A Star Trek: The Next Generation Novel by: QDestinyy@aol.com March 2002 SPECIAL THANKS: To my wonderful, selfless, entirely too patient beta readers, April, Deede, Ian, Laura and Pam... AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is a love story. It's about tradition and divergence, and the indelible nature of the human spirit. It is not about combat, warfare or evil angry aliens (all though there are a few of those thrown in the mix for flavor). I suppose in terms of "Trek" it's a lighter piece, and I've treated it as a fanciful 'what-if'. From an author's point of view, it breaks some rules, but this is fanfiction, and I don't intend to publish it in any other way. The story explores an alternate universe which (though it borrows from various canon sources including Peter David's novel "Imzadi") is quite unique in terms of its take on Star Trek: The Next Generation. License has and will continue to be taken with the timeline from the series, its characters and certain specific instances of dialogue. Readers should disregard in particular, the character histories of William Riker and Deanna Troi as set forth during the run of TNG. What you are about to read is very different telling of their story... For Pam. My dear friend. Your courage and unassailable spirit inspires us all. [--PROLOGUE--] by the 'Blaze of passion' often falsely ascribed to love. They loved each other because everything around them willed it. The trees, and the clouds, and the sky over their heads and the earth under their feet." *Boris Pasternak, Doctor Zhivago THE BEGINNING... In the dim light of the 'Prax' consulate on Betazed, a tall, striking woman stood proudly with her arms at her sides. She commanded the silence of the enclosure with only a look, and her sharp obsidian eyes were tempered with the wisdom of experience. "You will accomplish nothing with a refusal to cooperate, Praetor," she said, "and I can assure you that the Federation will not be pleased." "I have already accomplished what I wished to, Ambassador," the sibilant voice of the Praxxan diplomat replied. "Why should I care whether the 'Federation' is pleased? The Federation's 'interference' in our lives will no longer be tolerated. What stake is it of yours how we run our internal affairs?" A small smile played the corners of the woman's lips. "When your 'internal' affairs concern the future of ten aligned worlds, Garx, they are no longer internal." The sound of many hands striking the surface of many tables rang out through the enclosure. Voices emerged, arose and coalesced but they were hushed when the Ambassador turned an impenetrable gaze on the gallery. There were nearly thirty species in attendance this day; hundreds of bodies, and among them -- nestled into a chair that was nearly too large for her slight form -- was a girl of eighteen years. Her long, dark hair swept up into a braid that ran the full length of her back, and her face was a mask of practiced aristocracy, offset by a pair of fathomless obsidian eyes. Eyes just like her mother's. She stared in silence at the proceedings and watched the woman who sang to her in childhood, stand fearlessly before the startling form of a warrior twice her size. Though Garx put forth his most adamant displeasure, he took a step in the opposite direction, moving a decorous distance from the Betazoid Ambassador. "Either you do not appreciate our circumstance, or you choose not to appreciate it, Ambassador Troi. I will present your Federation's offer to my government. We will consider it." "You will accept it," Troi countered demurely, glancing at some invisible spot on her immaculate dress. Her eyes then lifted and met stoically with his, "I'm certain there won't be a problem." Hidden in the softness of her voice was a directive that could not be misunderstood. Without another word, she turned and held her arm out, motioning to the beautiful young girl. They left the consulate chamber side-by-side and the girl dared not turn back, though she could sense the vicious glare of a watcher; felt his eyes like crosshairs on the back of her neck while he followed their every step into the sultry Betazed afternoon. TEN YEARS LATER... EXT -- Dark Planetoid -- NIGHT Darja hit the ground running. His feet took him winding through the narrow corridors of Karbin, capital city of the planet Prax. Picking up speed, he scurried through the empty market place, snatching a dingy cloak from the outside of a doorway. He donned the ruddy fabric mid-stride and ducked between two pillars, crouching in the semi-darkness. In half a standard hour they would be here. Like always, they would come. And when they arrived, he would have nowhere to hide. Twilight shivered in the distance; all around him tendrils of waning luminance bled from crimson into purple, shifting in continuous motion. Now, with the light of the Prax moons reflecting eerily across the alley in his path, he saw the first of them; a lanky silhouette, standing motionless in the night. It was a female, and she wore a shimmering wrap that glinted as she moved. They were early. Far too early. And his sources had never been wrong before. Something was amiss. Had he been spotted? Shifting backward into shadow, his eyes darted from one corner to the next. She was headed right for him, and there was nowhere left to go. "We lost him." Another shadow moved to join the first. This one was male, its form and stature taller, wider than the female. She held up her arm and stopped his forward motion with her hand. "Do you sense something--?" The male's body shifted where he stood. Darja tucked his legs beneath him. It would be easy to flee if the larger one would distract her. The larger one was not like her. And he was smaller than Darja, nearly by half. If the female hadn't been there, he could have dispatched the other quickly and with ease. But all he could hope for now was that she would be distracted. Only for a short while. Just long enough for him to escape. She turned her back. Darja placed both legs beneath him and pressed forward, launching himself into the night with barely a breath. The impact of his feet against the pavement staggered his balance and he caught his fist against the building where he stood. Then he was running once more, sprinting through the alley with the agility of a creature born to the task. He saw the other side ahead of him, watched the street as it came into view. And then the darkness came. An inky murk descended upon him, dulling his senses and forcing his legs to cease responding to mental command. It had been this way before, he remembered. The last time he was caught. It had happened just this way. And so he ceased all effort at flight. Clearing his thoughts, he allowed his body to fall slack until it appeared as though he hung suspended in the air where he stood. He deliberately kept his back towards them. "Turn toward me, Darja." She knew his name. Of course, she would. Her voice was calm and unyielding. It made him feel as though he should do just what she was asking. But some part of him continued to struggle with the imperative. "Face me," she repeated. He felt his body turn. "Don't be afraid." He wasn't afraid. Perhaps another might have been, but not Darja. His heart was too filled with hatred to be afraid. The hood of the female's cloak obscured her features, but he was certain now of whom he faced. The male remained silent. "Why do you flee?" Again, something in her voice compelled him to respond. "A misunderstanding, saleen." Darja whispered, using a respectful title reserved only for nobility. "I was on my way back to the barracks. Back to my men." "Your men are thirty drams from here," she droned. "Hence the haste at which I travel." She was silent, and he could feel her eyes on him across the distance. "Nothing will be gained from that which you seek," she finally spoke. Darja felt the freedom of choice flow through his limbs once more. He could move of his own volition again. He did. Inclining his head in a deferential nod, the warrior kept his gaze on the silhouette that faced him. "I understand and, apologize, saleen." His voice was silk, his eyes downcast. There was no point in argument after all, since he was certain that she had already extracted what she wished from his thoughts. "Then you may go." Without comment, Darja turned away. Slowly this time, he walked the rest of the distance towards the other end of the ally and rounded the corner, breaking into a loping sprint only after he had disappeared from view. The two silhouettes remained behind. "He knows something," the male spoke first. "He knows nothing. He is a soldier," the female turned, "what he knows is limited to what we tell him." "And what did you tell him?" "You heard me." "I heard what you *said*." "Now now, Commander." Her voice was tipped with irony. "What reason have you ever discovered not to trust me?" He didn't answer. "Unlike your average Starfleet Officer," she cast her companion a direct gaze. "The minds of the Praxxa are difficult to penetrate. It took us quite some time to punch through the tangle of their convoluted thoughts. Even now, controlling their bodies is a challenge. Communicating with them in any sort of telepathic sense would be nearly impossible." "You say nearly?" "Would you like me to show you?" She smiled. His foot shifted backward on the pavement, only an inch or two, but enough to signal his reluctant deference. "That won't be necessary. Just remember where your people's loyalties lay, Brella." Reaching for her head, the woman pushed back the hood of her cloak, revealing a pair of penetrating black eyes and a mass of red-brown curls. "No," she whispered acerbically. "You remember this, Commander. Remember that everything in the universe moves in a cyclical pattern. Eventually, we will all pay for our arrogance. Even you. Even Starfleet. You hold a burning chalice in your hand and when the fuel from that fire reaches your fingertips, you will burn. Make no mistake. You will drop the chalice, and then you will die. Remember *that*, Commander. Because on that day I will stand over your body and I will trap your soul in a hell from which you will never escape." Their eyes met and held until the Commander's lip curled upward. "You forget," he shrugged. "I don't believe in a soul." "Even better." She smiled back at him defiantly. "It will make our victory all the sweeter." The Commander's mirth vanished. Angry eyes flashed as his posture snapped erect. "Go and carry out your orders," he scowled, "I'll be back in eighteen hours to pick you up -- at which time--" his dangerous grin returned. "I have a feeling you're going to have a lot more on your hands then planning my funeral." He tapped the badge at his chest. "LEGACY, one to beam out." Brella remained where she stood, watching as his body shimmered out of existence. Her dark eyes stared thoughtfully across the empty street. Without a word, she lifted the cowl of her hood, covering her features before disappearing into the Praxxan night. CHAPTER 1 ELSEWHERE... Darkness. Cold and empty. Cradled by the blackness of space. All around the tiny Starfleet frigate were charred remnants; shattered vestiges of a once proud and magnificent starship. But they were alive. Beat-up, somewhat demoralized -- all sixty-six members of the 'HEDRA' crew were present and accounted for. The frigate herself was bruised and battered, but otherwise intact. They had inadvertently 'found' what they were looking for. Though, 'run over by it' may have been a more accurate description, all things considered. Pushing away some debris that dangled on severed cables from the ceiling of the bridge, the HEDRA's helmsman cleared his lungs of the char and the stench of burnt fiber-optics and glanced at the viewscreen. "There but for the grace of God..." he whispered aloud. "I suppose that's true enough, Ensign." A tall, dark haired officer stood unflinchingly in the center of the bridge. His stoic countenance belied an inner turmoil that they all felt. But he was the one in command. The 'HEDRA' was his ship; whatever remained of her. The Ensign's mouth snapped shut as he continued to stare through the portal of the forward view screen. "Where... where did it come from... We never saw anything..." "I think there's your answer." A monolithic chunk drifted slowly into view - it was the drive section of the other craft. A floating, migrant hunk of overcooked metal with dusky vestiges of the words: "UFP VALIANT" stenciled boldly across it. "Commander?" a young woman spoke up from the sensor console. "Did we ... do that?" her voice trailed off while the helmsman turned in his chair to answer her. "Impossible, she was half-gone when we hit her, I'd swear to it." "She may have been half gone," their commander replied, "but we sure as hell ran into what was left." His manner was sure and steady but tinted with the cool cadence of an unspoken regret. He tapped his COMM badge and then frowned when nothing happened. "Looks like the COMM's out. Reelan, get down to Engineering. Tell Commander Sellars, I'll need a full damage report on all systems." "Aye sir," Ensign Reelan hopped briskly from his chair, more than grateful to get away from the bridge; from the monster in their viewscreen. Eyes on the darkness of the vacuum beyond, Commander William Riker ran through a mental list of options. He had a crew to take care of, and he was damned if they were going to lose this ship as well. The 'HEDRA' was one of Starfleet's smaller frigates. She was old, sturdy as a rock, and had seen her tiny compliment through nearly two years of commendable service together, until today. Today had tried the old girl's spirits with the force and might of a terrestrial hurricane. She'd taken a good swing at the remains of a Starship thrice her size, and come out the victor but there was no doubt in Rikers mind that she was headed for a major refit. He sighed at the thought that came to mind -- the words 'they don't make 'em like they used to' echoed boldly inside his head, and despite his relatively young years, even Riker knew that it was true. Staring out of the shimmering portal, he watched the stars burn in the distance. They seemed to taunt him; rippling across shadows and glinting on the wreckage of the starship even as he watched it tumble to the surface of the moon. Boundless and bare, there was something to be said for a giant gray hunk of rock. Something that might easily claim it was the perfect location for the perfect disaster. And perhaps that was true. Because Riker knew exactly who was going to take the blame... CHAPTER 2 Eyes forward, set with a look of grim determination; Commander Riker emerged from Starfleet Command's primary administrative complex. He strode into the central quad, turning his head toward a flood of brilliant sunshine where he finally managed to draw breath. 'Idiots,' he thought, 'they can ride the next shuttle to hell...' "Riker! Wait up!" a hurried voice caught up with him as he rounded a low wall. "They got to you, didn't they?" "In a manner of speaking, David, yes." Riker scowled. Lt. Commander David Sellars fell into step beside him, only slightly out of breath. His sandy brown hair blew up with an errant breeze, but there was a glint of eager anticipation in his young eyes. "What did they say?" Riker paused, thinking of the least acerbic way to declare that he'd been fed to the proverbial 'dogs'. Sellars was a good friend. He had been there when the accident happened and he'd testified faithfully to the truth. The truth was that Riker was in command. He had made the ultimate decision. And he had taken the final heat for something that hadn't really been his fault. "It could have been worse," Riker threw him a half-smile, "Letter of reprimand and I'm off the ship assignment list for the next six months. First Officer of the LEGACY is up in the air, and I'm stuck here at headquarters where they can keep an eye on me." "I can't believe it!" Sellars fisted his hands at his sides. "You're the best they've got. You belong up there, and they damn well know what happened was an unavoidable accident!" "Yeah, well, you know what they say Dave. 'That's life'. And no one ever said it was fair." Riker stared off into the distance, watching the seagulls as they followed the ferry to Alcatraz. Pulling down on his uniform, he let out a breath. No matter the passage of time, San Francisco remained one of the most beautiful cities on Earth. And Earth was one of the best planets in the Federation. But neither was a starship. Neither was his starship. And neither was any closer to Riker's own command. "Does Rachel know?" Riker sighed. He'd been expecting the question, but it didn't make it any easier to reconcile. "Not yet." "Are you going to tell her?" "Eventually" Riker smiled wanly, "She'll find out soon enough whether I do or I don't." "Damn it, Will, I wish you wouldn't have taken the heat for this alone. It was all of us out there. But it was your call that saved the colony." "Saved it, maybe. But I sure as hell bent two ships around it good," Riker managed a wry smile. "The 'VALIANT' is unsalvageable. It'll be laid up in the yards for over a year before it's back together again. 'Failure in tactical judgment', they said." "For what it's worth, I told the board of inquiry exactly what I saw." "I know you did, Dave," Riker clapped the other man on the shoulder, "But in the end, I don't think it would have mattered what anyone said. They had to nail some luckless bastard to the wall and I guess that bastard just happened to be me," he sighed, "They couldn't have carved a bigger target on my forehead if they'd used a Cardassian disruptor." "So what are you going to do now?" "Looks like six months as a liaison officer attached to Foreign Service." "A baby sitter? They're making you a goddamn baby-sitter? That's inhuman..." "Thanks for reminding me," Will straightened up, his anger set-aside for the moment. "Look, six months is six months. It'll go by fast. And it isn't like I didn't see it coming." Sellars dropped a friendly hand on Riker's shoulder. "Listen, at least let me buy you a drink. We can forget all about Starfleet for a few hours," his eyebrow rose, "and maybe have a little fun? I know just the place where the city girls are..." "David, you never change." "That's why I'm your best friend, buddy!" "I'd love to, but you know I can't." Riker shrugged, belaying Sellars' protest, "Even if I had the time, which I don't--" David hung his head dramatically; making a sign that Riker recognized as a Risean colloquialism used to ward off evil. "Last I heard, Rachel was still on Fenalli II. She'll never know. One night. Just one. It can be our last wild ride in the city ... for old time's sake?" "Hey, this is the first serious relationship I've ever had. And I like it. So I don't have any immediate plans to screw things up," Will traded rails, "You know, neither one of us is getting any younger." "Yeah, well this side of thirty, I still prefer liaisons of the... 'dangerous' kind," grinned Sellars, "No peril, no pleasure, you know what they say. And what ever happened to the Will Riker that taught me all there was to know about women? Don't tell me you're going soft on me?" "Sorry Dave. No can do. Besides, I have to report. Foreign Services is expecting me." "They've assigned you already? Who is it?" Smiling at the way his friend's interest was so easily diverted, Riker leaned forward, bolstering his voice for emphasis, "I'm looking after a pair of diplomatic 'visitors' from Betazed." "Telepaths..." Sellars tipped his head and laughed, "they got you better than good in there, Riker!" "Yeah, well, we'll see about that." "You know who they are?" "It makes a difference? One politician is the same as any other in my book." Riker pulled a small flat device from his slip pocket, reading quickly. "Looks like... Betazed's Federation Ambassador ... and their Principal Minister." He skimmed farther. "Oh, and get this: they're married," he glanced up with a grin, "If this is a working vacation for the two of them, they probably won't be giving me a hard time." "Ambassador," Sellars bent his head and turned in a thoughtful frown, "Ambassador... you know I think I met her once," he paused, "auburn hair, intense eyes, very striking ... a little older than I usually go for; somewhere in her mid forties. Not bad looking, but a little pushy and loud. Fifth House, as I recall.." "Fifth House?" "You better bone up on your Betazed history P.D.Q., my friend." About to smile, Riker's gaze suddenly strayed to the sky. He frowned minutely, watching as a network of shuttlecrafts crisscrossed over San Francisco Bay. "What is it?" asked Sellars. "Not sure," Riker turned his eyes back to his friend, "Something just feels ... wrong... right... I don't know... strange. I can't put my finger on it. It's like," he trailed off. "Hell, I don't even know what I'm talking about." he shook his head, trying to ward off the feeling. "Just let me know ahead of time if you're having another one of your psychic premonitions," Sellars raised both eyebrows. "You know how I hang on your every prophecy..." "Knock it off, or I predict that I'll give you something to else hang on to." "So, when are 'they' supposed to get here?" Glancing at his chronometer, Riker cringed, "Damn. Less than ten. Dave I gotta run, I'll catch you later?" "You bet. Have fun Willy my boy!" Sellars called after him and Riker turned again, offering David the universal gesture for... Well, he smiled; maybe it wasn't *completely* universal. CHAPTER 3 In the sterile confines of the diplomatic transport ship, 'PROMETHEUS,' a woman with long dark hair and fathomless obsidian eyes looked out at the stars. At warp speed, the light of each glimmer seemed to broaden, reaching out to infinity while the rest of the universe stood still. But that was an illusion. The Universe moved, time pulled ever onward; lives changed and people transformed. Her life ... would never again be as it once had; when she was young and unbound by duty, filled with the naive optimism of inexperience and the enthusiasm of youth; still enthralled by the powerful authority of her mother. That seemed a lifetime ago. When she turned in her chair, Deanna Troi sighed softly. The man beside her did not reply. He seemed equally lost, equally caught in some distant waking dream. He didn't look up as she examined the play of the light in his hair. Not even when she sighed. A clear voice came from the COMM interrupted Deanna's thoughts. "Ambassador?" "Yes?" she said softly. "We'll be dropping out of warp in two standard minutes and landing within fifteen. I'm told your liaison officer is en route to our assigned coordinates." "Thank you," she acknowledged, noting her companion still had not moved. Her dark eyes turned back to the stars beyond thier window, and she was silent once more. * Darian Khell was as uncharacteristically anxious as he paced from one end of the diplomatic receiving facility to the other. He finally stopped and frowned. He was a striking man, with dusty blond hair and intense black eyes; one of only three visible genetic differences which distinguished the Betazoid race from the human genome. There was that, and the invisible hereditary difference; the fact that every full-blooded Betazoid was a telepath. <I told you we should have gone with the other Commander they offered us, what was his name?> The sound of his thoughts echoed serenely in his companion's mind. He knew this, because it was always so. A practiced and disciplined form of communication that was commonplace among his people. Still, he turned to her for confirmation she had 'heard', and saw her frown demurely in response. <Give him a few more minutes, I'm sure he was simply detained,> his wife of nearly a year spoke calmly in his thoughts, placing a slender hand gently on his shoulder. He paused to look at her and sighed. She was beautiful. Some might have said exquisitely so. But more importantly, she was a part of his future and he was of hers. They had been raised to accept that future since birth. His family was one of the most powerful on Betazed, and, he had been bred for the very position that he now occupied, the precise role he had been offered to play out. Such was tradition and principle among his people. Arranged marriage on Betazed was an accepted formality among the great houses. Couples were often 'genetically bonded'; betrothed from infancy and set to live out the entirety of their lives with the knowledge that one day, they would be joined to a pre-ordained companion. Darian had been affianced in just that way to Deanna Troi; their marriage decided when he was only five years old. It was a truth that he had never contested and it bound their houses -- the Second and the Fifth -- in a timeless union. <As you say, Tehya,> Khell sighed aloud, allowing his shoulders to relax a slight amount. Tehya, 'my dear one', was not the proper term for a fully bonded couple. But they had not achieved the final stage of a common bonded marriage, yet. It was a point he had yet to discuss with Deanna. One for which he wasn't certain how to broach the subject, given her ... specific condition. Though he had yet to consider it a truly inescapable flaw. <Then we should permit him five or ten more minutes,> she suggested. <Of course,> Khell spoke with deference--despite his mood. It wasn't that he worried for upsetting her. Rather that some part of his psyche still preferred to yield under circumstances of potential conflict. In the ancient tradition, Betazed had been a matriarchal society; the female bore most of the burden of authority and responsibility. But much the way the human species had evolved from a largely patriarchal background, Betazed had long been a society of complete egalitarianism. Deanna's mind was clear and usually focused. And though he had known her well as a childhood friend before they wed, Darian had quickly begun to realize that he might easily love her as a woman some day. She seemed to feel the same for him as well. It was a good match, and he intended to manage it appropriately. Khell felt Deanna's fingers squeeze his shoulder just as a harried Starfleet Officer rounded the corner of the transport facility, traveling at a dangerous clip. The man stopped short a few meters away from them and began walking more calmly while he caught his breath. Darian looked him over and frowned again. "Minister Khell? Ambassador Troi?" "I am Darian Khell." "I'm Commander William Riker, your liaison from Starfleet headquarters. They told me you'd be here. I apologize for being late. There was a briefing," he lied. "This is Betazed's Ambassador. " Khell dismissed Riker's falsehood with a wave of his hand, indicating his companion, "and my wife," he smiled. Turning gracefully, Deanna met the wide-eyed stare of a suddenly speechless Commander. She stretched out an arm in greeting. "Deanna Troi," regarding his demeanor, she placed her fingers within Riker's larger hand and an amused smile tipped the corners of her lips when he said nothing at all. CHAPTER 4 Deanna Troi was perfect. In every physical way she was, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman that Riker had ever seen in his life. Long raven-colored hair fell in controlled increments, curling across the edges of her face; it tumbled over slender shoulders and down onto her back, held up by a series of exotic ties, each one subtler than the last. The effect was exquisite. And her eyes ... her eyes were the darkest he had ever seen. When she smiled at him, they filled with a radiance that took his breath away. "Are you well, Commander?" Deanna tipped her head. "I'm fine," he cleared his throat, "sorry, I think I'm still catching my breath from the run over here." Riker offered her a smile, and she returned it, accompanied by a look he somehow recognized as tolerant understanding. Of course she understood. What an idiot he was. She was Betazoid. She'd probably heard every embarrassing thought he'd just had about her. Glancing left and then right for an avenue or a hole to crawl into, Riker found there was none. The facility remained gallingly smooth and artificial; the other passengers blissfully unaware of his error. He pulled on his collar instead. In the end, it wasn't Ambassador Troi who answered his silent plea that they move forward, it was Darian Khell. "Please feel no shame, Commander," Khell smiled and turned to Troi, sharing a communicative look with her, "there are many who find the Ambassador attractive, on your planet as on ours." If he'd been moderately embarrassed before, Riker was wholly consumed by the feeling now. They had both known exactly what he was thinking. And he'd probably affronted the Minister by having those kinds of thoughts about his wife. "I assure you, you haven't offended me in the least," Khell went on frankly, "we do not attribute the same degree of importance to ... the physical ... that humans do. In time, you may come to understand our culture better, and you will see that it is not the body we strive to perfect." This time, there was no question that the Minister's tone had been deliberately condescending, and Riker forced himself to rein in his anger. Though it annoyed him that he had just been chastised as if he were an adolescent, he erected his posture and swallowed the ready barbed comment, wondering instead why the Ambassador had not spoken for herself. "Thank you for the instruction Minister Khell. As I'm not used to being in the company of someone who's able to read my thoughts so easily, I'm sure I'll be able to 'understand' your culture, given time." He turned to Troi, and was about to apologize again when she lifted her hand; eyes intriguingly alight at his subtle jibe. If Riker hadn't known any better, he might have sworn that she was pleased with him for taking her own husband down a peg. "Please," she shook her head, "there's no need." Her voice was warm; almost musical, and there was a slight accent. It was only a little bit different than Khell's, but it suited her perfectly. At least, Riker thought so. His heart stopped mid-breath and he tried forcing himself to think. Think of protocol or procedure; diplomatic tact -- of anything other than those dark, incredible eyes. He finally opted on a solution. "May I have your baggage claims so that we can get you settled?" he offered, leaning down to gather their two pieces of luggage from the floor. Smiling irreverently, Darian Khell inclined his head. "Of course, Commander," he gestured behind them to the anti-grav unit that followed dutifully a dozen or so paces behind. It was then that Riker noticed the entire platform was filled to capacity with luggage, containers and chests. "Would you direct us to your transport?" asked Troi. Riker's jaw dropped. Did Khell think he was some kind of baggage-boy? Or was this a roundabout slap in the face for his earlier indiscretion? "It's ... just outside," motioning in the general direction of the doorway, Riker picked up their light weight cases and watched his two charges with all the decorum he could manage as they followed his direction toward the shuttle. When they were out of earshot, he tapped his communicator. "Chief, leave the transport there and get in here quick. Also call HQ and arrange for..." he quickly estimated the quantity of luggage piled on the sleds. "a significant delivery vehicle and a couple of strong backs." There was a pause as Riker listened to the response on the earpiece. "No you can handle that -- you have the location, I'll take care of our guests." Another pause. "Chief, yes I do know how to fly a shuttle. Now GO!" Passing the Chief as they walked through the platform entrance, Riker grinned when he heard the other man groan and slap his chest. "Chief Johansen to quad six." //Six here. Lieutenant Hicks, go ahead Chief.// "I'm at transport facility twelve with Commander Riker. Ambassador Troi and Minister Khell have arrived and their ... luggage ... is going to need a type-five transport to the diplomatic compound." //Type five?// the voice came back, touched with obvious amusement, //what did they bring with them?// "Trust me Lieutenant," the Chief grumbled, "you don't wanna know." * Outside on the platform, Riker turned to his two charges. "Minister, Ambassador, will you please make yourselves comfortable," He smiled as the transport door slid open with a smooth, pneumatic hiss. Taking the pilots position, Riker keyed in his access code and glanced behind him. "You'll be flying?" asked Khell. "It's normally the chief petty officer's duty, but yes, since I've got him arranging for your luggage, I'll be taking you back to the retreat." Off the Minister's discomfited expression, Riker couldn't help adding: "There's really no need to worry, Minister, I'm fully qualified to pilot a ship in this class." Turning back to his console, Riker grinned to himself. Brushing both hands across the glass in an obvious way, he whispered aloud, "now where the hell is that ignition button...?" Unseen by either of the two men, Ambassador Troi leaned back in her chair and smiled. CHAPTER 5 The ride back to the diplomatic retreat was quiet. Riker piloted the small shuttlecraft, and only occasionally glanced at his passengers. Both of them were utterly silent. He wondered at that for a time, before he realized that they would occasionally exchange a look, or a smile that seemed more communicative than friendly. "Commander, is it always this ... cool ... on Earth?" Troi's voice startled him and he glanced up, tapping the autopilot entry and turning in his chair to regard her. She thought this was cold? Riker grinned, "It can be. Where I was born, it was a lot colder. Minus forty degrees celsius in winter. Here in San Francisco, it's considered pretty warm. We're in the middle of summer." "I see," Deanna Troi smiled slightly, but she drew her fingers lightly over her arm. "I'm sorry, of course." Riker keyed a command into the climate controls and the cabin began to warm noticeably. "Thank you, there's not as extreme a temperature swing on Betazed." "Never been to Earth before?" he asked, unable to quell his curiosity. "I have," Khell spoke up, "once. I was here as a boy with my family for a Federation summit." Riker nodded, "and you, Ambassador?" He looked over to Troi, who shook her head slowly. "My first time," she admitted, turning her eyes back out to the city which transformed into forest below them. "It's different than I thought it might be, but very beautiful." "Yes it is." Riker smiled back, "Where we're going, is even more beautiful. The diplomatic retreat is a compound in the coastal range, just north of San Francisco. It's a region that still has old growth Sequoia, huge trees that are incredible to see. The retreat has been there for almost two hundred and fifty years and is somewhat exclusive. It's a wonderful place to stay." "We've heard wonderful things," she looked up at him, and for an instant Riker couldn't tear his eyes away from hers. His heart began to press against the inside wall of his chest and he forced himself to pivot in his chair, reclaiming control of the shuttle. "We should be there in about five minutes." His hands danced over the console. "Tell me, Commander," asked Khell, "are you to be with us for the entire six months?" "Yes, sir." Riker affirmed, "My primary assignment is to insure that you and the Ambassador have everything you need, and to oversee the details of your visit. They're calling me your 'liaison officer'." "Since we are both unaccustomed to your planet, it will be welcome to have assistance in that regard." Khell smiled, and after the verbal sparing they'd exchanged earlier, it was the first time that Riker thought he might actually come to like the other man. "The pleasure is mine, Minister." "Please," Khell turned to Troi where something passed between them. He then returned his gaze to Riker, "call me Darian. If we're to be working together, I believe we should be on familiar terms. At the very least, whenever we're not at a public event." "Thank you, Mi-- Darian," Riker shrugged, "I'm William," he used his full name and wasn't certain precisely why, though Darian seemed not to notice. "William," it was Deanna who tried the sound of it. She smiled. "You can call me Deanna, if you'd like." She extended her husband's offer. "Deanna." He nodded, feeling inexplicably guilty for simply saying it aloud. "Actually, it -- it wouldn't feel right addressing you by your given names. Perhaps it's a 'human' cultural idiosyncrasy, but Starfleet seems to prefer a modicum of formality in diplomacy. So, please forgive me, but I really think it might be better if I used your official titles on most occasions." "Your consideration is appreciated Commander, but it would please us if you did refer to us by name -- at the very least, in private." said the Ambassador, her voice sending warm shivers down his spine. 'How does she do that?' he wondered. But then his thoughts turned to Rachel, and what she'd say if she knew what he'd been thinking, or rather trying not to be thinking, for the past hour. Riker swallowed the discomfort in his throat. "Here we are," beginning their descent; Riker took the small craft into a narrow clearing of the mountains. Surrounded protectively by a towering myriad of giant redwoods, the retreat seemed as though it were carved directly into the forest itself. "It's so beautiful," said Troi appreciatively, gazing in awe through a portal. "And we're only ten minutes from San Francisco. About fifteen to twenty minutes from most of the business and government centers where you and the Minister will be holding meetings." Riker pointedly avoided her gaze as he landed them with a master's precision. Sliding back in his chair, he turned for a final address. "Before we go in," he said, "you should know that this chalet is exclusively for your use during your stay. The housekeeping staff belongs to the lodge but everyone else, including the chief steward reports directly to me. Should you need anything locally, please ask the chief, who is at your disposal. The lodge has a concierge and you may, of course, call me directly at any time using these communicators." He handed one to each of his guests. "I also have a security detail on the premises but you should normally never see them unless you require assistance." Taking out his pad, Riker thumbed up the appointment book. "Minister, your first scheduled appointment will be at Starfleet headquarters at 09:30 local. I'll have a shuttle and pilot on standby from 08:30 on at your disposal." "That will be fine," said Darian absently, his mind on other matters. "Ambassador, according to this, your first meeting is at Federation Hall at 10:00 hours local. I'll escort you directly. In addition to myself, there are also three lodge pilots on staff who can take either of you anywhere you need to go. Just call the concierge's desk whenever you require a lift." "Understood," Troi spoke quietly as she sat back into the plush leather seat of the executive transport. Riker suddenly felt the urge to look up and examine her more closely. It was probably crazy, but it seemed to him that she'd been somehow disappointed by his deliberate return to formality. With both hands braced rigidly over the CON, he maintained his posture, reciting text-book tactical terms in his head as he punched the door's release. He deliberately avoided her gaze again as he picked up their light bags and exited the shuttle ahead of them. "Shall we get you two settled in, then?" CHAPTER 6 Rachel Morris dug her boot heel into the dirt and shoved upward with all her body weight. The rock-face beneath her hands held fast and she swung her leg up over the next rise. Reaching behind her, Morris extracted a tiny silver pin from her backpack, snapping the jewel-like object firmly into her wristband. She was just in time to hear it beep. //'LEGACY' to Commander Morris// With a tired sigh and a backhanded swipe across her damp forehead, Rachel pulled her wrist to her teeth and tugged on the band until the COMM badge tipped. "Morris here, this better be good." //Commander, we have a priority one call coming through for you.// "I'm on shore-leave!" she barked. //It's from Earth. Starfleet Command.// "Shit," Rachel swore under her breath. //I'm sorry Commander?// "Nothing. I heard you. I'll take it in my quarters in two minutes. Patch it through there." //Understood. I can have you beamed directly--// "Yes, damn it, that's the idea, Jarred. I'm hanging off the side of a cliff here," Morris yanked her gear-pack sideways, casting a glance at two-hundred feet of jagged rock-face beneath her. //Aye sir, Jarred out.// One hand on the rock, and the other on the side of her pack, Rachel took a final step to steady her footing ... and missed. With a livid curse, her body lost its hold on the rock face. She fell, it seemed, a hundred miles-per-second as the solid stone in the distance came rushing up to meet her face. Throwing both hands over her eyes, Rachel was only dimly aware of the precise moment when the prickle of transport surrounded her body, the cold rush of air ceased billowing her jacket, and she was gone. * Prying her damp face from the carpet in her quarters, Rachel sat up in one ungraceful motion, righting her posture and landing on both feet at once. "Jesus Christ!" she gasped, realizing that her knees were still shaking. She took a silent moment to thank a god she didn't worship that she was still alive. That she was alone. And that no one else had witnessed what would very likely have been an embarrassing moment for someone who'd come out the five-time champion in the rock-climbing competitions of Jarris IV. With a cleansing breath, Rachel rose to her full height and dropped her pack behind her. The light on her COMM was blinking steadily, and the message indicator read, "private." Swiping a tendril of long, dark hair from her forehead, she slapped her hand down on the bulkhead and snapped, "Computer, display message." A familiar face flickered brightly into view, and Rachel scowled. "Damn it, Riker, you almost killed me!" //What?// he seemed completely shocked by her demeanor. Somehow, the look on his face was endearing enough for her to let go of her anger and manage a wry smirk. "Never mind babe, what is it?" //Good to see you too, Rach. It's only been ... what, two months since you called?// "Don't patronize me, Will, it doesn't look good on you," she shook her head, "We were out of COMM range for the past five weeks." //Yeah, I heard,// he smiled, //just giving you a hard time.// "And doing a damn good job," she returned his smile, "I was going to call you in the morning, actually, we left Fenalli II three days ago." //Did it work?// "You know I could tell you that," she grinned. //But you'd have to kill me,// Riker finished, shaking his head, //you know, sometimes Rach, I don't know why you let them con you into that gig. They aren't even Starfleet...// "They ARE Starfleet Will, and we've had this conversation a hundred times before, I have to do this." //So you keep telling me.// "I do," she glanced away briefly and then sighed, "and I don't want to argue about it anymore, okay? It's been -- a long day." //Okay, yeah, all right. That's not why I called, anyway.// "I guess this is important, or you wouldn't be tying up priority one?" //It is,// his expression grew solemn, and she recognized the look. "Where are they sending you this time?" //Not as far out as you are,// he sighed, //actually, Rach, there's something you should know,// Riker's downcast eyes lifted and met her expression. She was suddenly certain that he was loath to tell her what he was about to. //I've been ... temporarily reassigned. Planetside. They've got me doing a 'diplomatic' tour.// "What about the 'HEDRA'?" Rachel shook her head, "I thought you guys were out in sector 002?" //We were,// Riker smiled self-deprecatingly, //until we 'ran into' the VALIANT.// "Ran into?" //Rachel, the 'HEDRA' isn't going anywhere for a while. Crew's been reassigned, and I--// "Jesus, Riker, what the hell happened?" //It's -- a very long story.// "Long and short." She placed her hands akimbo on her hips, watching as Riker paused in thought. He finally shrugged. //Admiral J'Nathan painted a target the size of a planet in front of me, and I ran right into it.// Rachel stood there, with her mouth agape and a look of disbelief on her face. "Why?" she asked. "The VALIANT was adrift before we ever got there, Rach, I'd swear to it. We were headed for the Goran colony, and all of a sudden ... // he trailed off with a deep frown. "What?" //It's not important. I screwed up. That's all. And I don't want to get into it. Not on the COMM like this.// With a quiet exhale, Rachel looked away, then back again. "Later?" //Okay,// he nodded, //I just ... I wanted you to know. It may affect our plans for next month.// "I got that part. How long?" //Six months.// "You're a real piece of work, Riker, you know that?" she finally grinned. //And so do you,// he grinned back. "If I find out you played the hero again and ruined our last chance at shore-leave together for the next half-a-year--" //I'll take you out to that restaurant on Risa...// "Yeah, I'll bet that's why you want to go to Risa!" Riker's look transformed from playful to serious and he sighed, //I miss ya, Rach.// "I miss you too, flyboy." //Look, I, I have to go, they can't keep a P-One open for much longer. I just wanted to say this in person, not on a recording.// "Okay," Rachel managed a small smile. "Thanks." //When'll you be back in range?// "Shouldn't be more than a day or so until we're okay for a two or three COMM signal." //Then I'll count the minutes,// Riker's smiling blue eyes and the tilt of his lips were the last things Rachel registered before she heard his voice say, //Riker out,// and he was gone. Stepping away from the COMM unit, Morris wandered to her hiking bag and scooped it off the floor. With a thoughtful glance at the empty room, she released a breath and turned, just as the door behind her chimed. CHAPTER 7 Sitting on the edge of her bed, Deanna Troi flipped idly through a stack of neatly folded belongings. Her hands brushed the edges of each garment and she lifted one with reverent care, setting it aside from the others. It wasn't often she was able to unpack; or to do much of anything for herself when it got right down to it. It seemed there was always someone else there to wrest her own belongings from her. Someone to sort them and stow them and make order whether she needed it or not. A valet or a chaperone or... her mother. Deanna sighed softly; releasing an audible breath. Another habit which her mother would most certainly have disapproved of. Born to the Fifth of Betazed's noble houses, Deanna Troi, like her mother, was a daughter of blood-line. Some might have called that blood-line royal standing. Had there still been a ruling family, she would have been the third in line to succession. But the days of 'ruling families' on Betazed had long since passed. Gone were the aristocratic doctrines of a matriarchal society; replaced with a far more egalitarian government. Something Deanna was certain - even had she been born to the old system - she would still vastly prefer. In a round-about sense, she supposed that the houses still held significant power; a modicum of figure-head authority which they saw fit to exercise in the form of political appointments, or more directly, when they decided to take up traditional duties in service of the planet... Duties and privileges which Deanna often felt she would give back in an instant; if only they would have allowed her to continue with her passion. Her one great love... Psychology. Of course, she had never said such things to her mother. Or to the traditionalist sect of the government. Or to her husband of just over a year. For them, and for everyone else, she had simply been confident. Serene. A perfect model of Betazed philosophy, and everything a newly appointed Federation Ambassador should be. In truth, her current situation fit well with the perception she had learned to accept since childhood. It was everything she thought she should ever have wanted to be. Even so there were moments when she felt woefully ungrateful. Unhappy, to say the least, and she was never certain of the reason why. Though she cherished her planet and her people, it never seemed to be entirely enough. Pausing in the midst of her task, Deanna glanced up from her belongings and a small smile warmed her features. She could sense Darian; feel his delicate mental probe and the curiosity with which he approached their bedchamber. <Tehya,> she heard him clearly in her thoughts, <why not wait for help with that?> <Because,> she answered him in kind, <it makes me feel useful,> and she brushed aside his obvious telepathic amusement. <You know I enjoy spending time with my thoughts, and these are little things that I'm allowed to do so infrequently, I--> <You derive pleasure from them, I understand.> His 'smile' was evident, even before he entered their suite. <Has Commander Riker been by?> Deanna continued to arrange her valise, but her eyes were drawn upward when her husband finally entered their doorway. <He was,> Darian proceeded to the bed, falling into it with considerably less grace and decorum than he had exhibited all afternoon. <I've told him to take the evening off. You know, Deanna, the man seems very...> <Ambivalent,> she finished for him, and was awarded with a meaningful nod. <You are much better than I am with human emotions.> <I should hope so,> Deanna smiled sweetly. <Did you want me to put away your bag as well?> Darian's nose wrinkled while he thought, <No, I think I would prefer to find my clothing in the morning,> he ducked out of the way when a pillow flew deftly by his ear and missed. <Suit yourself,> Deanna sank backward on the large bed and stared at the ceiling. <I think I might come to like this planet.> Though her focus never shifted, she knew that Darian had agreed. <I suppose it does have a certain ... charm. Although I generally find that humans can be some what pre-occupied with themselves.> Reaching next to her, Deanna slid her hand into her husbands; an action he neither aided nor refused. They lay like that; side by side in silence, until Darian finally moved. Gently extricating his hand from hers, he sat up slowly and began removing his jacket. <I think I'm rather exhausted,> Darian sighed, <And you have a meeting first thing in the morning. The Commander said that he would take you...> <Yes,> Deanna concealed her disappointment in the loss of contact. But she knew that it was probably Darian's own discomfort which prompted it. She had been trying of late, to deepen their moments of physical intimacy. On Betazed, the physical--while biologically necessary and pleasant--was forever secondary to the emphasis of the mind. Especially among the mentally adept members of the ruling houses. Deanna had always accepted that concept. She knew it and understood it, but there were moments when she felt that perhaps there might be some further nuance. Any way to better merge the two. Particularly because she herself was not a full telepath. It had been explained to her as a small child, when she longed to understand why the others called her 'different', that she was indeed dissimilar from other Betazoid children. Not in appearance or circumstance, for she had been born lucky by both of those, but in the reality of her half-human heritage She would forever recall the day she'd gone home in tears to her mother because a third grade teacher had rather condescendingly explained to her that she might never be able to experience what a full telepath knew of the mysteries of the mind. 'A poor little empath living among her betters', he had said. Of course, Lwaxana Troi had ensured he never worked again after that. So conceivably there was some justice, but Deanna was not vengeful and never had been. Perhaps *because* she was so strong an empath, the thought of hurting other people emotionally was more abhorrent to her than even the most ardent Betazoid could fathom. There were very few 'answers', growing up. There was only her pride, the instinct to care, and her abilities -- such as they were. Those, coupled with her willingness to be whoever she was, had dignified her. And the people she loved had never judged her poorer for it. Her problem in the present was Darian. While he was very solicitous of her in general, he was not particularly fond of experimentation. He was, perhaps, even more forceful than most in his opinion that they not cross the boundaries what he termed 'the higher form'. And so it seemed that Deanna's luck as a half-human woman, was that she'd married a cultural extremist. Sighing softly, she quelled her regret. Perhaps someday ... when they were more comfortable with each other... <Tehya,> her husband's warm endearment caressed her thoughts, and he returned from his valise, sliding carefully beneath the coverlet. <I've upset you, and that was never my intention.> <You haven't,> turning where she lay, Deanna met his eyes for the first time. <I'm sorry, Darian, I shouldn't have..> <It's only that ... to touch a person's body in intimacy, before you touch their mind ...> <'RaBeem',> Deanna closed her eyes and then reopened them. How could she stay frustrated when he was so sincere in his attempts to make her happy? <You are a perfect match for me,> Darian spoke a common phrase of endearment, and though Deanna had heard him say the words before, she had also felt -- in the deepest corner of her psyche -- that he was hiding something from her while he did. She had never known precisely what. Still, she gave in to the mental stroking. And when he bore her gently backward onto their bed, Deanna allowed Darian to make love with her in the way she knew that he might always choose. CHAPTER 8 Ambassador Troi was stunning, Riker decided. Even perched in full consulate regalia at the edge of her chair; even sitting at a courteous distance with her eyes on the horizon outside their shuttlecraft. It was practically insane, but Riker once again found himself quelling an undeniable and wholly confusing feeling of ... connection ... he seemed to feel whenever she was near him. Nothing could account for it. Nothing he rationalized made sense, but there was ... 