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Captain Picard felt miserable; he was sniffling, coughing, and wrapped in a shimmering starfleet-issued blanket with tissues on his lap, a hot cup of tea in one hand, and a PADD in the other.
It had started that morning. The Enterprise was carrying a shipment to a nearby Federation colony when it was discovered that most of the cargo had been contaminated with a kind of biting fly from Ferenginar, which had transmitted a virus to most of the crewmen who had been bitten.
"Well, I guess it's not the first time they've had a contaminated shipment from Kral Seven. The good news is the colonists have assured us that it's in no way dangerous," said Doctor Crusher, waving a medical tricorder over Picard. "And although the medical data they provided us on this disease is sorely lacking, I'm apt to agree with them."
She smiled reassuringly as she packed away her tricorder. "In other words, you have nothing to worry about - it's practically the same as an Ancient Earth cold. Rest, avoid physical activity, and drink lots of fluids."
"Thank you, Doctor." Picard managed to say through his hoarse voice. "When do you suppose I'll be fit to return to duty?"
"Not for a week, at least." she replied, "And don't even think about leaving your quarters - for anything. Since it's still a largely undocumented disease, I'll be coming by twice a day to monitor you."
Picard tried not to sigh as he resigned to making himself comfortable in his bed. "Understood."
"Now your orders for the rest of the evening are to rest and to have a bowl of soup." The doctor smiled again as she turned towards the door, which swooshed open at her proximity. "I'll see you in the morning."
A few hours had passed, and Picard had done nothing but pour over the reports on his PADD - something he had previously planned for that day, long before the twist of events.
It didn't matter that he had trouble thinking through the haze of the fever and the dull ache in his head, nor that his vessel was currently under the command of his competent first officer and not himself. Even on sick leave, he still felt that he had to uphold certain responsibilities, and this was one that he could still reasonably do.
The swooshing of his quarters' doors finally broke him away from the reports, but when he raised his eyes, he didn't see anyone there. He would have called for security, were he not aware enough to realize that the fever was probably making him delirious. The room was spinning anyways. He sighed and pressed his palms into his eyes, skin burning hot.
"Feeling under the weather, Jean-Luc?"
Q was leaning against his wall.
"You'll have to find someone else, Q. I'm not in the mood for any games today."
"Games?" Q's mischievous smile danced across his face, and it was the last thing Picard needed. "I just wanted to keep you company."
As Picard straightened himself up and reached for another sip of tea, he met Q's eyes. "I doubt I would be very good company." As soon as he put his tea down, a coughing fit came on.
"Tsk tsk tsk... You know, I could fix this for you, mon capitain..." he leaned closer to Picard's bed. "I could snap my fingers and cure everyone of this outbreak of yours."
"That won't be necessary."
Q had begun to circle around the room.
"Oh, you're right, forget I asked. I suppose all that nonsense about 'not interfering' and your little prime directive is still on your mind, even with a virus outbreak on your ship and me here to help. But can you blame me for being concerned? You're hardly following Doctor Crusher's orders. For one thing, I don't see any soup."
He finally sat down next to Picard on his bed, arms crossed, and as always, without any thought for personal space.
The captain gritted his teeth. How long had Q been watching him?
"I don't have much of an appetite."
"That can be remedied. When was the last time you had a meal that wasn't reconstituted?"
Q snapped his fingers and a meal tray appeared on Picard's lap; a spoon, a hot bowl of chicken soup and a warm slice of bread.
Picard was far too tired, both physically and mentally, to object. The food was so enticing and his body's need for calories so high that he had taken a sip of soup without a second thought, and only then remembered that he should have turned it down - but it was too late, and he couldn't hide the look on his face from Q, who smirked as he watched Picard eat.
It tasted real and fresh, not like soup from the replicator. And Q hadn't tricked him.
He cleared his throat. "It's... delicious. Thank you, Q."
"De rien."
For the first time, Picard had recognized gentle kindness in Q's eyes, something he hadn't been convinced that Q was capable of. The surprise of it all was enough to give Picard whiplash.
