In some remote and mortal-life-forgotten corner of space, Q lay on one of the rings, some unpopulated planet. Completely devoid of life, quiet and peaceful... And it was the silence that he needed most now. Silence uninterrupted by the murmur of life. A stillness that made him think of what had been, the beginning of the multiverse, when life had not yet existed and everything had seemed so interesting and exciting. The old days, so far away and to which they were all nostalgic, yet none of them would ever admit to such a longing. No self-respecting Q from the Q Continuum would snap out of their apathetic lethargy only to fall into melancholy and longing.

And he wasn't trying that. He was only looking for silence and here he could find it. At least for a while. The view that stretched out from where he lay helped a little. It gave him solace, filled him with a familiar feeling that he thought had long since departed into oblivion. It was an image that gave him pleasure, and pleasant images were very rare.

A beautiful Nebula, full of colour, that he had created with his own hands. Once meant to be a gift for one of the mortals, it was now a source of melancholy and morose that gripped his entire being and tried to wedge itself into the link between him and his siblings. Perhaps after all he had come here to immerse himself in longing, rather than thoughts and reflections on his little captain?

His captain... Jean-Luc Picard.

Oh, how much he wanted to show him this place and many others. And yet he wasn't able to. Not yet. And maybe never... But he deluded himself, despite what the rest of his siblings had said - maybe they were right, but he didn't want to accept the vision that Picard too would pass away and Q would be left with another reason to be gloomy.

Today, once again his Favourite, faced death face to face. One step away from a tragedy from which the captain and his crew (luckily) emerged victorious. The crew didn't matter to him. Their lives were acknowledged because Picard cared about them. Q still didn't understand that, but he wasn't going to consider something so trivial today. The only one who mattered of all people was Jean-Luc. His life held value for Q. He was a sight that had always been pleasant, arousing curiosity and feelings that Q thought - until he met Picard - were long gone.

And yet they existed, and it was because of this little human captain whose life was so fragile and insignificant in the grand scheme of things.

Yet for Q, there was nothing more important.