Chapter 6

Emotions were detrimental; they clouded logic and beguiled rational thought. Four hours and twenty-three minutes after Amanda had sealed herself in the back quarters of the runabout Commander Riker had placed a containment field around his.

Sprawled out on the couch that hedged the back of the cockpit, the leather squeaked as he shifted uncomfortably, the PADDS he’d been studying tumbling from his chest to the floor. He glared at the PADD that still glowed with topaz lettering and tucked his hand under his head. Three little nits had spawned his research and he wasn’t sure any of them deserved the suspicions they aroused. First there was Tom and the inkling he had that his brother wasn’t aware he had a child and then there was Amanda and her little outburst. Too well thought out, too concise for someone that struggled to speak through emotions and tears, he found it hard to believe that she was able to rattle off angry words without choking or for that matter taking a breath. And then there was the use of the word, the dreaded fuck word she despised so vehemently. Not much to go on, but enough that it had gnawed at him enough that he’d looked into some things. He shook his head at his own scrambled thoughts and retrieved the PADD from the floor, staring narrow-eyed at Tom Riker’s last known whereabouts. Not as current as he would have liked, but current enough to confirm that he was serving time on a work force when Logan Mckinnon had been killed. He wasn’t sure how rigid the penal colonies rules were, but he had a hunch murder leave wasn’t granted or the release of threatening transmissions.

A glimmer of silver-blue light dotted the runabouts console and drew his eyes first to the viewport and the nebula in the distance and then to the crimson numbers on the countdown display.

"One hour," he said to himself dropping the PADD on the lightly carpeted deck and moving to the replicator. "Ceylon tea, hot." He ordered his peace offering and wrinkled his nose as the perfumy scent hit his senses. Repressing his aversion to the ruby colored liquid he turned slowly towards the back of the ship.

"I’m sorry," he said, startled to see her standing in the doorway.

"Me too." Her apology came just as quickly as his; accompanied by the tangles of hair she brushed from her swollen eyes the entire picture made him feel guilty. Maybe he was wrong, at least about her part in it, it had been a long time, she may have gotten over her aversion to the word and learned to contain her emotions enough that she could speak through tears.

She smiled at the cup he’d handed her before looking to the padds he’d strewn over the floor. "Researching something interesting?"

With the side of his boot he kicked a few of the padds aside and gestured to the couch. "I’ve been logging some information on Thomas Riker," he said, astutely aware of how quickly her eyes moved from his to the floor.

"Really and what did you find?"

"It seems Tom Riker is serving sometime on a work force for an attempted sabotage attempt on the Merdian outpost." He watched her lightly blushed nail spiral around the rim of her cup. "He’s been there for about eighteen months."

"How is that possible?"

Using a gentle thumb and index finger to raise her square chin he forced her eyes to meet with his. "One of the key factors in the art of bullshitting is eye contact with your pigeon—Now try it," he challenged, pinning her with a frigid stare.

For a long moment she merely looked at him or through him as the case be. The moment was too long; he released her chin and stood up. "Fine, I’ll turn the ship around, maybe Fleet Command can answer some questions for me."

He was banking on the fact that with her limited piloting skills and her long absence from space travel she wouldn’t realize the interference from the nebula would make his threat impossible. He smiled inwardly when she assured him his bluff was a success. "No Will, don’t...I can explain."

He dropped, satisfied into the pilot's chair and tapped an impatient finger against the countdown display. "You got nine minutes Amanda; I’m not going through there if I don’t have to."

Looking like a person that had recently been kicked in the stomach she nodded. Her expression mirroring the way he was feeling. What he really would liked to have done was stall the transmutation and cut the runabout’s engines, but he had a hunch even after she explained he’d be visiting Jaier again. She may have brought him here under False pretenses, but there was only one way he could think of that anyone could convince someone like her to deceive. Unless she’d changed the very essence of who she was Haley was still at the root of everything.

Minutes past, the crimson reminders pulsed from between the fingers Riker had draped over the consul. On the back wall of the cockpit he saw the yellow-orange stream of intermittent light, the reflected beams of the warning beacons his team had installed years ago. He interrupted Amanda only after the midnight-blue dust of the Nebula dimmed the light in the ship.

"Why you lied isn’t what I need to know," he said, after he was certain she did believe Haley was in danger and someone had convinced her that Tom Riker was the threat, "I want to know why when the shit hit the fan you contacted O’Mally instead of me..."

"I didn’t," she interrupted, "He and Captain Niles showed up at Logan’s memorial service, they stayed for several days. Having them there was comforting somehow." She shrugged. "They were Logan’s friends, I guess it was like having a piece of him there. I wanted to call you then, but they insisted I wait, something about inquires into the Enterprises last mission."

Riker nodded and cast a precautionary look over his shoulder to the viewport. Navigating the nebula under the converted shields wasn’t dangerous, contrary to what the federation had led the fleet to believe, but he couldn’t shake the edgy feeling that was haunting him. "And Tom?"

"I told them about my concerns, about the threats against Haley." Maybe his expression had softened or maybe her muscles had begun to ache from the rigid attention she was holding, but her shoulders relaxed and she moved slowly to the copilot's chair. "The threats weren’t signed Will, at first I thought." She looked down without completing her thought.

"You thought it was me?" Her confession stung him more then he wanted to admit and drowned the idea that she thought of him with the same affection that he thought of her.

"I didn’t know there was a Tom Riker, I’d never heard about the accident on Nervala." She justified herself quickly and lightly grazed the hand that dangled at his side with her own. "I never really believed it could be you."

Her watery apologetic gaze did nothing to douse his feelings, but he led her to believe it had with a soft smile and an equally gentle I understand.

"Admiral O’Mally told me they’d been tracking Tom Riker and his activities for a year, that he’d been traveling back and forth from Jaier to Cardassia on a regular basis."

At this point he was completely lost; his frown must have suggested it because she continued quickly.

"The recent Starbase attacks." Her pause and her fascination with her fingernails suggested to him this was what he needed to hear.

"Go on," he said a bit more forcefully then he planned, his personal feelings eclipsed by his duty.

"They said Tom took Haley to the valley of the rainbows, to protect her. They think he’s running varine that that’s what's being used in the base attacks."

Will felt his stomach roll and flopped instantly into the pilot's chair, his hand automatically throttling back on the ship’s controls.

"They wanted you off the Enterprise before you could see the victims, recognize the signs."

"Why?" Shocked and disgusted that for any reason, even her daughter she’d allow this to be pushed under the rug he glared at her as if he was seeing a complete stranger.

"If they’re wrong, if you thought you’d identified it and drew attention to the source of the toxin it could unnecessarily open up a can of worms that could cause a catastrophic war."

"That’s a chance we’re going to have to take. I’m not lying to protect ever again." He leaned into the sharp turn he put the runabout into. "I made that mistake once on the Pegasus, I won’t do it again."

"Will." The hand she brought down on his wrist, firm and demanding caused the ship to veer, he compensated and shook his head without looking at her. "What about Haley."