Every time Picard tried to ask Q a question, Q shushed him, and his answer was always the same. "I have nothing to say to you until you finish your soup.", followed by grumbling about humans' fragile little bodies. Q reclined languidly on the bed and started reading the PADD while the captain ate.
"How do you torture yourself by reading this?" Q piped up eventually, when Picard was nearing the last spoonful of soup.
"Q," he sighed as he took the PADD out of Q's hand. "Not that I'm not grateful, but why are you... showing such kindness?"
"I have to take care of my toys, don't I?" Q replied, earning a scoff from the captain.
"You?" Picard nearly laughed. "You don't take care of your toys. You take them apart and-" another coughing fit hit Picard, who hurriedly reached for a tissue.
"As much as I love our debates, you're hardly in any condition to argue, Jean-Luc. Just look at you." Picard was still coughing as Q said this. "Absolutely hacking a lung. Are you still sure that you don't want me to snap this nasty thing away?"
Twice more Picard tried to speak, only to be interrupted by another cough - and soon they were both laughing. "Please, mon capitain, don't hurt yourself more than you already have!"
"I'm starting to... to believe you're doing this to me." Picard finally said, this time only interrupted by a laugh.
"You don't have anyone to blame but yourself I'm afraid. It's not as if I forced your colony to take shipments through Kral Seven - the entire quadrant knows they're crawling with Ferengi vendors."
"You could have warned us," Picard said with a smile, pulling the blanket to his chin. The old tray had disappeared, and Picard was now reclining in a similar position to Q.
"So now you want me to 'interfere'? I can never win with you Federation types."
A spell of silence fell upon the moment as Picard allowed his eyes to close. "I'll admit, I've always wondered how it is that you find it so easy to meddle with our universe, with our lives... I find myself wondering what it must be like to exist as a being like yourself..."
Q smiled as if he were amused, staring down at the captain, who now looked as though he were asleep. "Our dimension is far more complicated and vast than yours, Jean-Luc. Here, creating and destroying matter is child's play." something like a laugh escaped Q's lips. "Humans, androids, viruses, stars and planets... None of them are so different from each other. You're all made of the same basic elements, just casting different shadows on the stage of the universe."
Picard looked up at Q through heavy eyelids, raising an eyebrow.
"Are you saying that the whole universe is a shadow play to you?"
"I can't think of a better way to describe it and have it make sense to your puny mammal brain... But if you like, maybe I can show you sometime." Q replied, adding the last part quietly as he placed a hand on the captain's forehead. "Your body's temperature is getting so high... How your abysmal doctor finds your condition acceptable is beyond me."
"It's just a slight fever, and it's perfectly normal." Picard shivered at the touch, pulling the blanket even closer around himself.
"Yes, yes, this is 'perfectly normal'. Your body is so hot and yet you're shivering like you're cold." Q stared intently at Picard, as if doing so would take away his ills. "I don't understand. I gave you soup. Aren't you supposed to feel better?"
Picard chuckled at the idea that Q thought he could cure him with a single meal. "Like I said, it's normal. It's the human body's way of trying to destroy pathogens..." his voice trailed off as he was wracked with shivers again. "But yes. Even though my body temperature is hotter than normal, I feel cold. It's rather involuntary..."
"So, being warm actually helps your body fight the virus?"
Picard nodded.
After a moment, he found Q's arms wrapped around him, his chest hugged against Picard's back. Heat emanated from the entity like a hot fireplace or a furnace, which gave an immediate sense of relief to the shivering captain. Picard sighed and leaned into the feeling of comfort.
"How's this?" asked Q, but he didn't get an answer.
He hadn't remembered falling asleep, but when he woke up the next morning feeling lovely and rested and breathing through clear lungs, it took him several minutes to remember that he was supposed to be sick - because that was when Doctor Crusher entered his quarters, a tricorder at the ready and a set of hyposprays on her belt. Suffice to say, Picard could scarcely remember a time where he was more pressed to explain himself.