Another old character exercise I tidied up for no good reason other
than that it seemed a shame to waste good wanton FLUFF! There may
still be errors, un-crossed Ts and un-dotted Is, I didn't use my fine
tooth comb on this one. If it matters, I actually wrote the first
draft of this exercise while I was writing 'Eternity's Children',
eons and eons ago...



"Crossroads"
QDestinyy@aol.com


It's said that when it rains on Betazed, the sky glows; a color that
can only be described as dusky indigo. William Riker had never
believed that for a fact, until he'd seen it with his own eyes.

That was a long time ago.

Today, he knew a lot of things to be true which he had errantly
dismissed while caught in the casual flippancy of youth. He was
older now. A little wiser. A little more tired.

There were things he'd learned in nearly two decades. Things he
understood since the last time he'd doubted the color of the sky on
Betazed.

One of those 'things' was his relationship with Deanna Troi. Though
it made little sense to him now, why they'd waited so long to figure
out they probably shouldn't have waited at all. Such 'things' were,
as a Betazoid philosopher once wrote, 'the interminable nuance of
life's journey'.

In the weeks that followed the Enterprise's rescue of the Ba'Ku
homeworld, many 'things' had changed. He and Deanna were only two of
an entire ship's compliment whose realities had been affected in the
interim.

Decisions were made and then broken, lives were gambled (but
thankfully none lost), and in some cases ... loves were rekindled ...
or set ablaze for the very first time. All of these changes were
born of the impulse of youth; indiscretions and wild imaginings alike.

There were ramifications to that, of course; some of them upsetting,
others temporary. Some were more embarrassing than insurmountable.
And then there were those sorts of ramifications that promised to be
even more difficult by far. Like that kind that pit friend against
friend for some youthful dalliance resulting in strained relations.

Or the kind where two senior officers, the best of friends in the
best of times, re-imagined what it might be like to go back to
being ... lovers. And then stayed up all night to prove their
point.

Again.

And again.

Riker closed both eyes and slowly exhaled. Months had gone by. Most
of the so-called 'ramifications' were over. But the past few nights,
Deanna had been looking at him differently. He suspected he was
looking at her the same way. Like they both felt that at any moment
the spell would break. Shatter around them. Force them to realize
that they were only two friends. Nothing more.

Of course, they continued to meet, to find the minutes or (whenever
lucky), the hours which they could spend together. Here they laughed
and touched ... and loved. Beyond the boundaries or constraints of
time and reason.

Will Riker had thought about this, from time to time. More often
than not of late. Their coupling was ... indescribable to anyone who
hadn't shared a link with a Betazoid before. Or an empath, at the
very least. An empath who loved you.

But was it a mature kind of love? The kind that lasted through the
years and through the turbulence of Starfleet. Was it the kind of
love that might ... inevitably ... lead to marriage?

Riker swallowed.

Or was it simply that youth had brought them together for a second
time; had reviewed for them the vivid and passionate necessity of
first-love and found them only too eager to touch such power again,
for however long it lasted.

Will pressed his palms, warm and moist, to the side of his pants,
slipping them into his pockets. The corridor lights dimmed sharply,
signaling ship's night on the Enterprise-E. It filled the hallway
with an ambient glow as couples began to emerge from their cabins for
the evening.

Will smiled at several of them, but he was not going their way
tonight.

The entrance to the holodeck was dark as he approached it. Blacker
than pitch when he stepped through the archway, but there was thunder
in the distance, and the flashes of a storm on the horizon of a great
sea.

He found Deanna sitting comfortably on the edge of a precipice, legs
dangling over the side of a canyon wall while the waves of a nameless
sea roared their futile rage beneath her.

Even the sky was turbulent. In the distance, the rolling boil of a
storm flashed a counterpoint to the blackness. But not overhead.
Where they were was a kind of interlude. A solitary calm in which
the stars could still be seen, and Deanna looked back at him from
where she sat.