'something' in that nothing. And it was 'something' damned unnerving. He shook his head. Thoughts like these were certainly not productive, and they could get a man into a whole lot of trouble sitting next to a telepath. Especially at oh-seven-hundred hours while he was supposed to be escorting her to an introduction with the Ambassador of Bolias. At least they were going to be right on time. That was something Riker could think about. Her schedule. A thought that was both safe and quiet. Which was why it came as a moderate surprise when Deanna turned suddenly from the window and spoke. "Have you always been a pilot?" she asked. "I beg your pardon?" "A pilot," Deanna adjusted the hands she'd folded primly in her lap, "have you always been one?" He shrugged, "have you always been an Ambassador?" "In a way, I suppose I have." "Well, then I guess I've always been a pilot too," Riker grinned, trying desperately to break the air of formal tension that was a continual state of discomfort for him. When he'd opted to keep his distance, it had simply been a matter of self-preservation. He'd never realized that she might take the action as a silent request to treat him any differently than she had been. But Deanna seemed to think that he was bent on formality, and she'd gone out of her way since then to perpetuate a circumstance of professional decorum. She probably thought it would make him feel more comfortable. It was having precisely the opposite effect. "To be honest, I've been flying since I was fourteen," he admitted, shifting awkwardly in his seat. "Fourteen? You were scarcely a child..." "Yeah, well my father thought it was a good idea that I take lessons and 'be a man.'" he threw her a sidelong glance and caught her curious gaze. Oh god, she had the loveliest pair of fathomless dark eyes... Riker's hands froze on the console. Struggling to clear his thoughts, he opted to check his readings rather than look back at her again. "In hindsight, it was probably the best thing that ever happened to me. I always wanted to sit in one of these chairs; always loved that feeling you get when the Earth falls away and bleeds right into the sky..." Deanna regarded him frankly. Her expressive gaze seemed to look right through him before she acknowledged, "you're very good at it." If she'd caught his embarrassment over his earlier thoughts, it didn't show in her expression. Or else she was being exceedingly polite... "At this?" Riker smiled, grateful for the reprieve, "This really is child's play. Now, when you're stuck on the edge of the neutral zone with two Romulan warbirds on your tail and a Starship too far away to reach you before they arrive ... that's flying." He waggled his eyebrows while Troi's eyes took him in with a measure of surprised amusement. It was the first time since they'd left the retreat that Riker saw her smile, and it made him feel unusually warm inside. "I stand corrected," she nodded demurely. "Spoken like a true Federation Ambassador." "All right," Deanna sat up in her chair. The air of formality she'd adopted seemed to fall away in an instant and she tilted her head, eyes alight, "you'd like to know what I really think? I think it's instinct to react when one is in danger. Fight or flight. The imperative to move is there. Where's the challenge?" "Are you a student of philosophy?" Riker glanced up at her, intrigued. "Psychology, actually," her voice took on a wistful note, "or I was, once." "Not anymore?" "Now I'm an Ambassador." Deanna smiled and furrowed her nose. It was a gesture that Riker found amazingly endearing. "Well, we're never only one thing, are we?" he tapped in a final series of coordinates, "you're not just an Ambassador, I'm not just a pilot." Troi looked out the window, her eyes drank in the city below them and she seemed lost in thought for a time. "That's true," she said quietly, arranging an invisible fold on her elegant gown. Several moments passed where nothing at all was spoken. Several charged moments, before Riker realized he was feebly entertaining the very same thought all over again. The one he couldn't seem to control; the one that screamed Deanna Troi was the most incredibly sensual woman he'd ever met. Now he *knew* that she was being polite. It was either that, or... "Why haven't you read my thoughts yet?" he blurted the question, instantly disgusted by his own breach in etiquette. Deanna looked up from her window and shrugged, "it wouldn't have been courteous." "But your husband, yesterday," he corrected, "the Minister..." "Wasn't being very courteous," Troi finished his sentence, appending a rueful smile. "On Betazed, some of us forget to respect the barriers of species who are not as well disciplined as we are." She'd meant the comment as an act of contrition, but to Riker, it sounded more like pity. Pity for all of humanity. "We're not all that 'undisciplined' around here, you know. We may not be able to read minds, but we do know ourselves well enough to think." "That's not what I meant," Troi frowned in puzzlement and Riker worked to quell the rising anger in his gut. He wasn't sure what it was, exactly, but every time one of his Betazoid 'charges' made an allowance for humanity, it seemed they did it out of some damned annoying sense of compassion. "Actually, I can't," said Deanna. Her casual remark threw him off balance. "I beg your pardon?" "I can't read your thoughts," she shook her head contritely, "I'm an empath, not a telepath. I can sense what you're feeling, but not what you're thinking. I am only able to share thoughts telepathically with another Betazoid." "Oh--" Riker glanced up briefly from his console. There were few moments in his life when he'd felt like a total cretin, but this had quickly begun to qualify as one of them. It was obvious from Deanna's expression that this was a point of pride among her people. She was acting as though her admission was something that shamed her, and Riker didn't know whether to say he was sorry, or to ignore it all together. He opted for neither. "Well, if you ask me, being an empath is pretty damn incredible. I can't do anything that interesting with what I've got in here," he tapped the side of his head and glanced backward. "About the only thing it's been good for lately is getting me into trouble." Offering Troi a crooked grin, Riker raised both eyebrows and shrugged. It seemed to work. A moment later, she was smiling again. "What?" he feigned reproach, "Oh, I see, you're amazed that I'd admit to something like that?" Deanna regarded him with what could only be described as fond tolerance. "Aside from the fact that your modesty is entirely false, Commander Riker, I'm rather amazed that I feel so comfortable with you, after only a few hours." "Well I have that effect on people," he grinned, "I'm just a helluva guy." "I imagine you are, Commander," whispered Troi, "I imagine you are." * When the shuttle touched down on the tarmac at Starfleet Headquarters, a short balding Lieutenant rushed over to greet them. Hurried and apologetic, it was his unfortunate duty to deliver the news that the Bolian Ambassador had contacted headquarters, fewer than two minutes earlier, in order to state that he would not be arriving for another week. Riker's sound of annoyance was profoundly louder than Troi's. "You couldn't have called in on the COMM, Lieutenant?" he demanded curtly. "Yessir, but you were already here. There was no time--" the small man stammered. "All right," Riker glanced over his shoulder at Troi who shook her head, indicating her own confusion. "Did headquarters leave any other instructions?" he asked. "No sir, just that you're to take the Ambassador wherever she wishes for the day." "Wherever she wishes?" Riker almost laughed, "she doesn't know this city!" The Lieutenant blanched, "I'm sorry sir, that's what I was told." "So now I'm a tour guide, is that it?" "I-- I don't know, sir--" "Never mind! Out!" he shouted, slamming his hand down on the entrance panel. As the door hissed back into position, Riker turned slowly and regarded Deanna where she was sitting. "Unless you have other plans, Ambassador, it looks like you're stuck with me for the day." He raked a hand back through his hair, knowing full well she had heard the rest of his diatribe. "You're angry," Deanna stated simply. "No. I--" he stopped short and turned a chagrined look in her direction, "A little. But it has nothing to do with you, Ambassador, I apologize--" "Deanna," she corrected him with a smile. "And you really should stop apologizing. I don't bite..." He glanced at the floor again. "Look, I can take you ... pretty much anywhere you want to go. Is there somewhere specific you might know of that you'd like to see? Anywhere on the planet..." "Not on my account," Deanna shook her head, pausing for thought. "Darian will be in conference until fairly late this evening," she glanced up at him, "I suppose that you could take me back to the retreat? If you have somewhere you'd planned to be today, I certainly won't mind." "No, it isn't that--" Riker shook his head, "God, I'm behaving horribly." He dropped down into a seat in front of her and exhaled a rueful breath. "You've been angry since we met," Troi nodded sympathetically, "I can sense that it has nothing to do with me." Both of them were quiet for a time, before she placed her hand very lightly on his arm. "Would it help to talk about it?" she asked him softly. "No." Riker shot back, averting his eyes from hers. "It's not important anyway. Just another drawn out bitter-soldier story." "I really am quite good at listening, William," she pressed, using his name rather than his rank, and Riker found he loved the sound of her voice when she said it. "Who knows? Sometimes talking with a stranger can be quite helpful." His first impulse had been to exhale a cynical breath; to reiterate another adamant 'no,' just as he had earlier. But something stopped him. Something in the look she gave him tempered the cadence of his response. He shook his head and almost laughed. "So, do I call you 'Counselor Troi' or what?" "Well, whatever makes you comfortable," Deanna smiled demurely, "But I'm not officially a Counselor." "Good, because I'm not officially 'losing my mind', either." Her smile was sympathetic. "I never felt for a moment that you were." "Look, I'm sorry, Deanna. I just don't think that talking -- with anyone -- would be the best thing for me right now. I shouldn't have said anything, and I, apologize again, for the way that I was acting." Troi looked down. It was clear that she was somehow disappointed with what he'd said. But she made no further attempt to convince him one way or another. "I understand," she nodded. "You're not just a student, are you? You were a real psychologist," he afforded her a scrutinizing look, "I'll bet you're still practicing..." Deanna sighed quietly. "Great," he murmured aloud, "You probably think I'm--" "I probably think," she interrupted him gently, "that you're a little upset right now. I'd guess you had a good reason for that. And I'm beginning to wonder if a part of it does have something to do with my presence." Riker cleared his throat uncomfortably. The fact was, it *did* have a little to do with her presence, but only because she was so damned intuitive about him. When he was around her, he felt as though all his logic; every sturdy wall he'd ever built in his lifetime was teetering on the verge of collapse. Somehow, Deanna Troi made him feel weaker than he wanted to be. He frowned. "You should know, I tend not to get along very well with doctors." Troi arched an eyebrow but seemed to accept his statement as true, "Any doctors?" she inquired, "Or just the ones who might be able to help?" Riker smirked. "I guess we'll never know." Powering up the shuttlecraft, he input his code and turned in his seat. "So where to, Ambassador? I'm all yours, and it looks like I've got nothing but time..." CHAPTER 9 They spent the day in San Francisco. Deanna had never seen the city before, and Riker found -- much to his own surprise -- that in showing it to her, he felt as though he hadn't really seen it either. There was something to be said for looking through the eyes of another person; sharing their new experience. And Deanna was like a kid in a candy store. Every place they visited, every new shop, city park, and sometimes even street corner, she would stop and take it in like someone dying of a thirst for humanity. Riker couldn't figure that out either. Because to hear her describe Betazed, the planet was paradise. The day wore on and turned into evening before either of them was aware of the time, and they found themselves standing on the waterfront, under looking the incredible suspension bridge for which the city was so well renowned. It was bathed in orange sunlight; red and gold and yellow, as a great ball of fire descended in the horizon. Riker smiled at Deanna's awe; the way she focused on the delicate monolith with both eyes wide open. "Don't you have bridges on Betazed?" he asked. "Yes," Deanna whispered, "but none I've ever seen that catch the sun this way." "It's called the Golden Gate." "I can see why," she turned to face him and the look on her face changed. "Thank you." "For what?" Riker shrugged, gesturing toward the water's edge, "I'm afraid I can't take credit." Deanna smiled and shook her head, "that's not what I meant." "I know," he grinned at her, shoving both hands into his pockets and turning toward the sunset himself. "Do you always do that?" asked Troi, still pondering his posture with her look. "What?" "Self deprecate? Turn towards humor rather than accept the commendation you might deserve?" "Are you a psychologist again?" Riker threw her a sidelong glance. "I'm afraid I can't seem to get it out of my system," Deanna wrinkled her nose. The gesture was so disarming that it forced Riker's shoulders to fall. "I didn't mean to disregard your kindness," he apologized. "There you go again, apologizing." Troi sighed deeply, eyes back on the horizon, "You needn't be sorry, I've had a wonderful time today." "Really?" "Really," she shook her head and smiled, "is that so difficult to believe?" "Well, maybe a little," admitted Riker, "To be frank, city tours aren't really my specialty. I prefer the great outdoors." "Ah. You're a nature lover then." "It's not just a love," he shook his head, "it's an obsession. I know just about everything there is to know about the outdoors on Earth. It's been a passion of mine. Ever since I was a kid..." He trailed off, unexpectedly uncomfortable. For no good reason he could fathom, Riker suddenly felt the urgent need glance at his chronometer. "It's getting late," he offered her his arm. "The Minister should be back by now." "Yes," Deanna moved slowly towards him and linked her arm in his. "He probably is." As they made their way to the shuttle, she turned toward him and looked up into his face. "William?" "Yes?" Riker caught her eyes and once again he felt the heavy press of something indescribable within his chest. "Would you show me what you love about the outdoors, sometime?" Without reason, the knot in his chest moved south. "Sure," he swallowed as nonchalantly as possible, filling his mind with thoughts of Rachel. Their last trip together. The last time he'd seen her, fewer than two weeks earlier... it was working. Deanna's expression changed and she afforded him a puzzled frown. It was there for only an instant. "Thank you," she nodded politely, but though their arms were still linked, an air of formality slid firmly back into place. CHAPTER 10 Standing on the outskirts of the diplomatic retreat, William Riker laid his hand against the rough edge of a giant conifer, idly examining its bark. Day twenty of his 'penalty sentence' on Earth had come and gone, and he was more than eager to take a weekend off. To see Rachel again. She was flying in this evening, and they had booked a quiet, out of the way hotel to spend some time alone together. He could hardly wait. Since the tour he'd given the Ambassador, Riker had accompanied her to a great many of her meetings--often at her request. All things considered, both she and her husband had turned out to be fairly decent people. Not that he'd spent a lot of time with the Minister. Khell's schedule was filled with appointments, many of which took him off planet. And between the other man's itinerary and Deanna's frequent visits to various political heads of state, the majority of Riker's time had been spent attending to the Ambassador. Oddly, though Troi and her husband hadn't spent any great amount of time together since their arrival on Earth, they seemed to take it all in stride. Or at least, the Minister did. There were days when Riker would arrive to find Deanna sitting silent and thoughtful at the giant window in the foyer of the consulate retreat. Her dark eyes would turn and fix on his, and in a single compelling moment, he might have sworn that she was desperately sad. But, then she'd always smile, and make up some excuse, and they would move on with their conversation as though none of it had ever happened. She was stoic in that sense. Stronger than Riker felt that he might have been, given her particular circumstance. But that was only one of a number of traits he'd begun to realize were intrinsic to Deanna Troi. His initially uncomfortable attraction to her had become manageable. Primarily because when neither she nor Khell were around, Starfleet managed to keep him very busy with other matters. And that was just fine with Riker. The less time he had to think, the more quickly 'things' went by, and the sooner this would be over. The sooner he could get his career back on track and take XO of another starship. He smiled. "William?" At the unexpected sound of a familiar voice, Riker turned and came face to face with Ambassador Troi. She was casually attired, and he had to blink at that, because he'd never seen her dressed without the purpose of attending some official formality or other. What she was wearing, though elegant by human standards, was decidedly plain for a Betazoid. Even so she was stunning. Her long dark hair was swept backward, tucked behind her ears and held in place with a loose clip, and strangely, she seemed smaller than usual. Lacking in layers of formal clothing, she was delicate enough that he might have called her elfin. "Did you need something, Ambassador?" Riker moved toward her, but she waved him back with a smile. "No, I'm fine, I was only wandering," her voice trailed off and her head tilted back, admiring the towering conifers above them. "The trees here are so tall," she whispered in awe. "Yes," he followed her gaze, and then turned toward her. "It's like this in Alaska as well -- where I grew up." Deanna shook her head.. "Alaska?" Riker voiced the question for her. He turned in a slow circle until he was sure of his bearings, then he pointed north, "out there, about thirty-five hundred kilometers north-west of us." "Very cold," recalled Troi, wearing a thoughtful smile. Riker laughed, "colder than here. But it's also beautiful," he sighed wistfully, "some days you can look out over the mountains and it seems like you can see forever..." "There's a place like that on Betazed as well," Deanna responded animatedly, "in Tana province, where I grew up." "You lived in the mountains?" he asked. "Near them, until my father died..." she trailed off, glancing at the forest floor. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "Oh, it's all right," her dark eyes lifted and met with his, "it happened a long time ago." "I was three when my mother died," he blurted the remark before he'd even thought about it and immediately regretted the indiscretion. He never told anyone about his mother. It was a personal rule. One he'd just broken for the first time. Clearing his throat, Riker managed a short breath. To her credit, Deanna didn't seem as though she had even begun to pity him. "I'm sorry," he offered her a wan smile "this isn't something you need to hear about. It's not something I meant to say--" Troi's eyes remained on him and he could feel her quiet appraisal, "He was human," she whispered. "What?" "My father. He was human. He was in Starfleet, as a matter of fact." "Starfleet?" "You're shocked by that." "Well," he pulled his hand back through his hair, "yes, a little. I guess it makes some sense, though." "Why would you say that?" Deanna's eyes narrowed, she placed her hands on her hips, and there was genuine accusation in her gaze. It took Riker momentarily aback. "You just seem so fascinated by Earth sometimes. The way you look at things, it's like you've always wanted to see them. I didn't know what to make of it before," he narrowed his eyes, "now I think I understand." "Really," Troi exhaled a short breath, stunned by his perception "You know, some of us live out our entire lives without the slightest notion that there's anything 'wrong' in our not being able to read one another's thoughts." Extending his hand, Riker lifted it above her shoulder but didn't set it down. Instead his fingers brushed the edge of her arm. Deanna shivered at the touch, turning to regard him. "There is nothing wrong with your not being able to read another's thoughts," she shrugged. "You're human." "I am human. But to hear you say it, it's either a hardship or a curse." Her eyes widened. "Neither. It's a statement of fact." //Morris to Riker// His COMM badge chirped, and both Riker and Troi jumped at the intrusion. "Riker here," his frustrated expression transformed into a wide smile, "Rachel, it's great to hear your voice." //That better not be all it is, Riker, I was expecting to see you here ten minutes ago...// "Here? Oh ... Damn it. I'm sorry Rach," temporarily releasing his smile, Riker glanced at Troi, "I was ... held up by official business. But I'm off-duty now. I'll be there in five." He noticed the Ambassador was studiously avoiding his gaze. //I'm timing you,// laughed Rachel, //Morris out.// "Oops," he cringed good-naturedly, turning to Troi. "I'm sorry, I--" "You have to go," Deanna cut in, her earlier discomfort replaced by a serene expression. "I understand. Have a good time, Commander. You deserve a few days rest." Blind to her change in countenance, Riker grinned. "I'll have to introduce you to Rachel – Commander Morris - some day. I don't think the word 'rest' is in her vocabulary," he winked and flashed Troi one of his signature smiles. "I'll see you later ... COUNSELOR." Deanna crossed her arms over her chest, but Riker was gone before he could possibly have noticed the color that stole into her features. CHAPTER 11 "You okay, lover-boy?" Riker lay with Rachel in his arms; his hands caressed a tendril of her long, auburn hair. It would be their last night together for nearly a month, and he had finally begun to feel that it wasn't enough. The meetings, each passionate and furious rendezvous. They had hardly been sufficient to satisfy. And Riker realized, perhaps for the first time ever, he wanted more. He was ready for more, and maybe his career was as well. "Rach?" he asked her, responding to her question with one of his own. "Hm?" "Do you think... maybe ... maybe we should get married?" Riker felt her body freeze on his. She grew absolutely still, and for an insane instant, he thought of checking her for a pulse. But suddenly she shifted, turning slowly in his arms. "Are you proposing to me?" her green eyes sparkled in the semi-darkness of their hotel suite. "Yeah," he whispered, "I guess I am." "My god, Will." "Is that a no?" "No! I-- I mean, no, it's not a 'no', it's just-- I never thought I'd see the day, that's all," she ducked her head, a slow smile growing across her face. "Then your answer would be--?" Riker propped himself up on one arm, regarding her intently. "Yes," with a wide grin, Rachel fell into his arms and kissed him deeply. "I'll marry you flyboy." She pressed him gently backward, crawling over him on the mattress. But there she stopped, running her tongue across her lips at his frustrated groan. "Did you want something, Riker?" Rachel purred teasingly, languishing against the broad surface of his chest. "You know I do," he growled, forcing a gasp from her lips when the heat of their bodies pressed intimately together. Planting a kiss on the base of her neck, Riker drew in everything about her. Her smell, her presence, the way her warm skin felt flush against him. She'd said yes to his marriage proposal! She was going to be his wife... So why was he thinking about Deanna Troi? Forcing his eyes shut, he hurled the thought from his consciousness, as far as it would go. Rachel didn't seem to notice. Hooking her hands behind his neck, she drew him forward for a soul-shattering kiss. And then she was under him, and he was inside of her, and thoughts of Deanna; thoughts of the Earth, the Universe, and just about everything else that had ever entered his consciousness melted quickly away. * With his feelings still pleasantly focused on Rachel, Riker grabbed his weekend bag and exited the shuttle. Approaching the diplomatic compound, he followed a side path towards the rear of the garden, but made it only halfway before he nearly collided with another man. Darian Khell and Deanna Troi were standing directly in front of him, eyes locked and extremely intent on something. They had been arguing. That much was abundantly clear. But it hadn't been the sort of argument that anyone might have heard. The most obvious difference between a Betazoid couple and a human one was in the silence. Over the past few weeks, Riker had come to realize a great many things about his charges, and this was definitely one of them. "Commander," Khell broke contact with his wife in a manner she seemed to find displeasing. The Minister turned and smiled warmly at Riker. "I trust your weekend was both eventful and restful?" Whatever had occurred between the pair, it had left them both in a state of nervous unease. Riker had come to know Deanna Troi well enough to read the nuance of her body language, and as she turned to face him, it was clear that she was upset. Trading a look between Troi and her husband, Will opted to feign ignorance of the situation. "Restful?" he smiled noncommittally, "not really. But it was definitely eventful." Deanna focused on him, attentive of his choice in wording. "You have something to tell us?" she inquired. Riker's face broke into a wide grin. "I guess you two can be the first to know. I am officially engaged." "Engaged?" Darian exclaimed, "well that's wonderful news! This is the woman ... the other officer," he turned to his wife, "the one you told me about, Tehya?" Blushing at his indiscretion, Deanna managed a short nod, "Rachel Morris?" "That's right." Riker smiled anew. "I must say that for a man who was on the verge of such a significant change in his life, this is a bit of a surprise. You've been most circumspect," laughed Darian. "Well, I, um, I guess I'm just a little guarded about my personal life, most of the time." Riker shrugged briefly. "That's certainly understandable and commendable, Commander, congratulations!" Khell clapped him on the back in a decidedly human manner. "Thank you, Minister." Riker's eyes were drawn to Troi's. Inexplicably he found himself comparing her deep dark eyes with the emerald green of Rachel's. She was studying him frankly and when Darian stepped back, she came forward and embraced him. "Our fondest wishes, William" Deanna whispered in his ear, her small hands took one of his and she squeezed it. "May you both always be happy," she said, releasing him again. "Thank you," He proffered a wide smile, wondering at the way his palm still felt a tingling warmth from her touch. "You must join us for dinner," said Darian, "We'll raise a glass of our finest wine in your honor," he turned to Deanna for a brief and silent exchange. She smiled and nodded. "Oh, that really isn't necessary--" Riker stammered. "Nonsense," interrupted Khell, "you're the nearest thing to a dear friend we have on this planet. You wouldn't deny us the opportunity to celebrate your good fortune, would you?" Again Riker's focus was inexplicably drawn to Troi's. He had to force himself to look away from her. "That's very generous," he exhaled quickly, "I guess I can't refuse. Thank you." Darian nodded. "If you'll excuse me then. I didn't mean to interrupt," Riker said as he stepped around the pair to continue toward his quarters. But the Minister stopped him with a firm hand on his shoulder. "Tehya," Khell's eyes turned to his wife, "There's something I'd like to discuss with Commander Riker. If it's all right with you, would you join us inside?" Glancing at Troi, Riker could find no expression on her face at all. "Of course," she traded a look between the two men. Without a backward glance, Deanna moved gracefully toward the house, and when the door closed behind her, Darian's expression became one of grave importance. "Commander, you're quite fond of my wife, are you not?" "W--what?" Riker choked loudly, covering the mishap with a stifled cough. "I apologize if I've upset you. We are used to being somewhat more open with our thoughts and our feelings on Betazed, than humans are." "No. I'm not upset, I--" "Please, Commander. I misspoke. What I should have said is that she seems to enjoy the time you've spent with her and I know that you are attracted to her." Off Riker's discomfited expression, Khell smiled, "We appreciate your unfailing kindness and availability, and I would like to thank you for that." "Is there something specific that I can do for you, Minister?" "We are, as you know, here on Earth for a working holiday. But our government rather abruptly planned our stay. I've been given more traveling to do than she has, and the hours have been difficult ... for both of us." Composing his posture, Riker put forth his best serious face and nodded. "I think I understand." "Good. Then there is a matter I would like to request your assistance with," Khell continued. "One of a somewhat personal nature which I hope you will not refuse." "Anything I can do." "In the coming weeks, I will be here less often than I had planned. I have a number of... duties and meetings that will occupy most of my time. Unfortunately, this will leave the Ambassador unescorted for certain critical affairs I was to attend with her." Darian glanced up and locked eyes with the much taller Riker. Though he said nothing, Riker couldn't help expressing his curiosity with a raised eyebrow. "It would make me feel better if I knew that she was not ... alone." "Minister," Will stalled, "wouldn't it be easier if you two arranged to travel together? I'm sure I could set that up. And the Ambassador's presence at any of these meetings would--" Darian smiled. "We have discussed this and it's simply not possible. If she were of lower rank in the government than I am, that would work. However Deanna's position and authority is significantly higher than mine." "But traveling together..." "Out of the question. It would seem as though we were pressuring those with whom I am negotiating. You must understand, it would not be appropriate, politically." "I see," Riker really didn't see, but he averted his gaze momentarily, wondering if this had been the topic of silent discussion he'd witnessed earlier. "Minister..." "William, I know that you have much to occupy your personal time." Khell cut in, "But I sense that you enjoy her company as much as she does yours. I know that she has begun to think of you as a friend. It would please me to know that she was being attended while I am otherwise occupied. Perhaps if I made this a 'formal' request--" Riker slowly exhaled. He had been working very hard to keep a lid on his feelings. Knowing that Darian Khell had been aware of what he'd occasionally thought was difficult enough. He might even have wondered if the Minister was goading him -- except that he seemed so damn sincere. It appeared as though he truly wanted someone to be there for Deanna while he was away. And Riker had to admit, he admired the man for having the strength of character to ask. He made it a point to meet the Minister's eyes directly in response. "You want me to formally escort and to... entertain the Ambassador while you're on assignment?" "Yes," Khell nodded, "That is, whenever you're on-duty, of course. I would never presume to encroach on your personal time," he smiled knowingly, "especially now." Considering Darian's request, Riker drew in a breath. He finally released it, nodding slowly. Whatever attraction he may have felt toward Deanna was certainly not something he couldn't control. He could deal with it, regardless of how much time he spent with her. Now that he was engaged, he could deal with anything. And Khell was right; he had begun to think of Deanna as a friend. The request seemed harmless enough... "No need to make it a formal request, sir. I would be happy to provide the Ambassador with whatever company she might prefer." "You're a good man, William." Khell clapped him on the back a second time and Riker grinned. "You're picking up our customs quickly, Minister." "I'm trying," muttered Khell. The two men headed for the interior of the complex, "it fascinates me how important your physical gestures are to one another." CHAPTER 12 Deanna Troi started. With a curious frown, she set down her novel and regarded the doorway to her suite. There was someone there. Someone familiar. Someone she had begun to sense far more clearly than most of the others in the complex. Perhaps more clearly than she should have... Dismissing the thought as errant, she waited until the door-chime finally rang and answered, "Come in," watching in perplexed amusement as a cautious Commander Riker stepped inside. He was in a very odd mood. "Am I disturbing you?" he asked. "Not at all, Commander." He smiled, "I was hoping you might be free tonight." "Free?" "Free for dinner," Riker cleared his throat and adjusted his sleeve absently while Deanna was momentarily taken aback. Her first impulse had been a warm thrill of excitement at the prospect of something new; something other than the cool neutral walls of her suite to look back at. But then it dawned on her ... Commander Riker seemed awfully circumspect. Her dark eyes narrowed. "Does this have anything to do with Darian asking you to 'look after me'?" she scowled, "because I assure you, Commander this isn't the first time I've handled a few meetings on my own. I don't need a chaperone--" "Actually," Riker cut in gently, "the Minister did ask me to stop by every now and then to make sure you're all right," he paused off her deepening scowl, "but that's not why I'm here right now. I promise." Deanna appraised him for a time. She scanned his civilian attire and then settled her gaze on his eyes. They were far bluer than she remembered, and for a moment she found herself caught up in the intensity of his stare; unable look away. "I can-- I can come back if--" he gestured to her doorway. "No!" Relinquishing her suspicion and freeing herself from the strange hold she'd fallen into, she managed an impassive shrug. "I suppose I am ... free," and she was rewarded with his smile. "Great," Riker took another step into her quarters, "I know an amazing place, but you're going to have to change." Glancing down at her long dress, Troi blanched. "Why?" she asked. Was there something inappropriate in what she'd worn? As though he'd read her thoughts, Riker shook his head, "you look lovely, Ambassador," "Deanna," she corrected. "Deanna," he smiled, "the problem is, you look too lovely, and where we're going, it's ... pretty casual. Earth casual, if you know what I mean." Though she colored slightly, Troi nodded. "I see, well, if you'll give me a few minutes," she gestured towards her bedroom, "I think I have something that might work a little better..." "Take all the time you need." While she sorted through her wardrobe, Deanna heard Riker take a seat in the living-room. His emotions were curious. Primarily inquisitive. There was obviously something on his mind that he had hoped to share, though just what that might be, she couldn't discern. She was about to voice the observation, when she heard him speak. "So ... you and the Minister must do a lot of traveling, I'll bet." Pausing in her task, Deanna held a garment in her hands and glanced back at the doorway. "Some," she answered. "Your husband tells me that you two are both ... royalty, of some kind?" Again Deanna faltered, but this time she frowned as well, "I wouldn't say that precisely, no." "Oh? I'm sorry. I could have sworn--" "No doubt my husband did use the word 'royalty'." Deanna sighed, " I suppose, in a way, he's only being faithful to the old traditions. He and I belong to families associated with the Ten Great Houses of Betazed. For some, that makes us... what you might refer to as 'royalty', though it really is in title only." "We have the same sort of thing here," Riker called back, "centuries ago, there were Kings and Queens on every continent. And we still have blood-lines that tie back to those generations. They don't have any real authority, though." "It's similar on Betazed," pulling a loose blouse around her shoulders, Deanna continued, "I imagine that we're something of a 'traditionalist' culture as compared with Earth, from what I've gathered." "Can't argue with that," Riker's voice grew thoughtful, "we can't all seem to agree on what 'tradition' is here. It's probably safer that we don't." "That's a very philosophical statement, William," Deanna drew the last of her clothing on and moved to a mirror where she lifted a hairbrush. "So, did you really come here to discuss the current state of your sovereignty, or is there something else you'd wanted to ask me?" "What do you mean?" "I can sense that you're considering an idea, and that it has something to do with me. I can only infer from that, that you have something you wanted to say to me. And that it's part of the reason you're here tonight." "Oh," he sighed, "I guess I should know better than to stall, with an empath." "True," Deanna smiled. "But I haven't minded the conversation, if that's what you mean." Entering the living-room, she stopped several feet from the couch and looked down at him. When his eyes lifted, he met her expression and she saw him return her smile. "That," he gestured at her new attire, "is perfect. You look beautiful, Ambassador." "Deanna," she admonished again. "Am I going to have to bring something to flog you with every time you call me 'Ambassador'? Riker laughed. "No, of course not," his sparkling blue eyes lifted to meet her gaze. "You look lovely, Deanna." "Thank you, William," she smiled again, wondering at the way her heart was racing faster than it should have been, "It's not something I'd normally wear--" "But it suits you!" he grinned, rising to link his arm with hers. "Shall we go, Amb-- Deanna?" "Nice save," she returned his grin, "We can certainly go. If you were planning to skip the part where you tell me what it is you wanted to ask..." "I was hoping to," Riker nodded as though the answer were a simple one, "for now." "All right then, let's go." * "What is this place?" Deanna sighed as she stared out over San Francisco bay. The breeze from the waterfront caressed her hair and blew it gently backward. She shivered, but not from the cold. "It's called a 'sidewalk cafe'," Riker smiled, lifting his wine glass and tipping it sideways so the light from the streetlamp caught its edge and glinted. "Technically, it's a European Earth concept, but the idea of sitting outside like this, surrounded by water and fresh air, is really one of the only 'traditions' that I think this whole planet would agree on." "I think it's beautiful," Deanna regarded Riker, and she decided that there was something about the look in his warm blue eyes that made her wish he would keep staring at her, in just that way, forever. "Thank you for taking me," she smiled. "My pleasure. Did you enjoy your dessert?" "I'm afraid you've discovered my weakness," she rolled her eyes, "I've never met a chocolate I didn't like." Riker laughed, "Well, that's good to know. I'll remember that, the next time..." trailing off, he suddenly cleared his throat. Leaning forward in her chair, Deanna looked back at him, confused. "The next time, what?" "Nothing," he seemed suddenly distracted, almost guilty... "It's not important." Allowing the matter to drop, she kept her scrutiny on him before she promptly set down her spoon. "So. Are you ever going to tell me what it is you wanted to ask? Or should I start to guess?" Thankful at her change in subject, Riker grinned. "Actually, it'll probably seem silly to you." "I doubt that." "Okay," he sat forward, "what is .. 'RaBeem'?" "'RaBeem'?" Deanna's eyebrow rose, "it's a Betazoid word." "Yes, I know it's Betazoid," he went on, "but what does it mean?" "Technically, it means 'I understand.'" she sighed softly, "I'd have to know the context to give it a further nuance. Where did you hear it?" "I didn't. I ... read about it." "You read about it? In a book? A Betazoid book?" Troi tipped her head in obvious amusement. "In a book. Yes. I've been doing some reading on Betazoid culture. Given my current assignment, I can't see why you'd wonder at that," he met her studious stare head on, but Deanna only shrugged apologetically. "I do read, you know." "Of course," she ducked her head, clearly abashed. "I didn't mean to sound condescending. I only thought that -- given your obvious love of adventure--" "You didn't think I'd spend much time on anything that didn't involve a warp-reactor or a trip through a security protocol. Deanna, I'm hurt," he smiled despite himself. "Actually, you're right." he shrugged, "A friend of mine 'suggested' to me that I bone up on my Betazed history. I started reading and I saw the word come up a couple times, so I looked it up. There was an entire chapter on it in one of the texts, but I didn't identify with the frame of reference." "No, I suppose you wouldn't." With a gamine smile, Deanna set her elbow on the table and placed her chin in her hand. "It's one of our most spiritual philosophies." Riker grinned at her. "What?" she asked. "Nothing." "What?!" "Well, it's just," he gestured toward her, "when you sit like that, you don't look very much like a Federation Ambassador, that's all." Rising promptly, Deanna sat back in her chair. "No, no, that isn't what I meant at all. I like you like this. Like that," he amended clumsily, "At ease, so to speak." "Oh," she cleared her throat and glanced out at the water. "Well, I'm not always a Federation Ambassador." "Forgive me," he raised an eyebrow. "I didn't mean to sound condescending. I only thought that -- given your obvious vocation--" Troi's dark eyes narrowed. "Point taken, Commander." "I'm glad to hear that." Riker smiled. "Do it again." "What?" "The way you were just sitting, do it again." "I don't think so," she almost laughed, "it wouldn't be ... comfortable anymore." "But I liked it." He sounded as disappointed as he felt, and Deanna couldn't fathom an explanation for it. "Why?" she asked. "There has to be a reason?" "For most things, even most emotions, there is always a reason." "Well, not for this. I just thought it made you look, happier, somehow," Riker shrugged, "that's all." For an instant, Deanna continued to stare at him, but suddenly her expression broke into a wide smile. "'RaBeem'!" she shrugged playfully and placed her head in her hand, on the table. "Ah," grinned Riker, "Now I understand." "So you do, Commander," she lifted her spoon from her dish and took another bite. "And I would like some more chocolate." Riker laughed, "'RaBeem'." CHAPTER 13 Stopping in the corridor outside of Deanna Troi's quarters, Riker noticed that her door was slightly ajar and he could hear the tail end of a COMM conversation which he was certain he hadn't been meant to listen in on. //I'm sorry,// a cool voice was speaking, //but the Minister has requested not to be disturbed.// "Yes, I understand that, but I'm his wife, what is so important?" //He didn't say. Only that no one was to interrupt his session, for any reason.// Deanna's patience sounded thin, "I am not 'any reason', and he was finished with his meetings nearly an hour ago. Please tell my husband that I've called. And if that does not permit me access, then tell him that Betazed's Ambassador would like an audience with the first Minister who works on her staff!" Riker stifled a smile as he could almost hear the discomfort of the voice on the other side of the COMM. //Of course. I'll tell him, Ambassador, please, hold the line...// Very carefully, Riker reached inside the doorway of Deanna's quarters and tapped the entrance panel, allowing it to slide shut and precluding him -- or anyone else -- from hearing any more of the conversation. * It was five hours later when Riker walked into the Betazed consulate in San Francisco. ID in hand, he passed through security en route to pick up Ambassador Troi. She was to have completed a series of meetings, and Riker had expected her outside. When she hadn't arrived, he'd taken it upon himself to go looking. Rounding a corner into a long narrow corridor, Riker noticed one of a series of double-doorways stood ajar, and what appeared to be the last of a group of well-dressed individuals moving decorously from within. Without rationalizing how he 'knew' that Deanna would still be inside, Riker walked briskly to the entryway and turned inside it. He found her sitting by herself, next to one of the giant windows. The entire complex sat perched over San Francisco Bay -- as did many of Starfleet Command's primary and diplomatic buildings -- and Deanna was staring outside as though there was something there she'd never seen before. He was about to turn and let her think in silence, when he suddenly heard her speak. "William, would you stay awhile?" "Of course," he answered, though she hadn't turned to regard him. "I thought I'd come check on you ... when you didn't make it back outside for the flight." "That was very thoughtful of you," she spoke quietly, without looking back. Riker, on the other hand, did check behind him and across the room. When he was satisfied that there was no one else present to overhear, he took a few steps forward. "Deanna, are you all right?" "I'm fine," she whispered. "Did you want me to give you some time--" "No, just sit with me a while," Deanna finally turned from the window. She looked up at him, "would you sit with me?" Nodding mutely, Riker made his way farther into the room. He pulled up a giant high-back chair from the board table and sank down into it, next to her. "It's a beautiful view," he acknowledged, following her gaze out onto the water. "It brings me peace," she almost smiled. "A difficult meeting?" he asked, already aware of the answer. "Yes," Deanna sighed. "I imagine it isn't easy, carrying so much responsibility." "William," she turned and met his gaze, more serious than he had ever seen her. "I'm at a difficult decision. And I'm afraid I'll make the wrong one." Riker paused for a moment, he looked back at her and he nodded, "I think that every good leader in history has said those exact same words; at least to themselves." "But I am not a leader," said Deanna, "I'm a mediator. Yet the burden of choice falls to me." "That makes you a leader," sitting forward in his chair, Riker nodded, "If you'll pardon the arrogance in this comparison, we have a saying in Starfleet. Any officer who takes command is accountable. You make a decision, it impacts the lives of other people, that makes you think." "It does," she agreed, "it makes me think that I should not be the one to make this decision." "You care enough that it scares you. That also makes you a leader." He turned to face her, "Deanna, I know I've only known you for about two months now, but I can't think of a single person that I'd trust more with a decision that could impact my own life." Deanna dropped her head and let out a breath. "Thank you," she whispered; offering him a wan smile, "you know you're very thoughtful..." "I'll take that as a compliment." "It is," she lifted bright eyes before continuing. "William, seven months ago, Betazed was threatened by a terrible ultimatum. We were given a year to comply. After which time ... there were to be consequences." "What?" Riker's soft gasp was lost to his next breath, but he shifted closer. "What kind of 'consequences'? I never heard a word about anything like--" Deanna nodded, "we kept it at home," her gaze turned out to the water again and she scanned the rise of the waves, for a time. "We informed the Federation that we did not require outside assistance." "Why not?" "Because, we have reason to believe that these 'threats' may be carried out by dissidents on our own planet." "You're talking about a civil disagreement? Betazed has been a part of the Federation for hundreds of years. You had to know that we wouldn't treat this lightly. We would help..." "It isn't the Federation's place to help us. William, I am telling you this in confidence, because I trust you," she whispered, "as a friend. Not as an officer in Starfleet. Do you understand that?" "Yes," Riker found that he could barely nod, "I just think that maybe there's something more that we could do to help." "No." She shook her head adamantly. "We solve our problems peacefully. Not with violence." "But you can't just sit back and 'allow' an entire planet to be threatened like that--" "These are our people, William. Not outsiders. We cannot harm them. Just as they will not harm us. Not physically, at least." "What do they want?" Deanna stared at him, but she said nothing for a time, only regarded him with a pair of fathomless dark eyes. "Deanna?" he broke her silence, "what do they want?" "For us to breach our ties with the Federation," she whispered, "to end the alliance and exist as we had before. Autonomously." When Riker frowned, Deanna placed a hand against his arm. "There are those among my people who believe that our alliance with the Federation is forcing us to ignore our vows of non-aggression. We are a peaceful society; we abhor any act of violence. But in the scope of our alliance, we lend the Federation officers for Starfleet, our assistance in diplomatic negotiations, and other forms of cooperation which some feel are a detriment to our chosen way of life." "Do you feel that way?" he asked, meeting her solemn expression with one of his own. "No," Deanna smiled. "My father was in Starfleet, for one thing, and I am half-human. Beyond that, I know that the balance right now is a delicate one. We cannot hope to live our lives in peace without an alliance of one kind or another. It's arrogant enough to look to someone else for our protection while we 'pretend' to live in serenity. At some point, we must recognize that if it isn't one violent world, it will be another that tries to conquer us. In such a vast and unpredictable universe, our ties to Starfleet and to the Federation have always been beneficial. But there are extremists on every world," Troi dropped her gaze, "and ours is no exception." Riker slowly exhaled, "if you don't give them what they want, what's going to happen?" "Something terrible," she shook her head sadly, "I am here right now to explore that option with the Federation. But at the moment, I feel as though I can't seem to do anything right. I don't know how to be an Ambassador. Not the way my mother was--" Without the words to assuage her dilemma, Riker could only mirror her look of gravity. "You underestimate yourself, Deanna. You care about your people, and in the end, you'll make the right decision," he spoke softly, "I believe that." Head hung, Deanna whispered sadly, "then you may be the only one..." * "Commander Riker, a word please." Admiral J'Nathan, a stout Bolian with a severe demeanor and tiny brown eyes, stopped Riker in a corridor on his way out of Starfleet Headquarters. With a backward glance at the doorway through which Ambassador Troi had just disappeared on her way to their waiting shuttle-craft, Riker sighed and turned to face the man who'd 'grounded' him on Earth. "Sir?" he asked. "In my office, Commander," J'Nathan proceeded past Riker and turned the corner. It was not a request; he expected to be followed. Riker stopped a passing Lieutenant on his way to report. "Lieutenant, outside those doors is a diplomatic transport. Please tell Ambassador Troi that Commander Riker will be slightly delayed. And stay with her until I relieve you." "Yes sir," nodding shortly, the young Lieutenant shifted on his heel and headed for the door. Watching the other man go, Riker turned and sucked in a breath as he headed after J'Nathan. A few moments later, he was setting in a visitor's chair in the Admiral's office. J'Nathan leaned over his desk. "Commander, I'm afraid I have some grave news." "What kind of news?" Though he'd been dreading this encounter for far more personal reasons, Riker's professional hackles suddenly raised and he sat forward in his chair. "It concerns your current assignment and Ambassador Troi specifically." J'Nathan folded his hands and looked down at them. "At this time, the Federation has come into some information that raises serious concerns about our 'partnership' with Betazed." "What?" "Problems have been brewing under the surface for some time. Suffice it to say that things have escalated. The Betazed authorities contacted us early this morning. It seems that one of our planetside officers there has gone missing. There's evidence that it may have been a professional kidnapping." Riker exhaled a long, slow, breath. So that was why Deanna was so devastated. "Of course, sir," he answered with a curt nod. "You have orders for me, I assume." J'Nathan nodded. "For the time being, we feel your skills are best utilized protecting the Ambassador. We've doubled your security compliment at the retreat, and Riker," the Admiral sat forward, "I don't have to tell you how important it is that Ambassador Troi remains with us." "Yes sir," Riker stood. "Will she be--" "There are issues surrounding Ambassador Troi of which you are not yet aware of, Commander. We're concerned for her safety at the moment, not her loyalty. At least until we've discovered who has our officer. You can escort her back to the retreat. Your new standing orders are not to let anyone other than yourself, the Ambassador and the Minister either on or off the compound unless escorted by two cleared guards." "I'll see to it that she's taken care of." "I have no doubt that you will, Commander. And I'll keep you informed of whatever you need to know. Dismissed." Riker found himself walking stiffly from the older man's office. He stood in the corridor for only a moment, uncharacteristically worried. It wasn't often that his duty came into direct conflict with his personal feelings, and he was all too aware of the fact that -- for the first time in his life -- his concern for another person might abridge his responsibility as an officer. And what would he do if the two ended up at odds? Swallowing his discomfort, Riker turned and made his way to the waiting transport. CHAPTER 14 <You're leaving?> Deanna turned to face her husband, watching him rise from his own chair. <Tehya, I must. I can be of far better help to you if I--> <It's not your help with politics that I need right now, Darian. You've only just returned.> Khell frowned before he met her gaze. <I have to sit with the Chancellor and help her find out who is behind this. Would you trust anyone else?> <The senate does not convene until--> <The senate can bicker amongst themselves if they feel it necessary. I won't have our planet maligned!> Darian's eyes fell on Deanna's in the instant before she sighed aloud. <I'll be on Betazed for only three days and then I'll return.> Walking slowly to one of their bedroom windows, Deanna looked out on an ocean of forest. For a time, her thoughts were quiet. She finally turned. <I'm not certain that this is the best course of action right now,> her feelings intersected her husband's, and he paused to regard her. <Does the Federation believe that we'd betray them?> asked Khell. <No. Not yet. But I can hardly blame them for their unease.> Darian frowned <Whatever happens, if their officer *was* detained by our own people, Deanna, then at least we can be certain he will not be harmed.> <Can we?> she asked, <are you really so sure?> Turning back to the window, Deanna traced its surface with her fingertip. <There was a time when I would have been certain that no one among our people would ever kidnap a person either.> <Nothing has been proven yet... please do not force me to stay. I will follow your directives as a member of our government, but I truly feel that there is more that I can do on Betazed right now.> <Darian, I'm worried,> she crossed the floor to him and stood a moment away, hoping as much as silently entreating him to take her in his arms. He finally did, but the moment was awkward and fraught with an all-too-familiar sense of confusion on his part. Darian was forever discontented with her extraordinary desire for physical contact; especially where a brush of telepathic comfort would far more 'easily' satisfy. <Please be safe on your journey,> she added quietly, pulling away from him when it was clear that his unease would only grow. <I will, Tehya,> he smiled, out of gratitude it seemed, that she had understood his desire for a more 'Betazoid' means of comfort; the mental before the physical, and that she had allowed him to go. He did embrace her then, but only as an echo to his thoughts in her mind. <And be well. We both have duties to attend to, and I would suggest that it is best if we proceed as though there is no change in those plans. I've asked Commander Riker to attend you in my absence. Best not to arouse suspicion... but you should be careful what you tell him.> Deanna frowned, <I'll be fine. I can take care of myself. And as for Commander Riker, I trust him, Darian. He has never been dishonest with us and he isn't hiding anything.> <Perhaps not now, and I would agree with you,> Khell was quick to place an uncharacteristic hand on her arm, <however we can't be sure of anything, under the circumstances.> <It's Betazed I'm worried about, not Earth. The Federation did not initiate this situation.> Deanna pinned her husband with a sharp look, <nor does William Riker have any reason to betray us.> <Then you will stay here, with the hopes of Betazed, and you will not take any unnecessary risks,> Khell held her with his gaze. <Is that an 'order'?> she shook her head in disbelief. <No, of course not. It's just ... speaking on behalf of all our people, 'Ambassador',> he affected a smile, <we will need your wisdom in the coming weeks. And your skill with the Federation.> Unimpressed, Deanna demurred, <I will choose how and with whom to conduct myself, Darian. You may travel wherever you feel is necessary, and we may share our opinions and our thoughts, but when it comes to the decisions I make--> <Forgive me,> Khell cut her off gently, <I think perhaps this entire situation has ... unnerved me. I spoke in haste and I meant no disrespect to you, Tehya.