Her breath stalled, whether she’d smelled it herself or the severe look of panic on his face had inspired her he couldn’t be sure, he could only be sure they needed to get out of the cockpit now.

Deprived of the benefit of a deep inhale he already felt his stomach twist, his heart rate increase before he snatched a single pack off the floor and jerked his head toward the down chute. After practically throwing Amanda down the chute he followed behind, hoping like hell they hadn’t considered infusing the Jaier ship with Varine.

The roof hatch of the lower ship rattled closed, he gulped a short breath knowing it would be his last if he were wrong. Behind him he heard Amanda gasp for breath, the shuffled tap of her stumbling footfalls against the metal flight deck.

"Here." Willingly he inhaled the clean oxygen she offered him, cleansing his system of the small amount of toxin he’d breathed.

"You all right?" Steadying her with an arm around her waist he lowered her into the low bucket seat in front of the narrow tinted viewport. She nodded, an expression of fear replacing the panic that had flushed her face.

"Looks like they wanted more then to keep me off the starbases. We’ll be safe here until we pass through the nebula."

"I’m sorry Will."

"Why, did you do that?" He grinned, a crooked grin he hoped would lighten her expression.

"No, but I believed them."

"Ya know what Manda." The hand he’d taken in his disappeared as he covered it with his other. "Your trust in people makes you who you are, if you lost that you’d be someone else. I wouldn’t like that."

It was strange when she finally decided to smile how it made him feel inside...proud, pleased, as if he’d just accomplished the most important thing in his life. How could a woman he’d only spent two volatile weeks with give him so much reason to care, engender emotions as deep as any he’d ever felt. He closed his eyes and thought about her, about Haley, about fatherhood in general, the loud crack above him shattered his complacent thoughts.

"Shit!" He shot to his feet, smacking his head on the low ceiling of the primitive cockpit. "They give me more credit then I deserve,’ he said sarcastically, his eyes raised to the depress-clamps that held the Jaier ship in the runabout.

"Guess we’re leaving." He hoped he sounded more confident then he felt. This ship had a snowballs chance of making it through the nebula, but he offered her a self-assured smile that suggested the opposite.

"Will, we can’t...it won’t."

"We can— and it damn well better."

"Shit!" Thomas Riker, his eyes glued to the padd Picard had had delivered to his quarters stopped suddenly and turned in a complete circle. <Lost again, > he thought.

He'd been given schematics to study for this new improved Enterprise, but he hadn’t bothered looking at them; at the moment he wished he had. This was the third time since getting up this morning he’d apparently zigged when he should have zagged. He cursed again, this time in Cardassian and kept his eyes on the corridor instead of the padd.

He'd been summoned to a senior staff meeting in the observation lounge in ten minutes and had scarcely grazed the surface of Picard's notes on the attacks. After his little communiqué from Admiral O'Mally where he'd been threatened with everything from being slapped back into prison to a nasty form of castration he'd accessed more available information. It had taken him awhile, most of the night, but he'd managed to track everyone with knowledge of the preventative observation mission to Jaier. That was fourteen people, fifteen if you included his personality split, out of those fourteen, nine were decomposing corpses, and none of them had been decomposing for over five months. Nothing to take note of in the large scheme of things, but in the smaller world of rainbow thirty-six the results had rattled his cage.

He spotted the lift and stepped into as if it were sanctuary, at least now he could say bridge and he'd know where the hell he was going.

"Commander wait!" He heard the female voice and turned towards it, of course the voice was attached to a beautiful young ensign that of course had to be running towards him. He held the lift and watched her breasts move with every stride, her golden-copper curls falling over them, leaving just enough to his imagination that could increase their size by an inch or two.

<Don't leer Tom, > he reminded himself as this goddess stepped into the lift and offered him a breathless thank you.

"No problem," he said, his eyes still focused on her lips, wondering if they always looked that way or if they'd been kissed to their perfect fullness.

"Are you OK Commander?"

At that moment he realized his eyes had traveled over her neck, between the swells of her breast and were now gauging the rich moisture between her legs. His head shot up quickly.

"Yea, fine." He cleared his throat, his raw, parched throat and nodded. "I've got a lot on my mind, I didn't mean to be rude," he said. <Or mentally rape you in the lift, > he added to himself.

Returning her smile as the lift doors opened he watched her walk away, exploring the part of her body he hadn't completely embellished yet; he tucked it away in his memory for his next bathroom session and shuffled towards the observation lounge. The way he had it figured, unless he could talk Deanna into a major indiscretion he wasn't going to get laid again until he got off this damn ship and figured out what was going on. He redirected his sexual energy into doing just that, the throbbing urgency of it quickening his steps.

Tom paused in the doorway and scanned the faces at the sleek conference table, all but one was familiar to him, he entered causally and dropped into the first chair he came to.

<Shit wrong chair, > he thought when all eyes fell on him.

He smiled. "Change is good sometimes." The smiles he received, all vague and forced inspired him to dip his eyes to the padd he’d laid on the table, play the concentrating part of his stick up the ass brother.

He heard Picard inquire about Counselor Troi’s tardiness but found himself leaning closer to the screen he now gripped tightly in his hand. The bases that had been targeted were all centers for strategic defense, weapons accumulation, and offensive development, so what the intruders were after had never been in question, it was the who and the how that had an already faltering federation in a state of chaos. But what caught his eye was the indiscriminate attacks of this unknown, two Romulan outposts and one Cardassian tactical station had also been targeted, combined death toll, twenty-eight thousand. He swallowed and lifted his eyes to ask Picard about the specifics of the attacks, it was then he realized apparently Picard’s question about Troi had been directed towards him.

"Would you like me to get her Sir?"

"No, I thought maybe you knew why she was late?"

"She didn’t say anything to me Captain." He caught the smirk on Crusher’s face and returned a scowl; if he remembered correctly Will’s feelings towards the auburn-haired spitfire reflected his own.

"Picard to Troi—Deanna answer please."

It was Picard’s third rendition and the increased concern in the captain’s voice that motivated him to concede to the visual game of chicken he was playing with Crusher. Maybe it was the long list of threats he’d received from O’Mally the night before or maybe it was the way he’d been living his life lately that had caused the hair on the back of his neck to bristle. Whatever it was, he found himself on his feet before Picard had asked the computer for her whereabouts.

<Counselor Troi is in her quarters. >

Ditching protocol for instinct Tom shot out of the conference room, Picard’s firm wait lost behind the hiss of the doors.

**********************

Deanna would be fine, third degree burns on her hand and a jolt that had shook her pretty good, Tom had found that out over an hour ago and he still clutched the burned out conduit conductor in his fist. He’d left sickbay as soon as he was sure of Deanna’s condition although the look on Crusher’s face suggested it was not a Will-like thing to do.

"Maybe I’m getting paranoid," he said to himself as he dropped into the center of the couch in his quarters. He’d expected a communiqué; an ah-ha communiqué reminding him how differently the accident could have gone if coincidentally the power relay hadn’t malfunctioned. He glared at his communication terminal then at the chiseled conduit. "Screw it I’ll contact him."

The conduit rattled over the glass of the table as he dropped it, he moved to his desk and fell loosely into that chair.