"You know, they say that when it rains on Betazed, the sky glows."

Riker sank down on the rock and took her hand. That was
another 'thing' they'd been doing a lot of, lately. It seemed a kind
of physical reminder they were safe in expressing, whether as friends
or as lovers ... or as both. It towed the line, just like Deanna's
storm.

"You found me," she chastised him, then squeezed his hand and
smiled.

He let her lean her head against his shoulder. After all, she liked
to do that. Always had. She liked to sit with him and curl up
closely in his arms... when they were more than friends.

When they were only friends, it wasn't like that of course.

But there were times she'd sometimes forget. Times she'd fall
asleep on his shoulder. Or on the side of his arm at a late-night
poker game. Times when cards and chips became conversation ...
became camaraderie well into the early hours or morning.

He would wake her when the others left; and kiss her hair or her the
side of her face, or whatever he felt safe with...

One time, it had almost been more than that. He remembered that
night. He'd kissed her just as she awoke in the crook of his arm, at
the end of an evening they'd spent watching holo-novels -- just the
two of them.

Deanna woke up, she turned her face and in the dim light of his
quarters, when there wasn't so much as a breath of warm air between
them -- she'd kissed him gently as a butterfly.

Will remembered that night, because he'd sat there in his quarters
for a long time after she'd gone. And maybe he'd been smiling, he
couldn't recall precisely, but there was a feeling that went along
with it. A long and drawn out ache that felt ... insanely good. It
happened nearly a month before the Briar Patch.

Nearly five months before this reality...

"You seem pensive," he remarked to her, observing the gamin smile she
offered back.

"Why Commander, whatever gave you that idea?"

"I don't know," he shook his head, pointing out at the rolling storm
on the horizon as though he were scolding someone, "I can't put my
finger on it..."

He was rewarded with her laugh. A rich and musical sound he'd always
felt drawn to.

"I suppose," she whispered, "you might imagine that the storm out
there is a metaphor for my mood, seeing as storms are such powerful
emotional metaphors to begin with. It might be a natural assumption
to make, that I've come here to face some kind of crossroads. One
that I simply can't delve into without serious introspection," she
finished as his eyebrow rose.

Will placed his hand against her forehead, pressing backward
gently, "Physician, heal thyself!" he grinned, but Deanna removed his
hand equally gently.

"That's not why I'm here," she shrugged.

"Then why are you here? Weren't we going to meet in my quarters? I
had to locate you with the computer."

Deanna shrugged, "I'm here, because you need to be here." she smiled
at him, and it was the kind of smile that meant she hoped he'd
understand.

He didn't. Not entirely.

"This is Betazed," Riker glanced out at the water, "the cliffs over
Tana province, near your house."

Her nod was short, but she completed his thought without
malice. "It's where we came that night, before you told me you were
leaving."

"Oh." he threw her a sidelong glance, "and you think I need to be
here again ... tonight?"

"You do, or we do." Deanna nodded, touching his beardless face with
the edge of her hand, allowing her fingers to trace the smooth skin
she found there. "I think that storms are a very evocative emotional
metaphor."

"Well, I'm not feeling confused or pensive... and, it's dark in
here." He tried on a crooked smile for size, but Deanna seemed
unaffected by it. She sat there and watched him in that way she had
which meant ... hell, he wasn't sure what it meant, except that he
was expected to say more. And he didn't have a clue what that 'more'
should be.

"Deanna, I'm not at a crossroads," he shook his head helplessly.

"Aren't you?"

"No!" Riker curbed his volume the moment he spoke. It had surprised
him even more than it seemed to have surprised her. "No," he
repeated softly, but his gaze fell to his lap, "I've been thinking a
lot lately, that's all. But it's nothing life-altering."

"Being with me isn't life-altering?" she asked him sincerely, "Being
lovers again ... at this stage in our lives, our friendship?"

