Constructive Criticism


R/T , nother character

PG-13 for the few times of not so nice language

Disclaimer: Paramount, you know, I know...ya own the bloody
characters and stuff. No profit no money no problems.

Synopsis: ah, well..this ones a little...weird.

Part 1 Constructive Criticism

//Riker ran in a blatant haste through the unending corridors. He
was panicked and sweat trickled down his
burning face. It felt like he was coming apart, like the galaxy was
folding in on him. Capturing him in
wings of brute force and transparency, like his heart...\\

~Leaning back from the keyboard, an eager Imzadi author sighs
contently at the progress of her
most recent effort.

"I'm really liking how this is coming along, I want to get another
few bits sewn together before
I start posting it to the folks on the list."
The author lifts herself slowly from the confines of her habitat and
wanders in a bent over zombie like
state to the kitchen where she waits for the kettle to heed her
attention. She turns and lends a stare out
at the sun as it crawls slowly over the eastern valley. She does what
she always does...talks to the sunrise.

"Yes , this story is gonna be dynamite I'll have the chewing their
nails to the cuticle and then some..
I think they'll really like it. I mean they're such great writers on
that list...I hope I can be
of a somewhat level caliber."

With that an eerie silence falls over the kitchen...and then the
locomotive screaming whistle of the kettle slices
through the authors train of thought, making her jump slightly. She
composes herself and pours it carefully into
the same old cup.

The wind rattled against the computer room...a little too harshly.
Must have been a hard gust thought the author.

As she cupped her hand around her coffee, her daily dose of sanity
and caffienated inspiration she strided
down the hallway ever so slowly so not to spill the boiling
concoction that she seemed to protect. But upon reaching the
bedroom door, her heart stopped and that cup dropped.
Plunked onto the floor. It didn't break.
It just sorta went *plunnnk* and the coffee spilled. There standing
tall was the very familiar fictitious character that so many
stories were based upon. She poked him firstly...wanted to make sure
it wasn't a cardboard cutout hoax or something.
"Hey" he rubbed his hand viciously over the vicinity of her attack.
"what the fuck is this? I'm pretty sure I didn't drop acid instead of
taking my vitamin this morning..." the author was variably shaken up.
"I'm real..flesh and blood see" and he took a pin from her junk box
and pricked his finger...producing a tiny blob of red blood.
She knelt down and retrieved her coffee cup and a towel from the
linen closest.

"Nothing gets rid of coffee stains" he said, tugging around at the
back of his uniform.
"How'd you get a coffee stain on your back?" she asked
"I guess someone must of wrote it a rough a
story that never made it to a post
they never decided to get some soap and wash it out." he shrugged his
shoulders "and since noone else knows
about doesn't really exist."

She looked at the damp stain of coffee that was slowly invading the
strands of her carpet.
"Ah well, I'll go make another cup. Would you like one?"
He smiled lightly
She threw the towel over the accident and wandered back out to the
"So do up at everybody's inspiration sessions...or am i
tripped out on flintstones?"

"well, no. I don't usually go into the 'real' world. I leave that to
my shell, the actor fella. I'm just a character...
subject to many continues on my life you know. Without
the stories..I wouldn't have anything to do."

He wanders over to the cupboard, opens the exact door where the
coffee and sugar is and pours himself a cup.
The author walks up behind him...
"How'd you know where I keep my coffee?"
"Well, I've been living in the steam of your kettle for the past 15
She shakes her head and pulls her hands down her face.
"So you're like a genie sort of thingamagjiggy"
"I'm Will Riker, and I've been known to be many things."
"So now you're a genie?"
"Sort of..."
She holds up her hands and shakes them in a frustrated manner.
"wait, just wait a second. I write Imzadi fanfic...shouldn't Deanna
be here to?"
" haven't written her part of the story yet."
"Well where's she going to dissolve from, my feckin septic tank?"

there's silence

He does a slight nod. very slight as he stirs the coffee and hands
her a cup.
"hold on., mean your beloved Imzadi is going to be ressurected
into reality via the push of
my toilet flusher?"
"sad, but true" he wavers his big paw on her shoulder and leads her
to the sitting room.

they plop down into the soft cushions holding tightly the cups of
unspilled coffee. The author stares
out the picture window.

"can we go for a walk sometime?" he asked
She shook her head.
"why not?"
"well ya look just like your'll probably get arrested for
impersonating him"
He chuckled softly.
"I'm invisible to the rest of the world...cept to you.."
"oh that case..."
she takes a slight sip of her nectar and flinches slightly at the
searing steam against her throat, then
lays the cup on the coffee table. She rises to stand and gestures for
Riker to follow her.
"Come on, let's go for that walk."
"Won't the neighbours find it odd that you'll be talking to
yourself...that's how it will seem to them"
She let out a loud laugh.
"I don't really give a hell about what the neighbours think
personally. Besides I talk to myself anyway" she said
in a muffled haste as she bent over to tie her laces. "it wouldn't be
the first time i freaked them out."
She opened the door and the fresh gust of sunrise made her skin
"Wow." he gasped. "Real fresh air"


Part 2

They wandered over to the lake and finally Riker spoke of
his...appearance in this world.
"I got bloody well lonely...and I always wanted to reply to you every
time you talked to the sunrise...I always thought
maybe you were talking to me..." he took a few stray rocks and tossed
them effortlessly into the ripples of the lake. He then chuckled "heh
I guess that's more of a Thomas line isn't it."