> Deanna managed a short nod, but it felt hollow to her. Shrugging her shoulders, she opted to drop the matter entirely for the moment. <Safe journey, Darian,> her whisper in his thoughts was filled with genuine concern. But it fell on her husband's back. For he had already turned to attend to his duty. CHAPTER 15 The garden was dim. Predawn sunlight filtered down through the treetops, kissing flower petals on their dew-soaked journey into morning. Two weeks had passed since Riker's engagement. Two whole weeks and he had to admit; he really didn't feel any different. Something of a milestone for a man who once claimed he'd never settle down. Not that he intended any 'settling' in the near future with Rachel. She was a kindred spirit. Both of them adventure-seekers, both of them constantly in search of something new. Life with her would ... well, it would never be boring, that was for sure. His mind turned back to the day they'd met, nearly two years earlier. He mulled it over while he sat on a stone bench and watched the sun begin to rise; before he became conscious that the garden was no longer empty. He hadn't realized there would be anyone else outside until he heard the sound of someone moving. It was barely there, barely perceptible in the hush, but impossible to ignore, once he had recognized it wasn't natural. Hackles raised and standing slowly, Riker clamped a hand down on the edge of the phaser in his belt. He made his way through the lush foliage, relying on sense as much as vision to guide him. He'd been about to call out and demand a personal introduction, when he caught sight of an article of clothing he recognized. It was a sleeve, and it was Deanna's. He knew that, because she had worn the same dress to a formal affair the night before, and he had seen her off to it. But what was she doing in the garden so many hours before she would normally rise for morning? And in the same gown? "Ambassador?" Riker took a careful step into the clearing, regardless of what appeared to be a casual situation. His experience had warned him that there were moments when 'casual' wasn't always what it appeared to be. "Deanna, are you all right?" He rounded the corner and saw her fully. Lying half propped against a giant tree, Deanna had her head on the bark and she appeared to be sleeping. Her dress fanned out beneath her and her small hands were clenched tightly in her lap. "Deanna--" assured that there was no one else in proximity, Riker dropped to a crouch and touched the edge of her forehead. She was warm. She was breathing and appeared to be untouched ... if one didn't count the fact that she had obviously been crying. "Ambassador, wake up," he lowered his voice and prompted gently, "can you hear me?" Deanna stirred. Opening her eyes, she blinked several times and then backed farther against the tree when she realized where she was. "William?" her voice seemed paradoxically small. "Are you all right?" Riker lifted her wrist and took a pulse automatically. It was strong and rhythmic. "I'm fine," confirmed Deanna, struggling with her dress so that she could sit up properly. Riker held out a hand, which she took, and he helped her to her feet. When she got there, she brushed at the errant foliage that clung to her dress and looked up at him. "I'm sorry, I must have fallen asleep here last night." "Last night?" Riker blanched, "but I saw you to your quarters..." "You did," Deanna looked away self-consciously, "but I-- wanted to take a walk. I came out here to think, and I must have fallen asleep." "Ambassador, I can't stress enough how dangerous that might have been," Riker admonished her, ignoring the raised eyebrow and the defiant gleam in her eyes. "If you're going to leave the complex, at least let me know so that I can make sure that you're safe. These woods are beautiful but they're filled with wildlife, any number of which could have--" "I'm fine," Deanna interjected firmly, placing her hands on her hips, "and I am perfectly capable of seeing to my own well being, thank you Commander." "With all due respect, Ambassador, that is what Starfleet assigned me to take care of, and I don't intend to see you eaten by a hungry bear on your first trip to Earth." His words hung in the air between them, before Deanna's face broke into a smile; a smile that bubbled into musical laughter. "Don't most bears eat plant life, Commander?" she giggled, "I thought you were supposed to be a-- what did you call it? An outdoorsman?" Riker shook his head but found that he couldn't hang onto his anger any longer. The fact was, she was right, and his most successful scare tactic had fallen well short of his objective. "Actually, certain bears will eat--" "Save your explanation, William. But I do thank you for being so concerned for me." Troi brushed her hand against his cheek, letting it linger for a moment on the day's growth of beard he had yet to shave. Her delicate fingers poised on the edge of his jaw-line and she seemed curious about the contrast between his skin and the light dusting of fur -- but her touch was so light; so warm, that Riker had to fight the urge to capture her hand, pull her toward him and... "I truly am fine," she whispered, still staring at him with a look he could not identify. Riker was the first to avert his gaze. God, but she had the most miraculous pair of dark eyes. There was a feeling between them. It was unlike anything he'd ever felt before, and it called to him in a way that he was helpless to identify. "You--" his word caught in his throat and he swallowed quickly, "You'll let me know the next time you leave the complex at night?" "If it makes you more comfortable." "It would." Deanna sighed, "then I will." Allowing her to lead the way back toward the retreat, Riker followed, grateful for the reprieve from his confusing emotions, until she opted to sit on a bench outside the door rather than step inside. Deanna said nothing, and so he took the seat next to hers, glancing sidelong at her intemperate expression. "Are you okay?" he asked finally. "I'm fine." she spoke without looking up. "If you don't mind my saying so," Riker smiled, "you don't look fine." "Well, that's very gallant of you to point out," Deanna turned to him, chin slightly raised. "I didn't mean it that way. It's just that, if you wanted to talk about it--" "Now why would I want to do that?" Adjusting her skirt, she spoke matter-of-factly. "Okay, I suppose I deserve that." Riker frowned, "But if you did want to talk, I'm just saying ... I'd listen." Deanna stared at him for a very long time. She was so quiet; he could hardly hear her breathing. When her luminous eyes filled with moisture, it was the last thing he'd expected. "Hey," Riker gently touched her shoulder. "I didn't mean to upset you." "You haven't," she swiped at the tears on her face, "I'm sorry, I can't believe that I'm crying. This is very embarrassing..." "It's all right," he removed his hand from her arm. "I think I'm just a little homesick, that's all." "This is your first time away from Betazed?" "No," Deanna shook her head. "First time as an Ambassador away from Betazed?" he amended, gratified when Troi lifted her eyes and stared at him in astonishment. "How did you know?" "That you hadn't been doing this for fifty years?" Riker laughed, "Oh, I don't know, lucky guess?" "I'm serious," she swatted his arm, and for some reason the simple humanity of the gesture caused Riker's smile to grow. "Ow," he frowned good-naturedly, "so was I." "This is actually my first planetside assignment ... as Betazed's Federation Ambassador." "I sort-of figured that." "Is it so obvious?" Deanna stared dejectedly at her lap. "No, not really. Not in any bad sense," Riker placed a hand on hers. "You just don't seem like the 'Ambassador-type' to me, that's all." When she looked up in alarm he added, "That's a compliment. Believe me. I have a pretty low opinion of most of the politicians I've met." "I'm not a politician," mumbled Deanna. "I'm a diplomat." "There's a difference?" he grinned. "Of course there's a difference. I've been trained for this my whole life, I know everything there is to know on the subject and-- I still don't feel as though I'll ever be good at it. My mother held the position before me. She always seemed to know exactly what to do--" "You know," smiled Riker, "I'm probably the last person who should ever give advice on this subject, but, it seems to me you're 'not very good at this', because you care too much about people. Most of the poli-- most of the diplomats I've met care more about appearances than they do about anything else. But with you it's different. I've never seen anyone quite so ... " he paused, unable to choose the right word, and finally shrugged lightly, "empathic?" Troi offered him a dark look. "In human terms, Deanna," he continued undaunted, "that would make you one of the kindest people I've ever met." Though her expression softened, Deanna's eyes were filled with unhappiness. Riker released her hand and sat up. "Would it help if I told you that when we're at a formal event, you're the picture of diplomatic grace? Honestly if we hadn't spent any time together otherwise, I'd never have guessed you weren't completely at ease with the whole thing. I'd have thought you were just as perfect as all the rest of the stuffed shirts." Troi smiled despite her mood, but Riker looked back on her seriously, "You'd know if I were lying." After a time, Deanna sighed. Gazing out into the forest, she uttered a bitter sound. "I never asked for this position, you know." "It doesn't seem like you've asked for much of anything in your life." "I beg your pardon?" "I guess I just feel sorry for you, sometimes." "Sorry for me?" her face turned up, "You? Feel sorry for ME?" "Yeah," he admitted, suddenly finding the indignation in her eyes appealing. "Why not? You seem to feel sorry for me a great deal, I'm just returning the favor. Is there something wrong with that?" "Yes there's something wrong with that! There's nothing to feel sorry for, that's what's wrong with that! I have a wonderful life!" With that, Deanna's tirade broke off. A strangled sob escaped her lips and she nearly collapsed where she sat. Abandoning the point he'd been trying to make, Riker reached for her and pulled her quietly into his arms. "Shh," he held her carefully, mindful of the dress while he rocked with her to stop her from shaking, "I'm sure you do. I'm sorry." Deanna shook her head against him, "No, you shouldn't be sorry," she pulled away, eyeing the dark stains her tears had made on his uniform. "You deserve an apology. From myself-- and from Darian. But he isn't here right now, so perhaps you'll accept it from me instead--" "What is it, Deanna," Riker stopped their motion and turned her toward him, "This isn't just about your career. I may not be Betazoid, but I can tell that much is true. What's got you this upset? Maybe... I can help?" The truth was, he wanted to help. It bothered him more than he was willing to admit, seeing her like this. Because she'd been so self-assured; so strong from the moment they'd met. And because... "I don't know," she shook her head sadly, "I feel as though I can't seem to do anything right. I don't know how to be an Ambassador, and I'm a horrible wife..." "What? Why would you say that?" "Because it's true," she swallowed. "And maybe... maybe I shouldn't be either." "Deanna, you should listen to yourself," Riker turned where he sat, forcing her to look at him. "This isn't you. What happened to the confident, intelligent woman I met when you first arrived from Betazed? I know that she's still in there somewhere--" "You can't understand," Deanna threw back, dropping her gaze, "and I shouldn't have brought it up. It's not even important anymore. I should go inside." Before she could rise, Riker held fast to her arm, settling her back onto her seat. "You're not going anywhere," he whispered, "not until you tell me what's really wrong. Deanna--" he paused, realizing what he wanted to say, but suddenly feeling guilty for wanting to say it. "I care about you." Deanna looked back at him for a long moment; eyes large and thoughtful. She lifted her hand and traced the outline of his cheek in a way that made Riker wish she'd touch him everywhere in just that way. Too quickly her fingers fell back to her lap, and she quietly exhaled. "Among my people," she began, "tradition dictates that many of the marriages between the Great Houses are arranged. We live our lives in preparation for the day when we will assume a greater responsibility." "Sounds archaic if you ask me," he shook his head. "Are you going to comment on everything I say, or are you going to allow me to finish?" "I'm sorry," he mumbled, "it's just not the way I'd picture a free thinking society, that's all." "Well then perhaps your 'picture' needs broadening," Deanna looked back at him resolutely, "and it's not archaic. It is the foundation on which everything we hold sacred is based. Our discipline and our tradition is what makes us who we are." When Riker simply stared at her in dogged silence, Deanna finally sighed, "All right, say what you're thinking, I can feel you're ready to explode." Leaning forward, he echoed, "'Our discipline and our tradition is what makes us who we are?' That sounds like something you memorized in grade school. Deanna, this is the 24th century. It's a big universe out there. If you don't want to do what they tell you to do, then why don't you make another choice?" "Because I don't want another choice. I want to make this choice work." Her voice rose an octave. "I want to fulfill my responsibilities. My destiny. I am a daughter of the Fifth House of Betazed." "I read the dossier," Riker looked back at her matter-of-factly. "My family are the holders of the Sacred Chalice of Riix, heirs to the Holy Rings of Betazed--" "And what exactly are those, anyway?" he asked, "there wasn't a photo." Abruptly, Troi stopped speaking. She regarded him in wide-eyed astonishment. And then quite suddenly, she laughed. "What?" Riker eyed her askance. "Nothing," recovering her equilibrium, Deanna drew in a cleansing breath of air. "It's just that no one's ever asked me that before." "Yeah well, I'm not from Betazed, I don't know all of the--" "No," she cut him off, "no one at all. Not even on my planet. No one has seen the Holy Rings of Betazed in over seven generations, but no one has ever asked us what they looked like either." "No one?" "Not a single soul in all these centuries. Imagine that?" "It's difficult to fathom," Riker examined a twig on the ground. "William," Deanna's hand was suddenly on his arm and she looked as pale as he'd ever seen her. "I don't know how to be a good wife for Darian." "What does that mean?" he asked. "Does he expect something of you? I thought that Betazed had a matriarchal history, I don't understand." "It's nothing like that," Troi shook her head adamantly, "It's ... when a couple weds, it is expected that after a time there will be a spiritual bond between them. Something that forms and grows." "Okay," he nodded. "I think I may not be able to give Darian that," she looked to her hands again and they were trembling. Riker frowned. "What do you mean 'give him that', isn't it a two way street?" "It is, but I'm only half-Betazoid. I am the only half-Betazoid in all the noble houses. I think... it may be that I cannot achieve the connection with Darian. And I don't know what to do." "Oh," Riker swallowed, suddenly wondering if he'd jumped into something so far over his head that he might never make it out again. "Has he brought it up?" "No," Deanna smiled sadly, "I think he suspects, but he would never say anything." "Well, would it be so bad if it never happened?" The moment he asked the question, Deanna's face drained of all color. "Yes," she whispered, "There are two types of spiritual bonds on Betazed. One very rare, but the other -- the other is something all couples can achieve. All Betazoid couples." "Deanna," Riker placed his hand on hers, "maybe you just need to stop trying. Maybe your being nervous is what's making it more difficult." "I don't know," she wiped the last of her teardrops, "maybe." Suddenly Deanna looked up at him. Her dark eyes filled with expectation and Riker felt his heart lodge firmly in his throat at the intensity of her expression. He couldn't have looked away, even if he'd tried. "William, would you help me?" "I-- me?" he stammered, "what can I do?" "Oh gods, I thought of asking you before. I put it off because I was nervous and concerned. I didn't want to offend you, but now that all this has happened, and you're engaged..." "What do you mean? What does my being engaged have to do with--" "I know that for humans," Deanna spoke quickly, "the physical act of sex can be a very intimate experience. That it is treated as your highest form of lovemaking." "Deanna," Riker shifted uncomfortably where he sat, removing his hand from hers, "I'm not sure where you're going with this--" "William," her dark eyes fixed on his, "on Betazed, we have a relatively free and unhindered philosophy towards sex." Riker's first impulse was to jump up and end the conversation immediately. Before they tread any deeper into waters he wasn't certain he would emerge from unscathed. But a part of him ... a very curious part of him ... wanted desperately to know more. "So you... sleep with anyone, it doesn't matter?" "Not exactly," Troi exhaled, "we spend our lives with one partner, just as humans do, only in our case, the spiritual bond is what sustains. That is what is intimate. What is shared. The physical act is only an augment to the symbiosis of the mind. Do you understand?" "Not really, no," Riker admitted, "how can you have sex with a person and not, well, 'feel' anything?" "Oh, we do! We do feel, it's only ... purely physical forms of gratification are not considered among the higher forms of lovemaking. To give you a more 'human' example, I could ask you whether you'd ever had sex with anyone where you might have woken the next morning and said: 'it meant nothing'?" Riker paused. "All right, I'll buy that." Deanna smiled at her tiny victory. "Well on Betazed, that kind of emptiness simply doesn't exist. In one way or another, there is always something shared; something of the mind. This is even more the case among--" "Let me guess. Among the Great Houses, right?" Riker finished her sentence with a wry shake of his head, "I think I'm beginning to understand. So, you combine a... physical impulse with some kind of, what? Mental telepathy?" he asked. "In a way," Deanna reached for his hand, "However I would hardly use the word 'impulse' to describe it." Riker frowned. "William, I realize this may not seem 'conventional', to you, but ... humanity takes for granted a kind of intimate physicality that many other races never experience. There are some on my planet who feel that it isn't even necessary for us, beyond the obvious requirements of procreation. For me ... it's never been that simple a choice." She drew a cleansing breath. "I would like... I would ask... for you to help me; to show me ... how a human couple would achieve a sense of completion, solely through a physical union. A way to share, without the involvement of the mind." "You what?!" Riker shifted backward without meaning to, "Oh, Deanna, I-- I'm very flattered that you would-- well, that you'd ask me to-- but aren't there books? Holonovels at the very least? You could watch-- we have instructional -- hell, even practical manuals on the subject here on Earth." "Of course there is 'literature'," Deanna muttered, clearing her throat softly, "That isn't the point. Haven't you been listening? We don't write solely about physical pleasure on Betazed. We write about the attainment of a perfection that transcends the physical. And I suppose you might say that our physical 'techniques' have not been the most imaginative as a result. We make love, and we do share our bodies, but those acts are incidental to the higher form. I want to explore what it might be like ... without that higher form." "I beg your pardon, Deanna, but why even bother with this ... experiment? Obviously, you feel that 'human physical pleasure' is beneath your social custom." "That isn't true," she lowered her gaze, "It isn't beneath us, it's just ... not as well established. And I must acknowledge, whether it suits me or not, that I am half-human." "You'll pardon me if I don't feel sorry for you." "The fact is," she went on sadly, "I may never be able to give Darian what a Betazoid wife might give him. And since I am half-human, then perhaps I should investigate other possibilities. I've seen many holonovels from Earth, which is why I'm asking, and believe me I understand your dilemma, I just ... I don't know how else to explore the issue." "Deanna, forgive me for saying so, but did you consider for even a minute that maybe ... a person who makes you feel this way isn't worth being with at all?" Her eyes widened, "Darian is wonderful to me. We were engaged when I was three years old. There's never been anyone else. It isn't him, it's me. You still don't understand..." "Okay," Riker raised his hands, "All right, so what about a holodeck? A character in a simulation? I could help you set up--" Deanna shook her head, "it isn't the same. It wouldn't be the same with someone whose head was empty." "But this isn't about emotion for you..." "Neither is it two-dimensional." "But I thought you said that it would only be physical?" "I see you still don't understand." "I'm confused as hell, actually." Riker cleared his throat uncomfortably. The problem wasn't that he didn't understand her. The 'problem' was that he was starting to; and that some wholly irrational part of him wanted desperately to take her up on the offer. "What about Darian?" he stalled instead, "what would he say if he knew?" Deanna colored slightly, but shrugged, "Darian places little value on the human physical condition. Given the choice, I'm certain he would agree..." "I'm sorry," Riker stood up fully, "this is nuts." "It is *not* nuts!" Deanna snapped at him, jumping to her own feet. She took a breath before closing her eyes and reopening them. "It's irregular, I'll grant that. And I know how it sounds, I'm not completely naive," her expression fixed on him, "I have studied human psychology in depth. I understand the nuance ... in principle. But I need more than that. William, please understand that I would never ask just anyone. I trust you. I know that you ... desire me." Her hand came to rest on his arm, and Riker had to remind himself not to think about how insanely good it might feel if she placed those delicate fingers elsewhere. Desired her? Hell, he wanted her six ways to Sunday. "No," he shook his head adamantly, "Deanna, I respect you. And ... I've even come to consider you a friend, but what you're asking me to do. I can't. Not even if I wasn't engaged. And the fact that I am just makes things even more complicated. Even IF we kept it purely physical, just as you're asking, you might be fine with it, but I'd be betraying a trust I promised Rachel. Call it 'human' if you'd like, but we value our own intimacy in our own way. I can't do this." Deanna's quiet nod was indescribably difficult for Riker to watch. To see her this way and to struggle with the fact that he did want her. He wanted her with a kind of desperate ache he couldn't even articulate. It made him sick with guilt. If only she'd come into his life just two years earlier... But now was different. He had made a commitment to Rachel and a promise to marry her. He cared for Rachel. And this, whatever it was, couldn't happen. For once in his life, he would make a relationship work. "I'm sorry," he added softly, but Deanna simply shrugged her shoulders. "I understand," she whispered. And he suddenly knew that she did. Riker's eyes met hers; he swallowed the ball in his throat and he nodded in return. It all came down to those two uncomplicated words for Deanna. She spoke them so automatically that he wondered suddenly how many other times in her life she had given up a hope or a thought with the simple phrase, 'I understand.' If only she'd asked him for something else. For *anything* else... "'RaBeem'?" he managed to whisper. Deanna sighed and almost smiled. There might have been an awkward moment between them, except that Riker offered her his arm. "We'd better get back inside," he led her slowly toward the door. "I think you have an appointment with the Bolian Ambassador in a couple of hours ... provided he shows up this time." CHAPTER 16 "Where is he?" a loud voice preceded a tall man into a small, sterile room. "You're early, Commander." "That isn't what I asked, Brella." "Darja's men have taken care of what matters." "And you've taken care of Darja, I assume?" "I've done what I can," she shrugged loosely, "any more than this and he may be permanently damaged." "I don't care about that--" "Well I do!" Brella snapped, "and if you hope to keep our continued cooperation, you will leave such things as they are." The tall man's smile was crooked and acerbic. "He hates you Brella. You think it makes a difference that you care whether he lives or he dies? He would kill you in a heartbeat given half the opportunity." His eyes locked with hers before he exhaled in frustration. "Whatever you want," he shrugged. "as long as we get what we came for." "You will," her dark gaze scanned the edge of the barren room and she shut her eyes for a brief moment, breathing slowly. "What is it?" Brella's eyes slid open. "Nothing that concerns you," she threw him a defiant glare. "He's gone, isn't he? Your 'friend'?" She didn't answer. The Commander smiled. "Good. Then we're almost through here." He tapped his COMM badge. "LEGACY ... two to beam out." * "Commander," Deanna Troi inclined her head, politely acknowledging Riker as she passed him in the busy hallway of the diplomatic retreat. "Ambassador," he returned her smile, "did you need me to take you somewhere?" "Actually," Deanna reached out and grabbed his hand, pulling him backward into an empty meeting-room. When the door had closed, she exhaled gratefully. "I was hoping to get away from that crowd!" "I gathered," Riker laughed, inexplicably happy at her apparent 'recovery' over the previous day's events. When she grinned at him, he couldn't help but grin back. "Anywhere in particular?" Troi thrust out her hand, holding a small PADD between her fingers. "William," she smiled impishly, "have you ever been to one of these?" Perusing the PADD which had somehow made it from her hand into his, Riker looked up. "Sure. Concert in Golden Gate Park. They have those periodically. Did you want to--" "Yes!" Deanna nodded emphatically, and Riker had to keep from laughing at her unabashed enthusiasm. One of the more endearing qualities of Deanna Troi was that she seemed almost like a little girl when she was excited, or when she discovered something new for the very first time. It was difficult not to share in whatever lit her beautiful features. "It would be my first concert here on Earth," she beamed. "Well, then, we should definitely attend, Madame Ambassador." he bent at the waist, "I'm at your service." "Wonderful news!" Deanna exclaimed, dancing forward and hugging him. For an instant, Riker wasn't certain what to do with his hands. Finally, he gave in to the impulse of his body and he wrapped his arms around her, hugging her back. Heat raced through every nerve ending in his body. To say that he had never experienced anything like the moment he held Deanna Troi in his arms would have been an understatement. Wildly, a part of him wanted to hang onto her forever. It wasn't logical, but she hadn't let go of him either. Their hands had already begun to move to more 'dangerous' territory when the door to the meeting-room slid perfunctorily aside, and Riker nearly dropped Troi where she stood. "Rachel!" he took two steps toward his fiancee, "I-- wasn't expecting you until tomorrow." "Hey," Rachel spoke quietly, eyeing the Ambassador with a speculative once-over before she turned her gaze back on Will. "We touched down a day early. I wanted to stop by..." Without waiting for encouragement, Riker lifted the lithe redhead in his arms and kissed her. "I'm glad you did," he whispered against her lips. Sliding carefully from his embrace, Rachel stood, arms akimbo, beside him. "So," she smiled sweetly, "aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?" "My what?" Riker cringed, realizing he'd almost forgotten there were three of them in the room. "Oh, I'm sorry, Deanna Troi," he winced and amended, "Ambassador Troi of Betazed, this is Commander Rachel Morris, my fiancee." If Deanna had been affected at all by the interlude, or by Riker's lapse in formality, she didn't show it. Her face was a mask of practiced sophistication as she held out her hand to shake Rachel's. "I'm pleased to meet you Commander, we've all heard so many things." "Good things, I hope," Rachel threw a look at Riker who shrugged, but it was Deanna who answered. "All wonderful things, in fact. Congratulations on your engagement." "Thanks," Morris' eyes averted for an instant, and Deanna's frown was nearly imperceptible. "So, can you get the night off, flyboy? Or do we take this into tomorrow?" Trading a look between Troi and Rachel, Riker started to speak, "Actually, Rach, I--" "He's completely free this evening, Commander," Deanna interrupted them, glancing only for an instant at Riker, "In fact, I'd just pulled him in here to tell him so." "Oh, great! Hey," Rachel grinned, "there's that concert in Golden Gate Park tonight, do you want to go?" "Um, well, I," Riker stammered, "I guess we could--" "Of course you should," again Deanna spoke, and she sounded as calm and as confident as he had ever heard her speak in public. "Then it's settled." Rachel turned to Riker and whispered in his ear, "there's something I have to talk to you about." He nodded slightly, "okay, I ... guess we should get going then," his eyes strayed to Troi's but though he felt as though he could crawl under a table, there was only silent understanding in her expression. . "Ambassador, it was wonderful to meet you," Morris smiled at Troi and the two women held eye contact before Riker took Rachel's hand, sending them both on their way. They traveled out the door and into a throng of people in the hallway. CHAPTER 17 Deanna Troi paced the boundaries of her quarters without respite. Beneath her breath, she whispered words that were nearly inaudible. "Do I tell him? Or do I not tell him? And if I tell him, what if it's not the right thing to have done? What if I don't tell him--" "Tell who, what?" Deanna started and spun around, face to face with her husband. "Oh, Darian, you're back," she forwent the formality of a 'welcome back' or even a 'hello', and sat down gently on the edge of their bed instead, "It's William." "What about him?" Darian sat quietly next to her, folding his hands in his lap. "I think I know something, something important, something that I should tell him. Only I'm not certain whether that would be the right thing to do or not." Darian shook his head slowly, "Why are you speaking aloud?" Deanna blushed, "I'm sorry, I haven't seen you in several days, I got used to speaking this way," she trailed off. <Is this better?> <Much,> Khell smiled, <Now, tell me Tehya, show me what has you so upset?> Images like flashes of light danced across Darian's consciousness. He raised an eyebrow at some of them, frowned deeply at others, and then sighed -- an audible comment -- when the memories had ceased to play. <Darian, what do I do? If I tell him, it may not be the right thing to do. If I don't...> Khell considered for a moment, then dropped his head. <I don't think you should tell him.> <Why not?> <Because humans do not place the same value on honesty that we do.> <Darian, he could be hurt. And what if it is true?> <Then he will be hurt,> the Minister's eyes settled frankly on hers. <Deanna, it isn't our place to point these things out to them.> <But this isn't just anyone, Darian, it's William!> <All the more reason to let him live his life as he otherwise would. What if you're wrong?> Deanna blanched, removing her hand from his. She slid backward on the bed. It was obvious from Darian's remark that he considered her ability to be less than reliable. Controlling the measure of her thoughts, Deanna demurred, <I'm not wrong, Darian. I know what I felt.> <And what was that? What I sensed from you was vague...> <Because you're not an empath and I am!> she shot back, <I congratulated Rachel on their engagement and what I felt from her was guilt. Avoidance, nervousness!> <Perhaps ... she was simply upset over some other issue.> <Triggered directly by my mention of her commitment to her fiancée?> <Perhaps humans prefer not to speak at all about their personal lives, you heard the Commander, he himself said that--> <That isn't true and you know it, Darian. I know it, I've studied human psychology for long enough, I think.> <Tehya,> Darian reclaimed her hand, and Deanna did nothing to stop him, <what do you hope to gain by this? Other than hurting the man for sure. If you tell him, there's no way to undo whatever damage it might entail. If you don't -- perhaps they may still be happy.> Deanna stared down at their joined hands. "I don't know," she whispered aloud. "Then keep what you think you know to yourself," Khell sighed, "at least for now. Let the fates play their cards before we do." When they looked at one another again, Deanna quietly exhaled. * It was late when Riker returned to the retreat. Much later than it should have been, considering he would be on duty the next day. As he opened the bronze and glass doors to the main complex, he intended to stop by the security office before heading to bed. But the fireplace was lit; its glowing embers spluttering the last remnants of what must have been an evening blaze. Deanna was sitting next to it, with her legs curled under her on an antique settee. She was intent on the contents of a PADD in her hand when Riker took a quiet step into the otherwise empty room. "Deanna?" he scanned the corners of the room, assuring himself that they were indeed alone. "Oh! You're back," she said, looking up from her reading and then setting it aside on the adjacent table. Her dark eyes studied him carefully. "William, are you all right?" "Sure, why wouldn't I be?" he offered her a perplexed look, hoping she might elaborate; only she sighed softly instead. "You had a good time?" Riker felt a gentle tickle at the edge of his consciousness. It was light; like a feather's caress, but he wondered if it was somehow linked to her. "Oh," his gaze fell, "yeah. Sure. Listen... about tonight, Deanna, I'm so sorry--" "There's no need," she answered quickly rising from her chair. "Really. I had a wonderful visit with a historian from Rigel IV," she smiled, "Oh, and Darian came back this evening." "Did he?" Riker's eyebrow rose, "I thought he wasn't due for another day..." "So did I. But our Chancellor has asked him to visit one of the other senators on Utopia Plenetia. I would have gone myself, but--" "The Federation wants you here on Earth, for your own 'safety'," he finished for her, watching her slow nod. "It appears that we are both 'grounded', in a manner of speaking." "I suppose so," Riker sighed, "But you know what? If I have to be 'grounded', I've come to realize that the company really isn't so bad." "No," she smiled back at him, "it's not," then added, "Darian will be leaving again in the morning." Riker let out the breath in his lungs and sank down into a nearby chair. "So will Rachel. You know I miss her already and she hasn't even left yet." Moving slowly toward him, Deanna took the chair next to his. "Is everything okay with you and her?" He looked up, "Sure, why wouldn't it be?" "I don't know," she cringed slightly at her own half-truth, "I ... I only saw her for a few minutes, and I wasn't sure if she was well." "Deanna, I know that look by now, what are you not telling me?" "Nothing important," she looked away. "Nothing important?" Riker opened his mouth to protest, but yawned expansively instead, "I'm sorry," he cringed. She touched his hand. "You should get some rest." "I will if you will," he returned her warm gesture with a smile. Both he and Deanna rose together from their chairs, but before they had moved more than a step, he took hold of her fingers from behind. "Deanna, you were a really great friend tonight," he gave her hand a gentle squeeze, "thank you." "Oh," she softly cleared her throat, "you've nothing to thank me for. Really. I'm happy that you had a good time." "I'm glad you seem to have as well," he smiled as he released her hand. "Good night, Ambassador, I have to stop by security. I'll see you in the morning?" "Of course," Deanna whispered as she watched him leave the room ahead of her. He was completely out of sight when she added, "good night, William." CHAPTER 18 "You did WHAT?!" Sellars fell back on his barstool with a loud thump, nearly dropping the mug of synthale he held. "I don't believe it. If I hadn't just heard you say it with my own two ears... William T. Riker ... engaged to be married!" "Say it a little louder," hissed Riker, "I don't think the whole quadrant heard you..." "What, it's some kind of secret?" laughed Sellars, "I don't think so man, when word of this gets out," he trailed off a long breath, "the girls are gonna be crying from here to the Zetli system..." "Will you shut up and let me finish?" Riker fixed his friend with a pointed look, but there was no hint of sincerity in the reprimand, "It's only been a few weeks, and to be honest?" Riker took a draw of his ale, "I don't feel all that different. It's ... nice." "Nice." "Yeah, as in ... I don't have to keep chasing the next pretty face, I can sit here, relax, have a drink with a friend and--" "--go home at night to empty quarters in the middle of a back-woods, and a COMM call from your fiancee, *if* you're lucky..." Riker frowned, "that situation is only temporary." "You've got another three and half months to go, buddy, and after that?" "Thanks for reminding me." Downing the rest of his drink, Riker grimaced," I'm still waiting to hear from Admiral J'Nathan and he's taking his sweet time." "I'll say. What is it with that guy, anyway? I thought he *liked* you." "I thought so too, apparently, we were both a little off on that assessment." "Well, I'll tell you one thing Riker," Sellars leaned forward on his stool, "you sure do look a lot happier than you were when this thing started. Rachel must really agree with you." "She does," Riker's smile faltered. "Actually, she left a couple days ago. I won't see her again for another week. Duty assignment in sector 0-0-2. She says it's classified, but I suppose I'll find out when she gets back." "You worried?" Riker paused. Was he worried? Under other circumstances ... possibly. But this was Rachel, and Rachel could take care of herself. She was a crackerjack pilot, just like he was, and she had clawed her way to the same rank in even fewer years. "To be honest, I hadn't really thought about it." "She didn't tell you what the mission stats were; if there's even a risk?" David shook his head, "that doesn't bode well my man, not well at all." "And you're the paragon of intellectual advice on relationships, right?" Riker smirked, "I think I'll take my chances and trust Rachel, all things considered." "Okay, so things are first-class with Rachel. You love her, you trust her. But if she's not the reason you're so chipper these days," Sellars pressed on, "then what is?" "Nothing," Riker shrugged, "Nothing, really, just -- life isn't so bad. That's all." "Life isn't so bad," Sellars mused, pondering his best friend's face for a few silent seconds, "You're stuck in a shit-tour any ensign would cringe at, trapped on the home-world with no chance of getting laid for weeks at a time, and no career mobility, but -- life isn't so bad." "That's right," Riker went to take another drink before he realized his glass was empty. "Damn," David was already shaking his head, "you're falling for her." Will glanced up, "Of course I've fallen for her. She's my fiancee for Christ's sake." "I wasn't talking about Rachel..." "Then who..." Riker trailed off, his expression transforming to one of amazement, "you've got to be kidding me!" "No, I don't think I am," smiled Sellars, "It's written all over your face." "That is bullshit, Sellars," Riker made a face and laughed, "I can't even believe you're saying it. Think about it, she's a Federation Ambassador!" "I can't help but notice you didn't say you're so in love with Rachel you'd never consider it," the other man raised an eyebrow. "That isn't the point," snapped Riker, "It's so moot, it doesn't even bear consideration!" Undaunted, David grinned, "then why are you yelling, buddy?" Riker froze. He was yelling. And several faces in the lounge had already turned to stare. "Look, it's just not a fact, okay?" he shook his head, "can we drop it?" "Whatever you say man," Sellars raised both hands in a gesture of quiescence, "I'm sure you know as well as I do that falling for a Federation Ambassador is career suicide." "You don't need to remind me." "Is she really as beautiful as they say she is?" Riker stared at him. For a long moment he said nothing; fist clenched around the handle of his mug. Finally he looked away. "Beautiful," he slowly exhaled, "doesn't begin to do her justice." "I see." David's face took on a serious countenance. "You know, Will, Rachel's a great girl, all kidding aside, she's one in a million. Any guy would be nuts not to fall madly in love with her." "Yeah," Riker nodded, gazing out over a sea of open tables. His voice grew quiet. "Any guy would." CHAPTER 19 Darian Khell was gone. In the early hours of morning when Riker arrived at the front desk of the retreat, he was given a note -- on paper. Tumbling the loose sheet between his fingertips, he read the Betazoid's tidy script. Commander Riker: Please be advised that I will not be requiring your services for the morning flight. I've been assigned to Utopia Planetia for a few days, and will return upon my earliest convenience. Your assistance since our arrival on Earth has been most invaluable. Please continue as ever. With Appreciation, Darian Khell The note ended, and Riker flipped it over out of habit. Sighing softly, he glanced at his chronometer. 0745. Deanna would be awake by now. No doubt she was already going over her itinerary for the day. She would finish that chore and then make her way to the lobby where they were usually to meet. That had been the way of it, for over two months. And Riker had to admit, he found it difficult to fathom how any man could leave a woman like Deanna behind for any length of time. It didn't seem normal. That was another thing. Khell's relationship with Troi had -- from the moment Riker met them -- been something of an enigma. They were obviously fond of one another, social and engaging, yet they almost never touched in public. Rarely traded an affectionate glance. And though their silent exchanges were numerous and seemingly deep, it seemed to Will that something was out of place. Lacking in intimacy. Just as Deanna had confided in him. Her resolute request came floating back through the tumble of his conscious thoughts. In truth, he'd thought about it a great deal since the day they'd sat and talked. And in some ways, he was still a little confused. At first he wondered if his initial reaction had been simply a result of an inability to fully grasp the differences between Betazoid and Human culture. After all, when two *human* people spent the night in bed together, it was always an intimate act. A betrayal to any spouse or third-party involved. No question of that. However when Deanna broached the subject, it seemed as though she truly felt that there would be no such betrayal from her point of view. He was glad, at least, that she understood he couldn't ask the same of Rachel. Even if he'd wanted to... and did he want to? Dangerous ground. Whatever was going on between the Ambassador and her husband was more than simply a cultural idiosyncrasy. It was a personal issue between the couple, and despite all of Deanna's logical, reasoned perceptions, Riker couldn't help but wonder if she even realized there was a greater problem than simply the matter of how to please her partner. Then again, perhaps there really was something to the marital bond that Deanna described. Maybe, on Betazed, it was a discredit when it couldn't be achieved. She and Khell had been together for nearly a year already. Perhaps not having achieved that very personal outcome had begun to weigh on their feelings for one another? He couldn't know that for sure, of course, and his wondering was simply supposition. But it made sense. At least a little. Maybe he'd spend some more time looking up a few of the finer points of Betazoid philosophy. Maybe Sellars was also right and 'boning up' on his knowledge of Betazed would, if nothing else, lend him some perspective on those days when he stood with Deanna and tried desperately to think of what to say. "William." Turning from his thoughts, he found himself face to face with Troi. Clad in Federation civilian attire, she looked ... well, she looked decidedly human ... but the light in her eyes was the most beautiful thing that Riker had ever seen. Unable to keep his gaze from traveling the length of her body, he smiled and said, "I thought I was taking you to a meeting this morning." "You are." Capturing one of his arms in a formal manner, Deanna led him away from the desk. "You are taking me to a meeting in San Francisco, with a Starfleet officer as a matter of fact." "An officer?" Riker's raised eyebrow was immediate, "do I know this person?" "You might," she leaned forward, whispering conspiratorially, "I'm sorry to have mislead you, I didn't mean to, but I wasn't expecting Darian to be back last night. I had planned to see an old friend of my father's this morning. It's not official, and I suppose I shouldn't even ask you, but, I--" "Say no more," Riker held up a hand, "I'm at your disposal. Whatever you need, wherever you need to go." "You're very generous, William," Deanna regarded him frankly. "Generosity has nothing to do with it," Riker caught and held her expression, "I never ask questions of a friend." CHAPTER 20 The Starfleet officer Deanna had arranged to meet turned out to be a five star Admiral by the name of Peter Lloyd. Tall, striking, with a peppering of gray at the edge of each temple, he appeared to be somewhere nearing early middle-age and his countenance was one of unquestionable authority. However he couldn't have been more surprised than he looked, when he first caught a glimpse of Deanna. "My God," the whisper had barely left his lips when she began to approach him, leaving Riker's side and the transport on the edge of a wide avenue. "You look just like your mother did back then." "Admiral Lloyd?" "I can't believe it!" he laughed boisterously, "I can see her right there in your eyes!" Deanna blushed. Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, she regarded the older man frankly. "It's good to meet you," she held out her hand for a 'human' handshake, but Lloyd had other ideas. Grabbing hold of her shoulders, he pulled her into a bear-hug and seemed not to care that she was less than half his size. "The last time I saw you," Lloyd let her go and placed his hand three feet off the ground, "you were this tall." "My father spoke a great deal about you before he died." The Admiral's expression sobered. "I imagine he might have. We were best friends." "Yes." Deanna straightened her shoulders. "He told me that if I ever visited Earth, you would always--" "Of course, of course," the older man nodded and his eyes took on a mirthful sparkle. "I'm told, Madame, that I should call you Ambassador..." Again Deanna blushed, but this time she gestured towards her casual attire. "Exactly why I haven't dressed the part today. I would very much like to meet you, Mr. Lloyd. And perhaps we can talk further about my father?" "Certainly," his brief and familiar nod was something that Riker was convinced came from years as an officer in command. "I've taken the liberty of having a small lunch prepared. Would you like to come inside?" Deanna nodded, her eyes strayed behind her and the Admiral picked up on it immediately. "Your liaison can join us if you'd like." Having noticed the exchange, Riker was already on his way across the boulevard. He arrived and traded an officer's greeting with Lloyd. "Commander," the Admiral eyed Riker's collar, "you're welcome to join us for lunch." "Thank you sir," Riker's eyes turned to Troi and he smiled at her unspoken agreement, "but with the Ambassador's permission, there's something of a personal effect I'd like to pick up from a hotel nearby." Deanna raised an eyebrow, but nodded quickly. "Of course." "All right," Lloyd gave Riker a good once-over before he acknowledged. "I'll have her back into your care by, say, fourteen-thirty hours?" "Yes sir." Deanna placed her arms akimbo on her hips. "You know I am standing right here. You needn't both refer to me as though I'm some sort of object." Both Lloyd and Riker exchanged a meaningful look, and the Admiral laughed. "You're absolutely right," he took Troi's arm in his. "You'll have to forgive a couple of Starfleet stuffed shirts. We treat everyone worth more than we are as though they're gold pressed latinum. It's a deplorable habit. But I think your officer's just trying to do his job." In parting, Lloyd nodded again at Riker, but Deanna had already forgiven the exchange and allowed the older man to lead her quietly toward a nearby building. "So tell me, Deanna, can I call you Deanna?" "Of course you may," she smiled. "How *is* your mother these days?" That was the last that Riker heard of their conversation before they disappeared in doors. Looking after them for only a moment, he turned on his heel and headed leisurely down the street. There was just one stop he wanted to make, and then he'd return to the transport and wait for the Ambassador. * When he entered the lobby of the "Constellation" hotel, Riker couldn't help the smile that crossed his face. He and Rachel had a standing reservation here. It was their 'home away from home', as she called it, and it had been a place of many ... damn exciting memories. What Riker wanted today, was a holograph. There were several of them in the suite they rented, but there was one in particular he hoped to take back with him to the retreat. It was an image of Rachel, taken on Risa; a planet known the Federation over for its warm sandy beaches, its welcome hospitality and its attitude toward the finer pleasures in love... Riker's smile became a grin. He could hardly wait to see that holo again. "Commander Riker?" a voice from the lobby-desk startled him. "Hey, Stacie," Riker looked up at the woman and gestured to the lift-doors. "I'm just on my way upstairs for a personal effect." "Sure thing, go right ahead," she smiled warmly, "you and Commander Morris must have some kind of psychic connection if you got here this quickly." "Commander Morris?" Riker froze, "she's here?" "Oh yeah, upstairs about half an hour ago," Stacie paused, "that's not why you're here?" "No," Riker shrugged, "well, that's great news though. Thanks!" Sprinting the rest of the way through the corridor, Riker caught the first lift that opened and called his floor. Rachel was back this quickly? And she hadn't said a thing... maybe she wanted to surprise him? He drummed his fingers absently against the wall. Maybe he would surprise her instead... Rounding the corner of the upstairs hall, Riker keyed in the access to the suite door and stepped casually inside. He'd been about to call Rachel's name when a strange sound caught his attention. It wasn't just that it was strange, it was familiar... Heart lodged firmly in the base of his throat, Riker threw wide the door to the bedroom and stood there; absolutely in shock. Nothing. Not his training or his career; his life or anything else he had ever come through could ever have prepared him for what he was about to see. Rachel. Hot and thoroughly distracted. Arms wound around the shoulders and neck ... of another man. "What the hell is going on here?!" Riker heard his own voice boom loudly across the room, but it seemed somehow surreal; caught in a bubble. The heart in his throat fell firmly to the pit of his stomach. He thought he was going to be sick. "Will!" Rachel leapt from the bed in a bound so outstanding, it might have been record-worthy had the situation not been this grim. As it was, Riker fought to keep the measure in his voice. "Obviously, you weren't expecting me," he growled. "Who the hell is that?" Rachel's lover; a tall, slightly older man with a smug smile, leaned back against the bedframe, uncaring of his nudity. "Commander Garrity, of the LEGACY," he draped his arm casually over the edge of the headboard. "And you must be Will." Riker couldn't believe what he was hearing. Trading a glance between a barely covered Rachel and her carelessly nude companion, he thought he could happily end the other man's life. "Will, I can explain..." Famous last words, thought Riker grimly. He shook his head and advanced on them both slowly. "How long?" he asked. "Will, it's complicated..." "How GOD DAMNED LONG," his furious gaze found Garrity, "have you been FUCKING my fiancee!" It wasn't Garrity who answered. Rachel dropped her head and whispered, "Seven months." "Seven months?" Seven months? He'd been with her, they'd made promises ... all during that time and she was sleeping with another man? A man that she KNEW might soon be Riker's own Captain? A man who undoubtedly knew the same... Riker's punishment hearing flashed before his eyes all over again. The embarrassment. The letter of reprimand. The loss of the opportunity to XO a ship called UFP LEGACY. That did it. He leapt from his position and grabbed the other man by the throat, lifting him completely off the bed and holding him firmly against the wall. Garrity couldn't breathe, and when he began to choke, Rachel shoved herself between Will's body and her lover's. "Will, you're killing him!" she yelled, "put him the hell down!" Riker stared at her, his hand still closed on the Commander's esophagus. Though he heard the strangled gasps and felt the sting of Garrity's fingernails bite savagely into the back of his fingers, Riker hadn't released his hold. Until now. Dropping his quarry on the bed, he didn't even look down as Garrity fell to the mattress and desperately massaged his gullet. "You had one last request Rachel," Will swallowed against the iron clamp inside his chest, "and that was it." Backing slowly out of the room, he paused in the doorway just in time to hear Garrity calling after him. "Assaulting a fellow officer, Riker! That's an offence punishable by six years in the stockade!" "Shut up, Sean!" he heard Rachel's angry rejoinder. But somehow, Riker was unable to turn and to regard the other man. He held his hand on the doorframe and answered tiredly, "Service number: SC231-427, Commander. Take your best shot." And then he turned and left their suite, alone. Without his holograph. CHAPTER 21 When Deanna left the Admiral's building and stepped out into the street, her gaze immediately flew to the transport. Riker was standing against the hull, hands shoved casually within his pockets. He smiled from a distance, but there was a kind of desperate hurt in him that radiated in waves. It was so powerful, she wondered for a moment if she would not be ill from the force of it. As she paused in her approach, Riker caught and held her expression. She realized that he knew she'd sensed at least a part of what he'd been feeling -- because if ever there had been a look that screamed: 'please don't say anything', this would have qualified. Forcing herself to ignore the empathic discomfort, Deanna turned to the Admiral instead. "Thank you, for a wonderful afternoon. I feel as though I've been reintroduced to my father. And I can't repay you for that." "Nonsense," Admiral Lloyd smiled warmly at her. "You know I never had a daughter of my own. Ian used to chide me I'd never get married. Said my career would always be there, but I didn't listen. Now I look back on things and I wonder what it might have been like ... I may get married someday. But even if I did, I'd like to think that you would still come visit me, from time to time," he cleared his throat. "Of course I will," she reached for him and hugged him affectionately. "We'll speak often." "Good then," the Admiral cleared his throat, "Now, before you head on back there, there's just one more thing I feel obligated to mention," he paused thoughtfully, "as a -- a father figure, mind you." Deanna smiled, "what is it?" "You on good terms with your liaison officer, are you?" Glancing at Riker, she shifted where she stood. "I suppose so, yes. He's become a friend," she confided. "A good friend?" "Yes." "Now, I probably shouldn't say this, since you're a married woman, but you already know how I feel about these culturally dictated weddings." "Arranged marriages," Deanna provided simply, smiling as she had when Lloyd had first disapproved of the notion during their luncheon. "Not everyone can understand." "Well I'll tell you what I do understand," his look was serious, "In all my life, I've rarely seen a man look at a woman the way Commander Riker looks at you," he belayed her imminent vocalization with a wave of his hand, "except the way that Ian looked at your mother." "Admiral," Deanna switched to his formal title without being aware, "I really think that--" "No," he waved her off again, "I've said my piece. I've said everything and more than I probably should have. And I won't interfere. I just ... thought you should know." Stowing her disagreement, Deanna simply shrugged. "Well, I'm certain you're mistaken. I am married, and Commander Riker is engaged as well. Happily, I might add." Lloyd snorted, "details..." "I appreciate your candor." "--even if you think I'm a damn fool for thinking it!" "I never said that," she laughed. "You didn't have to. Tell you what, get out of here. I'm sure that as time goes on, you and I will have a few more visits. We don't have to talk about all of it now." With another embrace and a quick wave, Deanna saw the Admiral back into the building. Only once he'd disappeared inside did she start slowly across the street. * "William..." Riker pulled himself into the shuttle and sank down in a chair. He glanced at the console for a while, pretending he hadn't heard her voice. But the door had closed behind Deanna, and she was unmistakably standing next to him. "Please," she sat in her own chair, swiveling to face him, "tell me." He stared into space. Unable to meet her eyes, unable to articulate anything, he simply shook his head. "Let's start from the beginning," she went on gently, "did you get what you came for?" "Oh yeah. Yes, I got exactly what I came for. Got it in spades. We should be getting back now." His hand returned to the CON but Deanna pushed it deliberately backward. "You're not flying me anywhere until I see that you're fit for it." Riker's head snapped up. "Ambassador," he caught and held her look of censure, "I could fly this thing blind and half dead." "Which is precisely the way you appear to be feeling at the moment, Commander." she countered his remark in a similar tone. "You don't want to talk about your life, that's your decision. You'd like to call me a friend and then refuse to acknowledge it when I know that you've been hurt ... also your call." Deanna turned back in her chair, "but you're not flying when you're feeling like this. That's for damn sure." Riker's jaw dropped; his eyes widened. "I've shocked you?" her eyes narrowed, "Well I'll tell you what, William Riker, you may think you know me, but you have no idea. And if you've conceived for even a moment that I'd sit here while you take your rage out in the air," her hands tapped in a series of numbers to the CON and the shipped hummed suddenly to life, "then you've got a great deal more to learn." Riker parked himself hard in his chair. He stared at Troi suspiciously, "How the hell did you do that?" She shrugged, "there are two flight chairs in every shuttle of this design. Either of them can be used to pilot. That's common knowledge." "Taking flight control of a series-B shuttle craft requires a key... a Starfleet access code. Where did you get one?" Deanna looked away from him and focused her attention on the CON. "What did you say?" he asked. "I didn't say anything." Riker stood and slapped his hand down on the back of her chair. "You may have Federation security clearance that flies right over my head, but I know for damn sure that Starfleet doesn't just hand out its flight-codes to noncoms. Not even to Federation diplomats. It's may be a 'little thing; but it's protocol, so I asked you a question, *ambassador*, where did you get one?" "I can't tell you that," she turned in her chair, "but I can promise you that it was not obtained by illicit means, if that's what you were thinking." He stared at her. Deanna had never lied to him before. His research on Betazed philosophy suggested that Betazoids never lied. And her expression right now held no hint of deception. But what the hell did he know? He'd been sleeping with a woman who'd been lying to him for months... "Computer," Riker kept his eyes on Troi for only an instant longer before he read off the access number on the flight-panel, "identify ownership, flight-key alpha, tango, three, blue." [[Flight key access for the specified code is restricted]] "Really. Well that's damn convenient." He turned to Troi, "you arrange for that?" "No." "Okay," pulling roughly on the chair behind him, he straddled it backwards. "What do I care, anyway. You want to fly this thing? Go ahead, fly it." He turned and stared out the window. "Fly wherever the hell you want." With only a tolerant look in his direction, Deanna said nothing more. She input a new series of figures and the shuttle rose slowly off the ground. They were underway within a minute, and Riker never looked up. * Crouching next to the CON, Riker pulled some cable from a low panel, toying idly with the fibrous link while he used the proximity as an excuse to check Deanna's readings. "You know," he said, "you can put this thing on autopilot; let the ship take us the rest of the way in." "I know, but I like it. I don't get to fly very often...." Deanna's smile was bashful, but while she offered it, Riker couldn't look away. "Well. I guess you're really not that bad," he shrugged loosely. "For an Ambassador." Stowing the rest of the cable, he rolled onto his haunches. "I beg your pardon!" Deanna turned in her chair. The action placed her face a breath away from his and both of them froze. A fraction of air seemed to quiver between them. "Of course, if you really want to go flying," he whispered, warmed inexplicably by her almost tangible proximity, "I can show you a trick or two." Poised within an inch of his body, Deanna sat perfectly still. She appraised him until the hint of a smile touched the corners of her lips. Gesturing at the console, her shoulders rose and fell. "Be my guest." Reaching around her, Riker keyed in a new sequence. His posture brought his upper body into direct contact with her arm, but she neither moved nor spoke, watching instead when he pulled away from her. For an instant, Will forgot where he was. Forgot everything but the fathomless darkness of her eyes. They were both startled when the shuttle tipped suddenly starboard, dropped its nose and began picking up speed at an ever increasing rate. Torn from the moment, Riker smiled at the awkward intrusion. The Ambassador seemed perplexed, but he shifted her over, holding onto her waist with one hand while he casually usurped her chair. Only when she moved to take the other seat, did he pull her back down, landing her squarely on his lap. "You're not going to learn anything, unless you feel the controls," he spoke against the side of her hair, taking both of her hands and placing them on the CON. "Now look out there..." Sitting square on the chair between his legs, Deanna's head fit neatly under Riker's chin. "What do you see?" he asked. "A lot of trees." "You want to be a pilot? Or a botanist?" he felt her hands stiffen under his on the controls, "Okay, what else?" "Sky?" she shrugged, the motion pressing her shoulders against his torso. "Closer," Riker helped her tap a new entry. "William!" she gasped, sliding firmly against him when the shuttle accelerated. "Lost a little altitude there," he laughed when she pulled herself forward, marginally away from the heat of his larger frame. "That isn't what worries me, I think that we're going far faster than is allowed on a planetary--" "Do you always follow the rules, Deanna?" She was quiet for a moment, and then he heard her say, "most of the time." "Why?" "Because, rules are usually in place for a practical purpose," she tipped her head to look up at him, "safety for example." "And you don't feel safe right now," he met her upside down stare and saw the color that rose in her cheeks before she turned her face forward again. "I feel fine." "Good," he grinned and said, "then a little faster isn't going to bother you." As the ground bled away, Riker took control of the small transport, slicing expertly through the tops of the towering conifers. There was no hesitation in his control; only slight movements as he guided the shuttle, instinctively anticipating and plotting its path. He could feel Deanna's initial trepidation abate as she relaxed into the rhythm of his flying. After a short time, she whispered, "Let me try it." Allowing her hands to slide under his, Riker took his own fingers off the guidance pad, resting them lightly atop of hers. "You have the CON," he answered. Deanna was a natural. It surprised him, at first, because he'd never have taken her for the spatially coordinated type. Then again, he'd nursed a few other formulaic assumptions about the Ambassador until today; many of which required amending. So it came as less of a shock when Troi moved forward on the control pad, edging the shuttle's speed even higher -- to a point where Riker was forced to grin. She seemed to be in perfect sync with the ship as the trees below them were transformed into a colorful blur. "Will," Deanna exhaled softly, falling backward against his broad chest, "this is wonderful!" "What did you say?" "I said this is--" "No," he took the controls and slowed them to a more sedate speed before punching the autopilot back on. Pushing away from the console, he turned Deanna so that he could see her face. "You called me Will." "I did?" she shook her head, "Oh, I ... I suppose I wasn't thinking about it." "That's okay," he smiled, "all my close friends call me Will. I guess, that should include you." The genuine warmth in Deanna Troi's eyes at that moment was nearly enough to stop his breath. "Thank you," she whispered. Rising slowly from their chair and taking her with him, Riker set the shuttle to an all-stop while they hovered over hundreds of miles of dense forest. "Deanna--" he began and then trailed off, uncertain how to proceed, or even whether he should. "What is it?" Riker didn't talk about his personal life. Not with anyone. His problems were his own affair and he dealt with everyone in the same way: Arms length. Even with Rachel, and she had chided him over the issue more than once. The thing was, he'd never wanted to talk. Never felt secure in the knowledge that someone would listen, without judging him. Until now. Right at this moment, there was a part of him that felt as though he could tell Deanna Troi anything. But there was still another part of him to contend with. The part that remained on guard against such indiscretions. The part that whispered: he had never trusted anyone with a personal truth in his lifetime who hadn't eventually betrayed him. Perhaps without meaning to, Deanna decided the matter for him. "You're acting very strangely," she shook her head. Hackles raised, Riker stiffened where he stood. "Strangely?" he asked. "Yes. Very. Does this have anything to do with this afternoon?" Thanking whatever deity had saved him from a moment of weakness -- and pointless honesty -- Riker shrugged. "I told you. It was nothing. You asked if I got what I came for, and I did." "You did," she deadpanned, "what was it?" "Does it matter?" "Of course it matters, Will, it upset you a great deal--" she placed a soft hand against his cheek, "why can't you--" "I said, it's nothing!" with more force than he'd intended, Riker shoved her arm away. "It's none of your damned business! Will you just drop it!" Deanna stood there; arms crossed reflexively over her chest at the impasse, but she was quiet after that. Turning away from him, she made her way back to the passenger's chair and sank slowly into it, staring out at the green of the now still forest. Riker stood behind her for a long moment. His hands fisted and then released at his sides and he took a cleansing breath. For an instant, he felt a stab of remorse for the way that he'd treated her, but it was nothing compared to the rolling self-disgust that burned inside him. The near-betrayal for what he'd been about to confess ... to a person he hardly knew. No, that wasn't entirely true. He did know her. And he had been truthful with her when he said that he thought of her as a friend. The reality was, he wouldn't have been any more forthcoming with a friend, either. Except that Deanna seemed different. And maybe she *was* different. Maybe she would have listened. Maybe she would even have known what to say. It just didn't matter anymore, Riker realized, because he'd already decided that he wasn't going to talk about it. Not with her. Not with anyone at all. The cabin of the transport seemed darker, smaller somehow as he slumped back into the pilots seat, concentrating on his new resolution instead of her. Tapping the panel and leaning backward, Riker closed his eyes. He let the ship fly itself back to the retreat in complete silence. CHAPTER 22 Time had melted into a soggy sensation for Riker. Sitting, legs up on the edge of his bed, he felt like giving in; letting it all go. Sleeping. But sleep was elusive this night. The problem was, he was still thinking, and he hadn't had nearly enough to drink. There was nothing to provide him with the familiar lethargy of oblivion for a few hours. Oh, he'd planned on it. He'd gone down to the city with Sellars and they'd planned on a whole lot of things. But after his third glass, and Sellars' seventh knowing smile, Riker suddenly hadn't 'felt' like anything anymore. He went home instead. 