pressed her lips against
Janeway's and forced her way in with her tongue.  Janeway moaned with
approval as the girl laid her down upon the soft green surface of the
pool table and proceeded to remove the outer parts of Janeway's
uniform.  The blonde fondled Janeway's small, pert breasts with one and
with the other hand, which was wrapped in metallic cobwebs, searched
for that celestial place between Janeway's thighs.  "Oh, oh Seven," she
found herself calling out into the smoke-filled air.

"Pardon moi."

Janeway looked up and Seven was gone.  She was alone on the pool
table, looking silly with half of her outer uniform ripped away and her
cigarette burning a hole in the surface of the table.  She looked at
the bar, where the voice had come from, and Janeway's eyes immediately
narrowed.  There was no mistaking the bartender, who was happily wiping
glasses and also smoking.

"Q."

He put down his glass and walked over to the table.  "My dear Lady
Captain," he said with a flourish, taking her hand and kissing it most
gently.  "I can't tell you how thrilled I am that you remember me."

Yanking her hand from Q's grasp, Janeway began to put on her uniform,
irritated and slightly embarrassed from her recent expose.  "How could
I forget the man who tried to talk me into bearing his child?"  Her
tone changed from angry to slightly thoughtful.  "By the way, how is
little Q?"

"I thought we would never get past the terrible twos, but he's fine
now, and he's starting to realize the full potential of his abilities."
 Q straightened himself up proudly.  "I would have visited you sooner
if my fatherly duties hadn't kept me so busy."

Janeway, having re-suited, jumped from the table and faced her
omniscient opponent, arms crossed.  "So," she said, a little
aggravated, "What brings you here now after all these years?"

Q's ever-present grin seemed to grow even larger.  "Well, now," he
said, taking the captain's hand, "Let's just take a look and see, shall
we?"

They were back at the beginning of Janeway's time in Sandrine's.
Well, not quite the beginning.  Seven was standing just inside of the
bar's entrance, poised elegantly like a cat ready to pounce upon its
prey.  As Janeway scanned the rest of the bar she noticed that
everything was frozen in time, as if she and Q were standing in the
middle of a vid set on pause.  "Lovely atmosphere," Q said to himself
as he wandered around the bar, touching the tables and inspecting his
fingers.  "So dank and smoky.  I had no idea you liked to go slumming."

Janeway approached Seven, who was standing like a monument to purity
and hope in the midst of the dark and steamy surroundings.  Q sneaked
up behind her and reached out to touch the optical implant over Seven's
left eye.  Inspecting his finger yet again, he said to Janeway, "I can
see why you were reluctant to copulate with me.  I'm not exactly your .
. . type."

Turning to face Q again, Janeway tried to sound threatening.  "Now
what exactly is that supposed to mean?"

Q was walking towards the exit of Sandrine's.  At the sound of
Janeway's voice, he turned and, in a sarcastic tone, said to her,
"These are such lovely dreams of yours, Lady Captain.  It's a shame you
never remember them when you awaken."

"Dreams?"

"Don't worry," Q said, approaching her and putting his arm around her
shoulders.  "I'm working on your, uh, problem."  He began to steer her
towards the exit of the bar.  "Someone very special will be visiting
you soon.  And she may stay with you for a long time, depending on how
influential she is.  I'm bringing her here to help you.  But you'll
think she's here because of, oh, some temporal anomaly or another."
Turning around, Q walked around behind the captain and placed his hands
on her shoulders.  He whispered into her ear, "Fate does exist, as I'm
sure you've come to understand, but sometimes, it needs a little push .
. ." She went flying through the doors

Janeway was sweaty and flustered when she sat up in her bed in her
quarters.  Her hair was tossed wildly about her face, and when she
tried to remember her nightmare, she found that she couldn't, even
using all of the techniques she had been taught over the years.
"Whatever it was," she murmured, "It must have been something."  One
thing she couldn't quite reconcile was that her mouth tasted like stale
cigarettes and coffee.  And someone.