"I see you picked up on my lingo... 'bloody well?' I've never heard
Riker say that before."

He raised his head and smiled. "What can I say? I'm always looking
for ways to improve myself."
"Now, that sounds like a Data remark!"

"Yea" he squinted his eyes at the reflection of the sun bouncing off
the lake to his face.

"So Will Riker, what do you want? how do you want me to write this

He paused...hesistated for a second. "It's your with it
what you want..."

She shook her head and crossed her arms.
"Uhuh it's your life...what do you want...I can give you anything and
I'm not a mysterious
trick question thief like Q." She took out a binder and turned to the
page where she had left off.
Handed him a pen and the binder.

"Tell me what you want Riker, if you can't say it...then write
it...and when we get back I'll see what i can
do about reviving Miss Troi..."

"you mean Mrs.Riker" he whispered almost inaudibly but the author
caught it and waited patiently
for the fella to finish.

//Riker came to an abbrupt halt at the end of the hallway...there
enveloped in a long silky red
dress was Deanna. She wore a silent face and he could not clearly
read her mood. But his heart was pounding
beating violently against the container of his body. It felt like it
was going to push through and leave him...
but he couldn't understand why. He held his palms out in front of his
body and waited...for the silence
to free them ...\\

The author looked up at Rikers contribution.
"We have to revive her we can find out what she wants..."
he said

The author smiles and nods, grabs his hand and lead him back up the
"To the toilet" she valiently played
"...and beyond" he responded.

"So can you discern when a story...or a portion of your life is a
best selling movie...or when it's just something
scribbled on the back of an overdue light bill..?"

"'s just another day in my know all the in betweens
and stuff they never show...well you guys write it
and i live it...for all you may be a character in someone
elses story."

She laughed and kicked her legs out so they made a hard clonking
sound against the road.
"haha...they are a cruel writer then. Hey you" and she gestured her
arms wide looking straight up to the sky "
...when ya gonna write me in to win the lottery eh?"

There was no answer.

"ah...I figured as much."

Will was in silent contrast for the remainder of the walk back to
the house. The road seemed to lure him in and he was
feeling pretty much the same as the paragraph that he had just
composed. He stopped at the foot of the authors driveway
and looked at the trees and the still apparent snow from the winter.

"It's April...shouldn't that be gone by now?" he asked

"According to the calender it should be gone..but Mother Nature has
never been much for that..'keeping on a schedule'
business.' I kind of like keeps tourists away and it always
makes me feel warm."
She stuffed her hands in her pocket and began walking up the yard
until a feeling of chill and dampness
dripped down her neck.

She retalited by releasing a hurdling wack of snow back at him and
hit him in the chest.
"Damn" she said "I was heading more for the strike zone
vicinity...but that will do"

"Who's the cruel writer now?" he laughed

They meandered back inside and up to the toilet.
"Welp, this should work..." she said as she pushed on the lever.

The water swirled down and down and out of sight, then a
gurgle...and the sound of walking feet in the


The author looked at Riker with a raised eyebrow and a shrug toward
the hallway.

"I think she's here..."


Part 3

Upon quick entrance to the kitchen, there sat Deanna Troi looking up
curiously at Will and then to
the author.

"Hello Raven, nice pad ya got here, thanks for finally writing me
into the story."
"actually it was Will who did, uh, revive you...i just pushed the

Deanna stood up and looked out the window at the valley and the now
noon sun. She was wearing that
long red silky dress that Will had described in his paragraph. She
had her arms crossed and goosebumps
dwindled along her bare skin.

"Would you like a sweater or...a change of clothes or something. I
think we're about the same size.."

Deanna didn't turn from the window but offered a gentle nod.
"Yes, please that would be nice"

Raven toddled down the hallway and rummaged through her closet
eventually digging out a pair of light blue jeans
and a blue tshirt. She also dug out a sweater should they head out
for another walk.

Will and Deanna managed to settle into the living room and were
conversing silently with each other. Actually it was a little bit
eerie because if Raven didn't know better, she'd say they were
talking mentally and it was mildly creepy.
She entered the living room and handed her the clothes.

"That is one hell of a dress though Deanna, pay a pretty penny for
that these days. I hope these are just
as comfortable.." and with that Deanna went down the hall to the
bathroom to change.