The screen flashed with a rainbow arch before he’d reached for it, he found himself smiling and questioning his reasons for it, the federation had already screwed him twice, he wondered why he was so willing to give them another shot.

He accessed the screen prepared to act as hardheaded as he was feeling, but the face on the screen brought his arrogant off the cuff posture to a rigid attention. "Sir," he said, rigidly studying the features of a man he hadn’t seen in over twenty years.

"Son." The simple endearment spoken by the near stranger on the screen drew his hands into fists and thinned his lips into a malignant scowl.

<Cardassians my ass. > Sitting on Picard’s right on the Enterprise bridge Tom Riker’s thoughts weren’t on his job as first officer or the most recently attacked space station that shimmered outside the ship’s viewport. His mind was on his father and the cock and bull story the older Riker had tried to get him to swallow. A wonderfully woven fairy tale about a race was that was barely treading water and their attempt to unify the super powers of the quadrant to protect their dying civilization by introducing an unknown. He had a hunch the plot wasn’t far from the truth but that the players weren’t spoon-necks but tight-ass federation Admiral’s that had fooled themselves into thinking thirty thousands deaths meant nothing in the big picture.

He’d felt Deanna’s intermittent gazes earlier, but at the moment as his thoughts churned her dark eyes felt like an isotonic drill against his temple; he shut down his restless emotions.

"We’ve finished a first sweep of the station Captain." He lifted his eyes to the android, his peripheral vision affording a view of Picard’s beyond somber expression.

"Prepare your away team number one."

"Aye Sir," he said, hoping he didn’t appear too eager. "Commander Data, Ensign Mcneil," he took a step towards the lift and paused as if his next addition was an afterthought. "Counselor." Considering the Betazoid’s recent accident he’d expected an objection from the captain. He smiled to himself as Troi followed him to the lift and the overcautious Starfleet captain sat stiffly, his gaze never leaving the viewport.

"Doctor Crusher," he ordered after tapping his communicator, "assemble a medical team and meet us in transporter room three." He hadn’t wanted to add her, but procedure insisted he did. The little redhead would only make his escape more difficult, especially in light of the fact that he had no intentions of leaving Deanna behind as a bargaining chip.

***********************

Too fast; passing through the storm cells and less then a kilometer from the surface Riker kept his hands on the trembling braking thrusters and cursed silently to himself.

Behind him, tucked safely in the envro-podd Amanda was safe from the gee-forces that had begun to overtake him; he felt his breaths begin to shorten, the vice that felt as if it had been clamped around his chest tightened. The ship yawed, leveled, skipped over the tangled trees, the vibration of the deck rattling up Riker’s legs and through his body, jarring his teeth inside his helmet.

"Keep Amanda safe and let Deanna know I love her," he whispered the words under his breath; always prepared for his own fate, but never prepared for the ramifications it might have on others.

The wires on the consul snapped and burned distorting the viewport with inky swirls of smoke that blurred his vision and intensified his dizziness. A loud crack slammed over the ship, white foam obediently quenching the red flames but not before the main stabilizer cuff tore of the port side and sent the ship into a violent downslide. He fought to compensate, with burning muscles he throttled back, putting all his weight into the stall.

The ship hit the ground with a crack, lifted off and hit again... heart-stopping sounds of grinding metal and shattering glastine rattling above the shivers that lashed over the ship.

Still too fast, what was left of the shattered hunk of metal skipped like a stone over the dimpled sand flats. Riker pulled back on what was left of the braking jets and hoped like hell nothing got in the way of the out of control ship before he could slow her. The sun glinted against the fractured glastine, blinding his view and dashing his hopes with a nasty smack that tore him from his harness and thrust him to the back of the ship.

Still conscious when he hit and struggling to fight the blackness that was vying to take him away he struggled to sit, take off the helmet that had smashed over his face. Wanting nothing more then a huge breath of air he shook his head to remove the glass, the dizziness that had threatened him since they’d entered the atmosphere taking possession of his body, churning his stomach and watering his mouth.

"Will." Her face only slightly bruised, a trickle of blood dripping from her nose Amanda skidded to halt in front of him and dropped to her knees.

"Open the hatch," he coughed, feeling the blood well inside his mouth, trace a warm path over his beard. He leaned against the wall and inhaled slow shallow breaths, hoping like hell the blood was coming from the glastine cuts and not from inside him.

Above him he heard her grunt a curse as she fought to open the dented hatch. With weakened fingers he battled with the helmet, finally unlatching the neck clamp and freeing his head from the deadly mask. He spit several times, the fragments of glass in his mouth prickling and cutting his tongue and lips.

No sooner did he hear the hatch creak open then she was on her knees beside him again, one hand gently under his chin, the fingers of her other hand easing the glass splinters from his mouth and face. "Don’t inhale deeply until I’m done," she warned.

He tried to swear at her because what she was doing hurt like a mother, but swearing and breathing deep both proved impossible with her fingers probing the inside of his mouth. He gagged once when her long fingers withdrew a jagged fragment from the roof of his mouth; he tasted the blood seconds later.

"Jesus," he grumbled when her hands finally moved away, "You're about as delicate as a Klingon in heat."

"I need the med-kit for these external fragments." Her boots crunching over the disheveled cockpit she disappeared without responding.

Riker gulped the air, the nasty, chemically enhanced air of Jaier and decided nothing had ever tasted better. He shifted his weight, heard the pop in his shoulder and groaned as his dislocation made its presence known.

"Shit, now she’s really going to hurt me," he mumbled, deciding then and there if this was what space travel was like where he came from he’d have opted to be a professor of biology at Archie’s academy for women.

He chuckled in spite of his pain and followed a blurred image of Amanda as she moved back towards him. He heard her voice assure him he was fine, felt her hair tickle against his cheek and winced at the hypospray she shot into his neck. Splinters of crystal light crossed over his fading vision; prismatic and mesmerizing they were swallowed seconds later by a fearful and lonely blackness.

Tom Riker veered the freighter he’d liberated from the skiff that hovered above Titan hard to port, avoiding the radar signals; the grin that had ignited his features from the time he’d left the starship enterprise standing still in his wake still curled over his mouth. It wasn’t so much that he’d gotten off the starbase in a federation shuttle with Deanna unconscious in the back. It was the look his mind kept presenting of the stock Captain Picard when he’d ordered his ship to pursue and found out the ship’s computer was running a stage four warp check. He figured it had only taken the chief engineer about four minutes to realign to system, but he hadn’t needed anymore then that.

The rustling behind him spun his head around, his signature smile fell, replaced by a pessimistic grimace. Deanna was waking up, she wasn’t going to be as impressed with his maneuver, and she was going to be less impressed that he’d drugged her and brought her along. Fast talking wasn’t going to work, holding her at gun point would be even less successful, the only choice he had was to be honest, tell her the unvarnished truth and hope like hell she hadn’t fallen into the mold of officer first, humanoid second.

They’d be back on earth in two hours, if he couldn’t convince her to stay with him willingly by then he’d let her go, take his chances with the federation.