'Home' -- if that's what this back-woods diplomatic retreat could be called -- was an officer's suite that was just a little too large, and a bed that was just a little too soft. Riker sank his skull into the swell of his pillow and dropped an arm over top of his eyes. He tried not to think at all -- and he was nearly successful, when there was a knock at the door. "What is it?" he growled, grimacing dispassionately at the intruder's lack of response. "Roger if that's you, I'll have you reassigned! It's the middle of the night!" Another knock. "Damn it, tell Starfleet I'm busy ... or you can tell them I'm dead for all I care, just get the hell away from my door!" That ought to have done it. It ought to have sent the usually meek Lieutenant scrambling for cover. But it didn't. The knocking continued, and was soon followed by a chime. Riker scowled at the sound; it was just the kind of noise that seemed a hell of a lot louder when a person had a headache like he'd been nursing. "All right!" he snapped, "Come in! But this had better be damn good!" No sooner had he spoken, than the door swished obediently open. "I'm not certain what your opinion of 'damn good' entails, Commander," Deanna Troi stood unflinchingly in the stop-gap, "but I should tell you, I've been more cordially met by the Klingons. And 'this', as you refer to it, is going to happen whether you like it or not." Rolling quickly to an awkward upright position, Riker hooked his thumb into one eye socket and his forefinger into the other, pressing both simultaneously. It did nothing to clear the hammering in his skull. "Ambassador," he deadpanned, "to what ... do I owe the honor." Deanna was staring at him. For almost thirty-seconds, she said nothing at all, and Riker couldn't figure out a single reason why. But then he looked down at himself, and he realized that he wasn't wearing a shirt. He'd fallen into bed without one, and in the state that he was in, it hadn't mattered at the time. "All pretense aside, I'm sure you can imagine why I'm here, Will," Troi cleared her throat softly. "This probably isn't the best time," he tipped his head, trying to clear away some of the dull pain he'd been feeling. Unfortunately, it wouldn't budge. It hadn't, from the moment he left the Constellation Hotel in the afternoon. Ignoring his response, Deanna walked determinedly into his room. "I brought you something for that headache." She sat next to him on the bed, and when she pressed a hypo to the edge of his neck, Riker felt a rush of cool sensation flood his body. Almost instantly, the pain was gone and he could focus once again. "The wonders of modern medicine," he gently rubbed the back of his neck, then added a quiet, "thanks." "You're welcome." "Should I even ask how you knew I had a headache?" With a gamine smile and a shrug, Deanna tapped the side of her head. "Ah," he smiled, resigned, "witchcraft." "I beg your pardon?" "Never mind. I'll tell you later." She seemed to let the matter drop, which was fine as far as Riker was concerned. But when she didn't say anything else, he realized he was in trouble all over again. They were both sitting quietly on the edge of his bed, staring at one another. And Riker knew with sudden certainty that if one of them didn't say something soon; he was going to kiss her. Clearing his throat, he shifted backward. "So," he tried, "you came all the way down here just to play 'doctor'?" "Technically, I am a doctor." "Today you *are* a doctor?" She regarded him solemnly. "Okay. Well, 'technically' ... that's not what I meant." "I know what you meant." "Good," Riker frowned, "that's good, because the way I'm feeling right now, it's a fine thing that one of us can interpret for me." He sighed. "So *doctor*, *ambassador*, or whatever you are today, is there something in particular you need other than to fulfill your Hippocratic oath for the day..." "No, Will," Deanna acknowledged him with a tired smile, "you were giving *me* a headache, that's all. And, I suppose I also came because ... I couldn't sleep either. I was thinking about this afternoon in the shuttle, and--" Her eyes glanced over his torso again, and Riker noticed she seemed to be intrigued by what she saw. When she looked up at him, he caught and held her gaze. "I owe you an apology for my behavior," he sighed, "I should have offered it hours ago." "Will--" "I acted like a jerk, Dea... Ambassador. You didn't deserve to be treated that way and I had no right to say what I did." "Oh? Now we're back to formalities?" Sighing softly, Deanna placed her fingers on his arm. Riker shrugged and looked away. If he hadn't felt that hypo touch the side of his neck, he might have complained that his head *still* hurt, and that it was making it hard to think. "You had every right to say what you did," she added, "I shouldn't have pried." "You're wrong," Riker caught her hand on his arm. He held it still from moving because the gentle brush of her fingers across his skin was driving him crazy. "I called you a friend, and then I threw it back in your face. I think, once you get to know me better, you'll realize I'm not very good at sharing the way that I feel. I'm a private person. I get, itchy, talking about my personal life, and even itchier when I know it isn't going to be a pleasant conversation, which is most of the time." For an instant, Troi seemed to look right through him. She finally sighed, "I understand. And, if it means that much to you, then I accept your apology." With a quiet nod, Riker traded rails, "is the Minister back this evening?" he asked, hoping she would drop the subject. Deanna glanced briefly at the wall. "No," rising carefully from his bed, she turned toward him, "he called in this evening. He'll be another two days off planet . I've told him that I'll need to see him after that, whether he likes it or not. If nothing else, he'll have to debrief me on the Chancellor's status." "I see," Riker lied. He didn't see. Not how a man could spend as much time away from Deanna Troi as Darian Khell apparently did. He didn't 'see' at all. Their affairs were none of his business, and to enter them was to overstep well-defined bounds. The problem was ... the look in Troi's eyes told him she was hurting. It implored him to offer whatever he could to relieve the reason why. "Deanna, I'm--" he paused, then smiled and shook his head, "Look at the two of us. I won't talk to you about what's bothering me and, because of that, I feel like an idiot for asking you to do the same, but I have to... are you all right?" "No," she whispered, startling him with her honesty, "I'm not all right." And then she dropped down onto the bed, folding her hands in her lap. "You're worried for him." Deanna shook her head, "not for him, for us." She looked away again, unable to face him while she spoke, "Will, my marriage is... complicated. Darian is complicated. Every day, it's as though I know him less and less. He spends more time away," she paused, "our conversations are, difficult to define." Uncertain how to respond, Riker found himself wishing desperately that he had more experience with long-term relationships. Anything he could offer Deanna in the way of advice or a means to compromise, but nothing came directly to mind. "I'm sorry," he knew it sounded inadequate, but he didn't know what else to say. In his opinion, Khell was an idiot. But then again, he probably wasn't the best judge of what 'worked' in a relationship either, given his track record. Riker frowned. "This may sound trite," he said, "but have you told him how you're feeling? Tried talking about it?" Deanna laughed. It was as low and as bitter a sound as he had ever heard from her. "Tried? Yes, I've tried. And tried, and tried, and--" she gestured with her hand, "I think you get a sense of it by now." "And he's not willing to discuss it? Or he doesn't care?" "He cares, Will, it's not that. Darian is a good man. He cares very deeply about many things, but," she trailed off. 'You're just not one of them,' he thought disparagingly, 'Idiot,' he said nothing aloud. "To be fair, I can understand how he might not want to--" Deanna went on, dropping her gaze. "Now wait a second," Riker cut in gently, "If you were about to say that you can understand how he might not want to be with you, you can stop right there. Because I guarantee you, that isn't possible." "Isn't it?" she asked, and the slight reminder of a smile touched her lips. "Not a chance in hell." Reaching for his hand, Deanna placed her fingers on top of his. "That's very Human of you, Will." "Excuse me?" "I meant it as a compliment." "I know that," he almost laughed, "that's what scares me. Why would you think that my saying something like that is a shortcoming?" "It's not a shortcoming. Not for you, but when two Betazoids--" "Forgive me for saying so, Deanna, but that's bullshit." Sliding backward, Deanna's jaw dropped. "What?" she whispered. "You heard me. I defy you to prove to me that two Betazoids can't have a meaningful *and* physical relationship at the same time." "They-- they can," she stammered, "but in that order. Without the former, there is no latter. Can't you see that?" "What I see," said Riker, "is that in your people's quest to achieve some kind of all mighty omniscience over your thoughts and feelings, you've tied so much dogma into the simplest emotions, it's a wonder any of you can feel at all." "I should have known better!" thrusting herself from the bed with a suddenness that startled them both, Deanna turned on him, "You can't possibly understand the nuance. I don't even know why I tried!" "Oh, that's right," Riker's patience finally snapped, "Poor stupid Human -- he can't 'possibly' understand what it's like to fall in love." Launching himself from his own position, he circled her in the small room, "To have his trust betrayed or his whole world trampled on! Can he? Of course not. All *he* can do is run around with his pants around his ankles like some kind of animal, because he's not *evolved* enough to understand! Is that it, Deanna? You can stop me anytime I get to the official Betazoid definition of HUMANITY!" "Enough!" she screamed, and the sheer decibel of her voice was adequate to silence them both for an instant. Shoulders squared, breathing angrily, she whispered, "I'm leaving." "Yeah," shrugged Riker, "why don't you," he tapped the doorplate and left it open. "Before I say something I might regret." Deanna's arched eyebrow caused him wonder what she might do next. But not for long. She slapped a hand down on the mechanism, shutting the door and remaining inside. "You may not understand it, William," her voice was unnaturally calm, "you may not even wish to comprehend the reason why, but it *is* different when two Betazoids share a relationship, and that is simply a statement of fact." He stared at her. Unblinking, unmoving, Riker met her expression dead on. "Then what was your little 'proposition' about, the other week, Deanna? When you practically *begged* me to have sex with you. What, you just wanted to see what it'd be like to fuck someone less 'evolved' than you are? Or maybe," his smile curled into a cat-like smirk, "maybe you realized you wanted me ... and your pious Betazoid philosophy didn't accept that, so you rationalized you could get me into bed by asking me to--" The slap that struck the side of Riker's face resounded through the small confines of the enclosure. It stung. In fact, it hurt a lot. And Riker stood there for a moment in shock, hand automatically raised to cover the injured area. When he could finally speak again, there seemed to be only one thing he could say. "How very HUMAN of you, Deanna." Ashen faced and trembling, she turned from him and caught the doorframe with her hand. If nothing else he'd said or done until this moment had registered, this single phrase had hit its mark. Deanna said nothing and Riker let her stand there, motionless for almost a minute before he thought about what he'd said. "Look... I'm sorry," he whispered finally, standing stock still in the center of the room. "You should go." He didn't even look at her when she turned on him. "You're not sorry!" standing her ground, Deanna glared at him, "not for an instant while you were saying those words were you sorry!" "All right, I'm not sorry, I'm mad!" he yelled back, "I'm a hell of a lot madder than I've ever been in my entire life, and you're standing there... preaching at me with your self-righteous Betazoid holier-than-thou answer-for-everything! It just pushed me over the edge, okay?" Riker turned from her. He stood with his back rigid, staring straight at the wall. "I just want to be alone right now." Deanna was silent for a long time. So quiet, he didn't hear her until he felt the touch of her hand on the back of his shoulder. It lingered there, as though she were testing a strange sensation in addition to offering him comfort. He didn't want either. "Will you go!" he spun round and grabbed her arm, "get out of here!" "No!" yanking free of his grasp, Deanna planted her feet firmly on the floor and returned his fierce look, "I will not 'go'. That's easy for you, isn't it? Throw a temper tantrum. Order everyone to 'leave you alone' and they simply 'go'? Well, too bad Commander. I am not one of your soldiers. I will not be dismissed! You called me a friend today. So if you want me to go, then you're going to have to give me a hell of a better reason than the one I just heard." Frozen at an impasse, Riker stared back at Deanna's serious expression. Hands on her hips, she regarded him determinedly; she was practically livid. He wanted to scream in frustration, but he found himself laughing instead. Betazed's Federation Ambassador was looking at him as though at any moment she might toss him out an airlock. His humor lasted only a moment, before he advanced on Troi with a serious expression, pinning her back against the wall. "How about this, Deanna," he demanded, placing a hand on either side of her head. "You leave... or I take you up on your request. And we have our first 'lesson' in Human intimacy, right now." Daring her to recoil at such an obvious remark, Riker returned her stare. But Deanna didn't move at all. Only her eyebrow rose at the sincerity of his statement. "What about your fiancee?" she shot back at him, eyes narrow, "she won't mind this ... 'experiment'?" Riker's smile vanished. "That's it, isn't it? Your feelings about Rachel are what this is about?" Propelling himself away from the wall, Riker set aside his shattered ego and took a slow breath. "You know what, Deanna? This game has gone way too far already. It's over. I apologize if I offended you. Please, I'm begging you ... go. Get out. Before it's too late." Crossing the small space, he slapped his hand down on the doorplate and watched it open. But Deanna didn't move through it; she didn't move anywhere near it. "You're feeling anger, self-loathing," her voice behind him was quieter than it had been before. "And sadness. You're hurt. It's tearing you apart. Will, I'm not going to stand here and pretend that I can't sense that those feelings are tied into Rachel--" "This isn't about my feelings! God damn it!" Riker yelled. "Who the hell gave you the right to SENSE anything?" Rounding on Troi, he backed her forcefully against the wall for a second time. But the impact was not harsh, and Deanna didn't protest. Her dark eyes searched his. "Something happened, Will. It isn't right that you should--" "Ambassador, I'm warning you," he spoke perilously, dropping his head so that his voice could not have been heard beyond the edge of her ear. "Stop this now. You are on very dangerous ground." Troi tipped her chin up, conviction shining in her onyx expression "I know that," she whispered. Riker's eyes closed for a fraction of a moment. He released a short breath and willed himself to grab her, turn her around and shove her out of the entryway. But Deanna shifted against him. Her small body moved, touching his bare chest and he wondered for a fleeting moment why she'd chosen to move now when she'd been more than able to hold herself completely immobile before. He didn't wait long for an answer. More gently than he might have imagined, she drew her fingertips across his chest. Her soulful eyes lifted and locked with his. Riker stopped thinking. He stopped wondering or analyzing. He bent his head as Deanna's face moved imminently closer to his, and their lips brushed tentatively together. The contact was fleeting; barely there, but it was electric. Dropping his arms, he hooked the back of Troi's waist and moved to kiss her again... except that her fingertips pressed lightly against his lips and she shook her head. "Not on the mouth," she whispered through a broken breath. "If we are to proceed with this ... then, we'll need to establish some ground rules. A kiss like that would be just as intimate on Betazed as it is on Earth." "Kissing on the mouth is intimate, but having sex isn't?" Deanna never blinked. She stared at him until he was certain that whatever he said in the next instant might define his whole universe. It was a damned odd way to feel. "All right," he murmured. Slowly, she disengaged her fingers. Without taking his eyes from hers, he held her effortlessly against the wall, echoing her shallow breath, "but the rest of you is mine tonight, Ambassador. And I promise you this," he drew his lips within a heartbeat of her mouth, "by the time this night is over, you're going beg for things you never dreamed were possible..." Deanna's dark eyes flashed with the clear indication of a challenge. Her expression poured into his, but she gasped when his hot mouth descended the edge of her neck. CHAPTER 23 Trapped against the smooth, cool wall in Commander Riker's quarters, Deanna drew her hands from her sides; brushing over the dusting of hair that covered his entire torso. It was the second time she had done so, but she'd wanted to do it from the moment she'd walked into his room this evening. She eyed him with quiet awe, memorizing each detail of his hard masculine form. Betazoid men did not have body hair of any kind, other than on their heads. And Deanna couldn't help but wonder at how it might feel when he touched her bare skin; what it would be like when he held her with those two strong hands. It wasn't the first time since her arrival on Earth that she had experienced those thoughts or awoken very late at night from an extraordinary and very vivid dream. Of course, these were not the kind of feelings she would allow herself to dwell upon. They were base, at the very least, and they were easily mastered... while she was awake. But now... now she wasn't certain *what* she was supposed to be feeling. Only that she was feeling a great deal more than she'd anticipated. Will Riker was a very tall man; taller than she was by well over a head. And he was far stronger than any man she'd ever been with before. His arms and shoulders were sculpted as though he spent every waking moment obsessed with the task. And though she knew that wasn't the case, she also knew that his body was not like a Betazoid man's. Because there were few on her world who made it a point to develop their physical strength. Unbidden, her gaze traveled farther along his well-crafted physique. In a purely irrational sense, his body seemed suited to his personality: Powerful, disciplined, masculine; evoking an aura that called her to surrender in a primitive way she'd never dreamed plausible, given the independence of her spirit. He was handsome. Deanna had to admit, she found him incredibly attractive. And a fraction of her conscience felt guilty at keeping that fact from him. More so when he was embarrassed by Darian's inopportune candor. But unlike William Riker, Deanna Troi was quite able to conceal her thoughts from another Betazoid, and she had chosen to remain quiet on the subject -- more for the sake of her own pride than for any truly noble cause. This exercise was not about her feelings, after all. Its purpose was to improve her relationship with her husband. Nothing more and nothing less. It was an empirical experience. At least ... it should have been. But trapped as she was beneath Will's powerful frame, there seemed far more questions than answers. Why did his touch feel absolutely nothing like she'd expected? Why did his body stir a thousand new sensations she had never felt with any other man she'd ever been with? As though he'd tapped into her tremulous thoughts, he drew his fingertip lightly from the back of Deanna's ear, down toward the front of her dress. She shivered again, and he smiled. "You know what I think?" he asked. Deanna's short breath was lost to the sensation of his mouth moving slowly over her collarbone. "I think this isn't just about learning how to please your husband," deftly unclasping the broach at the center of her garment, Riker looked straight into her eyes, watching her the same way that she was watching him: through a mixture of fascination and unsolicited awe. "I think you're just as interested in learning how to please yourself, Ambassador..." Startled and mildly indignant, Deanna was forced to remind herself that he was not Betazoid; that he could not possibly have been privy to her thoughts. As much in retaliation as for any other practical purpose, she let the garment he'd unfastened slide easily from her shoulders. It fell to a billowing pool of fabric at her feet, and Riker froze when he realized that she was not wearing anything beneath it. His progress halted. He caught his breath and Deanna felt something she hadn't felt with a man in a very long time. Power. Triumph. It was her turn to smile. Tilting her head, she regarded his admiration with amusement. "On Betazed, nudity is considered physical purity. We're not shy of our bodies. Several of our ceremonies are conducted entirely in the nude. Including marriage." Will's blue eyes darkened. "That sounds fascinating," he whispered. "Does it?" Riker walked her backward until the cool surface of the wall came into contact with her spine. Startled by the sensation, Deanna reclaimed her balance against his chest, but the moment she touched him, desire swept through her. It merged with the feeling of his naked skin when it caressed the heated flesh on her chest and she watched his hands move up her arms. Her body responded unbidden as he pulled her gently from the wall. "It also seems to me," he parted the hair near her ear, "that you still haven't answered my question." Deanna froze, caught on the cusp of a frustrated groan. She released a tremulous breath, "I've already told you, this is an exercise, nothing more." "An exercise," he smiled, "No... hidden meaning, no psychological nuance, *Counselor*?" "An exercise," she met and held his expression with as clinical an air as she could manufacture. "Human physical response" Amusement shone in Riker's steel-blue eyes, but for a man of his size, he was incredibly gentle. Lifting a hand, he brushed away several strands of thick, dark hair and closed warm lips over the tender flesh at the nape of her neck before he whispered, "All right. Lets explore that ... 'human physical response', shall we?" Deanna exhaled softly; her head tipped automatically and she sighed when he drew his arms around her waist, pulling her flush with his body. Though she'd promised herself she would suppress her empathic sense, she found that she was probing Will discretely. At times, his actions seemed in conflict with his emotions, and since she knew he couldn't sense her delicate intrusion, she allowed herself the tiny breach in etiquette. If anything, his feelings could be described as commanding. Confidence, pride, raw uncensored desire. Yet it wasn't the emotions themselves that brought her empathy into almost shivering submission beneath him. It was the fact that what he felt, alone, was more powerful in an instant than anything she'd ever known together with Darian. "You're trembling," he murmured, lifting a hand and touching the edge of her face. His feelings shifted toward concern. "This is your time, Deanna. I don't know what you've heard about Human men or what you've experienced, but if you're ever uncomfortable, if you're ever unhappy even for a moment, just say the word and it ends." Turning her head, she met his forthright expression and whispered, "Thank you," touched by his sincerity. "Are you sure you want to do this?" when his hand moved lower, touching the edge of her neck, she caught it with her fingers and shook her head. "Please," she shut her eyes while Will's thumb caressed the base of her ear, eliciting a swell of shivering sensation, "Don't stop--" Without another word, he pulled her forward and turned her body in the circle of his arms. Deanna stood with her back against his warm chest; her nude body exposed to the temperate air of his quarters. An involuntary shiver coursed through her as she recognized the image of their bodies in the floor-length mirror before them. "I'm not exactly a scientist," Riker brushed his lips across her shoulder. "But as far as I know, an experiment needs to be observed to be valid. Would that be a correct assessment, 'doctor'?" "Yes," she exhaled. "Then this will do just fine," he took her arms and drew them backward until one of her small hands rested on each of his hips, and then he whispered, "Hold onto me like this. Don't let go. Can you do that?" Deanna's hair tickled his nose when she nodded. Sliding his arms around hers, Will placed his palm against the heat of her flat stomach; moving slowly upward. His heartbeat thumped against her back and his warm caress made her suddenly weak for want of even more. She gasped when he leaned forward and kissed the base of her neck. "Will," her head tipped forward of its own volition and her eyes fell shut. She'd been with other men before. Darian Khell had not been her first. But while her other lovers had certainly been more physical than her husband, they had also been Betazoid, and it had never felt ... like this. Will's touch was fire. Everywhere his fingers trailed along her body she felt things she'd never felt before; the stirring of something she'd never realized could exist. The experience was so different, it terrified and thrilled her in the very same instant. But when his exploration reached the edge of her breast, he took the ample flesh in his palm, capturing her wholly. "Do you want this?" his lips sealed wantonly over the pulse in her neck. "Yes--" she gasped. He was testing her, exploring her; commanding her body while her traitorous mind begged to join him. It wasn't rational, but Deanna realized that the farther that Will took the 'experiment', the less she was able to analyze what was happening to her. As though he'd read her thoughts, Riker whispered, "your 'human physical response' is difficult to ignore, isn't it?" his hand rose up to gently tease the hardened tip of a sensitive nipple. Her mind went blank. Releasing her hands in reflex, Deanna called out, "Gods..." unable to maintain any task requiring a higher form of thought. She sagged against his body, but Riker kept her secure. "Hold onto me," his reminder was soft and immediate, "don't let go," he whispered, and she felt his satisfaction when her small fingers grasped the sides of his larger frame behind her. She clung to him desperately; struggling to right what little remained of her sanity while his gentle, expert touch worked a kind of magic on her body that she had never dreamt was possible. Was this what it was like for him every time? Did he practice this so often that it became a second nature? Or was each physical sensation as unique for a pair of humans as it was when two Betazoids were together in mind? Determined not to lose as much control a second time, Deanna forced her mind back to alertness. To her moderate relief, Will's touch was less insistent for the moment; less demanding. Because she wasn't entirely certain she could keep him from wresting her sanity again. "Open your eyes, Deanna," his unexpected imperative sent a lick of heated moisture across her neck and she shivered from the sheer and unfamiliar erotic pleasure it engendered. Gods he was so warm against her. So hard. And that was another response she found to be far more exciting than she probably should have. The press of Riker's evident arousal shifted firmly against her body through the fabric of his pants. Though his need was obviously physical, she felt an even more powerful, internal imperative behind it. She sensed his emotions shift from confidence to conflict and then to… she caught the sound of his indrawn breath before he managed to speak. "I want you to see," he took her hands from his body and stepped slightly to one side without ever losing contact; turning them both until Deanna looked up and understood the reason why. The sharp focus of the floor-length mirror framed them in a kind of living portrait; a photograph where every nuance of their intimacy was exposed. If she'd wanted to, she might have stood that way with him for hours and missed nothing of their interaction. But Will had other ideas. Nuzzling her hair, he whispered, "No rationalizing tonight, Deanna. No thinking. Just feel." She had no plans of acting on instinct. Of allowing herself to drift from a sense of self-control which could quickly take over if necessary. This was an experiment, after all. An encounter to be observed -- not lost to. Even if her traitorous subconscious wanted nothing more than to fully surrender to the pleasure of his touch; to the hypnotic pull of his powerful desire. She swallowed and released the breath she'd held. "Feel" he repeated softly. From somewhere inexplicable within her spirit, Deanna uttered a quiet sound of acquiescence. She loathed herself for the weakness, but Riker responded immediately. Reaching for catch of his trousers, he found the fastener, deftly flicking it aside. The utilitarian garment was easily divested, and he stepped from it, sending it carelessly off to one side. She was trembling when her shoulder blades brushed the warm dusting of hair across his chest. The sensation had become less intriguing and more pleasant with every passing instant, and she returned her hands to Will's waist with exploratory slowness. "I hear that Betazoids don't have hair of any kind below their necks," he regarded her reflection in the glass. "We don't," she smiled, tipping her head back against his broad torso. "Does it bother you?" he asked, looking down into her eyes. For the first time, Deanna felt a stirring sense of reticence within him. It was a surprising duality. One that simultaneously aroused and intrigued her. "No," sighing softly, she found she was as eager to dispel Will's hesitation as she was to feel his arms close around her another time, "it feels ... wonderful." He didn't believe her. But his arms did close around her, and the clear blue eyes that regarded her in the mirror darkened visibly. However he'd understood, it seemed that he had recognized her desire to see him happy. The play of his emotions caressed her empathy and his expression softened before he finally resumed his course. Tracing skilled fingertips along the edge of her thigh, Riker paused at the vulnerable junction between them. "Do you know how beautiful you are, Deanna Troi?" he asked her, his palm gliding up toward her pelvis. Their eyes locked, but Deanna found no means to reply. No way of responding to the warmth that coursed through her body. She'd been admired at a distance by other men before; other women as well, but no one's voice and touch and ... thoughts ... had ever driven her to believe with such certainty--she was truly desired. "Look at yourself," he continued, "you're exquisite." His statement was spoken as though it were an irrefutable fact, and Deanna had yet to respond when holding her fast against him, Riker slowly slid his fingers upward, testing her readiness, before he probed deeply inside of her. She moaned aloud, biting back another cry. "It's okay to need this," he went on, forcing his words beyond the imminent demand of her rapidly fleeing rationale. He brushed her sensitive nipple with the tip of his thumb and used his other hand to flick her tiny, exposed clitoris. Deanna's focus shattered; a billion shards of crystal. "Will.." she pleaded, and for the first time in her life, she knew she meant to beg. "Please, Will, oh gods I need... I..." Using his body for leverage, she pressed backward against him, clutching at the muscles in his lower back with a kind of fevered desperation. She saw their reflection in the glimmer of the glass; she watched as Riker's head dropped low to caress the nape of her neck before he kissed her there, tracing her tendon with the heat of his damp mouth. Deanna felt her senses spiraling wildly out of control, but she kept her eyes on the light of their reflection. Curious beyond measure at the powerfully erotic image they presented. "Yes," Riker's whisper, warm and moist against her hair, was a heady narcotic. "Don't fight it, Deanna. Give in to me. Feel..." "Oh, gods--" She sobbed, writhing in frustration, arching against the pleasure of his touch. But he varied his attention, never the same; never long enough to allow complete release. "You're so close," Riker murmured against her hair, "I feel your body responding. Every woman has a rhythm, Deanna," his thumb drew lazy circles around the swollen nub between her legs, "let me find yours, let me show you how it should be..." Deanna's cries grew louder, her head tipped right and then left against the edge of his chest. She was losing control. Beyond thought. Beyond reason. She knew with the sudden clarity of the damned that she had lost her will irrevocably; and that she was exactly where Will Riker wanted her. Exactly where he'd vowed that she would find herself. "I've got you," he held her tenderly and cupped her breast in his large hand, rolling her nipple in his palm before closing both fingers around it; stroking both her center and her breast in one rhythmic, simultaneous motion. Deanna hit the edge with keening cry. Back rigid, she arched to meet his touch. She was dimly aware of her head falling backward onto Riker's shoulder, and then her whole world exploded as she released. Her balance evaporated and she sank to her knees, still supported by his strong embrace. The hot press of his chest against her shoulder blades followed one of his arms when it settled beneath her breasts and held her against him. Though her body still shook from the tremor of each new rippling wave, Will continued to caress her. Ignoring her pleas that it was more than she could take; more than she knew how. His attention never lapsed. Powerless to stop him, Deanna succumbed to the wonderful agonizing pull she felt from the center of her being. Their eyes fastened in the mirror, and in a moment of startled amazement, she was crying out anew. She heard her own voice; faintly, as though the words seemed not to belong to her. But it was she who was begging. For mercy, for more, for whatever would make this moment last eternally. She convulsed in is arms. It happened again and then a third time before the last of her rationale surrendered completely, and she knew. In a singular, defining moment, Deanna knew without question that whatever Will Riker might have asked of her; whatever he may have demanded or desired... she would have given it gladly. With an audible groan, Riker lost his sense of self-control. Deanna was perfect. Unimaginably responsive. And when she called to him, begging him to touch her, to take her body, he knew only how much he needed to be inside of her. Sliding his hand from her breast, he lifted her easily with one arm, poising her over the heat of his ridged erection. For an instant, he simply held her; drawing breath for fear of losing everything to the moment. But Deanna had other ideas. Without a further instant, she had sheathed him completely inside of her, rocking forward with a shallow moan. "Yes," she whispered fervently, pushing back from her knees on every stroke, "Will--" her voice trailed off and the sounds she made began to merge with Riker's own. He held her flush against him, exploring the moist contours of her lithe, beautiful body with one hand while he continued to pleasure her with the other. Tilting her forward, he was awed by the trust she offered so automatically when she complied. Her dark, expressive eyes closed once and then reopened. And in a moment that nearly shattered Riker's will, Deanna tensed in his arms. "Oh gods..." she whimpered aloud. But it wasn't the release of her pleasure he would have instantly recognized, it was something far more precious. He could feel it as she took him inside her body for the next stroke, and the one after that. He'd found her most sensitive heart. Wrapping his questing arm around her midriff, Riker kept her ability to move to a minimal. His finger spiraled faster on the heat between her legs and he clenched his own muscles as the next wave overtook them, keeping himself from the imminence of arriving too soon. Each thrust to the hilt grew harder, more urgent. The all-consuming warmth of her body became his everything. And though he was nearly as lost as she, Riker held Deanna's obsidian eyes in the mirror; he saw it when her hands lifted from his waist to cup the back of his neck behind her, while her breathing came in quick, erratic gasps. With the warmth of her hands so near his face, and the turning of her head first to one side and then the other, Riker's body screamed for release. He felt her losing herself to him. He knew how close she was; her body pushed forward and backward, confused by the agonizing gratification of his dual stimulation, but he had never been more focused; more intent on a woman's pleasure in his entire life. Deanna fit him as no woman ever had. He was large, but she took in all of him at once. And while he touched her, she clung to his body, unguarded for the first time since he'd known her. The heat of their passion rose to a shattering swell. On the cusp of reality, Deanna's eyes lost their focus. Her fathomless expression transformed in the mirror. Revelation, when she hit the edge so hard. Surprise when she realized--she'd never felt like this before. Her mouth fell open. She cried out incoherently and her fingernails scraped into the muscles of his neck, but Riker hardly felt it. He hardly even cared. Trembling from the force of his own desperation, he let himself go. He took her with the rest of his strength, moving faster and faster, groaning unintelligibly as the absolute ecstasy of his body's release overcame him. "Deanna!" he cried out, shuddering behind her, drowning the last of his energy in the depths of her perfect response. She sagged backward against him. Their hot, damp bodies melted together in the aftermath, and her arms fell gracelessly from Riker's neck while she gasped, "gods, oh, gods..." Riker's hand slipped languidly across her pelvis. He caught his breath against the side of her moist forehead and he kissed her there; irrationally wishing he could turn her in his arms and kiss her ... everywhere. Deanna made a quiet sound, as though she'd somehow known his thoughts. It reminded Will that they were kneeling, shivering in unison on the carpet in his suite. In one fluid motion, he hooked an arm beneath her trembling body and lifted her off her knees, rising to his own feet. Deanna's hands rose instinctively to his shoulders and she released a breath of surprise, but she did not protest when he walked them slowly to his bed and laid her backward onto the cool coverlet. He saw her eyes close sleepily, and felt her fingertips caress the side of his neck when she withdrew her touch. But he couldn't stop looking at her; couldn't keep the awe from his voice when he whispered, "shh," leaning forward on top of her. A thousand new and unfamiliar feelings tumbled through his mind, and he was inadequate at deciphering any of them. How could any one person make him feel so totally content? As though he needed nothing more of this moment, or of his entire life than to lie down next to her and to taste the sweet perfection of her drowsy breath on his skin. It didn't seem possible. But it was. Because nothing; no feeling, no touch, no power in the universe could ever again compare to the wonder he'd just experienced. With his arms wound tightly around the wildly incredible body of Deanna Troi. CHAPTER 24 In the darkness of Commander Riker's quarter's, Deanna Troi slowly awoke. Her senses were mulled and disoriented but it took only an instant for the full force of remembrance to wash over her. She was with him. In his bed. Lying on her side, she could feel his strong arms wrapped securely around her from behind. They had moved at some point. Only she couldn't remember having moved at all. Couldn't remember much of anything, after... A hint of color stole into her features. It seemed there were any number of things Will Riker had proven he would be more than adept at demonstrating. But she couldn't remain where she was. Despite the closeness of his warm embrace--because of that closeness--there was no more dangerous a place for her to be. With quiet reverence, she lifted her body from the hook of Riker's intimate hold. She slid from beneath him and stood, carefully gathering her tumbled clothing from the floor. "Sneaking away?" Her mind felt his wakeful presence even before she heard him, but her eyes fell shut when his warm hands hooked her waist and drew her gently backward. "Gathering my things," she answered quietly. Pulling her dress up over her head, she ignored the way his body felt, warm and protecting behind her. When she turned to regard him in the dim light, Will's eyes seemed almost indigo. He took another step, and again she felt the heat of his nearness in the millimeter of space that separated their bodies. Deanna stared at the dusting of hair on his chest and then lifted her head to see his eyes. What she saw there was hardly a surprise; far from unexpected. Unwilling to move, she shook her head instead. It was all she needed to do. Falling back, Riker took a step in the opposite direction. He raked his fingers through his hair and whispered, "I'm sorry. That was-- stupid." "No," she sighed wistfully, "you were... wonderful. You were more than wonderful." Will's apology transformed into a smile. "You were pretty great as well... I'm not sure you even need my help." "I do--" she answered him quickly. Too quickly. Tempering her voice, she ducked her head. "I do need your help." "I'll tell you one thing," Riker shook his head, "I'm completely amazed that Darian would ever let you out of his sight." "You aren't Betazoid." Deanna's shoulders fell despondently. "Come on," he caught hold of her arm before she could turn. Though she met his expression, she said nothing in return. "Why are you with him Deanna?" "I'm with him," she drew herself up to her full height, "because he's my husband, and my future." "Your future," Will deadpanned, letting go of her arm. He gathered his discarded pants from the floor and pulled them on, "--sounds more like a train wreck if you ask me." "We've already had this discussion. You simply don't understand, or you don't agree. In either case it's pointless to continue." "Why?" he turned on her, "you were happy to 'discuss' it with me before we hopped in the sack together. What's changed?" "N--nothing," she defended, "it's just -- right now, I need to get back to my room. I have ... appointments." Riker checked his chronometer and smirked, "at 0500?" but then he waved her toward the doorway "Fine. I'll be down at 0800 to fly you into the city." Deanna frowned. When several seconds had passed and neither of them spoke again, she released an annoyed breath. "Fine." Marching stiffly around him, she tapped the doorplate and left his quarters, uncertain of the reason that she was so inexplicably angry. "Deanna, hold on--" Riker caught up with her in a matter of seconds. He pulled a shirt over his head and he sighed when his eyes found hers, "I'm sorry. I guess I'm just a little crazy right now," he said, "and as ... inadequate as this might sound, it has nothing to do with you." "I know that," she dropped her shoulders, "I'm sorry as well." "You? You have nothing to be sorry for." "Yes, I do." she averted her gaze, realizing that he had no idea how much. "Come with me?" he asked, oblivious to her discomfort, "Will you come with me? Just for a few minutes, I promise it won't be long." "Will, I really should get back--" "Just a few minutes, I promise. Then you can go." Sighing softly, Deanna nodded and motioned him to lead. Riker preceded her through the hallway, past all of the living quarters and headed toward an anterior exit before she offered him a puzzled look. "There's a door back here," he explained, "leads out into the garden. I thought we could talk..." "About what?" He averted his gaze and keyed in the security release for a gate which promptly slid open. "Me," he said simply. Beyond the exit, a dimly lit pathway led out into the forest. It was a beautiful landscape, but Deanna could only stare at Will. The admission had been difficult for him. She could sense his indecision and his worry. But perhaps he was finally ready to place some trust in her. A part of her rejoiced in that realization. Another part of her feared that it could undo what they had just shared. "All right," she offered an encouraging smile, hoping he would take some comfort from it. Returning her gesture, Riker led her out into the early morning breeze, but they walked for only a short distance before he stopped at a bench, indicating that they should sit. "Deanna," he finally began, "there's something you should know." Troi folded her hands in her lap and watched him patiently. "What you said about Rachel," his blue eyes lifted and locked with her solemn expression, "you were right." She looked down at her hands. "I was wrong," he continued, glancing up at the towering trees, "about a lot of things it seems. It's not easy for me to talk about this, or to admit that I even need to," he sighed, "but if your offer's still open…" "Of course it's open, Will. Any time, any place." Riker smiled; a grateful, genuine smile that sent a river of inexplicable warmth through Troi's spirit. Until his expression faltered and fell. "Deanna, she was with someone else," he shook his head with cynical certainty, "I walked into our hotel suite, expecting … she was there, with someone else." Deanna reached for him instinctively, covering his fingers and holding them gently, "I'm so sorry," she whispered. "Yeah. Me too. But I guess that's the way life goes." He tried another smile; only she didn't return it. "No Will. That is not the way 'life goes'. No one deserves to be hurt that way." "It was my mistake," he shook his head, "I trusted her. I thought she was... Ah, the hell with what I thought, I was wrong. And I'm the one who should have known better," he shrugged matter-of-factly, "now I do." "William, stop it," Deanna felt her eyes burn with the promise of empathetic teardrops, "You are thoughtful and caring. You didn't 'deserve' what happened to you and you can't shut your heart off because it hurts to feel..." Despite her plea to the contrary, the look in Riker's eyes shifted to one Deanna recognized all too well. She sighed. He was closing off again. In a moment there would be nothing of his trust left on the surface... True to form, he turned away, but not before she felt his panic. "Look, maybe this wasn't the best idea," he sat up straight, "I don't think I can talk about this. I just thought ... after what happened last night ... you had a right to know why I was such a jerk." "I didn't think you were a jerk." Though her empathy had always granted her sensitivity to others, there was a part of Deanna that felt something new this time; something she'd never experienced before. Beyond the need to comfort, there was irrational outrage. An anger that wasn't in any way connected to Will Riker's emotions. It was all her own. "Will," she squeezed his hand, "I think perhaps it might be best if we did not continue ... our experiment. It would be better for you, and for Rachel if we went no further." He stared at her. She saw his eyes flash, first with surprise and then resolution. "No," rising to his feet, Will took her with him. "Deanna, with all due 'respect', I'll decide what's best for me, and for whatever my so called relationship with Rachel might entail." He shook his head at her wordless argument, "It took a lot for you to ask me to do this. But you did, and now I've said yes. Maybe I don't know a hell of a lot about trust at the moment, but I feel like I CAN trust you. That means something to me. I made a promise to you. And I intend to keep it." "Not at the cost of your own happiness." "I'm afraid that's already a moot point," he offered her a wry smile. "Besides, I-- need a little time to figure things out. Rachel and I won't be seeing each other any more, so I'm not betraying any promises by helping you sort out your life," he laughed emptily. "Not that I'm any better at it than you are." "I'm not sure, Will. I'm not certain this is such a good idea, under the circumstances--" Riker cut her off gently, wrapping a familiar arm around her waist. "Well I am sure. And I think we can at least agree that the experience so far hasn't been all together ... unpleasant?" Even though she knew the argument was self-preservation on his part, Deanna couldn't stop herself from answering his smile. She let him pull her against him, but she looked up into his resolute expression for only a moment before she dropped her forehead and laid it affectionately against his broad chest. Gods, she was weak... CHAPTER 25 "Where is he, lieutenant?" Rachel Morris planted a foot down on the smooth stone foyer of the diplomatic retreat. Several weeks had passed since Riker found Sean Garrity in their hotel suite. Nearly forty-two days and Will had not returned a single COMM call. "Commander Riker isn't here sir," a young man with clean cut features responded, stepping up to full height before his smaller superior officer. "Can't say when he'll be back in." "I was told that he was on duty this evening." "Yes sir," the lieutenant nodded, "but as of this moment, he's not been through to check in." "And you don't find that just a little bit odd, half a standard hour after his shift started?" Rachel scowled at the younger man, affording him a look she reserved only for junior officers. She had little time in life for mistakes, and even less for the runaround -- which was exactly what she felt she was getting at the moment. "Sir, with all due respect, Commander Riker's business is his own affair. I take care of what I'm ordered to take care of." "I'm sure you do, lieutenant. But I'm due back aboard the 'LEGACY' at 0200 and I don't have time to play protocol. Can you get a message to Commander Riker for me if I leave it with you?" "Yes sir, I can do that." "Good," she paused for an instant, "tell him--" "Commander Morris?" a female voice called decorously from the other end of the foyer and Rachel's head snapped up. "Ambassador ... Troi, isn't it?" "Yes," Deanna stopped several feet away from Morris. "Can I help you with something?" "I'm here to leave a message for Commander Riker." "Oh," Troi nodded, "well, my husband and I should be seeing the Commander later this evening. I can take it to him, if you'd like." Morris considered for a moment, before she finally nodded. "Sure. Thank you ... Ambassador." Deanna felt the other woman's rise in apprehension. Rachel Morris was almost as unhappy about leaving a message in someone else's hands as she sounded. But that did little to engender sympathy for her from Troi. "Would you please tell him that, I'm due back on the 'LEGACY' at 0200 tomorrow morning. He and I ... well, if he can, I was hoping he would meet me, he knows where, sometime between 2400 and that time..." she trailed off thoughtfully, "that's it." "I'll relay your message." Rachel's eyes met Troi's for a long moment, but the Commander was the first to look away. "Thank you, Ambassador." "Of course." Morris turned to leave. "Ambassador--" she paused after only a few steps, "did I offend you, in some way?" Deanna's eyes widened, but she shook her head. "Not at all." "Well it's just that you seem as though you--" "Commander," Troi shook her head, "I'm sure I wouldn't worry." "Commander Riker didn't say--" again Morris stopped mid-sentence, reconsidering, "never mind," she offered Troi a wry look, "it doesn't matter." With her eyes still on Rachel, Deanna's smile was courteous if not entirely genuine, "Well. I wish you a good evening then, Commander Morris." "The same to you, Ambassador," Morris turned again. "Thank you for your help," and stepping through the doorway into the courtyard, she disappeared from view. Troi watched her go. She'd never lied to anyone before in her life; never bent the truth or hidden from it. But here, this evening she had evaded Rachel Morris' inquiries deliberately. What's more, she'd done so as skillfully as any human might have. With an audible breath, Deanna met the understanding stare of the officer in the foyer. "Can't say I'm particularly fond of her either, Ambassador," he shrugged. "But you know how these things are; not really any of my business." Though she managed a pallid nod, Deanna stilled her hands from shaking. "Nor mine, lieutenant," she spoke softly, "nor mine." CHAPTER 26 <Tehya, we'll be late if we wait any longer> Darian Khell called after his wife. <I don't understand,> Deanna frowned, <he made it a point to say that we should not leave the retreat without him. That he would be the one to fly us...