She came back out five minutes later with her hair up and hands dug
deep into the pockets of her new
threads. Will sighed in contentment to her appearance, dressed like a
regular Joe but worth so much more.
"Thank you love, I'm glad you like it. Thank you Raven for loaning
out your clothes."
She held out the long red dress to Raven. "Where can I put this?"
"Just throw it on the bed, come on you two we're going for a drive."

"A Drive?" they asked in unison
"Yea, you know a car to somewhere out there..."

There was a brief silent bridge as Raven and Deanna tottled down the
stairs. It's measures were lifted
as Will looked down at himself, still adorned in his gray and black
"Ahem" he coughed out of his smirk.." have you anything comfortable I
could wear Miss Raven."
"O Im sure there's something...head up to the closet...first one in
the bedroom...there's probably something
there to fit your charm."
He finally returned dressed in a pair of black jeans, black tshirt
and Raven handed him a black leather jacket
to go with it.
"DAY-UM...Deanna, I'm really sorry I don't own a motorcycle or I'd
hand you guys the story and you could travel
forever on the big highway..." Raven peered him head to toe, licked
her lips and Deanna laughed.

"hands off, he's mine.." she said as she grabbed her Imzadi in her
arm and made their way to Ravens car.
"I want the front" said Will and he bolted towards the passenger
door...which was locked.

"Look, Will, i know you're commander and all but you gonna have to
sit in the back with your girl...
I won't have it any other way...the big front chair is mine." laughed
Raven evily.

"Where are you taking us anyway Raven?" asked Deanna.

"You'll see."

Part 4

The arms of the bay reached out to the cliff where the three
dwindled. There was a hefty wind that had resulted in a marine
warning for the fishermen and it pushed with undaunted force against
even the invisible couple. The fog was sitting on its impatient
haunches in the middle of the bay, waiting for the right moment to
pounce and pull its cape over the afternoon. For now, the sky was a
light blue and it reflected a peace through the vicious wind that
whipped the waves into the redrock. With each blow, the cliff would
shake and subtle splashes of salt spray would dance suspended for a
second before plunging back into the great churning mass below.

"Well, this can't be good." Said Raven of the bays fury.

Deanna was starting to wander over closer to the edge when Will
looked at the author, who was shaking her head and called Dee back.

"You could lose your step. You may be invisible here, but you're not
invulnerable." She said as she offered a guiding hand and helped Dee
to sit down in a circle of last years beige timothy.

"Where are we?" asked Will.

"Well, this up here is known as Rogers Hill, and that down there is
Gibsons pond. I would've camped us down there for tonight but there
will be a record high tide tonight, evenmoreso with this wind so
we'll stick to the high ground. Or if you two want to be alone don't
worry…I'm well versed in the language of these woods…I can get lost
literally enough without truly losing myself at all. Dee, are you
warm enough? Because I have another sweater in my pack if you need

Will scootched over and put his leather bore arms around Deanna,
holding her tight.
"No thanks", she laughed. "I've got a reliable heater with me."

"Very well"

Raven went to her pack and dug out the thick binder, it had guitar
tabs sticking out of it and random scribbles for potential songs or
just random jibber. She went over and laid it in the hands of Will
and Deanna.

"There, that's where Will left off, now ya can dicuss and see what
you truly want, this is your life story. Your true life story and
it's not going to be full of fake stuff and selling for fourty bucks
at the local book store.! Here's a pen, here's your girl and here's a
peaceful ledge to plan your future from. Have fun guys, I'm going
fishin'..I'll be back later."

Will looked up at the author, cocked his head and smirked. "No
pressure eh? "

"None at all, take as long as you need" and with that, Raven slipped
the strap of the pack over her right shoulder and began the descent
to the beach. She stopped and turned for a second yelling "Did you
just say eh?"

"Yea, I guess…maybe I really am Canadian."

"Nah, I think you're just Will. See you guys later." She waved and
disapeared into the vivid capturing arms of twilights forest.

"So…" he said
"So..what do we want? I think we've already everything we've ever
wanted. We do have us, we'll always have us." She stood and grabbed
his hand, tugging it slightly causing him to stand.
"As long as there are Imzadi fanfictionites…"

"there will be Imzadi." He finished.

He grabbed her tight and close to him and together they stepped off
the cliff, did not fall but simply vanished into the fog …when Raven
returned to find noone she opened the binder and there was their
conversation and the description of them vacating mysteriously into
the evening fog.

"well gees…this kinda sucks." The author stood looking out at the
approaching morning, her fingers around her fishing line and two fair
sized mackeral. "Ya could've at least stayed for supper…ah well..
a decent ending I guess…maybe I'll leave it for awhile maybe there's
something more."

And from high up above her high, high in the big picture, another
writer, as Will had speculated sat writing the story of the Imzadi
author with an arm balanced on a picnic table and eyes skyward , they
whispered solemly with a vintage feather pen..

"there's always room for something more…"

The End
Or Just the Beginning? Who knows?

I wrote this as something fun and different hope you all enjoyed it,
I was hoping it would go longer but this is where the pen took me. :)