He pulled a stool up to the cot she was laying on and eyed the stasis cuffs he’d used to bind her arms and ankles, he considered releasing them, but for his own safety changed his mind.

"What happened?" Her lashes dusted over her skin and she seemed to be struggling to open her eyes. He hoped like hell he hadn’t given her too much of the sedative, he’d slammed it into her neck pretty quickly and hadn’t given himself a lot of time to research the dose.

"Deanna.... Can you open your eyes?" The little pang of panic he’d felt prompted him to shake her shoulder gently.

She moaned softly, opened her eyes, scanned her surroundings and finally looked at him. Stared at him with a poisonous look that made him wish she was still asleep and convinced him he’d never be able to get her to go along with this.

"What have you done?" She fought the cuffs. "Let me go Thomas...Now," she added in a tone he’d never heard from her before.

"I can't do that Deanna, you have to listen to me first."

"I’m not going to listen to you—why would I listen to you."

He slipped a hand under her back to help her to sit and felt his reward seconds later as two-handed blow in his chest. "Hey," he snapped, "That hurt—and it wasn’t very Betazoid of you." His smile was met with an even uglier glare then the one she’d awoken with.

"Where's the Enterprise, where are we...Why did you take me?" His brows raised at the descriptive Betazoid curse she mumbled under her breath, and he decided in that instant he’d never seen her look so angry.

"You better talk to me Thomas Riker and right now or I’ll personally see to it that not only will you never have sex again it will be a physical impossibility."

"Geeze." Male instinct prompted him to roll his stool back, away from a look that was sharp enough to carry out her threat. "Ya think ya know somebody...I never realized what a bitch you could be."

"A bitch!" Her rendition echoed through the large cockpit of the freighter. "What did you expect me to be, a flushing damsel that fell limply into your arms, helplessly into your sensual gaze."

"Now you're being a smart ass."

"I’m going to kick your ass if you don’t let me go and tell me why I’m here!"

"For a short shackled Betazoid you talk pretty tough, you’ll have to excuse me while I wipe the sweat from my brow." He stood up and turned his back on her and not because she was looking at him like he was vermin (although that bothered him too), but because he was watching his honesty idea float out the portal.

"It’s Will Deanna," he said once he was certain he’d scrambled his emotions to the best of his ability. "He’s in danger and if we don’t get to him he’s going to be dead." He slipped back onto the stool and buried his face in his hands, dramatizing the moment to the best of his ability. "For all I know he might be dead already."

************************

"Oh God I wish I were dead." Will Riker grumbled the sentiment, rolled his aching shoulder muscles and spit away the muddy dirt that fell over his face. Under the moss covered ledges that led into the city of Jaier, the swamp water came up to his chest and god only knows what was making itself at home under his shirt. In front of him he could hear Amanda’s labored breathing and he watched the snarled strands of cinnamon curls that escaped her clip disappear below the greenish-brown muck. Beside him he heard the clean splash and felt the water lap against his chest, he tossed a cautious look in the direction.

The swamp that separated the eastern and western blocs of Jaier was a vile smelling home for some ugly carnivores, a naturally occurring moat that had separated the two factions for years, generating fear in there primitive mind. The primitives had feared the spirits they believed lived in the bodies of the Aliwon that prowled the shores and the banshee’s that danced their eerie glow over the waters in the night. But evolution and technological progress had eventually brought the two races together where they’d clashed and began a war that had snowballed out of control for hundreds of years.

Riker shook his head and swatted away the hover fly that had been stalking him.

"Quiet isn’t it?" Amanda’s hushed voice, a shadow below a whisper still startled him.

He nodded to her inquisitive and concerned question. "Too quiet—Way too quiet."

Her concern sparked his own and diverted the senses he’d been using on his thoughts to reach out to the unusual silence around them. Daylight hours on Jaier were seventeen hours long and from what he could gauge from the sun that hung high in the sky this day was at its peak, and yet only the sounds and the odors of the swamp loomed over this violent world.

"What do your readings say," he asked when the low warble of Amanda’s tricorder dragged on too long.

She didn’t answer him right away and walked blindly until she reached the glades that hedged the more solid entrance to the swamp. Against the pressure of the water he picked up his pace, snagging her arm to help her as she struggled to step up against the weight of her repellent suit.

"Will, these readings suggest the closest life is over 161 kilometers in that direction." She gestured with her chin but he didn’t bother following her gesture; he knew who lived in the southern mountains of this otherwise desolate planet.

"No, that doesn’t make sense, your tricorder must be malfunctioning or the Jaier are using a new technology that interferes with our scans."

"Is this I-have-a-hunch-Riker talking?"

The squinted gaze he’d fixed on the snarled tangles of mossy trees that concealed the entrance to the Jaier city drifted to her; he smiled at the nickname he’d earned on the first mission.

"I haven’t heard that in awhile," he said, inwardly cringing at some of the risky and unplanned maneuvers he’d made.

"You don’t play your hunches anymore?" She looked doubtfully up at him.

"No, I still do, but old age has forced me to look at the pitfalls before I dive in."

"Really, that’s not what I heard." She pocketed her tricorder in exchange for a medical scanner. She waved it over his body, he knew gauging the pain he was feeling since he wasn’t about to share with her that he felt like he was going to collapse.

"Haley has kept a scrapbook on you, some pretty impressive stunts."

"She does!" Shock, a hint of pride cracked his voice and turned his nebulous smile into a wide grin.

"She’s very impressed with her Uncle Will."

Pride was strangled again by his deep seeded regret; he snatched the med-scanner from her hands before she could complete her research of his body. "Let’s go."

He stepped towards the Jaier city even though he understood that wasn’t the direction she wanted to go, to be honest he would have led them anywhere just to get away from that look. Before this meeting with her he’d only seen it once, it was the look she’d continued to hold him with while he’d sat through the most uncomfortable meeting of his life with her and Captain Mckinnon. He hadn’t understood it then, but like unspoken words it had haunted him. It was that picture of her his mind had presented him over the years.

He stopped suddenly after a few paces and pivoted around to face her. "Truth or dare Amanda," he said, mentioning a game they’d played for hours during the endless surveillance of the Jaier.

"What?" She walked past him, avoiding his gaze. "I don’t want to play that."

"Truth or dare," he repeated.

Several yards ahead of him she finally stopped and turned back. "Truth." The caviler smile she was shooting for fell well shy of its mark.

"When I gave up Haley, walked out of your life and hers, you said it was what you wanted—" She nodded. "—It wasn’t, was it?"

"No." She answered much quicker then he’d expected and headed towards the city before he could respond.

He jogged to catch up with her. "Why?"

"You can’t asked another question." She was practically running and against his aching muscles it was a struggle for him to keep up. Taking one long stride he snagged her upper arm and spun her to face.

"Why Amanda...Tell me what the hell you expected me to do!" His voice escalated and he sent a cautious look past the vines to the still city gates. "I did what you asked me to do," he added, suddenly feeling a need to justify himself.

"And how long did you wrestle with that decision... five minutes...five seconds." The contempt she was looking at him with confused him but also angered him, he freed his hold on her arm with a harsh jerk and walked away.