"Well, yes, I mean, that's not what I meant," he stammered. The
lightening in the distance flashed a counterpoint and Riker scowled
at it, half-heartedly.

He was beginning to feel frustrated. Angry, a little. Uncertain
what she expected and unable to figure out how to put together the
pieces she seemed to be laying out for him. But that was Deanna.
She never hit you over the head with something if she thought you'd
be better off drawing your own conclusions. It was more than
psychology for her, it was a matter of spirit.

Still, that didn't make it any easier to come to understand.
Especially tonight when Riker had ... other things on his mind.
Which was probably why she leaned forward and kissed him.

With her arms at her sides, Deanna drew only their faces together,
and he could feel the warm press of her lips on his mouth. However
she did it, the contact was electric. It seemed to project her
spirit along the empathic link they shared; a balm for the mixed-up
confusion he'd been suddenly feeling.

"I don't want to upset you," she whispered when their mouths
disengaged.

"You haven't," he returned her whisper in kind, feeling calmer and
more at ease than he had when he walked in the door. "But I still
want know how you do that."

He'd asked her before, but this time she smiled.

"You don't know?" Deanna asked, "you do it for me as well."

"How? I don't even understand it."

"It's a little like instinct," she admitted, "when we sit with
someone we care about and talk to them, we often project a sense of
stability and of calm -- for their benefit. Even humans do this, but
since you and I are Imzadi," her voice trailed off and she shrugged
loosely.

"That makes sense," Will smiled back. "But you've got to be a lot
better at it than I am. When you do it, I feel so... so..."

"You're very good at it," Deanna turned sideways again and this time
the kiss was deeper, longer, more satisfying. Over far too quickly.

"If you say so," he felt her draw her hands along the inset of his
arm and he offered her a smile. Which was when he remembered why
he'd followed her into the holodeck this evening. And why he'd
disengaged the privacy lock to find her without asking.

"Maybe you're right," Riker sighed, "Maybe I am at a crossroads.
Come here," he took her hand and helped her to her feet.

When she followed him without a word, Will had to admit to himself
that he was probably already out of his league. Hell, he'd been out
of his league from the first moment she'd smiled at him on Betazed
and every bone in his body turned to rubber. But that hadn't seemed
to matter at the time. And he knew now -- perhaps a hell of a lot
better than he knew then -- that he'd better do this 'thing' quickly,
before he realized that he wasn't just out of his league, he was
*way* out of his league.

"You know this was a lot easier the first time," he grinned at
Deanna's arched eyebrow when he sat them both down at the base of a
large tree, face to face.

They were only a few meters away from the cliff-side, but the
branches, whispering restlessly over their heads seemed somehow to
provide a sense of ... cover ... for what he'd been imagining.

"Okay," he exhaled slowly, "I guess I should start with the way
things are. It looks like most of the crew is ... recovering ...
from the effects of the Briar Patch. I know, as a Counselor, you've
spoken to many of them, and they've all been saying similar things."

Deanna nodded wordlessly.

"You know whatever this 'thing' was that happened, it took a lot of
us on a pretty crazy ride." He looked to her for some response, but
she seemed, if anything, confused. "It's not easy when you ... you
change your life, and then you turn around one day and you realize it
can't be the way you changed it to. Because ... you aren't that way,
anymore. And maybe you were once, a long time ago, but it just isn't
like that anymore," he paused, and still Deanna stared at him through
an increasingly perplexed expression. "Do you know what I mean?"

"I'm not sure," she admitted, her face was slightly flushed and Riker
could see that she was struggling to bring his words into focus, "are
you saying," she lifted her eyes tentatively to his, "that you'd like
for us to go back to being friends?"

"We were always friends," Will shook his head.

"Are you breaking up with me?" she asked him more firmly, this time
leaving no doubt as to her query.