> Darian glanced at his chronometer. They were on their way to Starfleet's belated, albeit extremely 'formal' diplomatic meet-greet, and Commander Riker had yet to arrived to transport them. <Perhaps he has encountered another obligation. He is a Commander in Starfleet,> shrugged Khell, <we can ask one of the other pilots.> <It isn't that,> she turned to her husband, and when she spoke again she did so aloud. "I'm worried about him, Darian, he's never been late before. Without even a COMM call?" "I think we've been on Earth too long already," the Minister sighed, switching to Terran Standard as Deanna had. "You may wait if you wish, but one of us must show up at the gala, on time. It wouldn't be seemly..." "All right," she nodded, "you go then. I'll stay and wait." "Deanna--" "Darian, I'm not going to change my mind about this." She placed her hands on her hips, "please express my regrets to the Admiralty for being unavoidably detained." "They will wonder if it's an insult," he warned, "a Federation Ambassador does not wait in her suite for her pilot for hours on end. The man has another life, perhaps he is with his fiancée..." Deanna turned a cool stare on her husband, but she shook her head and said nothing more on the matter. "Darian, I don't presume to tell you how to manage your career. Please do not tell me how to manage mine." Taken aback, Darian frowned sharply. His shoulders soon fell. "Very well, I'll go on ahead." "Thank you." Khell took his leave of the suite and left her standing in the room by herself. "Where are you, Will?" Deanna's voice was quiet. * "Where is he?" Commander Garrity strode onto the bridge of the 'LEGACY' -- his own ship since the death of their late Captain -- though Starfleet had yet to announce the field commission. "He's with his soldiers, they have their orders." "And they'll carry them out?" "Yes," Brella's dark eyes flashed, "will you carry out yours?" For an instant, the two locked eye contact, but Garrity grinned. "Of course. You Betazoids, you worry too much. You should know better by now." "We 'Betazoids'," Brella scowled, "should know better than to trust a cult of killers with an errand of peace." "Well, I beg your pardon ma'am," smirked Garrity, "but as I understand it, we weren't the ones who came up with this little plan to begin with. So before you go damning Starfleet, or the crew on board this ship, you'd do well to remember that." Brella turned away. Wordlessly, she walked to a nearby console and stared at the sensor readouts. "Commander--" a voice interrupted them both and Garrity turned. "there's an incoming transmission for Senator Nayam." "Well, well," the Commander nodded, "looks like things might be happening on schedule after all." Turning to Brella, Garrity gestured. "You can take it in my ready-room if you'd like, Senator." "Thank you, Commander." Brella stared back at him impassively, but she moved quickly and quietly to the small office on the perimeter of the bridge. When she was out of earshot, Commander Garrity exhaled a slow breath and glanced at the view screen. "Ensign," he called out over the heads of his bridge crew, "make ready to set a course for Betazed, warp seven. And get a hold of Commander Morris," he frowned momentarily and then muttered, "tell her shore leave's over." * Riker found Troi on the outskirts of the forest near the retreat. She was standing alone, while the breeze shifted the soft edges of her long gown listlessly around her ankles. "Ambassador?" "Will?" she turned where she stood. "You're all right?" Riker felt an all too familiar ache begin to stir in his chest as he approached. He stopped several feet away from her, looking left and right as had become their habit before speaking informally. "I'm fine. I got your note… Deanna, I'm sorry if I worried you--" "I missed an important dinner because of you!" Troi's voice was sharp, but she came toward him in the garden and met him half way. "I said I was sorry," he frowned, "I just needed some time to myself, so I took it. I didn't realize how long it had been until--" "Darian's going to be so upset," she murmured beneath her breath. "Yeah? Well, maybe Darian can go to hell." Riker turned from her and moved a short distance away, leaving her standing alone. "Will, that's not fair," she came up behind him, placing a warm hand on his arm, "he was worried about you. We both were ... I made the decision to stay." "I should have called in," Riker's shoulders fell, "I lost track of what time it was. I'm never late, Deanna, I'm really sorry." "It's all right," her hand moved slowly down his arm. "It's too late for me to go now anyway. They'll be finishing up in an hour or so. I was so worried about you," she reiterated. "Are you sure you're all right?" "Physically? I'm fine. Hell, better than fine," he raised an eyebrow, "but you already know that..." "You're so flip, Will Riker. Everything's another joke for you." Deanna glared at him reproachfully. "My whole life's a joke, Deanna, and my career's one hell of a laugh right now. What else is there?" "Self-pity doesn't become you, either. I would think you far beyond it." "Oh well, I apologize, AMBASSADOR, I'll just go take my 'self-pity' elsewhere. Good night." He turned to go but Deanna stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Will," she spoke quietly, "this is never going to end, if you don't talk with her..." Riker's shoulders fell and he glanced out at the forest. "She was here tonight, earlier." Troi went on, standing just behind him. "She wanted me to tell you, she'd be waiting for you in a place you'd already know about. Some time between 2400 and 0200 this morning when she was due back on board the .. 'LEGACY', I think it was." "Yeah, well, it's a little late for conversation." he scowled. "There's nothing to say." "There's everything to say. Everything you didn't say when you found her. Everything you thought of later on when she was gone. You have to do this. For both your sakes. If only so that you can both get on with your lives." "Why? Deanna, why do I have to do this? Why do I even want to? And God knows, some nights I want to..." he trailed off on a sigh. "She betrayed me. She lied to me for months. How do I forgive that?" "Maybe you don't. Maybe you can't. Not yet. But that doesn't mean you shouldn't speak with her. Get some answers to your questions. If there's closure to be found then that is where it will be. Not out there," she gestured vaguely at the stars, "and not here." Their eyes locked, and Riker knew exactly what she'd meant by 'here'. "Maybe not," he advanced on her slowly, "But it sure as hell makes sense to try." Leaning closer, he brushed his lips against the edge of Deanna's neck, kissing her gently. She made a small sound, her eyes slid shut, and she found herself frozen on the cusp of indecision. She wanted him. Gods, she wanted him more than she could ever have imagined. And every time they were together, she found she wanted him more. That in itself had begun to worry her. It was a reality she had yet to reconcile, nor was she certain she knew how. But the luxury of choice was wrested from her when Riker's mouth closed hotly over the rhythm of her pulse. Deanna gasped when his body molded to hers, and she fell firmly into a pair of strong arms. Bearing her gently to the ground, Riker divested them both of their clothing in a matter of moments. The whisper of the balmy breeze was heavy with the scent of the conifers above their heads; towering sentries that stood watch over their seclusion. Will lay her backward, and Deanna felt the press of the soft earth beneath her skin before he traced her cheek with the edge of his fingertip. Breathing shallowly, she lifted her hand to cup the back of his neck while his kisses started first at her neck and then traveled low along the length of her body. His hands slid down her bare torso and she arched her back, giving in to his tender torture; sighing as he found new ways to pleasure her. She'd never have believed it was possible, but every time she was with him, there was more to be discovered. More about herself, about her body, about him ... "Will," Deanna whispered his name on a quiet exhale, drawing breath after breath as his lips brushed over her navel and along her pelvis. "Oh, gods..." If there could be a word to describe a physical sensation then Will Riker's touch was beautiful. Wherever he caressed her, she felt a pull; an inexpressible thrill of sensation. It was satisfaction merged with desperate desire; unlike any she had ever known. And he seemed so in sync with it. With her. As though he knew her every response before she'd even uttered it. Will brushed his cheek across her stomach and Deanna gasped, captivated by the feeling of the day's growth of his facial hair on her heated, sensitive skin. She opened her mouth to take a breath, but a low and strangled cry escaped her lips instead. Riker caught her legs in his hands and drew them gently apart, holding her utterly still for an instant. His eyes locked with her insistent expression before the heat of his mouth, his lips, his tongue, caressed the very center of her physical desire. "Ohh..." Deanna's cry transformed into a needful groan. Her eyes fell shut and her fingers tangled in the back of his hair. With an open mouthed gasp, she found she couldn't catch her breath. Couldn't think, couldn't speak; could only hold his head with rigid fingers and writhe against the force with which he held her completely immobile. "Will..." she tipped her head against the earth and arched her back as far as she could move it, but he didn't let her go. Trembling and desperate, she begged him to release her. Begged him to touch her; to take her; to give her .. everything her body ached for. But Will's attention was entirely focused. He held her down. He drew the whole of her tiny bud between his lips and Deanna's conscious finally shattered. The force of her climax was magnificent. Eyes focused on the stars above their heads, her world descended into a spinning vortex of ethereal awareness; powerful, undeniable ecstasy inundated her physical senses and she released the last vestiges of her tightly wound control. She screamed. Her voice was swallowed by the wind in the trees and the call of the forest at night, but she could not contain it. Not when it happened the first time. And not when it happened again. Shivering, damp and shaking from the center of her being, her breath refused to calm. When Riker traced the inset of her leg with gentle fingertips and brushed warm lips across her stomach, she surrendered in advance. But his tender quest continued, arriving at the curve of her breast. Deanna drew her hand to the side of his face and brushed a lock of hair from where it lay across his forehead. "You okay?" he whispered. "Yes..." she smiled, drowning in the shining indigo of his passionate expression, before he covered her body entirely with the heat of his own, and she had no further rational thought. CHAPTER 27 Starlight filtered like diamond dust through the canopy of trees that towered silent watch over Riker and Troi. Deanna lay quietly with her head in the crook of Will's arm while he idly stroked her hair. In less than an hour, she would return to her quarters and explain to Darian her absence at the reception for the entire evening. But that would be later. For the moment, she listened to the sound of his breathing; even and regular though he wasn't asleep. They hadn't spoken yet since they'd emerged -- breathless and satisfied -- from yet another physical 'experiment'. She sighed. In the past several weeks, she had lost track of the instances they'd spent together. Of the number of times he'd taken her to corporeal heights she'd never dreamed possible. Primarily because she'd never been with anyone who seemed so completely captivated by her body. When she was with Will Riker, she felt as though there was nothing else. Her empathy could sense no focus but the powerful imperative of his desire for her. That was very different from the way it was with Darian. Or the way it had been with any of her other Betazoid lovers. At first, Will's desire had been nearly as fascinating for her as it was arousing. But lately ... lately she found she craved to feel it. To sense the urgency and lose herself in his very human need. And she was less and less interested in being intimate with Darian. For that, of course, she felt more than simple guilt. Because rather than enhancing her ability to please her husband, it seemed as though her time with Riker was causing her to wonder at her own attempt ... though she hadn't crossed any legitimate boundaries she'd set for herself, it was growing more difficult to see the lines. Then there was the issue of Rachel Morris. Whether Will chose to confront the reality of his situation or not, it would find him eventually. And when it did, he would no longer be able to hide himself in their 'experiment'. Deanna supposed that it was partially her own fault for not forcing resolution. For not being the friend to him that she should have been and that he deserved. But he was so broken in the days that followed his betrayal--she hadn't the heart to press him then. And afterward... Afterward, she had kept herself from forcing the issue for a very different reason. One she dared not consider. Until Rachel's visit tonight, Deanna had deliberately avoided the matter. "You all right?" Riker's low voice startled her from her thoughts. "What?" she asked quietly, realizing she would have to lift her head in only a few seconds and almost irrationally wishing that she could close her eyes and pretend the moment would never come. "You're tense," he elaborated, deciding the matter for both of them when he turned on his side and propped his head on his hand. "Are you okay?" "Yes," Deanna mirrored his position. She watched him pluck some foliage from her hair and bend it thoughtfully between his fingertips. "I was just thinking, that's all." "About?" "Tomorrow." Will glanced at the towering treetops and then at the stars. "Tomorrow..." He echoed thoughtfully, returning his eyes to hers, "You're right, we probably should head back." "I never said that," she smiled. "You don't want to head back?" Regarding him curiously, Deanna finally nodded. "We probably should." They rose together and gathered their discarded clothing, but as Troi pulled the last of her elegant dress over her shoulders, they began to hear voices. She threw him a questioning look. "Someone's coming?" "My security patrol," Riker glanced at his chronometer and whispered, "they'll be out here in a few minutes. It's part of their rounds..." "What?" she gaped. "Hey," he grinned, "nothing in the adventure without a little danger, is there?" Deanna stared at him, astonished while the voices drew closer. She shook her head as the reality of their situation overcame her, but rather than being horrified, she found that she was laughing. "I'll give you danger!" she warned coyly, and then shoved him backward onto the path. With his pants half-up and his shirt barely fastened, Riker stumbled out of the shadows onto the lighted pathway and was promptly discovered. "Commander--?" one of the voices called out to him. Deanna saw Riker's eyes flash in her direction. Without another word, she cocked her head and waved good-bye before taking off through the forest towards the rear of the retreat. The breeze was brisk, but Troi felt exhilarated by it. Her joyful flight took her winding down the starlit forest pathway, and her heart was racing from a force she hadn't begun to recognize. Within moments she was through a doorway that only two people knew existed. As the heavy wooden panel slid shut, she pressed her hand to her chest, catching her breath while she realized she'd made good on her escape. "Danger," she whispered aloud. And then she lifted her skirt and tore up the stairs like a teenager. CHAPTER 28 Days on Earth began to pass more quickly for Deanna. Even with Darian away, she found herself less and less homesick, and more and more awed by the beautiful planet she'd come to embrace with half of her heritage. When her schedule permitted, she took many walks outside of the diplomatic retreat, and Will Riker often accompanied her wanderings. It was strange in a way, because she'd nurtured two very close friendships growing up as a child, and she cherished them both with all of her heart. But William had come to represent a new and different kind of trust. His companionship was guarded at first. And he could be distant, sometimes difficult to understand. But as they spent more time together, she began to realize that there were layers beneath his personality that both inspired and compelled her to know him better. Perhaps a part of that was the challenge for the Counselor inside of her, but even more, she felt as though she'd known Will Riker forever; at least as long as any of her other closest friends, and they had only been acquainted for a few months. Immersed within her thoughts, Deanna entered through the back door of the building and noticed immediately that several members of Darian's personal staff were present at the end of the hall. The Minister had returned. Which was expected, considering there was a briefing they were both to attend this morning. But along with his homecoming came an odd and very unaccustomed feeling for Deanna. Though she was happy to see him safe and well, there was another part of her that felt decidedly... ambivalent. Taking the stairs up rather than the lift, Troi approached their suite and heard him speaking aloud. With a perplexed breath, she set her belongings down on a table and entered their bedchamber, turning to regard her husband's back. "Hello, Darian," she smiled, noticing he was alone in the room, "who were you talking to?" Startled, Khell turned from the COMM console and met her expression. "Tehya -- I thought you were in council chambers this morning?" "I was," Deanna's eyes narrowed, glancing sidelong at the chronometer on the wall, "why aren't you at the briefing?" He seemed momentarily startled when he checked the time. There was an instant when Deanna felt a distinct shift in his emotions, but it was gone before it seemed it had ever been there. "It begins in five minutes, there is still time," Darian rose from his chair. "Yes," she nodded, following slowly into the room, "But you're never fewer than fifteen minutes early for these things. I once thought I could never break you of the habit." "Well, it seems that you have," he smiled. "You're talking aloud, as well." Crossing both her arms over her chest, Troi tipped her head and regarded him appraisingly. "Who was that on the COMM?" "Deanna," Khell's mood abruptly shifted to annoyance, "you of all people should respect that there are no secrets between us." Her eyes widened. "I never said that there were, I just heard you talking with someone and I was curious--" "It was the consulate on Betazed." "Did they require something?" "Yes, as a matter of fact," Darian frowned, "they 'require' their Ambassador." "Darian, you know as well as I do that my responsibilities keep me here on Earth right now. Not to mention that Starfleet has officially requested my presence for the Prax petition..." "Yes, and we capitulate," his frown deepened, "we always capitulate..." "Of course we 'capitulate', we are citizens of the Federation. It was your suggestion that I remain here to begin with. Where is this change of heart coming from?" Darian looked back at Deanna for a long moment before she heard his voice in her thoughts. <The briefing begins momentarily, we should go.> <All right,> she responded automatically, <but this conversation is not over.> <As you wish,> Khell sighed, preceding her from the room into the corridor beyond. * When they left the consulate meeting chambers less than two hours later, Darian Khell pulled Riker aside. Standing next to her husband, Deanna's own countenance was grave, and Riker frowned at the sight of it. "Commander," said Khell, "I will require a transport and a pilot to take me to Betazed immediately." "Of course," Will nodded, glancing only once at Troi. Her face was impassive. "Stiles!" he called out to one of his officers, "please take the Minister anywhere he needs to go. File a flight report with HQ and get back here as soon as you're able." "Aye sir," the officer fell into step with Khell and the two of them headed toward the transport facility. When they were out of earshot, Riker turned a curious look on Deanna. She sighed, glancing down at the floor. "Something's happened, Will. Something terrible." Taking his arm she drew him back into the briefing chamber. "I know you'll find out quickly enough, so I want you to hear this from me first." "Find out what?" Walking slowly toward a chair, Deanna sank into it. "The Starfleet officer who was kidnapped some weeks ago on Betazed has been killed, William. His body was discovered twenty kilometers north-east of the Janaran province." "What?" Riker fell into a chair as well. Raking a hand back through his hair, he forced himself to swallow. "How?" "I haven't received all of the details yet, but it looks like he was killed with a type-two phaser." "Starfleet issue," Riker slowly exhaled. Troi's hands clenched into a tight ball in her lap while her countenance remained otherwise composed. "We have little evidence right now, but it looks as though his ... killers ... were Betazoid." "Deanna, that's, that's insane... Betazed is the most peaceful planet in ... in the Federation. There's no way that--" "I know that," her voice rose a sharp octave. "But there have been other threats." "What kind of threats?" When she didn't answer, Riker felt his gut twist uncomfortably. "Deanna," he began anew, "what KIND of--" "Commander--" a tall lieutenant stuck his head in the chamber doors. "There's a priority one call coming through. Starfleet Command." Turning from Deanna to the officer and then back again, Riker nodded. "I'll take it in my--" "It's not for you sir," the young man shrugged apologetically. "it's for Ambassador Troi." Surprised, Riker sat back in his chair. "The call requires your authorization code, but it's for her, sir. Looks like a conference call." "Fine," stowing his confusion, Riker turned to a nearby console. "Patch it through here. And close all access to this room until further notice." "Yes sir," the lieutenant ducked backward and disappeared. A brief moment later, as Troi took a cleansing breath of air, the COMM panel began to blink. Riker tapped it, keying in his access code. He sat forward as the solemn face of Admiral Norwig J'Nathan appeared. "Commander," the Admiral nodded curtly, then turned his eyes on Troi. "Ambassador-- I wish this could be under better circumstances." "I understand, Admiral," Deanna had risen to her full height, and Riker had to look a second time at the authoritative presence she suddenly presented. "Commander Riker, I needn't remind you of the delicacy of this situation." J'Nathan scrutinized Will through the COMM screen. "What I am about to tell you is classified at the highest level – you understand what that means?." "Yes sir," Riker agreed. "By now you're probably aware that we're looking for a killer, Will," the Admiral continued, "or a group of people who might want to distinguish themselves in that light." "I've been given to understand--" "Good," Norwig cut him off, "then I'll assume you won't have any problem with the fact that from this point forward all transmissions into and out of the consulate, the Betazed embassy and the diplomatic retreat will be monitored at all times..." Riker felt a ball of discomfort rise in his throat at the implication. "Admiral, aside from my officers, we only have the Ambassador's staff and the Minister here at the moment. Do you really think that's necessary?" "We're not certain of anything at this point, but we have credible intelligence that would suggest it might very well be absolutely necessary." J'Nathan sighed aloud. "Proving that will be where Ambassador Troi comes in." "I beg your pardon, Admiral?" Deanna stepped forward, and Riker could see that she was more than uncomfortable with his superior officer's words. "Ambassador," J'Nathan shook his head, "The time has come for me to make a request of you that I once promised I'd only make if it were a matter of absolute and dire necessity." "Admiral--" "You asked me for a favor once, Deanna. In the name of your father, and in defiance of your mother I granted you that favor. But it only occurred to me recently that we were the ones who should have been thanking you." Riker traded a glance from the COMM screen to Deanna and back again. "I'm a little lost here, Admiral," he admitted. "Ian Andrew was a fine Starfleet officer," J'Nathan sat up in his chair. "And so are you, Deanna, we need you back for a few more hours." "What?" Pushing back against the edge of his chair, Riker bolted to his feet. "At ease, Commander," the Bolian Admiral looked back with solemn authority. Deanna was staring down at her hands. She hadn't said a word, but when her dark eyes lifted and locked with Riker's, he knew that it was true. "Ambassador Troi holds the rank of Lieutenant Commander, Will. She might have been a full Commander by now, if it wasn't for her other choices..." "Lieutenant Commander-- who?" His anger and his plight momentarily forgotten, Riker turned to the computer console and suddenly recalled, "Computer, authorize flight-key alpha, tango, three, blue." [[Flight key authorized.]] the dulcet voice came back. "That's your flight-access code, isn't it?" Riker tipped his head in challenge. "I'll do you one better, Commander," J'Nathan barked, "Computer, authorization J'Nathan, four-seven-five. Identify ownership of the specified flight-key." [[Ownership of the specified flight key belongs to Lieutenant Commander Lise Andrew.]] "State the current assignment of Lieutenant Commander Andrew," the Admiral went on. [[Lieutenant Commander Andrew is on undisclosed leave.]] Riker slowly exhaled. "How?" he asked suddenly, "How, without visiting Academy headquarters on Earth?" and then his voice trailed off, "Of course. The University on Betazed is a Federation institution. You could have taken all of your course work there except advanced tactical warfare," his eyes sought out Troi's while he continued, "but you wouldn't have needed advanced tactical training, would you? Not if you were a medical officer... they might have deferred it for years. Does the Minister know about this?" he shook his head, "Lise Andrew?" "Lise is my middle name," Deanna whispered, "the one my father gave me. And I could never tell Darian," she stared straight ahead at the console "I did it because it was what I'd always wanted," she trailed off, "but I will never be an officer again. When my mother stepped down, I vowed to take on other obligations." "Forgive me, Ambassador," Riker threw a glance back at the COMM screen and Admiral J'Nathan. "but that is the saddest declaration of duty that I have ever heard." "Leave it to Will Riker to tread all over the obvious," the Admiral sighed. "Ambassador, our intelligence has confirmed that a person or persons unknown within the Betazed government had full knowledge of what happened to our officer. Chancellor Ellra has offered us her full cooperation, but you know as well as we do, unless we can get close to this--" "You want me to spy ... on my own people?" she shook her head. "We need your help determining who's out there killing Federation citizens." "And if there is some 'plot', and we manage to uncover it, then what?" "Then," J'Nathan frowned, "we are all in a very difficult situation, Ambassador." "Precisely," Deanna thinned her lips and turned away thoughtfully. "Admiral, I'm afraid that I cannot abandon my responsibilities and my obligation to my people at a time like this. We have been citizens of the Federation for millennia, but that does not mean that my first and most important obligation is not to Betazed." "We understand that," the Admiral nodded. "We're hoping it won't come to a point where you'd ever have to choose between loyalties. And we're not asking you to put on a uniform. All we're asking for at this point is your assistance in locating a destabilizing threat. Find out what you can and then use your Starfleet access codes to send us any information you deem appropriate, bypassing regular channels. If it goes beyond that ... we would expect nothing more from you. But you should understand, Ambassador, that if this threat DOES go beyond what we've anticipated ... there would be serious implications not only for Betazed, but for the future of your planet's standing in the Federation." Deanna's expression suddenly changed. She turned and faced J'Nathan with a look that Riker had never seen before on her. "Tell me something, Admiral. If this 'threat' had come from dissidents on Earth, would you be sending a communiqué to the Terran Ambassador, threatening Earth's expulsion from the Federation?" J'Nathan stared back at her gravely, but he said nothing in return. "That's what I thought," she sighed. "You should look back on your Federation history books, Admiral. I think it was precisely sixty-three years between the time that the United Federation of Planets was founded and the moment that Betazed became your third member. Bolias was fifth as I recall. Two hundred and fifty years ago." "Which is precisely why we need your help, Ambassador," J'Nathan sat forward, amending, "You are a powerful tie that binds your planet's long standing in the Federation with Starfleet and everything that's honorable in our alliance. I was born on Bolias, as you can plainly see, but my FIRST obligation is to the Federation. I served with your father, Deanna. And I know your mother as well. I'm not asking you to betray your people, but for your help. If not as an officer, then as a Federation citizen.. You know as well as I do that politics are thicker than blood, and if we can't prove Betazed's innocence, it won't matter how many years any of us have known one another. We lose your planet, Ambassador, and I fear that the entire Federation will crumble at the seams not long thereafter." Two pairs of dark eyes met over the COMM screen. Riker watched them both and felt as though he'd somehow intruded on a private conversation. It was obvious that Deanna and the Admiral had a history which somehow included Troi's family, but what that history was, Riker could only speculate upon. As it turned out, he didn't end up with the time, even for that. "I'll consider your request, Admiral," Deanna replied, "but that's all that I can promise for right now." "That's good enough for me." J'Nathan paused, turning his focus on Riker, "I'm making Ambassador Troi's safety your personal responsibility, Will. She may be our best; our only hope to get to salvage what little is left of this situation." "Understood, sir." Riker nodded solemnly. "Good," with one last look at the both of them, the Bolian Admiral nodded. "J'Nathan out." His face disappeared from the view screen and Riker turned to Troi. "Will," she began, moving toward him. He shook his head, "you know what, Deanna? Save it. I understand, I didn't 'need to know'." Their eyes locked and he could see that, for some unfathomable reason, Deanna was on the verge of tears. Riker cleared his throat and looked away. "I have a few things to take care of before your dinner arrangements tonight, I'll catch up with you in time to fly you out--" he paused, "--or Stiles can do it." "I'd rather you did," she whispered. "Fine, whatever." He turned and walked from the room. CHAPTER 29 "Riker, you have got to see this--" David Sellars pulled a slim data PADD from his slip pocket and tapped its surface. "It's driving all of us at Utopia crazy. We can't seem to figure out if the diagnostic was just calibrated wrong, or if the sensors just--" he trailed off, glancing across the table at his inattentive companion. "Riker? Hey, Willie-boy, you in there somewhere?" "What?" "You okay? You haven't heard a word I've been saying, have you?" Looking around the bustling lounge as though it was the first time he'd seen it, Riker frowned and shook his head. "I'm sorry, Dave, I don't know where I was just then." "I take time out of my busy conference schedule just to get together with you and you're a million miles away, what gives?" "Nothing." Sellars' amused expression transformed into a grin. "So... who is she? Or have you and Rachel--" "No," Riker's look transformed into a serious expression. "It's... I told you it was nothing." "Not Rachel, then," David nodded, "okay, someone else?" "No, damn it!" Riker pushed backward on his chair and exhaled a long breath; composing his runaway anger. Sellars sat back in his chair. "Hey ..." "Look, I'm sorry. I have to go. I'm going back on duty in a half hour." "Right," David frowned, "with the consulate." "Yeah," Riker pulled out a credit chit and dropped it on the table. "I'll see you later." He turned to go, but Sellars' voice called back at him. "Will," the other man sounded concerned, "don't do this buddy." Riker looked away but didn't move. "Don't do what?" "You know 'what'. Rachel called me. Three times in the past two weeks. You should call her some time... I think she's--" "I have to go." Riker pushed himself forward through the throng of people in the lounge. "Just think about it, okay!" a loud voice called after him, "it's better than career suicide!" The cool breath of outdoor air blew up across Riker's forehead and he turned his face into it, breathing gratefully. "Ambassador?" Looking up from her work, Deanna Troi saw a young officer enter her suite. "Commander Riker asked me to inform you that he'll be on the south transport pad in ten minutes, ready to fly you to your dinner engagement this evening." "I see," she nodded, "would you please convey my apologies to Commander Riker and tell him that I won't be leaving the retreat this evening? I won't require a pilot. He may have the night off at his discretion." "Yes ma'am," the young man ducked out of her room with a polite nod. Alone with her conflicted thoughts,, Troi rose from her chair and walked toward the window. She stood and watched the stars for a time. Without thinking, her eyes strayed to a cluster of tiny jewel-like diamonds in the sky. In the midst of them, somewhere was Betazed. Was home... Her heart hurt at the thought. She wasn't certain how long she'd been standing there, or when the door slid quietly open, but suddenly her thoughts began to focus on a warm, familiar sensation; and she heard a quiet knock. "Ambassador--?" When she turned, Will Riker stood tall and handsome in the entrance. "Yes Commander?" she asked him, walking slowly around her living-room table, examining several decorative objects while she consciously slowed her heart rate. "I-- um, thought you had a dinner engagement this evening." Smiling slightly, Deanna inclined her head. "I did. I cancelled it," she looked up at him. "I apologize for not getting back to you sooner but I decided quite late. You can have the evening off if you'd like. I won't require any assistance." Riker said nothing, but he took a step into her quarters and stopped. "Listen, I'm sorry for acting like a jerk this afternoon," he frowned, "you were under no obligation to tell me anything. Not even as a friend. I think—No, I don't even know what I was thinking. But I shouldn't have walked out like that." Deanna regarded him for a silent moment. It was obvious that he was burdened with something beyond an apology. But his feelings were--if anything--a very confusing muddle. Of course, that might also have been because he was becoming increasingly difficult to read. More so when her own feelings were high. There were moments when Deanna knew she should have had a far better perception of his emotions than she did. It was a conundrum for which she'd found no logical explanation. "Will," her voice was soft, "I am sorry that I didn't tell you. Of all the people I've ever known, you're the only one I've ever *wanted* to talk to about it. I almost did, on several occasions, but I couldn't, and even if I could, I wasn't sure whether you'd take me seriously, or even really understand. To you, my life must seem as though it's always been privileged. It wouldn't make sense for me to say something like ... all I ever wanted from the time I was a little girl was to be in Starfleet..." her lips turned up into a small smile. "Then why did you quit?" Riker took a step toward her and she felt his curiosity. Deanna shrugged. "I didn't quit so much as take up other obligations. Starfleet was my dream, not my reality. At first I wanted it because of how much I adored my father. But later, when I realized that I could truly make a difference, I wanted it even more. I wanted it so much," she sighed wistfully, "Mother reminded me that sometimes, our lives are not always conducive to living out our dreams." "Your mother could have been the Federation Ambassador for the next fifty years, Deanna. She didn't have to step down. She did that for another reason and I think you know what it was." Riker challenged her look. "You know, I consider myself a pretty good judge of character--most of the time--but from the day I met you, I've always thought that you were meant to be--" "Meant to be what?" she walked toward him. "Nothing," he tore his gaze from hers, realizing he had no right to say what he'd been about to. "It's not my business what you decide to make of your life. It doesn't matter anyway. You've already chosen your path, and that's that." "Will, I want to know." "Listen, I have something for you," he spoke as though he hadn't heard her, "and for the Minister if he comes back this week." Reaching into his slip pocket, Riker extracted two cards and held them out for her inspection. "They're having another concert in Golden Gate Park. I thought you two might like to go. You know, to make up for the one I promised you." Deanna stared at him until she seemed to come to some sort of decision. "That's very thoughtful of you, Will," she said, "Darian should be back in a day or two." "Good, I'm sure you'll both enjoy it. It's really something special." He held the tickets until she took them from his hand. Turning suddenly, she asked, "Is there a performance tonight?" "I guess so." "I think I might like to go." "Tonight?" "Of course, it would have to be off the record since I've 'officially' taken ill this evening," she paused, "Were I to go, I would also need a pilot and I did give you the night off--" Recovering from his momentary confusion, Riker offered her a dry, conspiratorial look, "Well, as big of an imposition as it'll be, I think I could manage a few extra hours..." "No," ignoring his humor, she continued toward him. "I don't want you to go, not if you're on duty." "I beg your pardon?" "Will," Deanna stopped when she was only a moment away, "as I recall, YOU owe me that concert in the park. Off Duty." Riker looked back at her, but the expression in his eyes was one she hadn't seen before. Finally, carefully, he lifted her smaller hand in his, "Ambassador, would you do me the great honor, of attending a concert in the park with me tonight?" "Why thank you for the generous invitation, Commander," she smiled brightly, "I think I'd love that." Will's grin in that moment warmed all of the cold spaces that Deanna had been nurturing in her heart. CHAPTER 30 As she turned a slow circle in the dewy grass of Golden Gate Park, Deanna sighed, "It's beautiful..." her soft voice made Riker feel about a million things he'd never felt before. To state simply that he 'wanted her' would definitely have been accurate, albeit woefully inadequate. Technically, he'd 'had her' in the very physical sense. But physical desire wasn't what burned inside of him. If he were honest with himself, it hadn't been for a while. What he truly wanted from Deanna Troi was something he didn't have the words to articulate. And as their times together progressed, it seemed increasingly probable that he never would. "It's going to get crowded in a little while," Riker smiled at the child-like wonder she expressed, watching while she took in the illumination from the orchestra podium in the distance. Her gaze turned up to the lights on the giant bridge that San Francisco was so famous for, and he might have sworn he saw the reflection of their luminance dancing in both of her eyes. "You do things so LARGE here on Earth," Deanna looked back at him and smiled, "your trees, your buildings, it's all very humbling." "Humbling, or arrogant?" She turned where she stood, "why would you say that?" "We're one of only a handful of races who build our cities this large," Riker shrugged, "many people have called it arrogance, even here on Earth. You don't think so?" "No," Deanna sighed, looking around her. "I don't see arrogance," her dark eyes locked with his, "I see passion, determination. Hope." He stared at her in awe. "Wow." "What do you see?" she came toward him, walking slowly until they were directly opposite one another. "I see--" Deanna's luminous expression held him captive, her breathing grew shallow and their faces moved slowly together. Will brushed an errant curl from her ear. "Hey, you two here for the concert tonight?" A female voice shattered the moment between them and Deanna fell backward, though Riker's hands still held the lapels of her casual jacket. "Yes," he turned at the woman's approach. "I'm Sara. I'm looking after the event this evening. This area's reserved," she indicated the grass they were standing on. "We're cordoning it off. You'll have to move that way." "No problem." Though he smiled, Will thought he might happily have run her through with a Klingon Bat'leth. "Thanks." Oblivious to his mood, Sara nodded and turned back the way she'd come. "Looks like we've been evicted," Riker glanced at Troi. Her hand moved to her lips and she giggled. * "You know, if you pulled rank and told them who you were, they'd probably give us a decent seat." Riker walked with Deanna along the perimeter of the park and glanced at her sidelong. "Probably," she smiled, "but I'd rather the whole planet didn't know I was here tonight. I want just one evening to myself. No trappings of state or unwelcome company to be polite to." "If you'd prefer to be alone..." he turned away with a smile, feeling her small hands encircle his arm from behind. "So funny Commander." He grabbed her questing hand and turned to look at her, captivated instantly by the light in her beautiful expression. Neither of them spoke, and Riker wondered how it was possible to feel so many different things in the self-same moment. Clearing her throat quietly, Deanna broke the spell for both of them and Riker released his breath, finally finding the means to look away. "Here, I think this might work," considering for a moment, he indicated a spot on the grass, "what do you think?" Regarding his choice, Deanna shrugged, "I'll defer to your expertise." "Well good," pulling a blanket from their pack, he spread it out with a flourish, "There you are Ambassador, best seats in the house." "Thank you, Commander, I'm honored," she smiled and knelt on the soft fabric. They were both on the ground when looked at her again and couldn't keep himself from acting on his impulse. He hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her deftly off balance. With a yelp of surprise, Deanna fell backward into his arms. "Will!" she admonished, but he noticed she didn't pull away, and that her hands settled easily around his neck while she used him as leverage to right her posture. "You should have seen your face," he laughed. Blowing up on a rogue hair that crossed her forehead, she muttered, "I'm sure you're going to tell me exactly what I looked like anyway." "All right," he shifted forward until she was less than a breath away and he could feel the distance like a tangible energy between them. Lifting a hand, he brought his fingertips to dust the edge of her face, and she did nothing to stop him. Eyes wide and compelling, she seemed unable or unwilling to speak as he moved imminently closer. "You look," he trailed off, stroking her hair. For an instant, Riker felt his whole universe coalesce and it seemed to him that there was only once center; one whole, and the brightest thing he saw in it was Her. "You look," he began anew, feeling the prickle of cold sanity return to his limbs, "like a Betazoid who's going to be very cold in a few minutes if she doesn't put her jacket back on." Deanna's posture faltered and she seemed utterly confused, "Oh," her voice was quiet, but she backed away from him slowly. "I guess you're right." Pulling the jacket up from under their belongings, Riker draped it gently over her shoulders. "Better?" he asked. "There aren't many people here," she observed, effectively diverting the subject. "No. The further back you go, the fewer people come out. What they don't know is that the shape of this park is an incredible acoustic achievement," indicating the vast tree line, Will turned and smiled. "You can hear the music back here almost better than in the center of the entire area." "Really?" "Yes, which is why I'll never understand the way they cordon off that space over there--" he pointed to where they'd been standing earlier, "I'll bet we hear twice as well, and have a lot more privacy." Deanna raised an eyebrow, "why would we need privacy?" "Well, we, I mean we don't. Technically, that wasn't why I sat us here, if that's what you mean--" She smiled silently, leaning back on her hands. "Deanna," he stammered, "that wasn't why I chose this spot." "I know that," glancing toward him, Troi shrugged, "I am an empath. But it was fun to watch you squirm." Riker threw her a look of feigned astonishment. "Here you are," she went on glibly, "Mister hot shot pilot, professional tactician, career Starfleet officer. All the Admirals place their trust in you, and you're stammering all over the place," she laughed, "if they could only hear you now. I-- uh-- duh--" Riker shook his head. "You know something, Miss Troi?" he offered her a serious look, "If you want a lesson in 'squirming', then you've got it!" With a deft twist of his upper body, Riker landed on Troi and played a hunch he'd kept from the first time he'd touched her. He tickled her. Deanna screamed. In utter surprise, she yelped and pushed him backward, to no avail. She was trapped, and he was merciless. "Will!" she gasped between giggles, "don't! Stop it!" "Surrender..." he grinned, watching her writhe. "I... will ... not!" Deanna gasped, twisting to get away from him. Despite her size, she was stronger than she looked, and Riker had to work to keep his hold on her. "I'm not stopping until you do," he grinned, pinning her back against the ground without respite. "No!" she laughed, shifting in his arms. And then something happened that Riker would never have anticipated. Something he'd never have believed possible. One moment he had Troi recumbent beneath him, and the next ... he was flat on his back. Deanna straddled his waist and looked down on him, gasping for breath. "No," she whispered again, palms flat against each of his shoulders. "Wow," he breathed, "how did you--" "I *am* stronger than I look." "What did you say?" A million thoughts descended on Riker's mind all at once. It must have been apparent, because she looked suddenly confused. "I said, 'I am stronger than I look'" "Why would you say that?" Deanna stared at him in puzzlement, "You told me I was stronger than I look," she shook her head, "I heard you plainly, you said 'you're stronger than you look.'" "No I didn't." "What do you mean 'no you didn't', I heard you plainly." Riker caught Troi's balance and held her on his lap. "I *thought* that, Deanna. I didn't say it." "What? Will, I know what telepathy is, I'm Betazoid. I can *tell* when I'm hearing someone's thoughts, and only another Betazoid can hear mine. What you're suggesting simply isn't possible." "But it happened.." Shaking her head, Deanna shifted backward, "it isn't possible," she echoed. Lifting the lapels of her jacket, Riker re-settled the garment gently across her shoulders. "Okay," he responded to the anxious look in her eyes, "You're probably right. It must have been my imagination and I voiced it without realizing it." Staring back at him, Deanna's eyes flashed a gamut of emotions. She finally nodded allowing the explanation to stand. He'd been about to say more when the music began, and both of their heads turned to regard it. It was a beautiful piece, and the sound of it carried, melodious and clear through the midst of the hushed voices in the darkening park. "You were right," Deanna's whisper was the first since their impasse. "What?" he asked quietly. "The music," she kept her eyes on his, "it sounds lovely here." For a long moment, Riker wasn't certain what to say. He nodded inadequately, and then shifted, realizing that their position was still incongruous. Deanna sat on his lap, with her bent knees on either side of his thighs, her simple dress draping over both of them. In the trembling shadows of their sparsely populated section of park, Riker realized; they must have looked like lovers... "No one's tickled me like that since I was a little girl," she touched his face with her hand. Forcing himself not to give in to the onslaught of confusing desire he was feeling, he cleared his throat softly instead. "The way they set up the ensemble is pretty amazing as well, if you look over there--" "I don't need to look," Deanna tilted her head, listening. "I can feel the music," her shining expression caught Will's and held him captive. But when she leaned forward on him, pressing her lips lightly against the base of his ear, he couldn't believe how incredible it felt. "I can feel many things," she whispered. This was new. This was very new, and it was spectacular. In the entire time they'd participated in her 'experiment', Riker had never known Deanna to initiate an encounter. It was as if she'd been reticent, or somehow afraid of rejection. Though she might tease him or bait him, it was never she who touched him first; never she who pulled him forward into her arms. From his ear, along his neck, to the base of his collarbone, Deanna pressed butterfly kisses so softly that the warm brush of her lips was honeyed velvet on his skin. Every nerve ending in Riker's body came alive and stood at attention. He'd been kissed by other women before, some of them more assertive than others, most of them beautiful, and all of them very willing. But nothing in his worldly experiences had prepared him for this. For the way it felt when Deanna bit down gently on the lobe of his ear. It was simple. It was nowhere he hadn't been touched before, and there was absolutely nothing overtly aggressive or unpredictable about any of it. But it felt, God, it felt so... Her attention shifted to the front of his shirt, and she began unbuttoning it slowly. She slid backward off of him and her lips traced a pathway along his exposed torso. "Deanna," he sighed, shifting onto his knees in order to accommodate her when her small hands found the bottom of his open top and pushed it gently aside. Riker felt the muscles over his stomach contract sharply when she reached his waist. He felt her pause, felt her move her hands over the washboard surface of his skin. And he drew a tremulous breath. Deanna knelt between his thighs, exploring his body with a gentle thoroughness that was driving him slowly crazy, and Riker glanced around them, noting that the other couples scattered within sparse proximity seemed either ignorant or oblivious in the darkness. "We shouldn't do this," he whispered, "we're in public--" Her breath tickled the hair on his skin before she leaned forward, only partially hidden by the edge of his shirt. "I thought you said, there's nothing in the adventure if there isn't a little danger involved," she teased his nipple with the tip of her tongue. "Isn't that true... Commander?" Riker fell back onto one hand clutching Deanna with the other. "You're not going to stop, are you?" he looked down into her onyx eyes, watching as she smiled and moved against his body. "Do you want me to?" her exploration paused just above his navel. "Deanna," he whispered, "I don't think-- Oh God," Riker's head tipped onto his shoulders as her hand slipped past the catch at his waist unfastened it. Her fingers encircled his hard, bare flesh and he heard his own voice reply, "No-- don't stop." Will's hips rose slightly as she moved even closer; her bold caress continued to stroke him with intimate familiarity and his thoughts had already begun to spin. With a focus that was centered entirely on the sweet, agonizing pleasure of her every stroke, very little made sense. It didn't seem possible that of all the lovers he'd ever taken, Deanna Troi's gentle touch might feel so much more incredible ... but it did. And regardless of his uncertainty, Riker felt his traitorous body cheerfully surrendering to that simple, undeniable truth. When she bent forward on top of him and took him between her lips, he gasped like a ghost, "Deanna--" one hand shifting involuntarily to the fall of her thick, dark hair. Riker's eyes flew open. He saw the intensity of her luminous expression, and he knew in that instant that he would never have the willpower to stop her, if she continued... She did. He groaned beneath his breath, "Oh, God, Deanna," she explored him with her lips and her tongue, and he was barely coherent within a matter of seconds. It wasn't Deanna who'd needed assistance with physical intimacy, he dimly realized. It never had been. Because if she had ever once touched Darian Khell the way that she was touching him now, then the Minister would have to have been made of stone. Riker watched her through heavy eyes. He saw nothing but her. Felt nothing but the rapture of her unbelievable attention. But this wasn't how he wanted it to end. Cupping the edge of her face, he drew her gently from him and pulled her body upward into his lap. When she shifted on his waist, he bit back a groan, quelling the throbbing, urgent ache she'd brushed deliberately against. For the span of an instant they sat that way, breathing together, staring at one another. Until Riker was absolutely certain he needed to touch her more than he needed his next breath. Repositioning their bodies, he slid his hand beneath Deanna's dress, along her soft thighs; his fingers drew up to the juncture between her legs and found her more than ready for him. "Will--" she leaned quietly against him, aware that they were still in plain view, trying not to be conspicuous while their bodies screamed for a mutual release. Clutching his waist with her knees, Deanna helped him guide himself inside her. She rocked forward with him once, and then over and over again, drawing him in to the base of his aching erection. Beneath the edge of his shirt, Will felt her bite his shoulder to keep from crying out. Her dress fanned on top of them, her loose jacket brushed the top of his thighs, and though there was a mounting breeze, neither one of them felt the cold. The pressure built between them; it grew with every breath and touch and thrust. From powerful, to agonizing, frantic and desperate. Riker knew with experienced certainty any moment it would crest. Forcing his eyes open, he saw Deanna looking back at him; watched the passion in her expression that could only have mirrored his own. And he understood. She fed off of his pleasure; feasted on it, as only an empath could. The incredible part was that somehow, some way, he was tapped into hers as well. Deanna's arms encircled his neck. Her face moved to within a hair's breadth of Riker's own, and he was sure that she was going to let him kiss her. He saw it in her eyes. Their bodies moved as one, caught in an ancient rhythm, their eyes shut and their lips brushed tentatively together as even the music of the concert hit a shattering high. But Deanna did not kiss him. At the moment when their mouths caressed for the breath of an instant, she pulled her head away and buried it against the hollow of his neck, instead. All rational thought escaped him then. It escaped them both. They rose in the moment and then shattered together, clutching one another blindly while their bodies fell incrementally back under their control. Forever, they held that way. Arms wound tightly around each other, quietly gasping for air. Will felt Deanna's movement first; she drew her fingers lightly across the damp hair on the back of his head, and kissed his neck. And for the first time in his life, Riker felt the most incredible sensation flood his being. It burned throughout his body; hot and nearly painful, were it not so utterly fantastic. He even allowed himself to forget for a moment that she hadn't let him kiss her; forget that he'd even tried, and that it would have been a clear and irreversible violation of their agreement had he succeeded. The music of the ongoing concert flooded the space of the park's enclosure with rhythmic enchantment. And even after it ended, Riker thought he'd never heard a more beautiful song. CHAPTER 31 A woman in a long gown paced the sterile chambers of Betazed's primary government complex. <Darian, please,> she pleaded, <we don't know for sure.> <How can you say that?> Khell frowned sharply, <How can you think such a thing?> <Because I know how they think!> her dark eyes flashed. <I know what to expect.> <You didn't expect this, I'm sure.> Turning away from him, the woman's shoulders fell and she approached a giant window. Fern prawns and delicate flower petals shivered on tree branches without. Darian faltered. <You didn't ... Gods, tell me you didn't expect that *this* would happen...?> <No,> her body sagged, <not this.> <We cannot allow it to happen again, Mihari, we can't. Not as long as the danger continues.> <What do you expect?> she turned to him and met his eyes. <Deanna believes the Federation can work with us. She will want to be informed if there's any new information.> <Then I will see what I can discover.> <Thank you.