"Your answer for everything, turn your back and walk away!"

He heard her angry words, the slap off her boots as she ran to catch up with him but he didn’t turn back—At least he didn’t turn back until he heard the low growl behind him and Amanda’s frightened scream.

*****************************

He fired his phaser almost before he’d turned, dropping the Aliwon as it lunged but not before its venom launched. He ran, feeling as if the mud was sucking him in, deliberately stalling the few crucial minutes he had to get to her.

"Where’s the med. kit!" Dipping his eyes over the weedy mud around her, he masked his revulsion from her.

The Sepac, a live venom, a mutual collaboration between the two life forms momentarily stunned the Aliwon’s victims affording it the flesh and blood it craved while the Sepac sought out the bone, feeding and breeding in the marrow.

"There’s no time Will, use your phaser...burn it!" The pain that twisted her mouth, forced silent tears to rain over her cheeks was nothing compared to the wide-eyed look of fear she was staring at her arm with.

He replaced the small hand she’d wrapped around her arm with his own as if he could stop the Sepac that was disappearing under her skin and reprogrammed his phaser. He hesitated only for a second, and tried to steady his hand, ignore the look of desperation on Amanda’s face. His phaser pressed directly against her skin he fired. Her flesh reddened and puckered, he held his breath in his lungs avoiding the stench.

Amanda’s screams, the most chilling he’d ever heard, fell silent, her head fell limply on the knee he’d supported her with, her body still trembling as he deepened the beam. Between the bubbling blood, the bristling muscles and tendons he found the head, relieved and disgusted as its now hardening shell of a body stopped moving. Trying not to think about what he was doing and understanding better why the medical profession had never appealed to him he dipped a thumb and index finger between the flesh and tore it away. He dropped it beside him before he’d allowed himself to feel it and on the side of caution fired a phaser burst into the mud.

It was only then after he’d exhaled a breath of relief, the taste of burning flesh so heavy in his throat he almost gagged that he looked at the arm he’d mutilated. His mandatory and minimal med. tech training wasn’t going to do shit to repair it; he had to get her inside the city; inside a city that hadn’t even reacted to her chilling screams.

*************************

"Truth or dare Deanna?"Tom Riker let the boat he’d rented drift into the side of the pier, his most charming grin wasted on the Betazoid.

"What?"

"It’s a game." Without her help he snagged the dock line and crawled over the bow.

"I’m not playing a game with you."

She wasn’t shackled anymore although she may as well have been from the rigid and uncomfortable posture she was holding.

"I told you everything," he grunted, tying off the boat and offering her hand, a hand that was rejected with a swat.

"You showed me a padd," she said, stumbling and still refusing his help, "A padd where every third word or words was encrypted."

"It’s classified Deanna, what can I say." The dock swayed as she stepped onto it and he saw her shiver in the crisp ocean breeze; he wasn’t dumb enough to do anything about it. "You asked about rainbow thirty six." He shrugged. "I gave you the data."

A rumble of thunder sounded in the distance, a perfect mate for the dark, stormy look she pinned him with. "What I want to know about rainbow 36 is inside that-tiny-brain-of-yours." She punctuated her last four words with an equal amount of finger jabs in his forehead.

"That’s it," he snapped, "you poke me, hit me, or smack me one more time your taking a dip in the icy Atlantic...got it."

"And I’ll scream."

"Deanna, this is Maine...it’s past nine, everyone’s in bed— they don’t care." He shrugged again and picked up the lighter of the two bags he’d tugged out of the boat. "You take that one." His hope was maybe some of her bitchy energy would have to be diverted into trying to haul the pack; his theory was proven wrong.

"And that’s another thing," she said, "why are we here...on earth. You said Will was on some planet and that he was in danger."

"Because I have a hunch we should start here."

With the tide out, the ramp that led up to the small town was at a steep incline, he heard her stumble behind him and struggle with the pack. He turned slowly around and took it from her.

"I can do it," she objected.

"I’m not doubting your manhood Deanna, but that wasn’t the point of you carrying the bag." He was making this up as he went along. "You watched me pack this bag...you know there’s weapons and communicators in it. You had access and you didn’t take it." He walked the rest of the way up the ramp and dropped both bags at his feet.

1"That doesn’t prove anything."

"Fine." He reached under his jacket and tugged his phaser from its clip; with his other hand he grabbed her wrist, opened her hand and slapped the phaser into it. "Phasers only on stun, no moral dilemmas to worry about." He pivoted around and walked away before she lifted her wide eyes from the weapon.

It took an effort not to turn around, keep walking over the pebbled embankment and onto the dimly lit streets. He wasn’t too worried about her shooting him but the communication devices he’d left behind didn’t afford him the same confidence; he’d practically turned the first corner when he heard her shuffled steps behind him.

"You win." Breathless, she dropped the bags she was lugging on either side of her and stared at him disgustedly. "And not because of that overly dramatic stunt." She rolled her eyes and almost smiled. "If Will’s in trouble I want to help him. And in answer to the truth or dare question you wanted to ask me in the boat, the answer is yes— I trust you."

He felt a smile break over his face in spite of the fact that she’d been able to access his thoughts after all these years. "Thanks, I needed to know that. Come on." He picked up both bags; comfortably uncomfortable with the look she was holding him with. "Let’s see what Wills gotten himself into and why."

For several steps she was quiet giving him a chance to think; the silence ended abruptly. "Tom?" Under the moonless sky with only the pale globe lightening of the street lamps her face was dark with shadows; he didn’t need to see her eyes to know what she was going to say.

"If you’re right about the federation being in involved, How can we stop them...help Will."

"Don’t worry Deanna, in my experience the federation hasn’t been unified on anything in years, they’ve been running into each other trying to stay afloat any way they can. Will knows that too, although you’d be hard pressed to get him to admit it." He chuckled to himself. "The way I got it figur..."

With a sharp hand around Deanna’s arm he tugged her back and down, pressing a silencing finger to this lips. Dumping the sacks he had slung over his shoulder he poked a cautious head around the edge of the building he’d crouched behind.

"That’s Wayne Niles," he whispered.

"Captain Niles." She attempted to sneak her own look; his arm around her shoulders restrained her movements. "Why are we hiding from him?"

He shook his head not wanting to explain Niles involvement in the rainbow mission or anything about Jaier that wasn’t necessary.

"Tom, what’s he doing?"

"I think they call it arson Deanna." He pulled a disruptor from his pack. "Now stay here and prove that trust you say you have."

Chapter 11

 "I think that’s illegal." Tom had chosen the disruptor because of the low recognizable hum it made as it charged. His target apparently didn’t hear it or was unaware of the weapon he had hovering behind his back.

"Back off Riker." Niles stood up and spun around quickly. Tom raised his weapon and tightened his grip on his gun; he lowered it as soon as he saw the shadowed weapon Niles held in his hand.

"Relax Captain." He dropped his disruptor on the ground and held up both hands, but never took his eyes off the modified ZTL shooter. Different then he remembered from his time on Jaier this new design was as sleek as a phaser, but he had a hunch it still packed more venom then the entire weapons arsenal on the Enterprise. "You don’t want to use that."

