It had been a normal day. At least, as normal as any day when one is a Q. Q was observing some stars in the Gamma quadrant, watching them sparkle. It was beautiful. But he was used to such things.

Suddenly, someone appeared beside him. "Q!" he said with a smile. "What brings you here on this fine day? The stars? Or is it just me?"

"Didn't you hear the news?" said the other Q. There was a look on his face, something like pity.

"What news?" asked Q.

"That one mortal you've taken a liking to- he's dead."

Q's stomach dropped. "Dead?" he repeated. There was only one mortal Q was thinking of. Jean-Luc Picard. Dead? Dead? Really dead?

"Word says he died in his sleep. Some mortal thing called old age," said the other Q. "At his home in France."

Q could hardly speak. "He's dead?" he whispered as if he needed further confirmation.

"I told you, he's dead," the other Q said.

Q nodded, trying to hold back a swell of emotions. "Dead," he repeated. "I need some time alone."

"I don't understand why you're so torn up over a mortal," the other Q said scornfully. "After all, he's just a human. There are billions of them, all living their small, insignificant lives-"

"He was special," said Q fiercely. "He wasn't just another human. He was different."

The other Q shrugged. "Whatever makes you feel better," he said. Then, he was gone, leaving Q utterly alone in the stars.

"Dead," he repeated once again. How could it be? They had spent so much time together, some of it good, some of it bad, all of it worthwhile in Q's opinion. It had been some of the best time in Q's long, long life. The two of them, together... it had been more beautiful than any star or constellation.

He supposed he hadn't seen Jean-Luc for over a year, now. Time passed so differently for Qs compared to humans. It seemed as if it had been nothing, but to Jean-Luc, it could have felt like an eternity.

Q suddenly regretted, terribly regretted, not visiting Jean-Luc more often. I should have been with him, he thought, and he felt his eyes sting. I should have been by his side when it happened, holding his hand.

A horrible thought came to him: Did he miss me? When he was slipping away, could he feel it in his dreams? Did he miss me as he died? Did he wonder where I was?

Q couldn't stand feeling like this. He had never been affected by a death like this before. It was awful. How do humans stand it? he thought. I feel as if I'm being torn to pieces.

We should have had eternity together, he told himself. Eternity.

"I'm done," he said aloud. "I can't do this anymore. I have to come be with him." It had all come to this. All of his long life, his special, unique life, had come to this feeling, this horrible, horrible feeling.

The question was: how does a Q stop existing?

He decided to simply make it so by willing it, just like he had willed himself to Jean-Luc's side many times before.

I don't exist anymore, he willed.

But it didn't work. He was still there in the stars.

"Don't you understand?" He didn't know who he was talking to. He was alone. Was he talking himself? To Jean-Luc? To the Continuum? "Don't you understand? He's gone. I don't want to exist anymore. He's gone. I can't do this anymore."

Nothing. He was still alone, still alive.

"Don't you understand?" he said, his voice increasingly agitated. "I want to be with him! I want to- I NEED to die!"

But nothing happened, no matter how he willed it. He willed himself to stop existing, but nothing happened. It was as if his powers were gone.