> For a long moment they observed one another in silence. But the woman finally turned. She walked slowly past Khell and the fabric of her gown brushed the edge of his formal coat. When she was gone, Darian moved to the window. He stood there alone, staring at the flora of the beautiful landscape, and he closed his eyes. * Setting down the leather volume he'd been reading, Riker looked thoughtfully at the ceiling. Not everything he'd read made sense. Not all of it was clear, but there was one thing he knew for certain. Too many of the words he'd taken in this evening hit very close to home. He had to find out more. "Hey... Will?" Riker turned in his chair and saw David Sellars strolling toward him. "I wondered if I might find you here," the other man nodded gamely. "The consulate library?" "Let me guess," grinned Sellars, "Historical Retrospective Of Betazoid Philosophy." "You read the back of the damn book." "What, no points for telepathy? You should be used that that sort of thing by now. If I were Betazoid--" "If you were Betazoid," Riker cut him off, "I'd tell you to take your holier-than-thou attitude and your high-bred mental discipline and get the hell out of my life." "Ouch," pulling over a chair, David sighed. "So, you want to talk about it?" "About what?" Riker looked down at the book. "About whatever it is that's tearing you up. You know, I may be an asshole some of the time, but that doesn't mean I'm not still your best friend." "My options can't possibly be that limited," muttered Riker, but when he glanced up at Sellars, he managed a wry smile. "I'm not 'torn up' Dave, I'm just thinking a lot lately. That's all." "About Rachel?" "Yeah," Riker nodded, "in part." "And... that drop-dead-gorgeous Ambassador?" Will narrowed his eyes. "Guess I'm two for two," Sellars smiled. "I feel like ... things are out of control," Riker sighed, "I can't stop thinking about her--" "When you say 'her', specifically which 'her' did you mean--?" "--every time I close my eyes, I see her face. When I'm off-duty somewhere, I feel like all I want to do is get back to the compound. To see her again, just talk to her. Anything--" "Okay, I think we have the 'her' established." "Am I crazy?" glancing up sharply, Riker met his best friend's gaze. "No," Sellars shook his head, "Nah, buddy you're not crazy." the other man sat back in his chair, his expression uncharacteristically serious. "I'm no expert, that's for sure. But it sounds to me like you're a little in love." Riker's eyes widened sharply. "Like I said," Sellars qualified, "I'm no expert." "I've never felt this way before--" "Don't ever say that to Rachel." "Forget Rachel for a minute!" Will palmed the desk and leaned forward. "Forget Rachel," David sank back in his chair, "Jeeze, man, this is bad. This is very bad." "What am I supposed to do?" "Do? Christ, she's an Ambassador, Will. Potentially one of the most important Ambassadors in the Federation. I don't think there's a precedent for this--" "Do I tell her?" Will raked a hand back through his hair, "I-- I mean and what would I even say?" he half-laughed, "Hey, Deanna, I think I'm in love with you, so can I drop you off anywhere?" "Deanna," Sellars nodded slowly, "that's a nice name." "David," Riker sat up, "I'm screwed, aren't I?" For a long silent moment, David Sellars looked back at his best friend. He finally sighed, "Royally." CHAPTER 32 Standing at a giant window in the foyer of the diplomatic retreat, Deanna Troi looked out on a vast unending forest. The sky was bright, but even the warm Earth sun had begun to set in the horizon, and very soon it would be night. With her hands drawn together, she drew a slow breath. It was difficult to capture her center when things felt so wrong; difficult to find balance in a universe filled with chaotic emotions. Reality demanded that there were several decisions she had yet to make. Decisions that might shape or destroy her purpose on Earth; unite or betray her people. Though she felt more alone than she had ever felt in her lifetime, she shouldered her thoughts with a grim sense of imminence. Her choices could not be postponed much longer, no matter the irresolution in her heart. At least Darian would be back in the morning. When he returned, she might be able to talk with him about the troubles that haunted her. He might understand and lend her clarity, even in its smallest measure. But he was gone more often than not of late, and it was growing increasingly difficult for them to find a common moment to speak. Sighing softly, she quelled the hollow sadness in her heart. She was about to turn when she felt two strong hands come to rest on her shoulders. "Hey." "Will?" shifting abruptly, she frowned at her inability to sense his approach. It seemed the disquiet of her emotions had begun to wear on her empathic sense as well. "You okay?" he tilted his head with concern, "I didn't mean to startle you." "You didn't. Not for more than an instant," Deanna smiled; suddenly grateful for his presence and the warm sense of compassion she felt in him. "I've just been thinking." "Rough day?" Wordlessly, she nodded, and when his hands moved from her shoulders to each of her arms, she accepted his gesture with a thankful breath. "I have an idea," he said quietly. "Wait here, I'll be right back." Leaving her side, Will moved purposefully across the foyer, intercepting a junior officer. "Lieutenant Rhymes, the Ambassador has an unplanned appointment. I'll fly her out. You and Stiles know how to reach me if you need to. Check us out at the front desk. Transport three." The stalwart officer nodded, "Aye sir, on my way." He immediately changed direction and started through a corridor while Riker returned to Troi. "An appointment?" Deanna regarded him curiously, "this evening?" "Do you trust me?" Riker held out his hand for her to take. For a single instant she looked back at him. But the answer to his question was most certainly yes. Instinctively, she placed her fingers into his larger grasp. "Good," he smiled, pulling her gently forward, "lets go." * They had traveled only a few short minutes when Riker landed the smallest of the consulate shuttlecrafts in a residential district. Stepping down from the vehicle, he turned to Troi and held out a hand. "This is it." "What is this place?" Deanna's expression wandered over the shadowy facade of an unpretentious wood and brick home. In terms of design, it was neither overly grand nor particularly modest, but it seemed quiet and inviting, nestled in a cul-de-sac at the end of a dimly lit street. "A friend of mine owns this house," Riker shrugged, "he's the first officer of the 'YORKTOWN' so he doesn't get down here very often. It's close to San Francisco and he lets me borrow it whenever I'm planetside." Suddenly aware of the whispering trees and the floral caress of the nighttime breeze, Deanna drew a gratifying breath and smiled, "it's lovely." "I think so too," Riker lead her up the walkway and keyed in an access code. The lock disengaged with a satisfying thunk and the heavy, carved wood door swung open. "Computer, lights, half-illumination," he took them slowly inside. Though the residence was far smaller than any she had ever lived in herself, Deanna found she loved it instantly. From the soft feel of the broadloom under her feet to the walls hung with fascinating figments of Earth's history, it felt welcoming and warm. It felt wonderful. What's more, there were no other people to think about. No wayward emotions to sort though or block out while she grappled with her own. Turning as she slipped her shoes off, Deanna met Will Riker's thoughtful gaze. "Thank you," she whispered, stepping forward and embracing him. "Thank you for bringing me here." "I thought you might need a little break," he held her for as long as she remained against his body. When she finally did disengage, Deanna slipped an arm around his waist. "So will you give me a tour?" she asked, content for the first time in what felt like forever -- even if it was to be only a temporary escape. "Of course." Taking the hand she'd draped at his side, Riker escorted her into the living room. "This is really why I brought you here," he indicated a wall-to-wall and floor-to-ceiling series of shelves. Each one was filled to nearly overflowing with the most wondrous selection of hardbound books that Deanna had ever seen. "Robert's a bit of an eclectic collector. He's got all of the classics here from Earth, and any number of other planets. I think if we look, we'd probably even find a few from Betazed--" "Will, look," Deanna separated from his side and ran her hands along an ancient paper spine, "my father used to read this to me when I was six years old," she drew the tome from the shelf and held it reverently open, "I remember these words..." Lifting luminous eyes, she met his expression before she recited, "All in this world are but dreams. Intersecting and Infinite. And in them lives the light of each new imagination. The thoughts and wandering spirits of all children, everywhere." "I like it," Riker smiled. Sighing softly, Deanna thought back to a lifetime ago. "My father used to dare me to remember my dreams. He said that my imagination was the most precious gift I'd ever receive. I was so determined to prove that I could do it, I used to keep a journal under my pillow," her voice trailed off, "sometimes I miss him, so much..." Blinking in both surprise and irresolution, she closed the book in her hands. It had been many years since she had cried over her father. And even more time since anyone had seen it happen. Sliding her prize back onto its shelf, she used the moment of reprieve to center her racing emotions. When she turned again, she was certain she looked absolutely composed. But Riker surprised her. He ignored the calm exterior she presented and drew her gently into his arms. "Sometimes, Deanna," his voice was soft against the top of her hair, "when the world seems like it's crashing down around us, the things that make us sad aren't always the things we're really worried about." Warning never came for her. One instant she was fine, and in the next Deanna felt a terrible barrier of suppressed anxiety collapse around her. Pulling herself tightly against him, she made a quiet sound of suffering and hid her face against his chest. Riker enfolded her into his arms. He tucked her head beneath his chin and rocked with her back and forth, but no words were spoken. None would have sufficed. In the moments that followed, Deanna was dimly aware of being guided to the couch, and of Will gently disengaging before they sat down together. "Deanna, I'm no expert on diplomacy, but I do know a thing or two about making tough choices," he turned and held her with a serious look. "When you have a command, you've got to rely on your instincts and your training. It's not always easy, but you have to shut out all the other voices after a certain point. No matter how loud they are. Listen while you can, but in the end, there can be only one voice left. Yours," he smiled when she glanced down at the floor, "From the day I met you, I've trusted you. At first I didn't understand why. I've never trusted anyone so instinctively in all my life. But now that I've come to know you, I realize it's because of who you are. You're intelligent, and fair-minded, and you care about what happens to your people. What happens to Betazed *and* what happens to the Federation. Any decision you made would be based on that caring. I know it's hard right now, but whatever happens, I also know you'll do the right thing. Because you'll be doing it for the right reasons. That makes you a leader." Shaking her head, Deanna stared at her hands. "How can you be so confident in me when even I don't trust myself?" "Because I know who you are," he shrugged. "You may not realize it yet, but everyone I've ever seen you with is either awed by what you have to say, or gives you deference out of a sense of respect; respect that you've earned. I think you already know what has to be done." "I'm afraid!" she turned on him, "they all think I'm so composed when I'm standing in their council chambers, but Will, I'm terrified of making a mistake." Troi exhaled a tremulous breath, simultaneously horrified and relieved by her own confession. "Everyone makes mistakes, Deanna," Riker took her hand in his, "everyone screws up, and as cruel as this might sound--life goes on. We all have choices to make, and some of us are forced to make choices that affect other people as well. But we make those choices anyway, because at the end of the day, if we don't make them then someone else will. And maybe that 'someone else' won't care as much as we do." Their gazes held until Deanna looked away. "The Chancellor seems to feel that the Federation will listen to me. But I know that it's because of my family; my mother." "And you think that the only reason they trust you is because you're carrying a family torch?" He sighed and shook his head, "believe me, I wrote the book on what it's like when the footsteps in your path are too damn big to tread in. My father was always better than I was. A better athlete, a better fighter, a better man," he paused at her wide-eyed expression before amending, "at least that's what I thought. Until I realized that those accomplishments were a hell of a lot bigger in my own mind than they were in anyone else's. The day I stopped trying to be 'better' than my dad was the same day I think I became a better officer," Riker reached up and touched the edge of her cheek with his hand, "Deanna, from what you've told me about your mother, she must be a powerful diplomat. I believe that some of that rubbed of on you as well. When you walk into a room, the first thing someone may think of is your family name. You can't help that; it's who you are. But the next thing, and I mean the very next thing they see is you. I've watched the way you present yourself, the way you command their attention. And I'll tell you a secret. I've always prided myself on pretending that nothing ever gets to me, but I've seen you handle five star Admirals that intimidate the hell out of me, and they walk away from you smiling because they know that their trust is in the right place." For a long silent moment, Troi simply looked at him. She felt his honesty and his resolution. And she drank from his strength as though it were solace for her spirit. She knew it was wrong to do so. She knew she should never have taken what he did not realize he was even offering. But it felt so wonderful, and she was so lost. Will shifted where he sat and Deanna wasn't certain if he'd felt her delicate intrusion. But if he had, he didn't bring it up. "Come here," he took her other hand from her lap and drew her head against his shoulder. "People are dying on Betazed, Will," she said, leaning against him, "your people. Starfleet officers--" "OUR people," he corrected her gently. "There is an answer out there somewhere. We just have to find it-" "We?" lifting her head, she caught and held his expression. "You're not alone, Deanna," Riker shook his head, "I may not be Darian, I may not even have the right to give you advice about something like this, but I will always be your friend." "Then you have every right." She curled her legs beneath her body and settled against him, feeling the warmth of his breath in her hair; the hypnotic rhythm of his hand on top of hers. His emotions were safe and affectionate. They were wonderful. More than wonderful, and Deanna felt her heart fill with a sense of conflict and of painful desire in the self-same instant. Closing her eyes, she adjusted their position so that his arms completely enveloped her, and the tears she'd fought so long dripped silent and unseen beneath her lashes. CHAPTER 33 "They did what? The Senate can't arbitrate a decision for all of Betazed without consulting the rest of the principal body. This isn't good news, Darian." Deanna regarded her husband across their bedroom suite. "We need to establish that our government was not accountable for what happened to that Starfleet officer." "And we will," Khell's dark eyes flashed, "but it may take some time." "You have to return to Betazed. I will petition the Federation Council for more time. I've sat with them here, I know that we can resolve this, but not if we act as if we're on the defensive," Deanna sighed. She had known it would come to this. She knew because she'd finally made her decision. Without Darian's input. It was the only course, and this action on the part of her government had only made her more certain than ever. Even so, when she turned to her husband, there was sadness in her eyes. "Darian. There's something else I've been called to do ... only I'm not certain I can fulfill the obligation." Khell looked back at her and she felt his conflict; sensed the genuine concern that filled his thoughts. "I'm sorry, Tehya," he whispered, "for the way I acted the other day." "It's all right," clearing her throat, she realized they'd been speaking aloud and switched, <I think we've both been under considerable pressure the past few weeks.> <I cannot argue with that,> he nodded gravely, <I should only be gone for a week, perhaps less. You, I think, have a far more difficult responsibility. Ensuring that our alliance here is not damaged any further. I don't envy you the task.> <Let me worry about the Federation,> Deanna moved toward him and in an uncharacteristic display, he pulled her into his arms. <Be careful.> he sent. <I will. And you...> Deanna hugged him as much for his physical gesture as for his words. But Darian pulled slightly away and regarded her seriously. <Tehya, I know that ... sometimes you're unhappy.> Troi's eyes widened. She felt her heart jump; a feeling of joy that he had finally realized; a feeling of anxiety that they might ultimately discuss it. <I'm not unhappy, Darian, it's just that I sometimes feel--> <You'd like for me to be a more physical lover.> Deanna sighed and looked away. <Sometimes.> <Yet you know that our relationship is considered very highly on Betazed. By some, we are a model to be admired.> "A 'model' is a piece of building material. A 'model' does not live," switching back to Terran Standard, Deanna frowned sharply. "Darian, can't you understand? It doesn't matter to me what the others think of us or what they do with their lives... only what WE feel." "Then listen to what I feel, Tehya-- I feel it doesn't make sense for us to be intimate in a backwards way. A way that we have already transcended. When we touch one another, it's an emergence of the mind over the body. While it's true that not all of our people subscribe to the higher forms, we are of the Ten Houses, Deanna. We should set an example. We are more powerful telepaths--" he stopped abruptly and turned his eyes from the look in hers, amending, "The human way is primal, lustful. They make love as much to hear themselves gasp and moan as to be with one another..." "That isn't true." "Isn't it? Deanna, I care for you very deeply and there is very little that I wouldn't do to please you. But when we are together in an intimate way ... I feel that ... I'm not what you want." "I could say the same thing," she whispered softly. "Perhaps you should then." Darian's grim smile was fleeting. "You're right," he sighed, "we should discuss this, and we will. In the meantime ... Commander Riker seems to be proving quite amusing for you, isn't he?" Deanna's mouth fell open and she gasped, "you knew?" "Of course I knew, really, you weren't making any effort to keep it from me..." And Deanna dimly realized that she hadn't; hadn't ever blocked him from her thoughts or her psyche. Perhaps because a part of her loathed to keep any secrets from her husband, but it now seemed as though an even larger part of her had done it in the hopes that she might 'dare' him to be upset about it; jealous, angry, anything at all... Only he wasn't. Not any of those things. Darian was everything a wellborn, highbred member of the Betazoid nobility should be. And Deanna had only felt this hurt one other time in her life. "Oh, Darian," she whispered softly, turning from him and staring out into the room. "Honestly, Deanna, did you expect me to be upset about this?" he exhaled sharply, "it's purely physical, I know that. It means nothing to the greater canvas..." "Darian, how can you stand there and ... and CLAIM to be a telepath! How can you NOT be aware how your words affect me?" "Tehya, I do. I understand better than I think you do. You're Betazoid. This is a phase. It will be something you experience and it will pass. Once you tire of Riker, then you'll understand. Perhaps we might have a child one day; when this crisis is over, your mother would be very pleased--" "My father was human!" Deanna lost control of her voice and yelled back at him, "my mother MARRIED a human man! I am the product of their union; of the FACT that they were in love! How can you defile that? How dare you..." she looked up at him, and the clear and present reality of his uncensored thoughts filled her mind. "Oh, my gods, you're..." * When Riker emerged from the consulate library, he was nearly run over by a hurried officer. "Commander Riker!" "Lieutenant?" "Sir, this came for you, five minutes ago. I was told to give it to you immediately." Frowning at the young man's countenance, Riker took the PADD he held out in his hand. "Thanks," he nodded, "is that all?" "Yes sir." "Then I'll see you on duty at oh-seven-hundred lieutenant." "Yes sir," the other officer turned away. Skimming the contents of the Starfleet issue device, Will found himself at first surprised, and then resolved. Turning into the corridor where his quarters were located, he slipped inside the doors and activated the already blinking COMM screen. "Computer, secure channel authorization Riker, omega, eight," When a familiar face appeared with a grave countenance, Riker frowned. "Admiral Lloyd?" "Commander," the older man tapped his fingers on a desk that was barely visible in the communications window. "I'm afraid I have some bad news." CHAPTER 34 Over the confines of a sterile COMM screen, Peter Lloyd offered Riker a serious look. "Deanna Troi is my god-daughter, Commander. As such, I'm using what little additional authority I have to overstep a colleague and a friend of mine. Admiral J'Nathan. I believe you're acquainted." "Yes sir, we are. He's officially made Dea--" Riker caught himself quickly, but not before the Admiral's dark eyebrow rose, "Ambassador Troi's well-being my primary responsibility." "Well, I'm making it your only responsibility as of right now, Will. May I call you Will?" For reasons that didn't make rational sense, Riker felt an odd but immutable sense of trust for Lloyd. He nodded to the request. "Yes sir." "Good. I made it my business to look over your record, Commander. You're a damn fine officer," he paused, "and from what I've gathered, you've kept your integrity through a situation that would have tried the best of us." "Sir--?" Leaning forward, Lloyd folded his hands, "Commander Riker, the 'HEDRA' didn't run into the 'VALIANT'." Riker sank slowly into a chair. He'd been right after all. "Well I'll be damned..." "Quite frankly son, you were. For an accident that was no fault of yours." "But the sensor logs--" "You were set up, Will. By the best. And for a reason you may not end up agreeing with. I'm telling you this now because you need to know. But if you take any of the information I'm about to give you out of this room, you'll not only find it denied, but you'll be throwing away your career as well." "I don't understand," Riker's hands fisted on the arms of his chair. "I told the board of inquiry that we couldn't have destroyed that ship. I know my vessel, Admiral, but the sensor logs contradicted my testimony, and we sure as hell hit *something*--" "You hit 'something' all right, but it wasn't the 'VALIANT'." Lloyd finished for him. "The 'VALIANT' was destroyed by a ship they were escorting on a diplomatic mission two days earlier." "What?" "--a Betazoid ship." "With all due respect, sir, that's not possible. The 'VALIANT' is a step below galaxy class. There's no Betazoid ship that could take it out." "Under normal circumstances, you would be correct. But they only needed one shot, sitting under the 'VALIANT's hull like they were, with her shields and her warp field extended around the both of them." "My God. They would have been destroyed as well..." "They were." Lloyd nodded. "But the deed, as they say, was done." "The other wreckage, the pieces we couldn't identify. That's what it was..." Riker pinned the Admiral with a sharp look. "Starfleet didn't want anyone to know about this, did they?" "No," for only a brief instant, Lloyd glanced away, "If Betazed withdrew from the Federation or was excommunicated for cause, it would tear apart the fabric of our alliance with every other world. There are only six, maybe seven key planets whose withdrawal could do something like that. Starfleet couldn't allow what happened to become an interstellar incident. We needed time to sort this out in other ways." Riker slowly stood. "That's why the Ambassador's on Earth, isn't it?" he said, "the meetings, all those trips into headquarters at San Francisco, even though she's staying all the way out here in the mountains" his blue eyes flashed, "What aren't you telling me, Admiral?" Lloyd threaded and released his fingers, delaying before finally answering. "Deanna was supposed to be on that ship, Will. She was supposed to be part of that mission. If she had been, it would have pulled the pin on a very large grenade." "She was what? Then she *knew*?" "That would be logical and probably make the most sense, yes. But I'm going to ask you the same question that I've asked myself since I met Deanna Troi. Do you think that she knew, Commander?" Riker's head was spinning. He turned away from the screen and then back again, meeting the other man's stare. "No." he said flatly, shaking his head. "Not a chance." Lloyd offered him a grunt and a half smile, "that's what I thought too. Her itinerary was diverted just four hours before the ship departed. It's an odd, but apparently very lucky coincidence if you ask me." Riker scowled. "I don't believe in coincidences, Admiral." "Neither do I." "So someone wants to set up the Ambassador. Or--" "Someone is using her to further a very different political objective. Even if it means killing her." "Damn it," Riker breathed, "why the hell didn't anyone say anything before now? Even if I knew nothing else, I could have stepped up security!" "Unfortunately, you and I are the only two people I know of who believe absolutely that she couldn't have been involved in the first accident." "Admiral, I'd stake my life on it. I know Deanna," realizing he had made the same 'familiar' mistake twice, Riker didn't even bother to correct it. "She's no traitor. Not to her people and not to the Federation. She loves them both too much." "I agree," Lloyd frowned, "It's my belief that she's caught up in a political spider-web. More than that, I'm not at liberty to say. But there are a lot of people up here who want absolute proof that she won't turn." "What kind of proof?" "A test." Riker felt his stomach twist into a knot. "Wait a second. Admiral J'Nathan called Deanna out of some kind of 'undisclosed leave of absence.' He wanted her to--" "--Resume an assignment as a Starfleet officer, yes, I know," the Admiral finished for him. "Then you also know that accepting that role would place her in a very awkward position with her own people." "She can handle that," Lloyd nodded, "what I'm worried about is who she can trust right now. Here on Earth. Because it doesn't look like there are a hell of a lot of people up here committed to keeping her alive without an ulterior motive." Moving around the COMM screen, Riker stopped in front of it. "Does Deanna know the kind of danger she's in?" "She's been fully briefed, but she argues that her people could never harm anyone, least of all her. She places a great deal of trust in the Federation and in Starfleet. And in you, Commander Riker. For some reason, she believes she's completely safe at the retreat with you " The Admiral's wry look was not lost on Riker. Had he been the type to color in the face of such a blatant remark, he might have. As it was, he kept his features impassive and his eyes on his superior officer. Lloyd nodded thoughtfully. "Looks like I wasn't wrong after all." Ignoring the remark, Riker pressed on, "If this is all true Admiral, then with due respect, I was kept in the dark about something I should have known all along so that I could do my god damned job!" "Don't be a glib son of a bitch, Riker. If Starfleet had their way, you'd still be in the dark. I'm telling you this because I think we both have a similar interest at heart." The two men held eye contact until Riker finally released his breath and nodded. "Good," Lloyd grunted, "Oh, and there's one more thing, Commander. Starfleet has authorized me to discharge you from your 'penalty' assignment. You're not grounded anymore, son. They want you to assign your best Lieutenant Commander to take over your duties there and report to your new assignment within forty-eight hours." "My new what?" Riker nearly fell backward, "Admiral, I beg your pardon?" "I told you there were a few people up here who aren't as certain of the Ambassador's integrity as we are. They want you out of the way so they can test that theory..." "...and my 'new assignment' would be?" Lloyd sighed dramatically, "I'm sorry to say that it's been tied up in some sort administrative red tape. Something to do with our resources and the state of the fleet right now. It could be ...mmm…. well, several weeks before orders come down the pipe," he cleared his throat and offered up a convincing frown. "But you *will* have to have someone else running the retreat compound by then, Commander..." Riker's slow smile transformed into a grin. "Understood. And thank you, sir." "Ambassador Troi needs someone she can trust and I have a hunch that's you, Commander. Don't prove me wrong." "You're not wrong, sir. Not by a long--" Riker's head suddenly snapped up and he regarded the room suspiciously. "What is it?" Lloyd inquired. "Admiral, I'm going to have to let you go. Something's ... happening outside... I need to check it out." Will turned back to the COMM and met the other man's perplexed stare. He wasn't about to say that he had a 'feeling' something wasn't right, so he offered nothing more. "All right, you do what you have to do," The Admiral nodded perfunctorily. "I'll be in touch, Commander. Lloyd out." The screen went blank and as it did, Riker felt his chest contract sharply. He exhaled a painful breath, "Deanna?" CHAPTER 35 Riker took the stairs up two at a time from the back of the diplomatic retreat. Rounding a corner, he made it from the staff hallway to the V.I.P wing in under ten seconds, but his heart was hammering loudly against the inside of his chest. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong, and it had to do with Deanna. He didn't know how he knew that, or why, but he did. Five steps into the corridor he saw the edge of the doorway to the Ambassadorial suite and started towards it, but he stopped when the figure of Minister Khell stepped silently into view. The Betazoid seemed smaller than usual. Deflated, and as agitated as Riker had ever seen him. "Minister?" said Will, "is everything all right?" "Oh, Commander," Khell furrowed his brow and glanced behind him, still clearly upset, "I suppose you heard the argument. Deanna is upset with me, but she needn't have roused the entire compound." He offered a final, dispassionate glance at the door. Argument? Riker hadn't heard anyone arguing, least of all Deanna. He was about to say so, when Khell raised a hand in the air and shook his head. "Nevermind," the Minister sighed, "Regardless of her opinion on the matter, we have specific obligations to attend to. She knows that as well as I. I'm sure you understand, Commander, how these things are." "Actually Minister," Riker stood aside to let Darian pass, but continued to speak behind him, "I don't understand." "I beg your pardon?" Khell turned in his tracks. "I said I don't understand, Minister, 'how these things are'. Where I come from, anyone who spends as much time away from his beautiful wife as you do, is either ... not interested in women, or there's someone else." Riker braced himself and stood his ground. For months, he'd wanted to say those very words to Khell, and now, career be damned, he finally had. The other man was welcome to take his best shot. Darian's eyes narrowed, "I'm certain you didn't mean that the way it sounded, William..." "I'm certain I did." Riker's eyes locked with Khell's. "This is none of your concern, Commander, and I will thank you to remember your place--" "Oh, you're right Minister, as a Starfleet officer, this is none of my concern," Riker glanced down at his civilian attire and smiled, "but I'm not on duty right now Darian, and that means I'm here as Deanna's friend. Which if you'll recall, is exactly what you asked me to be some months ago. So as a Starfleet officer, you can rest assured I have no opinion on this one way or the other. But as a friend of Deanna's, I think you're acting like a jackass. You don't deserve her." Darian stared at Will dumbfounded. For a time, he neither spoke nor moved, but when he finally did, it was only to laugh. "Oh Commander, you actually believe that you're in love with my wife?" Riker said nothing. "You don't think I know about your 'dalliance' with her?" Khell went on, "Your little game?" he smiled condescendingly, "Commander, my wife and I have no secrets. She's shared your 'experiment' with me, and I have to say ... though I see little purpose in it, it has at the very least, demonstrated to Deanna that a Betazoid and a human would never be able to share in a meaningful relationship," The Minister sighed as though he were frustrated with Riker's dim wit, "I tell you what, William, when I return from Betazed, you and I will have a conversation. I'm sure it's long overdue and for that I apologize. I'd have it with you now, but I'm afraid I have a shuttle to catch in a few minutes. We'll clear this silly matter up when I return. In the meantime, perhaps you should revisit ... your fiancé?" Before Riker could deck his first diplomat, he was treated to Minister Khell's back. The other man turned and walked briskly through the corridor towards the elevator. Riker had never been angrier at another person in his entire life. Not even his estrange father, and the thought of that startled him. But something stopped him from moving after Khell. Something he couldn't articulate. That 'something' was on the other side of Deanna Troi's doorway. Watching as Khell disappeared into the lift, Riker turned and faced the entrance to the Ambassadorial suite. He took a cleansing breath and he tapped the chime. There was no response. Frowning, he tried again. "Deanna?" Without warning, the pneumatic hiss of the door's mechanism shoved it quietly aside and Riker found himself staring at an empty suite. No Deanna, no sound, not much of anything. Until he took a few steps in, turned a corner, and looked very closely. There in the bedroom, silent as the dead, staring straight ahead and clutching her knees to her chest was Betazed's Ambassador. Deanna sat on the carpet next to the great bed in the center of the suite. Eyes focused on nothing, her face was a mask of neutrality, but Riker couldn't imagine he'd ever seen her this upset before. "Deanna--" he whispered, moving slowly toward her and dropping to a crouch where she sat. He didn't need to ask her why she'd taken the posture, nor did he wonder why she hadn't cried. He only faced her on the floor and held out a hand. His feelings were conflicted, and the Minister's words still echoed in his memory: '...it has, at the very least, demonstrated to Deanna that a Betazoid and a human would never be able to share in a meaningful relationship.' "Will," she looked up at him for less than an instant before she threw her arms around him, forcing Riker backward onto his haunches for support. All of his anger, any modicum of hurt that he'd been feeling -- even the burning necessity to question Deanna about what she may have said to her husband -- all of it vanished when her small hands closed at the back of his neck. "Will," she sobbed brokenly against his chest, shaking in his arms. "Shh," offering her whatever comfort he could, he rocked with her back and forth on the rug, murmuring words of encouragement, "It's okay. I understand. It's going to be all right, Deanna, you'll see--" "No," Deanna raised her luminous gaze to his. Though her eyes were filled with glassy moisture, she blinked it back, "No, you don't understand. It can never be all right. It's not going to work. Darian doesn't want me. He never will." Riker suddenly felt the full impact of several desperate emotions at once. Unable to quell the rise of them in his chest, he simply swallowed, holding her at arms length. "Deanna, that can't be true--" "It is true. We can never be bonded," she repeated, and then she pulled from him and her small hands reached out for one of his. Her incredibly dark eyes pinned him with a look he found himself powerless to break. "It didn't make sense. I didn't understand for so long... Now I realize, it doesn't matter anymore/" Trailing off, her expression suddenly changed. She whispered tremulously, "your eyes are so blue..." It didn't matter anymore? What didn't matter anymore? Riker thought to question her comment. It occurred to him that Deanna wasn't entirely herself at the moment, but all of that; every blessed notion in his head disappeared when she pulled him gently down toward her. The first touch of her soft lips against his brought his rational mind screaming to a halt and his heart hammering wildly on the inside of his chest. Every breath was borrowed, and Riker wondered for a moment if he could truly be drowning. Frozen on his knees in front of her, he was dimly aware of her hands when they gently cupped the back of his neck. Deanna's mouth covered his lips for a second, and then a third time before he realized he could even move. "Dea--" he exhaled sharply, unable to finish her name. He shut his eyes and finally gave in. Her warm breath tickled the edge of his face, her hands caressed his neck and her lips; God, her lips were so incredibly soft. But it wasn't enough. He needed more than just the teasing caress of her skin against his. Dropping his head, he placed a hand on either side of her face. He held her gently, looking down into the darkest, most exquisite pair of eyes he'd ever imagined, before he plundered her mouth with a passion that bordered on desperation. Deanna whimpered softly, but her voice was lost to the urgency of their mutual exploration. The kiss was profound and imperative; so necessary that Riker knew he would have chosen to continue it, even if it meant that he could never fill his lungs again. Though he found no way to articulate it, he felt the stirring of something remarkable. Something forceful and compelling. Something unlike anything he'd ever felt before. He knew Deanna must have felt it too. Because while their mouths joined repeatedly and her fingers drew gentle patterns in the back of his hair, Riker could almost feel that she had somehow understood. Or that she was sharing it with him ... whatever 'it' was. It didn't matter. All that mattered was her. And this place. And the way his heartbeat felt so wildly out of control. He knew without a moment's hesitation that he could have gone on like this forever. Which was why it came as a shock for both of them when he pulled slowly away; shattering the spell that surrounded their intimacy. "Deanna--" he caught her expression with serious intent and saw her dark eyes flash with sudden and rational lucidity. "Will?" she seemed to realize where she was, and with who. Deanna made a stricken sound, struggling to catch her runaway breath. Their eyes held, but she dropped her hands from the sides of his face. "Oh, Gods," her expression filled with new tears, "I'm sorry." Scrambling to her feet, she caught her balance on the edge of a table and turned toward the door. "Deanna?" He was on his feet in an instant and he reached for her. "Deanna, please wait--" "I'm so sorry," she cried brokenly. But she did not turn around to face him again. Flying through the open door, she fled into the hall. Somewhere beyond reason or logic, Riker knew that she didn't want him to follow. Remaining behind, he placed his head in his hands and stared blankly at the floor instead. CHAPTER 36 "Stiles, Rhymes, Michaels, you're with me." Three officers fell into step with Riker as he entered the foyer of the diplomatic retreat. "Listen up gentleman," he glanced at each of them in turn. "We have a security issue. I have orders from headquarters that we're going to need to bolster our protection of the compound." "Something wrong, sir?" asked Rhymes. Riker nodded. "That's what we're hoping to prevent. As of the present, each of you has a team of nine assigned to your command. That makes twenty-seven officers on duty not including ourselves. Effective immediately, we'll need to stretch that number so it feels like forty." "Forty?" Michaels' eyes widened. "When will they--" "Unfortunately," Riker cut him off, "there won't be any reinforcements this time. Think your teams can handle it?" Glancing briefly at one another, each officer nodded. They were all experienced, but even Riker knew that he was asking them to push their limits with only half the compliment they'd need. Despite the demand, Stiles grinned, "We can be forty-three, sir," he said, "and a half." Smiling at his enthusiasm, Will clapped the other man on the shoulder. "Good. There may be new faces coming in and out of the retreat over the next few days. Anyone who doesn't already have a pass needs to be cleared, either directly through me, or through Lieutenant Commander Stiles. Is that understood?" Again the officers nodded, "yes sir." "What's going on?" another voice interceded. "Ambassador..." Stiles was the first to turn. He nodded at Troi's slow approach. "Just a routine meeting ma'am." Deanna scanned the small assembly before she looked at Will. He saw her take a breath and suddenly knew that she'd been avoiding his eyes, but protocol interceded and her gaze finally lifted, locking with his. "Routine?" she asked directly. "An increase in security is routine?" "Ambassador," he forestalled her next question with a pointed look. "I'll explain in a moment." He was about to address his team again when Deanna cut him off. "No, Commander," her voice was low; tipped with a commanding edge he'd never heard her use with him before. "You will explain it now." Riker's shoulders stiffened but he didn't respond. "Commander," Stiles interjected auspiciously, "We can have the new assignments out by the end of the day." Grateful for the diversion, Riker acknowledged, "You each have your orders then. We'll reconvene at oh-seven-hundred in the morning. Dismissed." Stiles and Michaels were the first to depart, Rhymes followed a step behind, and when they were gone, Riker released a long-held breath. He turned. Alone in the hallway with Deanna, his resentment suddenly felt a great deal less vivid than it had a moment earlier. She'd changed since the morning. Gone was the woman he'd held in his arms, replaced by a visage of incontrovertible decorum. With her hands at her sides, Deanna regarded him dubiously. "Would you care to explain what's going on now, Commander?" Riker threw her a sharp look. "Come with me," he took her arm gently and led her into a nearby room, but when the door slid shut, she yanked her hand away. "I asked you a question, Commander." His eyebrow rose. If that's how she wanted to play it... "All right *Ambassador*," he cut her off acerbically, "your life is in danger. You knew that and you kept it to yourself." Deanna squared her shoulders. "There is no immediate threat against me." "No. But there could be at any moment. And there was a threat before now. Why didn't you say anything?" "I-- didn't consider it necessary. This isn't the first time my life has been threatened. Most threats are idle. If I jumped at every--" "This isn't the same!" Riker shot back at her far more forcefully than he'd intended. For an instant they stood staring at one another in silence, but he was finding it more difficult to think rationally with every passing breath. The problem was, Deanna's presence and her behavior had unnerved him more than he was willing to admit. Especially since the last time he'd seen her, she left him standing alone and confused in her suite. "This is different and you know it, Deanna," he broke protocol and scowled. "You're avoiding something, what is it?" "I'm not--" His eyes narrowed. "A Betazoid who lies?" "I'm not lying, I just--" she trailed off, her explanation dying out into a livid expression. "Oh the hell with it! Perhaps I have SOME right to be half-human every now and then. And EVERY RIGHT to not be treated as an ... aberration ... in either form!" "A what?" "I'm a halfling, Will. That's not something I can change or arbitrate on a whim," she turned on him angrily, "at any given moment, I might be *prone* to exhibit the traits of either species. So maybe everyone should stop appearing so stunned every time I step a little over the lines!" Riker took an involuntary step backward. "A 'halfling'? Deanna, where is this coming from?" Her eyes filled with silent desperation. It seemed to startle her as much as it did him. "From here," she pressed her palm against her heart. "From the fact that my husband thinks I'm not Betazoid enough," she paced toward the window, "my mother thinks I'm not forceful enough. I'll never be the kind of telepath that she is," Deanna turned and regarded him with shining dark eyes, "and you--" "Me?" "Yes, you. You think--" "Hold it right there." He held out a hand. "You don't know what I think, remember? You're not a telepath." The comment hit its mark. Deanna scowled. But her anger was short-lived, and in the next instant she looked as tragic as he had ever seen her. "I've spent years mastering my emotions," she observed bitterly, "and now I'm here in this place. On this planet. And I've cried more times than I ever have in my entire life..." Deanna looked back at him with an all too familiar expression and suddenly all the frustration in Riker's being crumbled away. Beyond simple inadequacy, she was feeling betrayed. In a singular instant, there was nothing more important to him than to make her understand he'd never meant to be the reason she was hurt. He took a step toward her. "Do you want to know what I really think?" he asked, not waiting for her response, "I think you're perfect. Just the way you are." She looked away from him, clearing the unwanted teardrops from her face. "No you don't. You think the same of me that Darian does. The moment you kiss me, you recoil. I'm beginning to feel like I'm some kind of disease!" "Deanna," he gasped, "that is *not* what I felt." Bridging the distance between them, he took her into his arms. Her posture was rigid, but she didn't pull away. "God, touching you is ... the purest form of pleasure that I have ever known." "Then why did you stop?" she regarded him warily, "I could feel your emotions. You were anxious, uneasy." "Because I promised you I wouldn't kiss you," Riker took her hand and held it, "Deanna, before we started your 'experiment'. You told me that it would be a violation of your vows to your husband, if we--" "I *wanted* you to kiss me!" she cried suddenly, "I didn't care about reason or consequence, I wanted it more than I'd ever wanted anything!" Both of them froze. Deanna's mouth fell open and her hand flew to her lips. "Oh gods, I'm sorry," she shook her head, "I can't believe I just--" Her face flushed with color, but Riker didn't wait for her to slip from his grasp again. Holding her firmly, he pulled her back toward him. "Do you still want me to kiss you?" Deanna was quiet. Her dark eyes locked on his, but the tension in her body finally let go and she whispered, "yes..." Lifting a hand to cup the side of her face, Riker brushed his fingertips over the damp evidence of her earlier emotion. "Well I guess that's good," he lowered his head and traced her lips lightly with his own, "because I'd like to kiss you too..." Their mouths met with incredible need. Deanna moaned softly; her hands joined at the back of his neck and the front of their bodies plied together while he explored the sweet, addictive flavor of her lips. Unlike any other time he'd shared a lover's kiss, Riker made no demands. He didn't toy with the fastening of her dress or draw her into a more intimate clinch. Instead, they remained in the center of the room; mouths clasped, arms wound tightly around each other. Content in a moment that might have seemed far too preliminary, had it not been for the fact that it was more powerful in an instant than any other physical intimacy they had previously shared. "I love," Deanna whispered, "the way..." melting against him, "you touch me." His mouth fastened hotly on hers, stealing her next breath. //Ambassador Troi?// a voice activated the conference room COMM from outside. The hypnotic spell they were under shattered. Like shards of broken glass, it called them both to attention. Separating with an audible gasp, they clung to each other and Deanna dropped her forehead to his chest, catching her breath. //Lieutenant Rhymes,// the exterior voice remained audible through the active channel, //have you seen Ambassador Troi?// //I think she and Commander Riker stepped into conference room three. Did you page her?// //I just tried three. She's not answering her communicator--// Disengaging from the circle of his arms, Deanna smoothed down the front of her dress and moved a decorous distance around the table. Her eyes remained on Will's still-dark expression. "Riker to Ensign Harris," he tapped his communicator, "The Ambassador and I are in conference room four." A moment later, the door to the unlocked room slid open and a woman in a Starfleet uniform stepped inside. "I'm sorry to disturb your meeting, Commander," she traded a look between them, "but I was given a message for Ambassador Troi." Reluctantly breaking Deanna's gaze, Riker glanced at his officer. "Then deliver it, Ensign," he said. Handing Troi a slim data PADD, the Ensign nodded briefly and retreated from the room. When the door slid shut behind her, Deanna was already reading the note. "News?" asked Riker. "Darian has arrived safely on Betazed," she glanced at him and cringed slightly, "he's staying at my mother's house." "That's good ... isn't it?" "I suppose," she sighed. "He and I had ... an argument before he left." "I remember.." Recollection flashed in Deanna's eyes, but it was replaced by a look of irresolution that Will wouldhave sworn bordered on sadness. "No doubt, he and my mother will have a great deal to discuss." "Deanna--" rounding the conference table, he moved toward her again, "what does it matter what your mother thinks or doesn't think? Your marriage is your own business. Yours and Darian's." Troi laughed despondently, "you don't know my mother." "No. But I know that you love and admire her a great deal. She must be an admirable woman, and if that's the case, then she'll understand that there are two sides to every story." Shaking her head, she met him halfway around the table. "Oh, William. If only I'd met you in another lifetime..." The fiery knot in Riker's chest expanded painfully. He said nothing in return, enveloping Deanna in his arms instead. * "Morris!" Commander Garrity glared at his first officer, "Rachel are you alive? What's wrong with you?" Turning where she stood, Rachel Morris found Garrity's aggravated expression pinned on her. "I was thinking," she frowned. "Yeah, I'll bet you were," advancing behind her, he stopped before one of the larger portals in his cabin. "Riker?" "Maybe." "Rachel, it's been over two months." "And?" she demanded, "we were engaged, Sean. To be married. What do you expect me to do, just forget?" "Hell no," Commander Garrity smirked, "but 'remembering' never stopped us from having a good time ... before." Rachel stared at him. For the first time in her life, she looked past the gorgeous body he wore and the killer smile she knew he'd perfected over years of practice in a mirror--and what she saw made her stomach turn. "You make me sick," her quiet voice was almost as much of a revelation for her as it was for him. "I beg your pardon?" "You, Sean, make me ill. I don't know why I ever--" "Well, why don't I 'refresh' your memory, then?" Faster than she'd anticipated, Garrity came for her and trapped her against the wall, lowering his head and kissing her with untamed ferocity. With both her hands against his broad chest, Rachel shoved him backward, staggering his balance into the suite. "I remember this game," his smile was feral. But when he moved toward her again, she was ready. Landing him with a sickening thud on his back, Rachel started down at her former lover and shook her head. "No, I don't think you do, Sean." Garrity's incredulous smirk was only a millimeter short of utter condescension, "You want him back, don't you? You actually believe you're in love with him?" Regarding his recumbent posture, Rachel sighed. "I'll tell you what, Sean. Don't ever touch me again." She threw the remark over her shoulder and side-stepped his arm as she left through the doorway to his quarters. Standing immobile in the corridor for only a moment, her clear green eyes focused on a turbo-lift at the far end of the hall, and she started toward it. CHAPTER 37 "They're saying two, three days at most and we'll be able to test the new engines." Leaning forward on the table he shared with Riker, Commander David Sellars grinned, "this is gonna make history, Will, just wait!" "Well it sounds amazing, Dave." "And you know what else? We need pilots. You know, pilots with a penchant for living on the wild side? We need YOU up there, Will, pushing the limits. There's nobody better qualified. Buddy, it'd be an amazing opportunity, I've already spoken with Admiral Ryan, and all you have to do is--" "I can't." Sellars froze mid-sentence. "What do you mean you can't? Riker, this is prime. This assignment will put your career back on the star-charts, you'll have your own galaxy class ship in a year, I guarantee it, you could--" "I can't," Will reiterated, "not right now. I have ... other obligations." "But I heard you were released from the penalty assignment..." "I was." "Then, I don't get it? What's to stop you from--" Sellars trailed off, regarding his friend's rigid posture. "Oh, come on!" he shook his head, "Don't tell me you'd give this up for a woman?" "You're way off base, David." "You're going to sit there, and tell me that your deciding to stay back here on Earth has NOTHING to do with the fact that you've got it bad for the Betazoid?" Riker leaned across the table. "Now you're way out of line." "Like hell I am. Riker, you may be able to fool the rest of the fleet with this 'noble duty' bullshit, but this is ME you're talking to buddy. Seven years of training together. Nobody knows you better. You BELONG up there!" "I'm not ending my career, damn it!" Riker's blue eyes flashed, "I'm just finishing an assignment. And with all due 'respect' to our friendship, David, you don't know a god damned thing about it." "You're right, I don't," Sellars frowned, "because you don't talk to me anymore. There was a time when you and I could talk about anything, man. Even Rachel. But ever since you started babysitting that damned Betazoid--" Standing in a heartbeat, Riker yanked his friend up by the collar of his uniform. "She has a name, David," he glared, "or a title, either of which would be appropriate if you're going to address her." "Holy shit, man." Yanking free of Riker's grasp, Sellars straightened his jacket. "What the hell's happened to you?" Stowing his anger with a rough sigh, Will dropped a credit chit down onto the table. "Grow up," he turned and left; walking briskly through the doorway of a lounge he'd been frequenting ever since he'd graduated from Starfleet Academy. * "Ambassador, I really MUST insist--" A tall man with graying hair and a slim, erect posture traveled swiftly through an elegant corridor. "Consul Mar, there is nothing more to discuss," Deanna Troi turned to her companion, keeping pace with him, "You simply cannot use your alliance with the Federation as a tool to demonstrate power in your system. We will not stand behind you." "But I was given to understand, by Admiral Janek, that the matter of the Praxxa would be taken care of!" "As far as your having equal standing in the council, yes, but not in so far as your internal political affairs are concerned. The Praxxa have a right to petition for the resumption of their status." "The Praxxa are a treacherous, devious race who--" "Whose petition will be heard, none the less." Turning patiently toward the taller man, Deanna sighed. "End of discussion, Consul." "They despise your people, you know. Just as they do ours." "That is a situation which we hope to rectify," she began, "as should you, Consul. The seed of anger grows into unnecessary violence, otherwise. As I'm sure you realize history has already proven." When the Consul remained immobile, Deanna nodded politely and continued her journey through the corridor. "I see that it was a mistake to have such an important discussion with a child!" he called after her, "were your mother here--" Deanna halted and turned slowly. "Were my mother here, Consul," her expression remained neutral but her dark eyes flashed, "you might have discovered yourself facing charges for the political obstruction of a legitimate claim. You're quite fortunate, actually," she offered him a serene smile, "I'm far more forgiving than she is. To a point." The Consul's expression fell. "Forgive me, Ambassador," he amended, "I meant no disrespect." Deanna shrugged, "there's nothing to forgive," she turned once more and resumed her course through the hall. * As she left the Federation complex, Troi reined in her anger. Consul Mar had hit a mark with her that she felt all too keenly. But somehow she had found the means to temper his outburst and she had walked away the victor. How ... was still a mystery to her. Sorting through her own emotions, she halted in surprise when her progress found her situation had changed. Lieutenant Rhymes was nowhere in sight, and her shuttle had also disappeared. In its place was a different craft, and a different pilot all together. "Commander?" Deanna walked slowly to the waiting transport, her expression shifting from curious to a pleased. "I thought you had business to attend to in the city this morning?" "I did," Riker returned her smile, reclining on the hull of the shiny vessel. "It ended earlier than I'd anticipated, so I decided to give Rhymes the day off. He's been working long hours." "He has," Deanna agreed, stopping short of the shuttle's open door. "but really, you could have sent anyone..." Riker's thoughtful frown was brief, "I can call in now and have Stiles down here in twenty minutes." "I'm glad you came," Deanna's voice carried louder than she'd expected and she cleared her throat, glancing around the bustling courtyard. Following her gaze, Riker stood politely off to one side and gestured her entrance to the craft. "After you, Madam Ambassador," he bent at the waist. "Thank you, Commander," she nodded, stepping inside. When the hatch to the shuttle closed and they were safe from prying eyes, Will turned to her and grinned, "Wanna fly?" "Yes," she beamed. "Thought so." They took off slowly, clearing San Francisco's airspace within a minute and entered unrestricted airspace in five. When Riker turned in his chair and glanced at Deanna, he saw her fingers float across the control console and she threw him a sidelong smile. "Not bad," he nodded appraisingly, "for a Betazoid." "You know you're asking for it," she smirked. "Should I be worried?" asked Riker, "or amused?" Deanna narrowed her eyes. "What is that Earth saying?" she pondered for only an instant before smiling, "Oh yes... punch it!" Until the inertial dampeners kicked in, even Riker had to hold onto something; which he grudgingly admitted was a pretty good feat, considering Deanna had done it solely with velocity. The trees in the canopy of forest below them blurred into fuzzy-after images, and so engrossed was she in what she was doing, that she didn't even notice when Riker left his own chair and moved to stand behind hers. She was startled when his warm breath tickled the back of her hair. "Here," he murmured, placing his hands on hers, "try this--". The shuttle screamed toward the heavens and then slid smoothly into a low earth orbit. The next thing Deanna knew, she was floating off her seat. "Will!" she exclaimed, pulling herself back down and noticing immediately that the sky had transformed from blue, to an inky, depthless black. "If you enter the atmosphere just right," Riker continued, engaging auto guidance, "you can hover here, just above zero G. It's not floating, it's not standing up. It's--" "Wonderful," she breathed, testing the sensation from her chair. "How did you know about this?" Helping her turn, Riker held onto her arms to steady both their balances. "I was a know-it-all, hot-shot risk-taker in the Academy," he threw her a dry look, "I um, ended up suspended for this one. It's technically not allowed in Earth space." "I should have known," she rolled her eyes, "but if you were suspended, then that means that we--" "Oh, I'd say we have about thirty-seven minutes until the sensor net comes around and they catch us up here. We came from inside the troposphere, so it takes a little longer to register. We can turn the artificial gravity on if you'd like." "No," smiling widely, Deanna sighed. "I love it." "I was hoping you'd say that." Moving carefully from Riker's proximity, she touched the consoles and the bulkheads, tried her balance on the floor and laughed when Will came up behind her and caught her with uncanny ease. "It feels so strange..." her voice was light as she turned in his arms. "You'll get used to it. It takes the body a few minutes to re-orient itself to the new--" Riker's explanation was cut off and his thoughts suspended when her soft lips caressed his. It seemed unreal at first. The phrase 'out of this world' came to mind, but there was nothing illusory about the way it felt with her mouth touched his for a second time. Slow at the outset, the kiss was warm and sweet, and his need for more became an overwhelming, insistent demand. Before either of them realized it, they were devouring each other with feverish necessity. Deanna's indrawn breath and quiet whimper against his skin saw the last vestiges of Riker's self-control vanish. He felt her lean forward and allowed the low gravity to float them gently toward the ground. They lay on their sides. Face to face with barely an inch of space to separate their nude bodies on the shuttle's passenger cot. Deanna smiled drowsily, slipping one of her legs between his. "Wow," Riker lifted a fall of hair from the edge of her face and smoothed it back, "Deanna, that was incredible," he smiled, "That was beyond incredible. I'd swear it gets better every time we--" "Yes." with a short but audible sigh, she leaned forward and kissed him deeply. Riker savored the contact and when it was over, he shut his eyes. A kaleidoscope of images coalesced in his thoughts. Her beautiful body arched against his; her long fingers gripping him rhythmically; the sound of her voice when she called out to him. All of it shivered, melting together and filling the ethereal corners of his mind. His mind. "Deanna," he began anew, trying in vain to concentrate while her kisses traveled low along his neck. "What is ... 