"Why not—we’re both going to die anyway." The Starfleet officer shifted his weight, leaning into the pale overhead lamp. His skin was pale amplifying the dark circles under his blood shot eyes and his hand was far from steady; not a good thing when one was holding infused varine.

"Maybe so." Tom shrugged a shoulder, "But we don’t have to take half the town with us. You don’t want that do you?"

"What’s a few more deaths for the cause." His voice was bitter and Tom had to assume someone was pushing his buttons using the same tools they’d tried to use on him when they’d hurt Deanna. "Russell's dead," he continued, loosely waving the gun and tensing Tom’s shoulders, "Myers, Michael's," he hesitated, "Will—Amanda."

Tom felt himself react and tried to mortify his sudden flinch; it was too late, he felt the barrel twist against his chest and heard the impending whine. He jumped and closed his eyes, hearing the buzz and feeling the heat seconds later. But in less then a heartbeat he realized he felt no pain; he felt no pain and he heard footsteps.

He opened his eyes slowly, his hand instinctively lifting to his chest. "Deanna." Over his raw throat her name choked out in syllables, still shaken it took him a minute to see Nile’s body at his feet and gather enough resolve to yell at her.

"That was a dumb-ass thing to do...I told you to wait...there!" He stabbed a finger in the direction of where he’d left her. "You could have killed us all. Can’t you do what you’re told."

" You were taking along time." Momentarily leaning into the light he caught a glimpse of her self-satisfied smile. "When I didn’t hear any chest thumping victory cries I assumed you needed me."

"I’ve never been one to pound my chest Deanna and that was a sexist remark." She was already on her knees running scans on Captain Niles; he dropped beside her but not because he cared about the scans. "However if that’s a fantasy of yours?" Her disgusted sigh was followed by her lack of attention, he took the opportunity to pull the weapon off the ground and tuck it in the back of his pants.

"Come on Deanna, let’s get him inside." He tilted his head towards the locked restaurant.

"Inside...but it’s locked."

"It’s called breaking and entering Deanna." He wrapped his arm around Niles chest and began dragging him towards the back. "Get the bags boss," he smirked, "B and E shouldn’t be anything to someone that just shot a man in the back."

********************

Dragging a nervous hand over his beard Will’s eyes darted between the silent streets outside the med-center to the half-ass job he’d done on Amanda’s arm. In the distance flashing like a lighthouse in a storm he could see the tangled bands of colored lights that always danced over the valley of the rainbows.

"Will?" Her voice was so soft at first he’d thought he’d imagined it.

"Hey—How do you feel?" He failed to hide his grimace. "I messed up your arm pretty good."

Her hooded eyes moved to it but only for an instant. "Is it dead?"

"Yea, it’s dead." He smiled and wrung out the cloth he’d been using on her perspiring forehead. He ran it softly over her again and brushed the damp stands of hair away from her eyes.

"I can life with a scar Will...Thanks."

"Made me wish I hadn’t ditched those four or five emergency med courses." The cot squeaked as he sat down beside her. "You scared the shit out of me," he said, pressing a kiss against her forehead to ease the tremble in his bottom lip.

"I was never scared, not with have a hunch Riker at my side." She smiled a weak and rehearsed smile.

"Yea," he chuckled softly, "Your fear was hardly visible behind your collected screams."

Her smile still shaky but genuine this time waxed then quickly waned. "Where is everyone?"

He cleared his throat, stalling on a topic he was hoping to avoid until tomorrow. "What’s left of the Jaier—at least this bloc is in Elation."

She looked doubtful and he could see the questions spinning behind her eyes; he held up a hand to put her off from asking what he didn’t quite understand. "There was no one around when I brought you in—I was a little panicked at the time didn’t pay much attention." He shrugged. "I don’t know what I thought, or if I thought, I yelled for help, nobody came. It was like running into a ghost town. I heard the Diahlo chimes about an hour later."

"Will," she interrupted, "The Jaier use the chimes on the people of the rainbow, how could they fall victim."

"Maybe we were wrong about the effects of the chimes—Maybe there’s more to it then a desire to believe." He pushed off the back of the bed and sat up, rolling some of the tension from his shoulders.

"We know that Will."

He knew she was referring to the combination of tones the chimes sounded, he’d felt it himself, a vague tingle in the back of your mind and a momentary wash of pleasure. They’d studied it and its effects, and the endorphins the chimes released were nothing more intense then the kind of buzz one would get from an Arcturian Fizz.

"But the endorphins aren’t enough to convince a race as technologically advanced as the Jaier that the Wodah is blessing them."

"Maybe not!" He chided himself for the frustrated elevation in his tone and inhaled a deep breath. "But that’s what their doing...There’s a temple of light on the west side of town and somebody's ringing those goddamn chimes!" The deep breath didn’t work; he opted for pacing instead. "I think we should get out of here, through the catacombs as soon as you're up to it."

"The catacombs—We don’t even know if they're still accessible."

They’d created the underground labyrinth before attempting their first mission, a simpler more discreet way of infiltrating both blocs observing and assuring Starfleet that neither side was moving towards warp capacity; that the Varine could never leave this world. He watched her massage her arm above her wound site and for an instant his out of control speculations were eclipsed with concern.

"Do you want something...for the pain?"

She shunned his offer and the hand he’d laid over hers. "What are you thinking?"

"I’m thinking we should get out of here before whoever tried to kill us finds out we’re not dead and decides to try again." He already knew who tried to kill him and yet he still couldn’t bring himself to say it, admit to anyone else that the same cause he’d given up most of his life for was willing to sacrifice him without batting an eye.

"Then we should go now, before the sunsets." She sat up, leaned back down, but sat up again before he could help her.

"I don’t think you’re ready." His automatic objection came as he was wrapping an arm around her waist and bracing her unsteady body with his.

"Will." She stopped him after only a few steps; her green eyes dark and smoked with an uncertain fear. "If it’s O’Malley—If it’s the federation, if they have Haley?"

"Then we’ll get her back." If she’d picked up on the lack of conviction in his voice she didn’t let it show, she slipped back under his arm and walked quietly beside him. Both of them staying in the dusty shadows of the hauntingly silent streets.

*****************************12

Chapter 12

The low thumps of Deanna’s footfalls against the carpeted living room shifted to clicks as she moved into the bedroom. Tom didn’t bother turning around.

"You’re enjoying this?"

He rolled his eyes at the flip sound of her voice and the similar facial expression his mind supplied him. He stopped rooting through Amanda's drawer and turned around.

"You caught me Deanna—I get off on digging through ladies lingerie." He brushed a pink silk pair of panties against his cheek and shuddered dramatically.

"You’re nuts."

"I prefer perverted thank you." He tossed the panties over his shoulder. "Didn’t I give you something to do?"

"You ask me to check the communication records. You didn’t tell me what to look for." Her arms folded tightly under her breast his eyes drifted blatantly to them. He needed her out of here; at least until he could find a safe spot for Nile’s weapon; he intensified his leer. "Are you wearing a bra under that shirt?"