Riker rocked backward in the grass. He felt his own eyes widen
before he shifted to his knees, "No," he shrugged simply, taking one
of Deanna's hands into his. "You're trembling," he whispered, using
his other hand to reach for her face. "Deanna, I *am* asking you to
end our relationship -- the way it is right now. But, I'm not
breaking up with you. I'm, I'm asking you ... to marry me."

Taking his own shaking hand and dipping it into his pocket, Riker
extracted a tiny box from where he'd dropped it in the corridor. He
held it open for her, and then held his breath while she looked down
inside.

"Deanna, for the second time, forever this time -- I swear to you on
my soul -- will you be my wife?"



The flash of the storm lit the night sky in the distance, but it was
silent when compared to the roaring in Riker's own ears. He saw the
focus of Deanna's gaze shift from the sparkling circlet, only to
settle on his eyes.

Lifting the small golden band, she held it aloft for a moment, and
her mouth was open, but no sound came out.

"It, it was my mother's," Riker spoke before she could, he swallowed
when he felt the passionate intensity of a myriad of uncensored
emotions wash over him, "I was hoping you would wear it, if--"

Deanna took the ring between her fingers and held out to him. He
stared at her for a moment, uncertain what to do. But then he took
it. He wasn't sure what else he could have done, so he lifted it
from her outstretched hand and held the band reverently.

The precious metal was cool against his skin; cool and impossibly
small. He'd never held it for a very long time before -- outside of
the box -- he'd never really been able to bring himself to keep it
that way. But now he did, while Deanna looked back at him with eyes
that flashed in the light of the distant storm. And while he looked
at her. Their eyes held forever before she lifted her left hand and
held it aloft in front of him.

Her fingers were trembling again. Her whole hand was shaking
slightly, and it only stopped shaking when he reached for it and took
it. Holding onto her while a sense of understanding swept over his
entire being.

He slipped the tiny circlet onto her finger. And it fit perfectly.
A fact she seemed as taken with as he was, because her glance drifted
from the ring, to his face, and then back again.

"I know it's not exactly ... the Betazoid way. I'd thought about that
and I did make ... well, I tried to make you a headband," Riker
looked down, trying in vain to quell a hot feeling of self-
consciousness, "I, um, I guess I'm not really very good at that sort
of thing, I couldn't bring myself to give it to you."

Deanna made a small, though unidentifiable sound, and he looked down
at her, only somewhat chagrined.

"I'm honestly not sure if I did it right..." Will paused at her
brilliant smile, switching gears, "and is there a reason you're not
talking here at all, because I'm sort of--"

"It's the most beautiful ring I've ever seen," Deanna cut him off
with a whisper. Her hand, complete with the ring, slid gently across
the edge of his face. "I love it. I love you, Will."

Four words she'd spoken and it all made sense. Her being here, all
the feelings he'd been having. For weeks he'd agonized and wondered,
hoped and been too afraid to risk trying. But all along she'd
known... and for her, it had been as simple as those few words.

He couldn't help the grateful breath that escaped his lips. And he
grinned at the warmth in her expression. Still, there was an
afterthought.

"Enough to spend the rest of your life with a Starfleet jerk like
me?" he asked.

"Enough to spend five lifetimes," Deanna smiled coyly, adding, "with
a Starfleet jerk like you."

"Hey..." Will pulled away from her imminent kiss, awarding her a
defensive, only half-serious frown. His heart was still pounding
from the reality of her acceptance.

"I still want that headband..." she kissed him anyway, ignoring his
feeble protest.

"I knew I should have kept my mouth shut," Riker growled, the sound
transforming into a groan when Deanna provided that service for him.

She bore him tenderly to the ground, and she was laughing when her
empathy caressed the most intimate corner of his thoughts with a word
that was already a part of his soul.

'Imzadi,' it whispered, proving that even Starfleet First Officers
were apt to tremble, now and then. The storm in the distance flashed
again. And it was a brand new metaphor this time.

They embraced it, together.

[THE END]