'Imzadi'?" She froze. One instant she was soft and supple in his arms, and then next, her back was rigid and her breath short. "What?" she asked quietly. "'Imzadi'," he repeated, "what is it?" "It's a Betazoid philosophy. Will, why are you asking me this?" Pulling away, she observed him carefully. "I don't know," Riker frowned, "we can talk about it later, if you want." "No," she shook her head, lifting a free hand to dust the hair from his forehead, "Please tell me. Even if it seems strange, I want to know." Her look was so expectant, so compelling that Riker finally sighed. "I read about it in one of the books," he confessed, "I know it means 'beloved, or 'the first', but there was no frame of reference. At least, not one I understood." If possible, Deanna's countenance seemed to fall, but when she lifted her gaze again, her look was only thoughtful. "It's an ancient word," she began, "probably one of the most ancient in all of Betazed's history. Its meaning is not something that can literally be translated," off his discouraged expression, she added, "but I'll try." He nodded. "Millennia ago, bonding ceremonies on Betazed -- what you would call weddings -- were slightly more involved. Couples would pledge themselves to a union that hoped to transcend the physical boundaries of mortality. In very rare cases, that pledge would encompass even more." "More?" Deanna's dark eyes locked with his. "Do you believe in 'soulmates' Will?" For a moment he considered. Did he? There was a time when the automatic answer would have been no. But lately, in the strangest way, he'd been thinking and feeling things he'd never known were possible. "I don't know," he answered truthfully. She smiled. "Well, on Betazed, we do. We know that such things are possible. Very rare, but possible. As telepaths, we're able to sense one another's thoughts and feel one another's emotions. Our common marital bond is based on that sharing. But every once in a while, there is something between two people that transcends even our capacity to share. It's stronger, unpredictable, and ... impossible to adequately describe." Her voice took on a musical, wistful note. "'Imzadi'," Riker played the word on the tip of his tongue, examining it for texture and taste. In the calm of the hovering shuttlecraft, he met Deanna's eyes. "I think I understand." "''RaBeem''?" she teased him. "''RaBeem','" he grinned, leaning forward to recapture her mouth with quiet reverence. CHAPTER 38 "She was due to have arrived nearly an hour ago, what has detained her?" "I'm sorry, Minister, I don't know," checking the flight schedule, Lieutenant Commander Stiles shrugged apologetically, "I'm certain they'll be arriving shortly sir." "Has no one thought to check?" Khell's voice grew irate, "is this how security is run here, the Ambassador's shuttle is forty minutes overdue on a routine planetary excursion and NO ONE knows why?" "Minister, I'm sure that--" "Darian?" Making her way through the foyer, Deanna stopped in front of her husband. "What are you doing here? I thought you were on Betazed, with my mother--" "What am I doing here?" he asked, "why was your itinerary changed at the last moment and no flight report logged? Have you any idea how dangerous that is?" He was agitated, concerned, and Deanna sensed -- afraid. "What's wrong?" stepping toward him, she gently took his arm. <Tehya, you nearly gave me heart failure.> Khell's voice rang in Deanna's thoughts, <that's what's wrong. I'm sorry if it seems like I'm overreacting, but we cannot be too careful--> <No, you're right,> Deanna smiled apologetically, <I'm sorry, I should have ensured that they knew where I was.> <No. Your PILOT should have ensured it,> Khell's dark eyes fixed on Riker as he switched to Terran Standard. "Your PILOT should have re-filed the appropriate flight plan." Moving up behind Troi, Will met the Minister's glare. "You're right of course, Minister. We had a last minute course alteration." "I asked Commander Riker to take me somewhere else," Deanna cut in. "You asked?" Khell shook his head, "where?" "That's not important now, is it?" she looked back at her husband reproachfully, and it was clear even to Riker that the other man was frustrated at her lack of forthcoming. "Nevertheless," Darian frowned, "your pilot has protocol to follow." "Darian, we are well. Everything is fine, lets let the matter drop, shall we?" taking his arm, Deanna lead Darian into the hallway, offering one backward glance at Riker. He could see the quiet apology in her eyes. "Commander, is everything all right?" Stiles moved in beside Riker. "Yes, Lieutenant, It seems that the Minister was just concerned." Will nodded at his junior, who seemed to accept the explanation. Stiles turned to resume his station. With a look over his shoulder at the door though which Deanna and Darian had disappeared, Riker found that no matter the circumstances, he couldn't stop smiling. "Everything is ... fine." * With Darian Khell back on Earth, Deanna's schedule was filled for the next several days. Riker continued to oversee security -- although nothing of an untoward nature occurred. In another time or place, he might have chafed under the day-to-day tedium it all seemed to involve. Deanna had little time for conversation, or even the companionable walks beyond the consulate grounds they once took. In fact, he hadn't really spoken much to her at all, other than a few professional instances. But even that couldn't darken his spirits from the inexplicably warm feeling he'd been nurturing. From the way the whole world ... just seemed to glow. Coming up on her doorway, Riker held a message PADD in his hand. But he stopped short when he heard voices from within the Ambassadorial suite. It wasn't like him to listen in; nor would he ever have considered it, if he hadn't heard his name spoken loudly by Darian Khell. "Tehya, if you insist on speaking aloud, then I will abide that, but you must acknowledge that your conduct of late has been very odd!" "In what sense?" Deanna responded, "I've been attending to my schedule, the same as ever. You've been gone as well." "Yes, it's not a professional issue I'm speaking of." "Then what is it?" "It's ... that Commander Riker, isn't it? This has something to do with him." "Riker?" Turning where she stood, Deanna placed her hands on her hips, "what does he have to do with anything?" "Tehya, you know what I am referring to. Before I left for Betazed, we had a conversation." Placing his hands aloft and forestalling Deanna's automatic retaliation, Khell continued, "we agreed at that time, that your 'experiment' with Riker would be a transitory event. I can only assume by now that you've seen enough of the man to have tired of him physically." "Darian--" "Even if you haven't," Khell interjected, "even if you still find his company amusing, you must not allow your curiosity to interfere with your responsibilities, especially now--" "I beg your pardon?" Deanna gasped incredulously, "are you presuming to dictate to me how I can or cannot handle my professional responsibilities?" "Of course not," Darian demurred, "but you've been distant of late; preoccupied. I feel as though I don't know who you are anymore--" "Perhaps you never knew," Deanna whispered beneath her breath and Khell inclined his head. "You see? This is why I wish we'd converse the *proper* way, I cannot hear you when you mumble." "Darian," Deanna exhaled her frustration, "what precisely makes the Betazoid way, the 'proper' way? Why must we always place so much emphasis on pretenses!" "They are not pretenses, they form the fabric that makes us who we are. Culture is important." "More important than marriage?" she turned to him and her shoulders fell, "than love?" "Intertwined! You once believed that as well, Tehya what's happened to you? To the woman I married?" "Darian!" Throwing her hands up in the air, Deanna forced her husband's silence. She stared at him for a long moment before she exhaled. "Why did you marry me?" "What?" "Why did you pledge to spend the rest of your life, with me?" "We were betrothed as infants." "Is that the only reason?" "I-- care for you a great deal. I have ever since we were children. We grew up together, Deanna, we've always been close." Deanna's eyes filled with silent teardrops, "Yes," she whispered, "and I cherished your friendship. There was a time I even thought that we might--" Turning his head uncomfortably, Darian frowned, "Deanna, I don't see the point of this subject." "Was there ever a time that you loved me?" she asked suddenly. "Of course I love you, what sort of a question is that?" Though their eyes met and held, it was Deanna who first looked away. "You know what I'm speaking of," she sighed. Darian's quiet voice was nearly swallowed by the turning of his head. "Keep your pretense with the Commander if it pleases you. But... remember your heritage. You are a daughter of the Fifth House. The only thing a human man could ever give you is sex. And you, Tehya, you were born for so much more than that." He walked out of the room, adding softly, "I'm sorry if this hurts you, and I mean no disrespect to your father, but you may even ask your mother if you do not believe me." Alone and silent, Deanna remained where she stood. On the other side of the corridor, Riker leaned slowly against the wall. His head tipped backward and the hand in which he held the data PADD thumped quietly at his side. He'd been an idiot, again; a monumental fool for holding out the slightest hope that there was any way to make his misguided fantasy come true. Even if it were possible -- Darian was right. Deanna Troi was practically royalty. And outside of the storybook, no princess had ever married a frog. Quelling the burning ache that flooded his body from the center of his chest, Riker resumed a slow course through the corridor. When he passed one of his officers, he handed her the data PADD. "Ensign Harris, would you please see that Ambassador Troi gets this message." The young woman took the device. "Yes sir," she smiled. There were stars in her eyes; stars of the sort that Riker recognized all too well. She had a crush. Nodding back at her, he offered no further acknowledgement, resuming his course through a doorway at the end of the hall. CHAPTER 39 "With respect, Admiral, not a damn thing has happened. Not in the entire time she's been down here, and not in the last two weeks since your warning." Narrowing a pair of steel-gray eyes, Admiral Peter Lloyd fixed his gaze on Riker from the other side of a COMM screen. //You want the red-tape to lift on your new assignment,// he shook his head, //that wasn't our agreement.// "The hell with our agreement!" Riker shot back, then realized what he'd said, "I'm sorry, sir. That was out of line." //Your damn right it was,,// Lloyd frowned, //Commander, I'm going to chalk this up to the fact that you're not yourself tonight.// "Sir, I'm fine. I just want to move on with my career. And that isn't going to happen down here. We both know that." //Why don't you take a day or two and think--// "No sir. There's nothing to think about." //I thought you were a certain kind of man, Riker. And I'm usually a pretty good judge of character. Was I wrong?// "I'm a Starfleet Officer. And a damn good one. Maybe that's all I was ever meant to be." Lloyd released a breath of frustration. //All right. I'll assign someone else to the Ambassador's protection. Give me a week--// "Sir, with all due--" //With all due NOTHING Commander. I said a week. I had to pull a hell of a lot of strings to get things this tangled up to begin with, so I SUGGEST you sit your ass back down in that chair and listen. I'm old school Will, and as far as I'm concerned, you are abandoning your post.// Riker sat forward. "If she was in any danger sir, they're either not coming or they can't. It's been six MONTHS." //And maybe you don't give a damn.// "Admiral! GIVE ME BACK MY LIFE!" Lloyd shook his head. //One week Commander. You will report for duty as usual until then. Lloyd out.// Riker blinked as the official Starfleet arch replaced his superior officer's face. He turned away from the screen and raked his fingers through his hair. "Great," he sighed, "just great." * "It's dark in here," shallow footfalls echoed quietly on the cool marble floor of the diplomatic retreat's foyer. Sitting in a wide overstuffed armchair with his legs propped casually on an antique inlaid table, Riker couldn't be motivated to rise. "Will?" the voice--Deanna's voice--preceded her into the sitting area. "It's four in the morning, there's barely a soul conscious at this hour, why are you here?" "I could ask the same of you," he turned his head marginally, not far enough to see her. "I felt like thinking." "In the dark?" "I think better in the dark." Deanna's hand touched the top of his shoulder and her fingers slid lightly along his arm. "That's not all you do well," her soft whisper caressed the base of his ear, "in the dark." Riker shut his eyes and slowly exhaled; desire at war with his rational mind. Wherever she touched him, he felt a tingling pulse. "It's late," capturing her questing hand, he detained it from moving past the front of his open uniform jacket, "You have a meeting in the morning." Deanna's posture shifted. Reclaiming her hand, she stood quietly next to his chair. When she hadn't moved for some moments, Riker forced himself to look up at her silhouette. In the moonlight from the great bay windows, her pale, white dress seemed to glow. She looked like... "Ambassador," he kept his voice level, "you should get some rest." Gathering the fabric of her dress, Troi sat quietly on the edge of the large chair and tucked her legs beneath her. She faced him, and starlight filled her dark eyes with pools of luminance. "You're upset with me," she implored, "why?" "Does Darian know where you are right now?" Deanna was quiet. "Does it matter?" she finally asked. Riker offered her a serious look. "Yes, Deanna. You know it does. He's your husband." She broke eye contact. "He has nothing to do with this." "This," Riker deadpanned, "What exactly is 'this', anyway?" Sliding past her in the chair, he stood, "an 'experiment'? A game?" Pacing the foyer, he stopped and turned, "I'm tired of playing." "Playing what?" rising from the chair, Deanna bridged the distance between them. "Where is this coming from?" her small hand pressed against the side of his face. Quite suddenly it hurt to breathe. He felt Deanna's body move; felt her other hand rise to join the first as she gradually leaned forward, drawing his mouth into a slow and gentle kiss. Before he could think straight, Riker helplessly responded. Tasting her parted lips; her quiet sigh and the nearly painful pleasure that he always felt when their bodies demanded proximity. "Deanna--" he broke away from her. "Stop." Eyes wide and confused, she shook her head, "Will?" "Stop," Riker swallowed as his hand moved over her lips. "We can't do this. Not anymore." "Why?" whispering beneath his fingertips, she tipped her head. "You know why," he looked down, "there's no more point in the 'experiment'. You already know more than I could ever have shown you. You've taught ME more than ever I taught you." "You're leaving," she whispered, and the light in her eyes transformed into a shimmering glow, "You've been reassigned?" It was all that Riker could do not to pull her forward and beg her to forget what he'd just said. He nodded instead. "When?" she asked. "A week. Maybe less." "You ARE upset with me--" "God yes," he uttered a low sound. "But it isn't your fault. Call it a human flaw if you'd like ... habit of the beasts. We don't always have a rational reason for the way that we feel." "I don't understand." Holding her luminous expression, he sighed. "You don't have to." As he walked toward the outer doors he heard her voice call quietly after him. "Will?" He stopped in the entryway, unable to move. Unable to leave without another word because he knew that if he did, he would always imagine her standing there--alone and confused in burning canvas of his memories. He forced himself to turn. It was a mistake. Deanna's expressive eyes were filled with shining moisture. Across the distance, she looked paradoxically small, and she hadn't moved a heartbeat from where he'd left her. Her hands were tightly clasped at the front of her dress. "It IS me, isn't it?" she whispered, and a single tear slipped onto her cheek. Riker's heart stopped beating. A burning ache immersed his body. Lifting an arm, he held it out as though he could touch her. "You," he closed his fist and shook his head, "are a living, breathing, fantasy, Deanna Troi. Anyone you care about is blessed. Whether he knows it or not, Darian is the luckiest man in the universe. You're worth a thousand Federations, and a billion planets. Don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise." Before he could see her response, he propelled himself through the open doorway. The cool night wind licked the corners of his jacket. It bit his skin where his collar hung open, but he welcomed the sensation. Drawing a painful gulp of air, Riker welcomed the darkness as well; heading for the transport pad without a single backward glance. CHAPTER 40 Riker had a hell of a headache. Pressing his fingers against his skull, he sat up in a strange bed and tried to focus. Where was he? Oh yes. The Constellation hotel. He'd arrived here at nearly oh-five-hundred hours, and ... Damn his head hurt. It even hurt to think. This time, however, there was no one knocking on the door. No Deanna Troi carrying a hypo-spray and a slightly amused expression. There was only silence and sterile wallpaper. Turning over, he groaned, pressing his face into the hotel pillow just as the door chime beeped. And beeped. And beeped again. "Come in!" he barked, grimacing when there was no response. Struggling to rise, he pulled his uniform pants from the bed next to him and yanked them on. He'd turned to grab his shirt when his arm brushed something cool and metal and it clattered to the floor. "What the hell?" dropping down to scoop the object up, Riker found it undamaged. He lifted it into his hands, forgetting the door for a moment while recollection washed over him. The device was a tiny holo-emitter. Smooth and round and very familiar. He rolled it in his palm before pressing the edge. When it activated, the image that shimmered electronically into focus was a memory from a long time ago. An image of Rachel. The door chime sounded again, somehow louder than before, and he deactivated the switch. "Just a minute!" he yelled, continuing to dress. With a final shove, he had the arm of his shirt on and half his uniform assembled, and he went for the door. "Yes?" he slapped the entry button, watching the mechanism slide perfunctorily aside. "Will?" "Rachel--" his eyes widened and he took a step backward, "what are you--?" "Doing here?" she offered him a small shrug, "I'm not sure, honestly. I came by the hotel and they said that the room was occupied. Since I know I've paid up into the next quarter, I thought I'd come up and ... are you all right? You look like hell." Raking a hand back through his unkempt hair, Riker groaned, "I feel like hell," he admitted, "like I have a hangover, but I haven't had a drop to drink." "Well, I can help you with that at least," her brilliant green eyes met with his foggy expression. She indicated her Starfleet satchel, "I always keep something in here for ... a rainy day. Let me in and I can make that headache go away. Fair trade?" If his head hadn't hurt so damn much, Riker might have wondered at her motivation. As it was, he paused for less than an instant before standing aside. "Yeah," he let her walk in through the door and watched it close behind her. * "Lieutenant," Darian Khell stood across the concierge's desk in the diplomatic retreat. "Has the Ambassador left word with you of her itinerary this morning?" Furrowing his brow, Rhymes tapped a data screen and shook his head, "I'm sorry Minister," his eyes met Darian's, "but there's no record for the Ambassador's itinerary today. No meetings or scheduled appointments. It is a civic holiday, so she might be taking the day off--" Khell frowned, "Have you any idea where she may be? I haven't seen her at all this morning. Our quarters are empty, I just left them. Did she take her breakfast early?" "No sir. I haven't seen the Ambassador since yesterday, and the kitchens are only just about to serve breakfast. Did you want me to page her?" Slowly lowering his gaze, Darian lifted a closed fist and held it out to the desk, "I highly doubt that would be of use, Lieutenant," he whispered, revealing the COMM badge Deanna had been given. Rhymes' eyes widened. His hand ghosted to the badge on his own uniform. "Rhymes to Stiles--" //Stiles here, Lieutenant, I'm debriefing security, is there a problem?// "Sir," Rhymes took the small pin from Darian Khell's hand, "We're looking for Ambassador Troi. She's not in the compound and I have her COMM badge here. Transport logs show all shuttlecraft in their bays. The Minister says he hasn't seen her since last night. I can personally vouch for the fact that she hasn't been through grids A or B this morning, either." //Dispatch teams A and D onto the grounds,// Stiles' suddenly rigid voice came back, //and get Commander Riker down here. I want you to remain at your post in case she returns. Our alert state is a lockdown. Nobody enters or leaves the resort without complete identification and an escort until further notice, is that understood?// "Aye sir." Rhymes set the small pin down onto the marble surface of the counter and looked up at Khell. "She's probably just out for a walk," he nodded, "we'll find her, Minister." CHAPTER 41 "Better?" Rachel shifted next to Riker on the edge of the large bed. Shaking his head slowly, he grimaced, "Not really, no. Are you sure there's something in there?" "Something?" she laughed, "enough to cure or kill a Klingon Targ." Rachel reached up and touched the edge of his forehead, smiling fondly, "which was never any guarantee with you." Stretching his neck and closing his eyes, Riker took a deep breath, mentally pushing the insistent ache from his thoughts. It seemed to help, because when he opened his eyes and saw Rachel staring back at him, he found he was able to focus -- enough to realize he hadn't spoken to her in over two months... "Rachel," rubbing the back of his neck, he stood, "why ARE you here?" "All right," she sighed, placing her hands in her lap. "I came to see you." "Why?" he looked down at her. Observed the wayward fall of auburn hair he'd once thought was more beautiful than a summer sunrise, and a pair of glass-green eyes that still somehow held him captive. He felt a new pain. "I thought we said everything we needed to." "No," rising slowly, she faced him, "YOU said everything you felt you needed to. Not me." "As if there are so many more appealing ways we could have had that conversation." "I can't ever take that day back, Will. Or those months. They happened and I'll regret them for the rest of my life." She took a step toward him, "But you *have* to know that Sean Garrity isn't what I want. He isn't who I want to be with. He never was. I was confused. I didn't believe in permanence." "It's a little late for regret now, Rachel, wouldn't you say?" Riker's voice rose despite his concerted effort not to allow the emotion. "It's never too late to regret a mistake. Or to change. Will," her hand brushed his arm, but he yanked it free. "I didn't plan on falling in love--" "Love?" he turned on her. "I asked you to MARRY me, Rachel! I thought you felt the same way! And all that time, you were screwing someone else! What the hell am I supposed to feel? What do you want me to say?" "I don't know!" she threw her hands up in the air, and for the first time in all of the years that Riker had known Rachel Morris, her eyes filled with unspent ready tears. "I don't know ..." she whispered, "but I miss you," she reclaimed his arm, and this time he didn't stop it. "I love you. Damn it, Will you're the only man I've ever loved, and I want to be with you... it's not realistic, I know, and maybe it's not even right for me to ask you, but I have to! Can't you understand that? I'm sorry. I'm so sorry--" closing the gap between them, she wrapped her slender arms around his neck and kissed him hard. Riker was frozen. Immobilized by a mixture of emotions so overwhelming, he wasn't sure whether it hurt to breathe or simply to be alive. He did understand. The guilt; the desperate necessity to try, no matter the consequence. He understood more clearly than she could possibly have known. And when her warm, familiar body molded against him and her hands began to rove in all the places he remembered, there was no more struggle left. Seizing her mouth with urgent ferocity, Riker grabbed hold of Rachel's waist and pulled her harshly toward him. The kiss was long and deep, and a clash of images burned for the right to focus in his tumbling thoughts. Rachel, on the day that he'd first met her. The first time they made love. The night he'd asked her to marry him... Deanna... A swell of crushing need suffused his body and he lifted Rachel in his arms. He settled her backward, unresisting onto the bed and welcomed the insistent pull of her hot mouth when she reclaimed him. "Will..." she gasped. But there was a knock on the door. A loud, insistent thud that turned into banging. Separating with an audible breath, Riker looked down at the woman in his arms. His eyes turned to the doorway and then back again, but Rachel was already struggling to rise. Whoever was at the door sounded either livid or desperate, and Riker didn't wait to find out which. "Come in!" he called as he threw a backward glance over his shoulder. Rachel sat on the edge of his bed, re-fastening her uniform jacket. She shot him a meaningful look. Arriving at the doorway, Riker slapped his hand down on the plate. "Ensign Daniels?" he shook his head, "is there a problem?" "Sir," Daniels exhaled as though he'd run up the hotel stairs rather than taken the lift, "we couldn't reach you on your COMM--" Riker glanced at the satchel next to his bed where a quiet, insistent chirp was muffled by the cloth somewhere inside. "What is it?" he asked, eyes back on Daniels; suddenly feeling the full force of a new and dangerous sensation. "Sir, Ambassador Troi is missing," the officer shook his head, "We've got teams A and D out on the--" Snatching his uniform jacket from a nearby chair, Riker flew from the hotel suite without another backward glance. With Daniels in tow, he caught the lift in the hallway and called for the main floor. "Debrief me on the way, Ensign," he listened as the younger man relayed his explanation, and only when they reached their transport outside of the Constellation hotel did Riker realize he hadn't said a word to Rachel... * Leaning over a console in his quarters, Darian Khell looked out at a grave, familiar face, "Where is she?" he asked. //What?// her voice was even softer than he remembered it had been, //Darian--// //Where is my wife, Brella?// Brella's onyx eyes flashed with surprise--and something else. //I haven't the faintest idea what you're speaking of, Darian.// "She's missing. I thought I told you that we would not--" //Darian, do you think I would lie to you? I know nothing about what you're saying.// For a silent moment, their eyes locked in the console, but it was Darian who first looked aside. "I'm sorry," he murmured. //Mihari, it's possible that one of the others--// "This can not be the way!" "Minister Khell?" a voice from the corridor called into the Ambassadorial suite. "Find out who took this initiative, and pray they did not harm her..." with a meaningful look, Khell cut the transmission and the woman's face disappeared from his screen. He turned out into the room and called aloud, "I'm here." "Minister," a towering human security officer stepped through the doorway, "we've found her." CHAPTER 42 "Where is she?" Riker entered the foyer of the diplomatic retreat and saw Lt. Cmdr. Stiles approach. "Commander," Stiles nodded, dismissing the ensign Riker kept in tow, "we have her in the medical facility now sir." Starting quickly down the hall, Riker felt his gut twist, "What happened?" he asked. "As near as we can tell sir, she was outside the complex this morning, around oh-five-hundred. Security logs show an exit code on the door at the east end. We think she took a walk. When we found her this morning, she was half a kilometer north-east, in the woods. Looks like she was hit on the back of the head. Doctor Wilson is examining her now." Rounding on Stiles, Riker fisted his hands. "How the hell does this happen on your watch, Commander?" "Sir, we had every detail on duty last night--" Riker slowly exhaled. "All right," he looked away, then back again, separating the professional anger he felt from a much more powerful, much more personal sense of fear. "can you tell if there was foul play involved?" Stiles nodded, "someone definitely hit her, sir. But whatever they were after, they must have taken it and run. We found traces of Praxxan DNA on the rocks, no other lab results yet. It looks like she may have got a few good hits in on her attacker, as well." "Praxxan?" Riker breathed. Deanna was mediating a petition for Prax with the Federation... but she was FOR their re-admittance. Why would they have attacked her? "Sir," the Lt. Cmdr.'s expression sobered, "if we're going to have to watch the woods too, we'll need at least thirty more officers..." "We're not getting any reinforcements." "Sir, I HIGHLY--" "I know that, Commander," Riker turned, "believe me, I know." When they reached the medical corridor, both Riker and Stiles paused. "We'll discuss this later," Will glanced at the myriad of doors, "which room is she in?" "Thirty-six B sir. The Minister is in with her now." "Okay. Debrief the rest of the security teams. I want to see teams A and C in an hour, B and D after that." "Aye sir," Stiles nodded and turned on his boot-heel. "Commander," he paused, "is it true what they're saying in HQ this morning? You're being reassigned?" Riker met the other man's look for a long silent moment. Two hours ago, he would have said 'hell yes' and been done with it. As it was, he found it hard to think beyond the weakening remnants of frozen adrenaline in his veins. He finally sighed and shook his head, "I don't know." * When Darian Khell left the medical corridor, he was quiet and preoccupied. Glancing up from the officers he'd been speaking with, Will watched the Minister pause at the concierge's desk and leave some kind of instruction. Another few moments, and he walked past security, through the front doors, and out onto the grounds of the retreat. With a thoughtful frown, Riker dismissed his team and stood in the hallway. His eyes strayed to the room where Deanna was resting, and he started toward it, drawing a shallow breath. She was sitting alone; eyes closed, propped against a pillow where her long, loose curls tumbled over her shoulders. Riker stood in the doorway, unable to move. Deanna was so tranquil, she looked asleep. But a moment later, her drowsy eyes blinked once and fixed on him. "Ambassador," he took a step inside, eyeing the nurse who'd arrived to check Troi's bio-readings. "Commander," Deanna spoke his rank though it was an apology. "Commander Riker?" the nurse addressed him, "did you need something, sir?" "Yes, I--" he cleared his throat, "I'll need to speak to the Ambassador. I have some questions." "Of course," the nurse nodded, stepping out of the room, "I'll see that you're not disturbed, but take it slowly sir. She's not a hundred percent yet..." "I will," Riker nodded, watching the medical officer leave. When they were finally alone, he found it almost painful to turn and look at her. "Will," she began anew. "How are you feeling?" he interjected, walking slowly to her bedside. Tolerant of his evasion, Deanna sighed. "I suppose I've been better," her tired eyes closed and she winced, "my head is a little sore." Gesturing at a hypo-spray on a nearby table, she indicated, "Doctor Wilson was going to administer another dose, but I asked him not to. Now, I think I might like to have it." "Oh," Riker lifted the small instrument and held it out. Deanna looked at the reading and nodded. "It's all right," she whispered," taking it gently in her hand. Her fingers closed over Will's along with the device, and she drew both to the side of her neck, administering the anesthetic. Riker felt Deanna's touch glide softly over his skin as she released his hand. His palm lifted automatically, and his thumb caressed the edge of her cheek. She closed her eyes, breathing deeply. But he pulled away. "Can you tell me what happened?" he spoke more for his own benefit than for hers. When Deanna's eyes reopened, he could see that she was disappointed. But she said nothing of his rejection. Breaking his gaze, she shook her head. "Not a great deal. I was walking. And there was someone behind me. When I turned, my arm was grabbed. I fought back, and then there was a sharp pain on the side of my head. After that..." she trailed off into silence. "You didn't see, or sense, who it was?" "No." "No?" Riker looked her over appraisingly. She had to have known at least the species of her attacker, but she was avoiding the subject. Why? To preserve the Praxxa's chances of being re-admitted into the Federation? "Are you certain?" he asked her again. "He was ... large," Deanna looked away. "He? Then you saw *something*?" "Will, it doesn't matter who it was, it's over now. I was taking a walk and someone attacked me. But I'm fine." "A walk," he quietly admonished, "You left the grounds again at night. You promised me you wouldn't do that." "No," Deanna lifted her eyes and found his, "I promised you I wouldn't leave without telling you. You weren't there to tell." "Let me get this straight," he spread his hands, offering her a cheerless smile, "you went and threw yourself in front of an attacker because I wasn't there?" With a short, incredulous sound, Deanna's eyes rolled skyward, "Yes, that's exactly what I did. Congratulations Commander, nothing gets by you." "I warned you this could happen, Deanna," he exhaled in frustration, "NOW you're catty?" Crossing her arms protectively over her chest, Deanna glared back at him; but she said nothing in response. When neither of them had moved or spoken for several seconds, Troi turned away and frowned. "Deanna, how am I supposed to protect you, if--" Riker trailed off suddenly, meeting her expression. "If you're not here?" she pinned him with a pointed look, "is that what you were going to say?" "That isn't fair," he scowled, "I have a career; a life that I need to get back on track. You're an Ambassador for the Federation, you of all people should understand..." "Well I don't!" Deanna sat forward, adopting an almost imposing posture, "I don't understand why you tell me with one breath that you care for me, and in the next moment you're walking in the opposite direction. Would you explain that to me, Will? Or is that a human trait as well?" "What do you want from me?" he took a step toward her and pleaded, "Deanna, I'm confused as hell!" For a long moment, she regarded him. "Nothing," her shoulders finally fell, "I've never wanted anything from you, except to know your friendship." She lifted her head and flashed him a shadowy look, "But you're right, you should go. I don't want to keep you from your life." "My friendship?" Riker took another step. "You're an empath and you think that all you have is my friendship? Can't you FEEL that I'm in--" "Deanna? You're awake?" "Darian?" Tearing her gaze from Will's, Deanna turned in time to watch her husband enter the room followed by a stalwart security officer. "Commander Riker?" the officer regarded Will in surprise. "As you were, Lieutenant, I was just informing Ambassador Troi that I'm in ... sisting she let us know before she leaves the retreat in future. For the sake of her safety." Riker turned to Troi. Her luminous eyes fixed on him, even as Darian Khell stepped into the room. "I see," Khell's brow furrowed and Deanna's countenance shifted to one of revelation when she realized that Will had effectively blocked the Minister from 'hearing' any further thoughts. "I was just leaving--" Riker excused himself and turned for the door. "Will--" Troi called out from behind him and he froze, listening as she quickly amended, "--we see you later in the evening, Commander?" Turning halfway, he offered Khell a polite nod. "I have a few security issues that I need to address with my officers." "Of course," Deanna's smile was forced. Her quiet acknowledgement made Riker wish he could turn on his heel, gather her into his arms and disappear with her forever. Instead, he managed a short nod. "Goodnight, Commander," she spoke to his back, and he left the room without another word. CHAPTER 43 As Riker's debriefing ended, he dismissed the small room of officers and remained behind them. Slowly pacing the confined space, he fought two battles at once. It seemed that he'd begun to lose both of them. A few hours ago, he knew exactly what he was going to do. It felt like hell; but he knew. And there was something in force of such conviction that seemed to make things work. It all made sense, at the time. Now he was stranded. Trapped between one choice and the next, neither one particularly appealing, Riker clenched his fists at his sides. He needed a holodeck. Or an anbo'jitsu ring. Anything to feel the sweet sting of physical pain. Anything but this constant, intangible ache. When he found Rachel and Garrity together, it hurt. He'd asked her to marry him. They were engaged. But it had never felt this way. What was wrong with him? Riker's thoughts slammed into the present and he groaned, "Rachel. Damn it." He'd left her without a word or an explanation. And that was nearly four hours ago. She at least deserved a COMM call. Although what exactly he was going to say to her when that happened, he hadn't a clue. * "Tehya, you haven't spoken since we got up here," Darian sat in a chair opposite Deanna and looked her over across their dining table. "Are you unwell? Should I call doctor Wilson back?" "I'm fine," she whispered, absently stirring a bowl of sweet confection. "I'm just not very hungry." "Well I can imagine why not," Khell's smile was slight, "that dessert you love so much is terribly rich." "Chocolate," Deanna lifted her head. "What?" "Darian, it's called CHOCOLATE. I've been eating it since I was a little girl. Mother used to have it flown in from Earth and you even tried it when you came to visit me at our house," her breath released on a sigh, "you were never interested in me, were you? Even then..." "Deanna, we were children." "Yes, and we were friends, I thought. Weren't we friends?" she set down her spoon. "We were. We are, Deanna. You cannot hang on this--" "Can't I? Why not? Why shouldn't I 'hang' on this? You don't feel it's important? That I had a right to know?" she dropped her gaze, then rose slowly from the table. "I'm tired, Darian. And maybe I'm not feeling a hundred percent either. I should get some rest. I'm going to sleep in the other room tonight." Darian nodded, "all right. I'll cancel your appointments for the morning." "Fine," she turned and walked slowly to her room. * Riker's quarters in the consulate were dark when he arrived. Everything was sitting just exactly as he'd left it. Neat, clean, ready for the next officer to move in. Of course, that was yesterday... He realized he didn't have a bag. He'd left his belongings at the Constellation Hotel, and now he'd have to replicate whatever he needed until the morning. Sighing, he propped his hands on the computer terminal and stared unblinking at the screen. "Computer," he finally spoke, "replicate one uniform, specifications for Riker, William T. Also one COMM badge, same specifications and," he paused and released his breath, "one bottle of Antaran Brandy." //Your order is complete,// the computer's soft voice intoned. Riker began to reach for the small pile of items when a solitary chime sounded in his quarters. Shrugging his jacket from his shoulders, he draped it over a chair and called out, "Come!" The entrance slid aside. He wasn't aware of how long he stood motionless and silent. He didn't know when his heartbeat started to race, or why his breath caught painfully in his throat. But when Deanna stepped cautiously over the threshold of his doorway, Riker knew he had to touch her. As though she'd read his thoughts, Deanna stopped. "Is this a bad time?" she tilted her head. "Yes," Riker watched her flinch. She drew back and he shut his eyes, "No. It's all right. Come in." Resuming her step, Deanna walked all the way into his quarters. She stopped several feet away from him, and when she said nothing further, he began to feel as though she was waiting for *him* to speak. He shifted where he stood. "How are you feeling?" he asked, offering her the only conversation he could think of. "Much better, thank you. Doctor Wilson released me to my quarters several hours ago." "Good," Riker nodded, "that's good." "Will--" "I'm sure Darian is relieved," he cut her off, "you know he was very worried about you this afternoon." "So I heard," she sighed. "Is there something specific you needed," he gestured into his quarters, "... Ambassador?" "Yes." she slowly nodded. "I'd like to know what the word was." "What?" "Earlier, in the medical suite, you said: I'm an empath, and couldn't I feel that you were in--" her expression held him captive, "what was the word?" Riker missed his next lungful of air. "I," his mouth opened and then shut again. "You see I'm just trying to figure out," Deanna interjected, "whether you and I. Whether we," she frowned at her own inadequate speech, "whether you're feeling what I'm feeling." Will's mouth was dry; he cleared his throat and took a shallow breath, but Deanna moved toward him again. "I don't know," he said softly, "what are you feeling?" Her eyes were wide and thoughtful as she lifted a hand to side of his face. "Like..." a faint smile touched her delicate features, "I've never seen the stars before." Collecting a lock of his hair between her fingertips, she drew it tenderly aside. "Deanna," he exhaled. Caught in a spell he couldn't begin to understand, Riker followed the motion of her hand. Their faces moved closer; within a breath of contact and he shut his eyes, savoring the millimeter of air that separated her soft, warm lips from his. "What are you feeling?" she begged him, barely brushing his mouth with hers. "I don't know," his palm came to rest against her cheek, coaxing their intimacy closer, "I can't let go of you--" "Me neither," with a helpless breath, Deanna's eyes flew open. Head tipped backward and she looked up at him in surprise and awe. Riker's heartbeat stopped. He felt his chest fill with incredible warmth and he gasped while Troi's small hands clutched the muscles in his forearms for support. Drawing her toward him as much for his own stability as for hers, Riker held Deanna fiercely. A flood of inexpressible sensation inundated his senses. His body filled with a burning pulse. And when it had passed, it left him trembling with need. With Deanna's cheek still resting in the nape of his neck, he found the means to finally draw breath. "I feel like something passed right through me..." Riker felt her body disengage. The insanity was that it hurt physically to feel her leave. He might have groaned at the loss, had she not fallen right back into his arms. She was whispering. Something beautiful and exotic. The words were faint; too weak for the universal translator in his room to pick up, but clear enough that he could hear they weren't Terran Standard. A warm sense of calm filled his body, and it seemed easier to move again. "That's Betazin," his hand smoothed over her hair. "Yes." Rather than withdrawing, Deanna settled closer in his enveloping embrace. "I couldn't make all of it out, something about time, and ... the end?" "You've been learning Betazin?" She lifted her head from his shoulder and looked up at him with shining eyes. "A little," he returned her smile, shrugging self-consciously, "A few months ago, I thought it might help me with expressions like... ''RaBeem''." "And did it?" Deanna gathered her hands at the back of Riker's neck. The look in her eyes was amazing. "You are so beautiful," he uttered the words before he'd even realized he'd spoken. For several silent seconds, they simply stared at one another. But Deanna changed everything. Bearing him gently backward, she walked them slowly to the wall and her fathomless eyes locked with his. It tickled at first; the warm stirring he felt in the front of his skull. Her hand pressed lightly against his chest and her breathing slowed, but very quickly the sensation was no longer confined to Riker's head. It spread throughout his body while he regarded Deanna with awe. "What are you doing?" he asked. "Shh," she placed two fingers gently over his lips. "You shared your intimacy with me. Now, I want to share mine with you. I'm not telepathic, but there are some things I can still demonstrate..." "Deanna," he caught her hand and held it with as much gravity as he was able, "you shouldn't do this." "I want to." Riker felt himself responding; powerless when her breath replaced her fingertips and she kissed his parted lips. The contact was fleeting, far too preliminary before she reestablished a short distance between their bodies. "Let me show you," her quiet entreat chased a caress of ethereal sensation. Riker looked back at her. He saw her eyes shine when he wordlessly acquiesced, and watched her smile as he filled his lungs with her presence. What happened next was indescribable. It was something Riker would later accept had changed his concept of intimacy, forever. With quiet reverence, he felt Deanna's presence enfold him. There was nothing he could say to give adequate meaning to the moment, and so he let himself be swept along with it; captured by whatever force she'd exerted upon him. "How are you doing this?" he murmured in awe. Deanna's shoulders rose and fell, "I'm an empath." Riker shut his eyes and slowly exhaled. It felt ... incredible. Tender, in a way that went far beyond intimate. Sensual without being overtly sexual. It filled him with the vivid sensation that she was touching him, and yet the millimeter of space between their bodies remained intact. "Do you like it?" she whispered softly, drawing her face within a breath of his. "Yes," he gasped, warring with the urge to hold her in his arms. To taste her kiss. Riker gradually opened his eyes. "As well as our 'human physical experiment'?" she teased. He knew what he wanted. He knew what he felt and yet he couldn't begin to articulate it. The need to respond became greater than he could bear. Riker felt the swell of it begin to grow inside of him, and though he had no concept of 'how' or 'why', he finally realized that he *could*. Deanna was so close to him, he could feel the warmth of her skin. Her eyes fastened on his; they widened all of a sudden and she whispered aloud, "how are *you* doing that?" He would have answered, if he knew what to say. As it was, he felt a deep, compelling pull that seemed to come from everywhere at once. "I don't know," he said, "what am I doing?" Deanna's quiet whimper was lost to the front of his chest when she fell solidly against him. He lifted his hands automatically and drew his arms around her, but other than that simple contact, their bodies didn't move. Contentment became pleasure. Pleasure transformed into euphoria; and like a waterfall between them, it raged into ecstasy. But not of the physical kind. Of a kind that Riker had never realized was possible. Deanna's hands were the first to move. He thought that she might be drawing away from him, but when her grasp shifted to his uniform and she began to peel it feverishly from his body, Riker knew that wasn't so. He also knew he wouldn't stop her. In a matter of moments, all of their clothing had been divested. They stood flesh-to-flesh, breath mingling, warm and trembling from the influence that consumed them. "One more," Deanna whispered, "'experiment'..." and her mouth fastened hotly over his. Reason fled from Riker's conscious thought. He wrapped her in his arms. And when they sank to the floor in his quarters, a greater, far more powerful force collided between them. Demanding that they join their bodies as completely as it already tied their souls. They cried out as one. * Deanna liked to cuddle. It was something Riker had realized about her after the second time that they had been intimate. She liked to curl up in the circle of his arms while they lay face to face. And she liked it when he held her close. Not that he minded. Not that he'd ever minded. He lifted a hand to stroke her hair. "It's dark in here," her quiet observation was the first that either of them had spoken since their latest lovemaking. "Yes, I didn't set the lights to stay on past midnight. I wasn't expecting ... company." His words hung in the air between them before she sighed. "When it's quiet like this, I feel as though there's nothing else." Irrationally bitter at the reminder of reality, Riker frowned, but Deanna never saw the expression. "If I make one wish in the darkness where no one can see us," she continued, "do you think it might come true?" "What would you wish for?" Examining her silhouette, he shook his head. Her smile was wistful, "that we could stay in this place, forever." Riker traced the edge of her cheek with a fingertip, "Deanna, if we could stay here forever, I'd wish for it too. But the time for make-believe is over. We need to talk." "I know," she whispered. Her expression was almost tragic. And though he realized he would once again be compromising his own integrity, Riker couldn't keep himself from touching her. He leaned forward, brushing her lips with his. "It's been a difficult day. If you're not back in your quarters when Darian wakes up, he'll wonder whether you're safe." "Yes," Deanna's smile was unmistakably grateful. "Then ... you should go. We can talk later." "Will," her eyes shone in the darkness, "It's not that I--" "We'll talk later," he reiterated, placing his index finger across her lips; though he was no longer certain whether he purchased their silence for Deanna's benefit ... or for his own. CHAPTER 44 Morning came. A brilliant ray of sunlight spilled across Riker's pillow and he opened his eyes, examining the play of luminance on the soft fabric. It was just where Deanna had lain; where the lingering reminder of her scent still hovered. Breathing deeply, he glanced at the chronometer at the side of his bed. Still early. His alarm would not go off for another thirty minutes, but there was no possible way that he could continue to sleep. With one hand, he drew his fingers over the spot where her sultry eyes looked back at him. He remembered the way she touched him; her whispered voice and the feeling of indescribable connection that somehow flowed through her, into him. And he knew that he could never let her go. Not to Darian. Not to anyone else. Whatever resolutions he had made in the past several days were broken in the light that poured in from the forest outside his window. Rising quickly, he threw the covers from his body, but the sound of the COMM chime intervened. //Stiles to Riker// "Riker here," he picked up his badge. //Sir, you should get down here as soon as you're able. We have several requests for entrance to the retreat.// "At this hour?" Will frowned, "who is it?" //The former Betazoid Ambassador. Lwaxana Troi, and her staff.