"No," she said quickly, "I don’t wear underwear." She spun around and left before he could respond, turning the tables on him and turning his leer into a stunned but thoughtful frown.

"She’s full of shit." He directed his comment to the unconscious Starfleet captain sprawled on Amanda’s bed, but mostly it was spoken to eradicate any unwanted fantasies from invading his mind.

He moved a few steps closer to Niles and eyed the hypo-spray on the bedside table, the hypo-spray Deanna insisted they not use. Some medical BS about it being better for a patient to wake up by themselves. He slid a cautious look to the door and picked up the hypo; less then a second later he laid it on the bed when his eyes caught the almost invisible ridge in the table.

He smiled.

"I love secret places," he mumbled under his breath, sliding his fingers over the indents, the sides— the front— the back— "Shit!"

"Did you say something Tom?"

"No!" He answered quickly before she came to see for herself. "Just admiring this garter belt!"

He heard something about the fact that he was an ass but he ignored it, instead he examined the lamp embedded in the table. Brass, very out of place in the otherwise prismatic glastine decor Amanda had chosen. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirrored wall behind the bed gratifying the lamp with tender two-handed strokes, an amusing picture until he noted the colored switches in the back wall.

He moved to them and tapped in the first color sequence he could think of when it came to Amanda, the access light pattern for the underground catacombs. The glow of the room shifted...red...red...blue...yellow but to his impressed surprised the top of the other night table shimmered away.

"Hot damn I’m good," he complimented himself and rubbed two excited palms together. His self-satisfied grin fell away when instead of data chips he found only a box; a jewelry box he’d surmised before he picked it up.

Sitting crossed-legged on the floor he opened it, doing a double take of the first item he saw. "This is mine." He pulled out the dirty kerchief etched with his initials, a pang of guilt he shouldn’t feel lifting his eyes to the door. "Why would she keep this."

He massaged it through his fingers... memories, passionate, desperate, fearful and sweet swept over him, laboring his breathing and bringing a slight tremble to his hands. He closed his eyes and swallowed, envisioning that moment. He’d thought of it a hundred times since it had happened, but never with such clarity with all the fuck it were going to die intensity he’d felt in that muddy foxhole. He’d wanted Amanda since the moment he’d seen her, but when he’d taken her that day it was the most all consuming moment he’d ever had. Death loomed in mighty explosions over their heads, debris rained in stinging bursts on their bodies; it tasted of tears and blood and the sweetest sexual flavors. The harder he’d pumped into her, the deeper he’d kissed her, the more severe her cries of pain and pleasure the more the world fell away, the faster the fear of death dissipated.

He opened his eyes and ran two harsh hands briskly over his beard. "Get a grip Tom," he whispered, looking towards the door shocked she wasn’t standing there considering the emotions he’d just lost control of.

He pushed aside a few of the other things, baby bracelet, baby hair, marriage certificate; he was smiling now, pleased that what had happened between them hadn’t ruin her relationship with Mckinnon.

<A daughter, > he thought, skimming over the birth records before placing the thin padd down and lifting up the one below it.

He blinked a few times to convince himself he wasn’t seeing things and swore under his breath. "That son of a bitch." The signature, his signature blurred. Another life altering decision made for him without his consent.

"Tom, what’s wrong?"

He felt his body slump and barely heard Deanna’s repeated question from the doorway.

********************************

Amanda’s knees gave out again and although she was resisting he was practically carrying her. Going back for the bags had been necessary, but an extra hour of travel she couldn’t handle. The additional hour it had taken them to find the catacomb entrance hadn’t helped, but now that they were inside, concern for Amanda was replaced by panic.

"What’s going on Will?" Her slurred words reiterated the question he’d just asked himself.

The catacombs once chiseled rock or hemmed in mud had been replaced by a local brastine metal and were embedded with lights and circuit panels. His steps slowed and not because of the hundred and twenty pounds that leaned against him or the choke hold grip she had on his waist. Considering the hundreds of miles the catacombs covered the technological reconstruction they were moving through would have taken years and certainly wasn’t something the Jaier would be capable of.

Ahead of him where the straight corridor branched off and the maze of passages he remembered began, the lighting shifted, dulled.

"Still under construction I guess." He’d been so consumed in his own thoughts her weight had become a part of him; her fragile state had slipped his mind. She smiled, but it wasn’t enough to convince him she was fine. She needed to rest. "The Mynite in the natural walls will jam their sensors if they’ve picked up an intruder alert. But we’ve got to go a little deeper, you going to be OK?"

"I’m fine," she whispered, "You’re doing all the work—I’m sorry."

Gently he guided her to the left and into the unfinished passage. "Don’t worry about it, if I didn’t have you to worry about I’d have gone off half cocked by now."

She was apparently still doped up enough to buy the facsimile of a smile he offered her; that pleased him, no sense in both of them fuming with anger.

A few other passages ran off this one, some finished, some still under construction and some still untouched, but one caught his eye and caused him to back step suddenly. Amanda stumbled; he steadied her, but never took his eyes off the long aisle of blackened cells. From where he stood he could hear movement inside them, shuffled steps, possible sobs, but mostly silence. He had to assume the sound was only able to filter out of the cell not in. Deprivation of stimuli to induce regression was a common technique and from the looks of the three-foot by six-foot cells the captors here were looking to induce it as quickly as possible.

"Coercion," he mumbled, never looking down at her but feeling the gaze she looked up at him with. "Let’s go."

For a woman that only moments ago had no strength she tugged hard on his waist, fruitlessly trying to prevent him from moving on. "Sorry doc, we can’t worry about them now—and I doubt they’d welcome us; you know that."

Sadly she nodded, but he knew she understood the three D’s of coercion and programming, debility, dependency and dread.

He inhaled a deep breath, its slow unsteady release stalling midway at the muffled sound of voices moving from a corridor behind them. His anxiety already heightened his sudden sprint swept Amanda’s feet off the floor. Practically dragging her he moved them into the nonexistent light of an unfinished corridor. He crouched, tucking her beside him and waited, straining to hear as the voices moved closer.

At first he heard only fractured words muffled by the echoing thump of the boots against Brastine, but as the garbled tones became audible sounds he felt his breath catch and slapped a less then gentle hand over Amanda’s mouth. In her weakened state she could hardly struggle and he knew his harsh grip was making it hard for her to breathe...but he couldn’t let go, allow her to react.

<We found the crashed Jaier ship...not much left of it. They must be dead sir. >

The footsteps stopped along with Will’s heart.

<William Riker is nothing if not a snake in the grass—Sweep the planet and search the catacombs. When you find him bring him to me. I’d like the honor of killing him myself. >

One set of footsteps began to move away and he felt Amanda’s shoulder’s shake, the tremble of sobs she was trying to stifle.

<What about your wife Captain—Do we keep her alive too? >

The footfalls that were moving away stopped, under his arm he felt Amanda’s body go rigid.

