. . . 2405. .
. . Vulcan. . .
Being Ambassador of Vulcan has been rather handy.
It was his diplomatic way, probably, that made the Vulcans want him as a Ambassador.
Picard was reading a book when he saw a flash of white light.
"Q," Picard said. "Get out of my ready room."
"You are not in a ready room, mon capitaine," Came a older voice.
Picard lowered the book to see a rather aged Q leaning against the doorframe.
"My god, you've aged," Picard said. "But I was told--"
"You were told of a timeline that never happened," Q said, coming over to the chair. "I have to say . . . It has been five quadrillion years since I last met with you."
"Where have you been?" Picard asked.
"Out," Q said. "Galloping about, messing with different quadrants, elevating species,and pouring my attention onto somewhere else. How's life been for you?"
"You know," Picard said. "You are the omniscient one."
"I am terrible at this," Q admitted, throwing his hands up in the air in defeat. "I only came because you called my name."
"No, I did not." Picard said.
"Your soul called my name, Ambassador," Q said. "And I deserve to know why."
Picard was baffled.
"Why are you asking me when it has not happened?" Picard asked.
"Because the only time a soul calls out for another is when they are soul mates and we are not soulmates," Q said. "That I know very well."
"You must have been imaging things." Picard said.
Q sighed, in relief.
"I needed to hear that," Q said. He had one of his old smiles toward the Ambassador. "Thank you, Ambassador."
Q snapped his fingers vanishing in a white flash.
Picard looked back down toward his novel, and then, he was hit with a lonely feeling.
Did he say the wrong words?