Inspired by the song, "Missing You," by Mary J. Blige.

I'm not in love. The holding, the kissing...momentary glances from across the room that now held monumental meaning. No, that couldn't be love. ...and it's not infatuation... She wasn't the same curious teenager ignorant to the pursuit and capture of a particular specimen she found attractive, or to be both intellectually and physically stimulating. No, no. This was no longer a game, some pending romance. She certainly had matured far beyond that. But I dream about it every night, baby... Perhaps the idea of love-the entire concept of living, learning, and sharing yourself with another-was beginning to take shape in her mind, and indeed, beginning to influence her every move.
[I'm] wanting you here with me... The few seconds she was apart from him brought her to a state of near-panic. Her. A rational, collected individual, who never acted so...irrational...in the same situation so many times before. Waiting for his return was sheer torture, especially to her mind. She would often find herself contantly thinking, "What if something's wrong? What if he's hurt...or worse, dead?!" Then her emotional responses would trigger all-out physical reactions.Her palms would perspire, and she'd start to shift from side to side in her chair. Next, she'd fidget with anything she could get her hands on. The whole ordeal was absolutely nerve-racking. Sometimes she even questioned if she would survive another away mission without him. When did she ever become such a love-starved maniac?
[When you're] making love to me...oh... Every return brought her a reward. Sometimes it was the pure satisfaction of knowing he had come home safe that was reward enough. But on certain occasions, when the wait-though only a few hours, turned into days of pain-staking deprivation-that their feelings seemed to overwhelm and bring them together with such powerful force. It was as if lightening would strike on heaven and earth, shattering it with a deafening crash. The universe would re-construct itself in a whirl of emotions being thrown from the two bodies. The world as they knew it began anew within a matter of a few passionate moments. All other things that once existed, did no more. Pain was dismissed by a simple caress. Agony was soothed with a single look. All the heartache, the worry, and the longing for one another was gone when their lips, and later, their bodies, met. Sweat from the heated passion was like a cooling cascade of water upon an open wound. The friction in which they moved created a symphony that told of their story over and over again. And from beyond, a beautiful chorus could be heard. Nah. It couldn't be all that, could it?
Deanna Troi laughed to herself as she stared at the photo of Will in her hands, and then saw her reflection in the glass. "I love you too much, Imzadi," she realized. Deanna couldn't deny, nor fully explain her feelings for him. They were deep and sincere, that much was true. Until he came back to the ship-to her-she would have to remain stuck in limbo. And as Deanna gazed out the window, a star shot past her eyes. I'm missing you, like crazy... She sighed and thought, I'll never be the same 'til you come home.
The mind of one who misses the one they love...unstable, isn't it?
I'm missing you, like crazy...body and soul is aching...I'm out of control...Missing you so...

END