<No...kill her. >

Chapter 13

Amanda was quite, so quiet that even the sound of her breath was eclipsed by the trickles of water that bled over the obsidian walls. He’d wanted to talk to her, ask her how she was feeling, comfort the betrayal he knew was consuming her. Instead he’d stayed quiet, kept his eyes straight ahead of him and turned his thoughts to Deanna. He wondered where she was, if she missed him or was angry with him for running away from her again.

Know that I love you Imzadi whispered through his mind on an echo, the brush of Amanda’s arm against his swallowed the sound and took the single star that shown through his black feelings and shadowed it in guilt.

He inhaled a sharp breath; the breech in the cold silence drew Amanda’s gaze up to him. In the pale lighting her eyes looked haunted, a ghost of a chill swept up his spine and he looked away, mentally facing an image of Deanna. Though his crimes weren’t as ugly as Logan Mckinnon’s he couldn’t help wondering if Deanna would also feel that kind of pain when she found out about Haley, about the secrets he’d kept out of his own selfish fear. He willed the image away with a tight blink of his eyes and directed himself to focus only on the moment.

Ahead the light shifted, a brilliant blue-gray glow encasing a metal and glass enclosure. Movement behind the glass and the hushed whisper of voices prompted him to move deeper into the darkened passage on his right, but his eyes continued to drift over his shoulder to the emblem etched into the sectional windows.

He’d seen it only in pictures and many years ago, but strangely it still tormented him. Amanda’s shallow breathing, her almost nonexistent hold on his arm both increased in strength and he looked down on her.

"Will—that’s a..."

He completed her sentence when as if she had to assure herself her eyes drifted behind her. "Swastika," he whispered, pulling her to him and away from whoever had found a need to use and justify an emblem that to him represented only blood.

***********************

Even under the dark cloud of anger that rained stinging drops of regret and sadness upon him he reacted to Deanna’s approaching steps and slammed the lid on Amanda’s box.

"It’s nothing Deanna." He shrugged a shoulder and slipped the box back into the nightstand. "This whole thing is dragging up a lot of memories that’s all." He pushed himself up with a grunt. "It wasn’t the most pleasant assignment I’ve ever had."

He figured that wasn’t a direct lie more of an evasion—with that rationale in mind he had no trouble not buckling under her visual and mental probe.

"Did you find something...Or have you just come to your senses and realized you picked the wrong Riker." He rolled his hips to compensate for the lack of spirit he heard in his voice and even added a low growl to his performance. None of it seemed to be working. "Are you considering the possibilities or—" He used his hands, motioning for her to fill in the blank.

What seemed an eon later she finally responded. "I did find something...I don’t understand it."

He arched curious brows and gestured nonchalantly to the door, but nonchalance was far from what he was feeling. There was something wrong, it simmered in her scrutinizing gaze and had taken her normally soft, almost seductive voice and transformed it into one he could hardly recognize.

"Deanna—what did you find?" He incorporated his own shock, anger and guilt into the defensive shield he begun to erect around himself.

"Communiqués." She folded her arms across her chest. "From you to Amanda."

"What?" He didn’t have to feign surprise and moved distractedly towards the door, Deanna’s odd behavior and his own guilt obscured by this new information. "Are you coming." He paused before moving out.

"You lied to me."

"About what?" He turned and leaned against the doorframe, targeting her with a look as frigid as the one she was throwing at him. "I never sent any communiqués."

"Maybe you should read them and then tell me the truth."

She was much calmer this time, but he’d seen that same look tarnish her features before when she'd found him with Wendy Roper on Betazed. He swallowed over a throat that was beginning to sting, but refused to act on anything until he understood exactly what she was talking about.

"Fine," he said, flipping her a look that was meant to show little concern over what she was accusing him of. After all this wasn’t him, he hadn’t lied to her about Amanda Mckinnon, not exactly anyway...No, if they passed out super prick awards Will would be the winner hands down.

Very aware of the close proximity of her footsteps behind him he attempted to appear unaffected as he sat down in front of the flickering comm.

"I didn’t write this." He began defending himself before he’d finished reading the first threat. "Why would I threaten her husband—or kill him," he amended in a cracked voice as he scanned further down. "You can’t believe I’m capable of this!" He pivoted his chair around to face her.

"Did you read it all?"

"I don’t have to read it all Deanna." His protest elevated his voice and brought him to his feet. "I never sent it."

"Someone did."

Her anger always had a placidity that made him want to choke her, considering all that he’d learned about his life in the last hour he felt his fists clench at his sides.

"Someone that wanted to manipulate Amanda," she continued.

"We’ll trace it, considering this entire picture reeks with federation stench I’m certain what we’ll find." He sat back down but she didn’t join him, look over his shoulder or even offer an opinion.

Finally as his eyes dipped further down the screen and his chest tightened she spoke. "So you agree that it was manipulation."

"I don’t know." He changed his tune as he began to understand her implication. Not out of fear or guilt exactly, but because again he found himself as an extra piece to a puzzle and he wasn’t sure how or if he belonged in it.

"You’re a liar!" He’d scarcely turned when he felt the sting of her palm against his face, and because maybe somehow he’d deserved that single smack he let it go. But when he saw her other hand approaching, heard the hurt and betrayal in her ranting words he stopped her with an angry hand of his own.

"Knock it off Deanna!" He was mad, maybe as mad at Will as she was, but he’d be damned if he was going to take the punishment for a mistake he’d hadn’t realized existed until moments ago.

"You were intimate...My god you have a daughter!"

Considering his own explosive feelings, taking her down, pinning her wrist above her head and straddling her body with his weight to stop her struggle took little effort and was almost pleasurable.

He hardly listened as she questioned him about how "they" could have kept this from her all these years and he hardly felt the jerks and twitches of her hands and legs as she tried to fight him. Maybe he should have been reacting, feeling guilty, raking Will over the coals, but as he watched her, listened to her angry voice fractured by choked back tears all he could concentrate on was how bizarre her behavior was.

"What the hell is the matter with you!" He practically screamed his question and it caught her attention for a moment, a moment where she snared him in a potent stare that wrapped like a hand around his throat. He matched it of course, but never doubted that there was a hell of a lot more behind the bottomless pit of onyx pain he was staring into then a hundred-year-old transgression.

Maybe in concentrating on her he’d eased his hold on her or maybe this uncharacteristic wrath had given her more strength then he’d given her credit for, whatever it was he felt her leg come up against his balls and felt his body’s gut wrenching reaction simultaneously.

He’d been hit a lot worse and this blow was only enough to make him choke and wince as it lashed through him, but in that mind melting moment of pain his concern for her shattered, and retaliation, brutal and heartless sprung from his twisted mouth.

"Will’s dead Deanna—None of this fucking matters anymore!"

From his position on the floor beside her he watched her rigid muscles go limp, the snapping fury that had sparked over her eyes glazed and dulled as if her own death had overtaken her— and maybe it had.

Each labored breath that huffed from his chest burned with a frigid heat, the sting of his own tears and sweat blurred his eyes, but he didn’t move...not towards her, not away from her. Instead he laid completely rigid, welcoming the biting chill of her emotions as they devoured his own and became a part of him.

TBC...