// Deanna's mother? Riker shifted off the bed. "Lieutenant, if you're sure that's who she is, then let her in, by all means. I'll inform the Ambassador she has a guest..." * When Riker arrived at the Ambassadorial suite, the door to the parlor was already open. Bright sunshine filled the quarters and it was silent within. But for a residence occupied by two Betazoids, 'silence' was not necessarily an indication of vacancy. Standing decorously in the entrance, he tapped the chime and waited for a response. There was none. He was about to try again, when the soft swish of Deanna's dress preceded her from the bedchamber. She seemed preoccupied at first; her thoughts elsewhere, but when her dark eyes lifted and regarded him from a distance, her features illuminated. "Will," she smiled almost shyly, reaching up to tuck some loose hair behind her ear. "Hi," Riker returned her smile, inexplicably warmed by the light in her expression. He glanced behind her and she must have picked up on his curiosity because she tilted her head and shook it. "Darian is in the study, he went to make a COMM call early this morning." "Oh," Riker didn't ask her why the Minister hadn't used the COMM inside their suite. The fact was he didn't care. If Darian was two floors down in the study, then that meant Deanna was... Stepping through the doorway, he stood opposite her for only a moment before he touched the control that shut the wooden panel. For several seconds neither spoke. Their breathing was the only audible sound in the suite, but Riker soon lifted his hand and held it out. "I um, I brought you something." Deanna looked down at his tiny cargo. A small but elegant shiny wrapper. She reached for it gently, extracting it from the center of his palm before returning her gaze to his. The smile she offered him was indescribable. "Chocolate?" she asked. He shrugged self-consciously and explained, "It's not just any chocolate. It's Ktarian, they make it with--" Riker had barely begun speaking before Deanna bridged the distance between their bodies and twined her arms around his neck. She kissed him. Thoroughly. Passionately. And he drowned in the exhilarating sensation that she was everyone around him. It was insanely addictive, and Deanna seemed to agree, because when she paused for a fraction of a moment, it was only to resettle her body against the front of his chest. "I missed you this morning," he whispered into her hair. "It's only been a few hours," she countered softly, but he noticed she hadn't moved from the embrace. "I know, but I missed you anyway," he smiled as he finally released her. When she disengaged, Riker's mind refocused and he remembered the real reason for his visit, "Deanna, I actually came here to tell you--" "My mother is here," she held his expression with solemn eyes. "Yes." Deanna cringed. "She's on her way upstairs. I can't block her very long. Will--" she caught his eyes, imploring, "you have to go. For now..." "I understand," he nodded, but Deanna took hold of his arm. "May I come and see you later?" she asked. The feeling he'd had from the moment he'd entered her presence returned and Riker grinned. "You'd better," he brushed his hand across the side of her face. Closing her eyes, Deanna turned her head into the heat of his palm before she drew a deep breath and touched the doorplate, ushering him outside. "Later," she whispered, and Riker started quietly down the hall. * It was three hours later when Minister Khell, Ambassador Troi, her entourage ... and her mother, appeared from their seclusion in the diplomatic suite. Deanna was dressed in full consulate regalia; complete with a traditional headband that she hadn't worn since the very first day of her arrival on Earth. Her long, rich gown swept the floor at her ankles and her eyes, Riker noticed, were cautiously averted from his. Darian himself looked haggard. The Minister's expression was solemn and he glanced frequently at his wife. "Minister, Ambassadors," Riker addressed them all formally in front of his officers. He turned to the Troi matriarch and inclined his head, but Lwaxana scowled. "Please Commander, I think we can dispense with the formalities, under the circumstances?" her pointed and very dark gaze locked with his. For the first and only time in his life, Riker felt cowed. Not even when his father had reprimanded him as a child did he feel quite the depth of humility that the older Troi was somehow able to engender in him. It was a damned unnerving way to feel. "I beg your pardon?" he stalled. "Commander, we will talk in there," gesturing behind her, Lwaxana led Deanna, Darian, and Riker himself into the larger conference suite. When the door slid shut, she turned on him. "You should be aware right now, Commander, that there can be no future for you and my daughter." Riker nearly fell over. "What?" he shot a look at Deanna, but her eyes were on the floor. "Mrs. Troi, I beg your pardon, but I'm not sure that I--" "Please, don't be oblique about this. Commander Riker, my daughter has told me everything. We have no secrets as a human family might." Again, Will looked to Deana in vain. She would not look back at him. "She may be young and prone to foolishness," the older Troi shot a look at her daughter, "but she is also Betazed's Ambassador and a daughter of the Fifth House. We are holders of the Sacred Chalice of Riix. Heir to the Holy Rings," Lwaxana spread her hands wide and approached him with somber authority, "and she is married." Riker's eyes fixed on the older woman. He caught and held her gaze until even she raised an eyebrow at his unflinching expression. "All right," Will released his breath with purpose, "if we're going to drop the pretense then lets drop it," his steel blue expression turned to Deanna, "I want to hear Deanna speak." For the first time since their arrival from the Ambassadorial suite, Deanna's fathomless eyes lifted and fixed on Riker's. "She's right, Will," her voice was quiet, but audible. "What happened between us was ... a fanciful experiment. We both enjoyed ourselves but it cannot continue." "Deanna--" he began, as Lwaxana cut him off. "I'm afraid my daughter has been recalled to Betazed, Commander. I am here to inform you of that, and to relieve you of your responsibility to guard her. The Chancellor feels that there's little more she can do here and the risk to her safety has obviously increased." Riker frowned, "with all due respect to the 'Chancellor', I take my orders directly from Starfleet." "Please, William," Deanna looked to him and it was clear that she was begging, "this is for the best." With a wave of her hand, Lwaxana Troi cut in, "Commander, I think you'll find that all your 'Starfleet' paperwork is already in order." Ignoring the older woman, Riker kept his eyes on Deanna. "I don't understand," he spoke only to her. Deanna clenched her fists at her sides, but she did not speak. And in her layers of formal attire, she looked very much like a tragic porcelain doll. "A Human and a Betazoid--" Darian Khell spoke next, "--cannot be compatible." Rounding on Khell, Lwaxana growled, "Think before you speak, child." The use of the word 'child' seemed to shock Darian as much as it did Riker, but the Minister took a moderate step backward and said nothing more. "There is a Starfleet starship in orbit that will transport us back home," Lwaxana continued. "We will be leaving within the morning. Good day, Commander Riker." Without another word, the Troi matriarch marched regally from the conference suite. Darian Khell followed closely behind her, and Deanna ... Deanna's eyes flew to Will's for only a fraction of a moment, before she too disappeared behind her mother. "No way in hell.." Riker whispered under his breath, then followed it with a far more audible "No way in hell!" Ducking out the doorway, he stopped in the marble foyer of the compound. All about him were officers and staff members, preparing the baggage and assisting the diplomatic party to the door. They had just stepped outside of it, when Riker called after them. "Deanna!" he saw her freeze; noticed the way her mother's hand settled quickly on her arm. But Deanna yanked the appendage free. She turned. Through the stares and curious glances of their onlookers, she met his eyes. "Deanna, that word ... the one you wanted to know?" Riker spoke clearly above the din of bustling commotion, "it was love." He stood quietly after that; uncaring of the wide-eyed spectators among his officers. He cleared his thoughts of everyone but her, and saw her lovely eyes fill with unspent teardrops. But she hadn't moved or spoken. <Commander,> a resonant voice inserted itself within Riker's head and he was acutely aware of Lwaxana's inscrutable expression upon him. <If you truly love my daughter, let her go. She has a destiny to fulfill. You cannot hope to understand what you would deny her in perusing this.> The cadence of her tone was suddenly lacking in its former authority. <Please, William...> In that moment, Riker felt a flood of shivering warmth. He felt the soft, enveloping sense of Deanna's presence surround him and he knew ... she was saying goodbye. Closing his eyes, he shut out all of them. He forced the ache in his lungs to subside and when he looked up again, Deanna had remained where she stood. Her infinite expression fixed on his. But the next time that her mother's hand returned to coax her arm around, she allowed it. She turned. Away from the retreat. Away from Riker. She walked slowly with her entourage towards a waiting transport, and she disappeared inside. CHAPTER 45 "Sellars!" Riker pounded on the door of his best friend's San Francisco apartment, forgoing the chime. "David, open up!" When the entry slid aside and an astonished face greeted him, Will barged in past the threshold. "David, I need your--" he froze mid-sentence, staring at Sellars' couch. "Rachel?" "Hi, Will," Morris placed her hands on her knees and rose to her feet while Riker spun around to glare at his friend. "Don't tell me--" his jaw dropped. "What?" David shook his head and laughed, "Oh, jeez no," Glancing at Rachel, his face split into a wide grin while she rolled her eyes. "Not that I hadn't thought about it now and then over the years, but-- no, man, she just came by to talk." "Talk?" affording each of them a perplexed look, Riker finally released his breath, "Talk about WHAT?" "You." Rachel nodded simply. "When you left the hotel, she figured you probably wouldn't want her hanging around while you were on duty, so she came by here. That's all." Riker raked a hand back through his hair. "Great. The timing of this is perfect. Just perfect--" "David told me," Morris continued. "What?" "He told me you're in love with someone," her green eyes flashed, "are you?" Riker looked away. "David, I'm going to overlook the fact that this is none of your god damned business, because I need your help." "Well that's mighty big of you, *buddy*, considering the way we left things after our last conversation," Sellars glowered, "I thought I still needed to 'grow up'?" "Will, I asked you a question." Ignoring both of them, Rachel took hold of Riker arm, "are you in love with the Betazoid Ambassador?" Will met her gaze in silence. "Well aren't I an idiot..." she shook her head. "Less of an idiot than I was, Rachel, don't you think?" Riker's eyebrow rose. "I think," Sellars interrupted them both, "that the two of you need to have this conversation alone. I'm going out--" "NO," Will turned, "David, there isn't time for this now. I need a shuttle. Off the record." "What? To go where?" "Betazed. I'm going after them. They were called back this morning, but I haven't been able to locate the starship that took them. I have a bad feeling in my gut about this. Starfleet confirms the paperwork's in order, but all I get in the flight database is a number, LX-824, does that mean anything to you?" David shook his head, and Riker was about to try another option when his glance fell on Rachel. "What is it?" he asked. She only frowned. Riker took her by the shoulders. "Rachel, what do you know?" Hissing in frustration, she thumped her hand against the wall, "okay, look, if they're headed for Betazed it probably doesn't matter anyway..." "WHAT probably doesn't matter?" Will took her arm and pulled it off the wall. "LX-824 is the section code for the 'LEGACY'. Or it was..." she added thoughtfully, "before I resigned." "You resigned the Section?" Riker gaped. "Nobody resigns the Section." "Hey ... hey... word in edgewise here?" said Sellars, "I can't just go out and 'get you' a shuttle craft, Will. No matter what this is about. I could lose my commission, why don't you ask Admiral--" "Because I don't know who I can trust!" Riker held David with a serious look. "Because you're the only friends I have right now who I'm reasonably certain won't feed me to the wolves when I go..." "Don't count on that," murmured Rachel. "Rach," he turned to her, "I need your help too. It won't be easy to do this alone. But I will hitchhike or steal a ship if I have to--" "Why don't I doubt that?" Sellars sighed, "all right... all right, look, if you're going to chase after a starship, you'll never catch up to her in a shuttle craft. But you can't exactly hijack another starship, so you'll need something else. Something with more power..." he trailed off with a grin that matched Riker's own, "Willie me boy, great minds think alike ... and we can kill two birds with one Tellurian meteorite! You in, Rachel?" Trading a meaningful look between them, Rachel sighed, "I think you're both insane," she placed a hand on her hip, "but what the hell?" * <Little One, honestly, you can't sit in silence forever. We'll be back on Betazed in a few hours...> Lwaxana Troi threw a sidelong glance at her daughter while they sat together in the starlit observation lounge of the starship 'LEGACY'. Staring at the shimmering darkness of space-at-warp, Deanna kept her focus. A small shiny wrapper containing precious cargo lay on the table near her hand and she turned it gently, over and over, but she said nothing. Nor had she since the inception of their voyage. <Little One--> "You called me that when I was five," Deanna deadpanned, turning to offer her mother a blank expression. <You know you really should get out of the habit of speaking aloud when you're not in the company of non-telepaths.> "I rather prefer this method of communication for the moment." The older Troi sighed, <Really, Little One, it's not so difficult. We all make concessions. Our station requires that we make certain sacrifices. But you are a Troi. You were born for this opportunity, and in the end, I'm sure you'll realize--> Deanna began to turn away again and Lwaxana snapped. <For the sake of the gods, child, grow up! You want me to stop calling you 'Little One' then stop sulking as though you truly are five years old!> "Sulking?" Deanna scowled vehemently, "You think I'm sulking?! My mother thinks I'm an infant, but she's thrust me into a position of leadership which she feels that I can obviously *never* do as well as she once did! And my *husband* ... shall we even begin to have that conversation, Mother?" <I beg your pardon?> the Troi Matriarch sat backward in her chair. "Darian! Mother, he's already bonded with someone else!" Deanna looked directly into Lwaxana's inscrutable expression and she almost laughed, "He's bonded..." she trailed off suddenly, "you knew, didn't you? Of course you knew, he must have told you the day we were married. When you both disappeared for so long..." <That's ludicrous darling. You're a child to me because you're my daughter. You'll understand when you have children of your own some day, but I've never doubted your abilities. And Darian recognizes his own responsibilities. He would never leave you. So what difference does it make?> "WHAT DIFFERENCE DOES IT MAKE? You cannot simply wave your wand and dismiss this, Mother! His heart is elsewhere! The bond is done! That's what difference it makes!" she clasped her hands, "I've been trying for over a YEAR to be something to him that I can NEVER BE and I thought it was me. All along, I thought that I was inadequate, or unable. Oh, Mother... he's in love with someone else..." <And I suppose you believe that you are as well?> Deanna looked away. <Little one, you're infatuated. It's a passing fancy, nothing more. Human men are very persuasive and very *imaginative*, but I can assure you that there is nothing of substance in what Commander Riker offers you... if he's offered you anything at all. It's nearly impossible to get one of them to commit.> "Of course not, Mother," the smile Deanna offered the darkening room was faint and ironic, "how could a Betazoid share anything consequential with a human, after all?" Lwaxana's dark eyes narrowed. <Was that a gibe, dear? Because if it was, you would do well to remember who you are speaking to.> "I am!" Deanna stood, "Mother, I cannot believe that you of all people are telling me that what I'm feeling is wrong. When you and father--" "Your father is not the issue!" Switching to spoken language, Lwaxana rose as well. For a long moment, the two women faced off with one another. A pair of identically obsidian eyes locked, and the indomitable Lwaxana Troi was the first to look away. "We'll speak of this later," she whispered. "In the meantime I believe you have responsibilities to attend to." "I am well aware of what my obligations are, Mother." Turning her back, Deanna marched purposefully toward the door. She had almost arrived, when the entrance of a statuesque Starfleet officer halted her progress. "Ambassadors," he politely acknowledged Deanna, and then Lwaxana, "I trust the accommodations are comfortable? The 'LEGACY' isn't a galaxy class starship, but I like to think we've got a first rate crew." "Commander Garrity," Lwaxana glanced at him, her expression severe. "We're quite comfortable, thank you," Deanna interjected. "Good. Well, if you need anything," he gave Deanna a lascivious once-over, "anything at all, I'm only a COMM call away." When he turned to leave, Lwaxana called after him, "Commander? How is it that you're able to keep your thoughts hidden from a Betazoid?" Garrity paused. Turning slowly, he offered them both a wide smile, "Ambassador, I thought it was impolite for Betazoids to probe another person's thoughts without permission?" "It is," Lwaxana nodded, undaunted, "but you're deliberately blocking." "I prefer to keep my thoughts ... private." "Undeniably," she narrowed her gaze. "If you'll excuse me, I'm needed on the bridge," Garrity pardoned himself and stepped backward through the open door. When he was gone, Lwaxana turned to her daughter. <I don't trust that man,> she sent. Deanna looked back at the door and frowned. CHAPTER 46 Leaning over the sleek CON of the DEFIANT's prototype interior, Riker whistled, "she's a beauty, David. How fast can she go?" "You'll love this, man," Sellars grinned, "she's less than a quarter the size of the smallest starship in the fleet, but she can make warp 9.982 if we punch it!" Riker smiled and shook his head. "What?" asked Sellars. "Oh, it's nothing. It's just, that's something Deanna used to say when we flew. 'punch it'..." David laughed, "You really have it bad if you think she invented *that* phrase." "Look, shut up. You asked..." "I'll remember to keep my mouth closed next time," Sellars threw him a sidelong glance from the co-pilot's console before he batted his eyelashes. "Oh, Will..." "You're about a micron and a prayer away from losing that arm, Sellars," Riker scowled and changed the subject, "Where'd Rachel go?" "She'll be back in twenty. We don't exactly have a full crew compliment to deal with all the 'little' things that come up when you're flying a prototype." Adjusting his controls, Riker nodded. "So what's the deal with you two, anyway?" "The deal?" Will didn't look up. "She wants you back, man. Do you even care?" "David, this isn't really what I want to be talking about right now." "Fine," Sellars shrugged, "but you are aware that even if we do make it out there in time to ensure your favorite Betazoid is safe and sound, there's still no way in the universe you two could ever--" "I said I don't want to talk about it!" thumping his hand down harder than he'd intended, Riker swallowed his next breath. Unfortunately, Sellars didn't. "Will," he pressed, "you *know* that, right?" "Yeah," he murmured. "I know." "She's an Ambassador, you're a Starfleet officer. She's some kind of royalty or something, you're--" "She's the princess, I'm the frog, and this isn't a fairy tale. I figured that part out already," Will turned in his chair, "can we talk about something else?" "Yeah," David nodded, "as soon as you swear to me that this isn't some half-cocked idea to try and shift the balance of the universe in your favor," he sighed, "Look, Will, you're my best friend and I'd do just about anything for you. We go back. But that also means that it's my obligation to remind you of when you're just going to get a whole bunch of people hurt. And Rachel--" "Rachel screwed up first, David," growled Riker, "or didn't I have the right to give a damn that my fiancée was fucking someone else!" "You do Will," Sellars turned wise eyes on Will, "I just think that maybe ... if you love someone enough to ask them to marry you, those kind of feelings don't just go away. You know?" "I said I don't want to talk about this," stowing his boot heel under the console, Riker fed a set of coordinates into the computer. "We have a starship to catch. Rachel can wait." "Wait for what?" a female voice entered the bridge while Riker turned a scathing look on his friend. "We were just saying," Sellars covered quickly, "--that your repairs, can wait. We need someone to track that ship and you know all the codes..." "Well I'm done, anyway. Your crew did a good job, David," Morris swung her lithe body into a chair and pulled a console forward. "There's barely any dust down there on those cables." "That's what I like to hear," he grinned, "but all the same, I'm going to go and make sure we don't ... you know ... lose our warp core on the way over," he threw a pointed look at Riker, "you two behave while I'm gone?" He sauntered through the door and disappeared. "That was subtle," Rachel spoke to her console without looking up. "Think he wants us to talk?" Riker shrugged, "I could really care less what he wants." "Well, I think he's right." "Trapped in a locked room with my ex-fiancée..." "Deal with it fly-boy," she shot him a saccharine smile. "You asked for my help." "Yeah, and quite frankly, you floored me when you agreed." "Why?" "Rachel," swiveling his chair, Riker stared across the bridge, "*nobody* resigns from Section 31." "It's not a death-trap, Will, it's a special unit. What the hell would you know about it?" her green eyes flashed. "Enough to know that nobody resigns." "Well I did." "How?" "I just did." Riker's lip curled into a smirk, "You're AWOL aren't you? They're probably looking for you right now... I could turn the subspace channel to 242 and..." "Okay!" she silenced him before his finger reached the smooth control. "So, I didn't exactly ask permission. I still resigned." "Why?" "Because Sean Garrity is an asshole," she met his gaze directly. For a time, Riker said nothing. He finally began to laugh. "Oh, that's ... that's beautiful!" a grin spread across his entire face, "Did you have little lovers quarrel Rach? Did he piss you off in bed?" "Screw you," she turned away. "I could comment--" "But you won't," returning her eyes to the set of figures on her screen, Rachel paused. "There's something going on with Betazed, Will," she said quietly, "something big." Riker's expression sobered. "I know." "What do you know?" "What do YOU know?" "I asked you first," she smirked. "I thought you 'resigned' from the Section, Rach? Why does it matter?" Exhaling a frustrated breath, Rachel stood. "Fine," her hand dusted the console before she spoke, "you probably know about the threats. The officer who was killed, and the Federation's move to keep most of it silent." Riker nodded. "Well, then you know about half of it," her serious eyes fixed on his, "and it's the good half." "What is that supposed to mean?" "I could tell you--" she teased him casually, but Riker had already risen from his own chair. "What's happening on Betazed, Rachel?" he pressed. She dropped her gaze. "Their second civil war." CHAPTER 47 "I will not do this any longer!" Brella fixed a cold, dark stare on the man who stood before her. "Oh, please," Commander Garrity spread his hands dramatically, "you asked for our help and we provided it. Now you'll carry out your end of the bargain." "We've done enough already," the tiny Betazoid scowled, "when precisely was this to end?" Garrity shrugged, "Never?" "Never?" Advancing toward him, Brella's dark eyes flashed, "you expected me to remain here with you--" "Until we let you go, yes, something like that." "I am aware that our Ambassador is on your ship at this very moment, Commander. I could go to her--" "And explain to her how you've betrayed your own people, Brella? I don't think so. Nor do I think she'd help you, even if you did. I only just met her, but she seems like the fiercely loyal type, to me." Brella scowled. "What we are doing is FOR my people, not that you could possibly understand." "Of course not. What am I again? A lower sub-species? We poor humans ... it's really tragic you were forced to BEG us for help, don't you think?" "That's enough, Commander," a cool, collected voice intervened from the doorway. Both Brella and Garrity turned. "Well, well," the Commander smirked, "the prodigal lover returns. It's so good of you to stop by ... Minister Khell. I wasn't sure you'd have the time to leave your wife's side on such a short journey." Darian's eyes narrowed, but his face betrayed no further expression. "Leave us," he ordered, "you have said quite enough." "Whatever you say, Minister. I was through here anyway. Brella, you'll be coming with us once we drop off our 'guests' on Betazed, so you'd better not pack up your things just yet..." Garrity smiled and strolled from room without a backward glance. When they were alone, Darian sighed. <Are you well?> he sent. <Yes,> she looked to him and he closed his eyes, savoring the warmth of their connection. <He was just trying to frighten me.> <Trying,> Darian frowned, <and succeeding.> Brella drew her shoulders taught. <Not succeeding.> <I thought you said he'd be a Captain by now.> Brella frowned, <It won't matter. He's very important to Starfleet.> <Mihari, you cannot hope to face them all on your own.> <I'm not,> she moved toward him, <but I knew what I was getting into when I volunteered for this. We need Commander Garrity, despite his arrogance. Darian, everything depends on our success.> <I wish you had let me find another way...> <The time was now.> <There are too few of us!> <Yes, and diminishing still,> facing him directly, Brella sighed, <you think I'm wrong, don't you?> <I love you,> he spoke in her thoughts, and he lifted a hand which might have brushed the edge of her cheek, had he not halted it a breath away. <As I love you...> * "There she is, Will, dead ahead," Sellars tapped new figures into the CON of the 'DEFIANT'. "Orders, sir?" he turned and grinned. Riker slowly stood. "Match their course and speed." "Matching course and speed..." Rachel read the read-out on her display. "I've activated the DEFIANT's cloaking device, but you should know that the crew of the 'LEGACY' are trained to notice tachyon emissions if we get in too close." "Looks like they're not expecting company," Riker regarded the view screen thoughtfully, "they couldn't have pushed warp 5 if we caught up with them this quickly." "I'd say that's a good guess," Morris shrugged, "their shields are down. Sean's nothing if not a cocky son-of-a-bitch. That might also work in our favor." "Arrogance usually does," Riker smiled. "All right, lets follow them in. It looks like they're still headed for Betazed. If all goes well, they'll drop off their passengers and my gut feeling will turn out to be completely off base--" "Hey, at least no one can say you didn't take off in the first available prototype ship to make sure your duty was fulfilled!" laughed Sellars. "If they don't throw us all in the stockade for this, I'm sure you'll get a medal, Will." Riker turned to David and glowered. * <Darian, may I have a word please?> Lwaxana Troi found her son-in-law staring out of a portal in a small, secluded conference room. <We should be home within the hour,> he sent back absently, not bothering to wonder how she'd found him. <Yes.> <You know, no matter how many times I see our planet from above, it's never any less beautiful...> <Darian,> the elder Troi took a chair and folded her hands in her lap, <what sent my daughter running into the arms of that Starfleet officer?> Khell turned, <I don't know,> his shoulders rose and fell, <perhaps you should ask her what she sees in those humans. That one in particular. I rather thought it was a passing phase.> <More the fool you were, if that's true.> Regarding her with wide eyes, Darian frowned, <You are my bond-mother, and I cannot say what I might otherwise, out of respect for you. However I feel that you are not aware of what you're suggesting.> <I am perfectly aware Darian, as should you be, that Deanna has felt alienated and unloved by her husband. And I cannot for all the gods figure out why? Child, on your wedding day you told me that you could love her--> Khell averted his eyes. <And I could,> he sent sadly, <I did. In many ways, I love her very well...> <But not the way that matters.> <She has a very giving spirit.> <Yes, she does,> Lwaxana rose. <When she was a child, she adored your company. As a woman, she might have loved you. If you had allowed her to.> <Allowed?> The elder Ambassador sighed, <Darian, you may feel that this is none of my affair, but where my daughter's happiness is concerned, you'll find I don't care a great deal for pleasantries. Deanna once mentioned to me that you did not touch her very often. That you insisted on making love in the purely telepathic sense, is that true?> Folding his hands in front of his robes, Darian released a breath. <It is a principal philosophy, and we are highly regarded among the Great Houses for it--> <Well it's ridiculous! Darian, love is not simply a matter of the mind. If it were, we would all have our children telepathically, and I can guarantee you, child, that's not how your mother bore *you*..> <There is a higher form,> he argued. Lwaxana waved her hand, <whoever told you about the 'higher form' never had any fun in their lives and they certainly never had any children! You sound almost as bad as those 'isolationists', what do they call themselves these days?> <I don't recall,> he looked away. <Yes, well, the point is, it's ludicrous.> <You are right, Lwaxana,> he said quietly, <this is not your concern.> Rising to her full height, the Troi matriarch marched over to where Khell was standing. <This woman you're in love with, do you think you're 'Imzadi'?> she asked, <is that what this pretence is all about? Do you presume you share the ultimate bond?> Darian met her stare resolutely. <Oh child, there hasn't been a bond like that in nearly a hundred years. I don't doubt you may have reached the common bond, or even the second stage by now, but if you were truly 'Imzadi', there would be obvious signs. You wouldn't have to guess.> <What signs?> Darian took a step toward her and Lwaxana offered him a sympathetic half-smile. <You wouldn't have to ask me that, either.> <We ARE bonded,> his obsidian eyes burned with a fierce intensity, <of that I have no doubt.> <But you are not 'Imzadi'. What you are is cruel,> she shook her head sadly, <and pitiless for marrying my daughter when you knew you had already bonded with another. And I'm a foolish old woman for believing you when you told me it wasn't so.> <We all have obligations, bond-mother,> Darian inclined his head, <I was simply fulfilling mine, as I am even now. Have I once betrayed your daughter's trust? Would you have had me break the marriage contract for a relationship that could never be?> <Yes! There is no custom that is worth a lifetime of unhappiness!> <Then perhaps we do not think alike,> Khell turned away, <for I would do anything in the service of Betazed. Even live a lifetime of unhappiness.> CHAPTER 48 "Commander Garrity," a female bridge officer caught the attention of her superior, "we have an unauthorized entrance in shuttle bay three, sir," her fingers danced on the console, "it's Brella's access code. Looks like she's trying to leave the ship..." "Damn it!" Garrity turned and strode to the turbo-lift, "Morris!" he barked and then froze. Aware of his error, he amended, "Karlin, you have the bridge." "Aye sir. Should I send security?" "No. I want to keep this small. She's no threat. Keep your posts." * "Will, are you okay?" Rachel's hand lay gently atop Riker's shoulder. "What?" he turned with a start, glancing at his readouts and blinking when they seemed to be out of sync from the last instant he'd checked. "You've got that look in your eyes again," Sellars shook his head. "What look?" Rachel took a seat next to theirs. "Every now and then, I've noticed Will gets this far-away look. I don't know what the hell to make of it --" "You know, I am sitting right here with you both," Riker cut in with a scowl, "it's nothing." "Ri-ight," grinned David, "when we crash on Betazed's third moon, you can tell us that it's nothing again, all right?" "I said it's nothing!" rising from the command chair, Riker walked slowly toward the back of the DEFIANT's bridge. He stopped when he reached the doorway and placed his hand on the frame. "It's her, isn't it?" Morris came up behind him and paused when she stood at his back. "Who?" Sellars asked. "Troi," said Rachel, "she's Betazoid. They can do things," her frown was minute, "Things that I don't even think most of Starfleet realizes, I've seen what--" curbing her own sentence, Rachel frowned and turned away. "Having a little problem with your 'ethics', Commander Morris?" Riker threw a dark look at her back, and when she didn't respond, he sighed, "What have you seen, Rachel?" "Will," she turned slowly, "if she's inside your head, there are ways to shut her out." "She's not inside my head," he whispered, eyes still intent, "sometimes I just feel... close to her. That's all." "That's how it starts. Then they can make you do anything--" "That isn't what this is," he reiterated, "but you seem to have a very terrifying perspective on a planet of people who've been peaceful for over a thousand years. What exactly is it that you've seen?" "She may be making you think things, Will. Things you don't even realize aren't your own ideas. You don't understand--" "No, you don't understand," Riker caught and held the arm she had extended, "Deanna would never do that." "How do you know for sure? How can you be so certain?" Riker stared at her in silence. "You think you're in love with her," Morris shook her head, "but what if that's just what she wants you to think?" Releasing her arm, Riker pushed past her walked toward the CON. He sat down without another word. Approaching him from behind, Rachel continued, "there's a Betazoid on the LEGACY. Her name is Brella Nayam. I've seen her do things with her mind. Control people. Races five times her size. A human man who was already hurting would be an easy target for--" "THAT'S ENOUGH!" grabbing hold of Rachel's wrist, Riker held it with far more force than he'd intended. "Rachel, I don't care what kind of twisted, sick little missions you might have run on your Section ship. But you have no idea what you're talking about right now." Morris yanked her hand free, rubbing the appendage. "You don't want to think about this, Will? Fine. But the fact is you know I could be right. And you know what else? I don't condemn the Betazoid race. I happen to like Brella Nayam. I got to know her when she first came on board the LEGACY. She's a damn decent person when she's not out trying to separate her planet from the fabric of Federation space. But that doesn't mean I haven't seen her do things that would freeze a Klingon's blood!" "Things the Section probably forced her to do--" Riker turned away. "This conversation is over." He glanced at Sellars, but his best friend was studiously avoiding eye contact, managing his console with intent. Rachel moved away and took her own seat before she answered his accusation. "She came to us, Will. Not the other way around. So maybe it's YOU who doesn't have a clue this time. Maybe you need to wake up." * <Little--> Lwaxana Troi cringed at her faux-pas and tried again, <Deanna--?> placing a hand on her daughter's arm. <Are you all right?> Blinking in the wan light of the observation lounge, Deanna turned and sent automatically, <Mother?> <Yes, dear, where were you just now?> <I'm not sure,> she sighed softly, <I thought, for a moment, I felt--> The older Troi turned a concerned gaze on her daughter, <I don't like the silence on board this ship.> <How far are we from Betazed?> <Less than an hour, why?> Deanna was quiet for a time. <Mother,> she finally sent, <have you ever felt ... lost?> <Oh darling, yes. We all feel that way, now and again in our lives.> with her eyes downcast, Lwaxana sighed, <You were right about Darian. I apologize for accusing you. You have every right to be mortified by what's happened. And I promise you, just as soon as we return to Betazed, I will look into this situation with you. You should never be unhappy in your life, Deanna. Not for any reason. I used to know that, once, a long time ago,> the older woman sighed wistfully, <when I met your father, your grandmother was livid. She was dead set against it, in fact.> Smiling wanly, Deanna took Lwaxana's hand. <What changed her mind?> <Well, nothing, really. I'm afraid I was far less noble than you were at that age. I stormed off. I left with him, and when I came back ... we were already married. Your grandmother said that I'd regret it. That we'd never achieve the bond and I'd be miserable...> <And were you...?> Troi sat forward with interest, as she was interested in every scrap of information her mother had ever provided about her beloved father. <No,> Lwaxana smiled, <we had already achieved the marital bond. In the end, they backpedaled and said that it was because I was a fairly powerful telepath, but your father and I didn't care what the reason was. We were very happy. All the happier when YOU arrived...> her smiling expression transformed, <I was foolish to force you to marry for that silly tradition. Perhaps it was my own misguided way of atoning for not having listened to the wishes of my mother. But I promise you, Deanna, I didn't know about Darian's bond at the time...> <Oh, Mother,> Deanna leaned forward and embraced her, <I don't blame you. Not really. There was a time when even I believed that I might truly come to love Darian.> <Little One,> the older Troi looked suddenly grave, <have you bonded with that Starfleet Commander?> Glancing out at the starlight in her window, Deanna sighed wistfully, <I think so,> she turned in her chair, <it's such a powerful feeling. I never realized it could be this way.> <It is always powerful when you bond with another, your father and I--> Lwaxana's eyes suddenly narrowed, <When you say 'powerful', just how powerful do you mean?> she sat forward. Deanna thought for a moment before she sent, <when you were with father, was it strong?> <Of course it was strong.> Turning slowly, Troi met her mother's eyes. <Was it this strong?> Lwaxana gasped. Shifting backward in her chair, she held her daughter's stare. <Not ... exactly, no,> her voice was thin, <Deanna, you cannot share a connection like this with a human.> <Didn't you just say that you and father--> <Your father and I were very much in love. But even fairy-tales have limits...> <I don't understand?> <You must understand if you established the bond. Does HE understand? If you're confused, he must be completely baffled. Humans are not capable of--> <But he is,> Deanna interjected, <Mother, he was the one who established it. I responded. I-- couldn't help it. Or if I could, I didn't want to. But it was him, I'm sure of it.> <How? I can see that you're intent about this dear, but it's simply not possible.> Deanna sat back in her chair and frowned as her mother continued, <Darling, between the two of you, there's only one half that's Betazoid. The kind of psychic energy the scholars claim is necessary to establish a bond of this magnitude would take at least one full telepath. If there is any way that this is possible, it must be--> Lwaxana suddenly stiffened. <Mother?> <It's Darian,> the older woman inhaled, <he's communicating telepathically with someone on this ship. I caught a stray thought. It was only for an instant.> <But there are no other telepaths on this ship.> <Not that we know of, dear.> <Then who?> Deanna shook her head. <Darian is not far from here. Perhaps we can ask him when we find him.> CHAPTER 49 The shuttle bay was dim when Commander Garrity and one security officer slipped quietly though the doorway. Motioning the guard toward the rear of the enclosure, Garrity crept along its side, scanning the two stationary vehicles parked in the bay. "Brella?" he finally called out, "are you in here? You might as well give up now, Senator, you're not going anywhere without a valid flight access code." There was no response, and neither of the ships were powered up. "Brella!" he asked again, then turned, "Jerome, get over here--" but the order died on his lips. Garrity's security officer lay unmoving on the floor. "Good evening, Commander," Brella walked slowly from behind him. Her long white dress kissed the floor and the light from the enclosure gave her features an almost ethereal glow. She was more beautiful than Garrity had ever seen her before -- but she was holding a type-two phaser in her hand. Standing next to her, silent and watchful, was Minister Khell. "Brella, put it down," Garrity took a step toward her. "I wouldn't do that, Commander," she pointed the weapon at the officer, "please stay where you are. I can assure you your man is quite alive, for the moment." "You wouldn't hurt anyone," Sean Garrity smirked, "it goes against everything you believe in..." "She may not," Darian spoke up, "but he will." He stood aside as a towering Praxxan in full body armor emerged from the aft of the bay. The statuesque alien shifted on his feet behind Brella, but he remained otherwise silent. "As you can see, your security officer was of little consequence to Darja." Trading a look between his downed man and the two diplomats, Garrity smirked. "Oh please, two Betazoids and a hired thug hijacking a shuttle craft? I don't know whether to laugh or walk out of here in disgust!" "I would advise against the latter," Khell continued, "if you wish to keep your officer in good health." "Darja hates you, Brella, even I can see that. He hates you as much as he hates any of us," Garrity narrowed his eyes, "that's why we've kept him on a leash until now. The Praxxa are useful soldiers, they're not naturally violent, but they're really quite feral when they're angry. Even a Klingon would keep a respectful distance. How long do you think you can control him?" "Long enough." "We were not attempting to escape your vessel undetected," Darian added, "that was a ruse." "To get me in here?" the Commander shook his head, "why? There's no where to go, this is a Section ship, I could have my officers down here in--" "As quickly as you might do that, Commander, I'm afraid you would already be dead." Brella cocked her head and the towering alien growled, "either way it suits our purpose quite well." "What are you planning?" "Yes, Darian, what are you planning?" a voice from the doorway interrupted their conversation and two further occupants entered the shuttle-bay. Lwaxana Troi took a single decorous step forward. "I wish I could say that it's a pleasure to see you again, Brella. Your mother and I are dear friends." "Senator Nayam?" Deanna shook her head. "Lwaxana, I beg of you," Darian met her expression, "leave now. Take Deanna and go. Please. Nothing good can come of this." "Darian, what is this about?" Deanna took a position alongside her mother's. "Commander Garrity--" Brella Nayam interjected, "please inform your bridge crew that you will be taking a shuttle craft to the surface. We are within range of Betazed and you will be delivering the Ambassador, her mother and the rest of us on your own recognizance." Her eyes turned to Deanna. "You should not have come here, Deanna. Now you will both accompany us to the surface." "To what purpose?" Lwaxana coldly inquired. Garrity's hand rose to his COMM badge, but Brella's dark eyes flashed, "I would be careful, Commander," she warned. "My crew will wonder why I'm taking a shuttle to the surface instead of beaming you all down from a synchronous orbit." "Your crew are trained to expect evasive orders from you," Brella shrugged, "they will not question this one." With a scowl, he tapped the pin, "Garrity to Bridge." //Bridge here, Commander, is everything all right?// Casting a final glance at Brella, Garrity answered, "Yes, everything's fine. We found the Senator... I will be taking a shuttle craft to the surface and dropping off our Betazoid delegates myself." To his moderate disgust, the bridge officer barely paused, //Yes sir.// "We'll leave in a few minutes. Garrity out." "Very good, Commander," Brella nodded, "now if you continue to cooperate, we will ensure that your death is as painless as possible." * "Head's up folks," Rachel Morris tapped her CON, "The LEGACY's launched a shuttle craft. It's headed for the surface..." Riker took his own readings. "Their shields are up. Have they detected us?" "Not that I can tell," Morris looked to Sellars, "do you have tachyon emission readouts?" David shook his head, "we're well within the normal range. There's no way they know we're here, unless they've got eyes we don't know about..." his look fell back on Rachel. "No. The LEGACY has the same sensor grid of any other Excalibur class Starship. We have a few more weapons, some less popular than others," she smirked, "but other than that, we're just another fleet ship." "We?" Riker turned in his chair, forcing Rachel's smile to slip. "Force of habit," she muttered, looking away. "I'm reading six life signs," David Sellars looked up from his station, "four Betazoid, one human, and one Praxxan." "Praxxan?!" Riker nearly stood. "What the hell?" he turned to Rachel. "We had a Prax officer on board the LEGACY," she admitted. "A Prax officer, in Starfleet?" Sellars gaped. "Not exactly..." Riker groaned, "Rachel, what the hell was the Section doing with a Prax prisoner? Don't they know we're just beginning to renegotiate with them over the LAST incident?" Morris scowled. "Look, I didn't order the damn thing. I was the second officer of the ship, not the head of the Section!" "Let me guess," Riker spat, "you were 'only following orders'?" "Something like that." "Jesus Christ." "That is BULLSHIT Will!" standing in an instant, Rachel glowered, "you and I both had the same damn goals as officers, didn't we? Make Captain by the time we were thirty-five, and near as I can tell, neither one of us had any illusions about what we'd have to sacrifice to make that happen!" "With one notable exception! I may have given up a lot for my career, but I never sold them my integrity. I wasn't the one who ran off and joined the damn dark side, Rach! I wasn't gone for months at a time doing immoral, irreparable damage to the Federation!" "That's right!" she spat, "you were too busy doing it to your own career!" "HEY!" David Sellars stood his chair and moved between them, "both of you, shut up!" He exhaled a breath when the bridge fell quiet, "ever since I've known you guys, you've fought like razor-beasts. Everything's a competition with you. It's like you don't want to FUCK each other, you want to BE each other! Well guess what?" he glared at Morris, "Rachel, you're the closest thing to Riker with tits that I've ever seen! And you, Will," he turned again, "she may be prettier than you are, but she's a hell of a better rock climber, she's a crack shot, and you'll NEVER beat her at anbo'jitsu, so GROW UP," he seethed, "both of you!" The room was utterly still. Only the hum of the ship and the muted beeping of the computer interceded in the silence, before Rachel Morris began to laugh. The sound of her amusement filled the bridge. "Oh my God, did David Sellars just tell us to grow up?" Riker fought the moment for as long as he could, before he too lost control of his laughter. "I think so." "Are the two of you finished?" Sellars eyed them both askance. With her focus still on Riker, Morris sobered, "Yeah, David. I'm beginning to see that we've been finished for a while now." "Rach, I'm sorry," Will sank back in his chair, "I just, I don't know what to say anymore." "Maybe we've already said everything that needed to be said," she sighed, "Maybe the Betazoids are right. Brella says there's some kind of cosmic plan out there somewhere ... and we're all stuck in the middle of it." "Well, I for one don't plan on sitting around while 'Senator Nayam' foretells my future," Riker threw her a sharp look. "Good," Sellars nodded, "because that shuttle just landed on the surface. And if these readings are accurate," he scanned the console at his station, "they're way in the hell in the middle of nowhere down there..." CHAPTER 50 Lwaxana Troi glared at her son-in-law. <Darian, I *demand* to know where you're taking us!> With a quiet sigh, the Minister seemed about to respond, only Brella cut him off. "It's impolite to speak telepathically in the company of non-telepaths, Mrs. Troi," she admonished, accepting the venomous stare she received, "We are on the Northern Continent, fairly distant from the nearest city." "This is outrageous!" Lwaxana scowled, "you can't simply expect that no one will notice it when we've all gone missing!" "You will not be missing," Brella shrugged, "for more than a few days. We do not intend to harm you, merely keep you and your daughter telepathically shielded and away from civilization until our plan can have the opportunity to succeed. After that time, it will not matter where you are." "And just exactly what IS your plan?" Deanna took a step forward and stood face to face with the shorter Senator. When Brella did not respond, she turned to her husband. "Darian--?" "You were not to be here," he whispered. "Either of you." "But we are here now," placing her hands on her hips, Deanna frowned, "why are you doing this?" "You of all people should not have to ask that question, Deanna," said Darian, "You of all people should understand." With a helpless sound, Troi moved toward Khell, "Darian, these are our PEOPLE. Federation citizens..." "They're not Betazoid," Brella stepped in between them, regarding Deanna with dark eyes, "they do not share our values." "So you would kill them?" "Excuse me," Sean Garrity cut in, shifting in the grasp of the much larger Praxxan who held him, "but if by 'them', you're referring to me, then you're insane, Brella, if you think it'll make a damn difference to the Federation whether I live or I die..." "This whole thing is insane!" Lwaxana cut in. She strode forward to interject when Deanna suddenly gasped. "What is it?" all eyes turned to Troi, but Deanna had no opportunity to respond, before a pair of shimmering forms materialized ahead of them on the forest path. "Rachel?" Garrity grimaced at the renewed force of his captor's hold. "Care if we join the party?" Morris cocked an eyebrow while Riker stepped forward along side her. "You know you really should check your six more often, Sean, we followed you all the way from 0-0-1." Riker's eyes flew to Troi's. She was standing only a few feet away; only a moment from Darian. But between them was the angriest Praxxan that Riker had ever seen. "Not that I'm not infinitely grateful to see a human face around here," said Garrity, "but to what do we owe the honor, Morris? I thought you 'resigned'..." "Yeah, well, I owed a friend a favor." Rachel eyed the motley group and quipped sarcastically, "This looks cozy. Did we come at a bad time?" "The truth is, Ambassador," Riker eyes remained locked on Deanna's. "I'm afraid you didn't follow protocol when you left Earth." He turned to Rachel. She furrowed her brow and then nodded in a slow circle, "Yeah, you... forgot to ... sign this," reaching in her duty-belt, Morris extracted a tiny data PADD, holding it aloft. Her cringe was slight. "It's procedure." Riker nodded, "So, as you can see, we had to come after you. Protocol is protocol, after all..." he started forward, but the Praxxan soldier growled menacingly. "Stay where you are, Commander Riker," Brella intervened, "Or Commander Garrity's life may end prematurely." "Is there a problem?" Will inclined his head. Garrity scowled, "Naw, Riker, I'm just making friends with my Prax allies here. You should try it. Darja's really a sweetheart ... once you get to know him." Darja's hand closed around Garrity's throat, forcing the officer's breath to halt mid-way through his esophagus. "Let him go," Riker held up a hand. "No one's going to try anything." "I'm afraid that won't be possible," said Brella, but her eyes lit on Darja, and the Praxxan's hand released its stranglehold. Will's attention strayed to their surroundings. There was only one of 'Darja', but the large alien still held Garrity firm in his claws. And as much as Riker might have enjoyed to watch the other man dismembered, his higher Starfleet morality had a habit of kicking in at the most inopportune times. Based on the spread of the group, there was little avenue for everyone to escape, trapped as they were on opposite ends of a narrow forest aisle. Their best choice would be to try and talk their way out of this. With a hoarse cough, Garrity offered Morris a sardonic look, "Rachel, I'd like to introduce Minister Khell of Betazed. Former Ambassador Lwaxana Troi. And Betazed's current Ambassador, Deanna Troi. You already know Senator Nayam, and our temporary house-guest, Darja of Prax. I hope I've spelled everyone's names right." "I believe we've already met, Ambassador," Rachel exchanged a fleeting look with Deanna before she turned her gaze on the smallest of the Betazoids, "Brella, this can end right now." "While I appreciate your concern, Commander Morris," Brella frowned, "I'm afraid that there is little point in discussion. We will take Commander Garrity a short distance from here and we will see that he dies painlessly. When the Federation finds his body, they will believe it was another deliberate act and they will call for an assembly. Betazed will finally be free. You see, as much as I've appreciated your acquaintance these past few months, my people have a greater need." "What need is that?" Deanna Troi stepped forward from behind Darian, "what need could possibly be great enough that we would begin to commit violent acts against one another?" "These are not violent acts!" Brella ignited in a sudden rage, and even Darian's eyes widened, "Ambassador, can you not see that your people do not deserve to live as we have been living? We are a peaceful, non-violent race, and yet we assist these MONSTERS," she threw her gesture towards Garrity. "We send our children to serve in their army!" "It's not an army, Brella," Deanna spoke softly, "it's Starfleet. And the principles on which it was founded are of the highest caliber--" "NO!" she scowled, "Open your eyes! We help them kill. Do you know what they had me do to this Praxxan soldier? They were using him as an instrument of war! A pawn for their destructive purposes. I was to force Darja and the soldiers under his command to kill on their behalf. Section 31 mercenaries whose actions might be easily disclaimed. That is why Prax hates Betazed. Why they have always hated Betazed! Because we have always cooperated with Starfleet. Before there was me, there was another, and another before her. Ambassador, it ends here." With wide eyes, Deanna turned to her mother, but the older woman presented an identically stunned expression. "If what you are saying is true, Brella," Deanna began, "then I agree with you. It must end. This is an issue that we can take to the Federation Council and *change*. I'm certain that if my mother and I were not aware, there will be many on the Council who were unaware as well..." "Unaware! Are you so naive, Deanna? They pretend at their morality while they form secret organizations designed to break their own directive! Then they assume no responsibility for these! And we are forced to stand in the middle! We need to separate. We need to live as we were meant to live. Autonomous." "And how would we do that in a universe filled with violent opposition?" Troi shook her head, "Would you confine all of Betazed to the surface of our planet? A world filled with prisoners? Brella, you say you love Betazed, but would you see it taken over by the next conquering race? Or the one after that? There is no simple deliverance. This is why we have our governments in place with the Federation Council; to prevent this sort of deviance wherever possible. It is not a perfect universe. And there are no perfect solutions." "We do not need THEM to defend us!" "Who then?" Deanna stood face to face with the other woman, "who should we ask, if not the Federation? Because I guarantee you, Senator, it WILL come to that." Brella looked about to respond. She opened her mouth in the self same instant that Darja chose to attack. Taking advantage of her emotional outburst, the Praxxan broke free of his mental prison. Talons bared, he threw Garrity aside and lunged for the tiny Betazoid's throat, scraping the edge of her face. Brella screamed. Staggering backward, she fell against Darian as two identical phaser blasts arced into Darja's side, scattering the small group. The Praxxan fell to the floor with a heavy thump; breathing but unconscious, while Morris and Riker lowered their weapons. "I told you he hated you, Brella," Sean Garrity peeled his body from the dirt, "Those Prax. The moment you show the slightest weakness," his smirk transformed into a leer, "I guess it's lucky you had *Starfleet* here, isn't it? Now, I'm sure we've all had a good visit," he threw a disparaging glance at Darja's inert form, "but as much as I'd love to stick around, I'm needed on my ship--" "Stop where you are, Commander. Drop your weapons, all of you." Darian Khell's voice rang out. He held his own phaser aloft, and though his fingers were trembling, he kept the instrument trained on Garrity. "All of you!" With identical caution, both Riker and Morris exchanged a look. They released their weapons and allowed them to fall into the dirt. "You will not leave," continued Khell. "Darian are you insane?" Lwaxana reached for his arm. "He won't hurt me," Garrity shook his head, "besides, as I've already pointed out, one dead Starfleet Commander won't make a difference in their little plot." Having regained her balance, Brella rose to her full height, an angry gash unmistakable across her cheekbone, "Perhaps not," she whispered, "but two would certainly assist our cause." Her eyes fell on Riker. "Brella!" both Rachel and Deanna spoke in unison. "If we kill them here, they will be easier to transport to our destination..." she looked to Darian and then the waiting shuttlecraft. The Minister's stance wavered, "Mihari--" he began, "Perhaps, Deanna is right. There can be another way--" "There is no other way!" she held the phaser aloft, "We have spent years planning. Our numbers are not so great that we have the luxury of time. I will do it myself--" "No," Darian took her arm, gently lowering the weapon. His eyes took on a far-distant expression. "You do not know what it is to kill. What it leaves you with..." his voice grew soft, "nor should you ever. I will do what must be done." Raising his eyes, Khell focused on Riker first. "I am truly sorry, Commander. I would not have chosen this fate for you." There was nowhere to go. No more than a few feet away, the three Starfleet officers were as easy to shoot as proverbial ducks in a barrel, and Riker knew a tactical nightmare when he saw one. Gauging how quickly he could get to Rachel if the Minister changed his mind, Will never noticed when Deanna moved. In the flash of a moment before Darian Khell activated the tiny weapon in his hand, she took a solitary and very deliberate step from her husband's side. Time stopped. Riker and Troi faced one another directly. Deanna was near enough for him to touch; near enough that his mind filled with the sense of desperate expectation from her, before the blast from the phaser hit her square in the back. At point blank range it propelled her small body forward, bridging the distance into Riker's arms. She landed like a rag-doll on the front of his chest; eyes locked with his for a fractional eternity. But she never made a sound. "NO!" Riker fell with her to the ground, heedless of all else. Brella Nayam staggered backward. Looking up at Darian through tear-filled eyes, she was already shaking her head. But none of it seemed right to Riker. None of it felt real. Until Lwaxana Troi began to scream. CHAPTER 51 "Deanna!!" In paradoxically slow motion, Riker's legs buckled; he felt the sting of an agonizing torrent whiplash through his body, and his chest heaved as though it had been carved with a gaping hole. He didn't see Rachel holding back Sean Garrity; Lwaxana Troi falling to her knees; or notice it when Darian staggered backward against the shuttlecraft. "Deanna..." he gathered her still form into his arms, cradling her against his torso, "No..." Tears stung the back of his eyes, but they were distant; unimportant, and Riker paid them no attention while he rocked with her back and forth. "Noo!" he wailed, his eyes shut in anguish as he leaned forward across her body. Her skin was still warm, but the rest of her--the part he'd only just realized he could touch--was cold. He felt its emptiness and his entire being convulsed. She couldn't die. Not like this. Not now... Riker drew her closer; all the way into his arms and he buried his face in her hair. It still smelled of lilacs. The way it had the last time she drew her face against his. "Deanna, please," he whispered, "please don't go..." But she could not hear him. She would never hear him again. Never open her lovely eyes and smile. Never whisper his name... In all his lifetime, he had never felt such loss. The needful agony of failure consumed him, and he lifted her up from the forest floor. Somewhere far away, there were voices. He could hear Brella softly exclaim, "Darian? What's happening?" and Lwaxana Troi when her voice commanded, "Stay back!" But they were not in his reality. And Riker realized, he didn't care. "They're glowing," Rachel Morris whispered, "what is that?" "It's her spirit," Lwaxana lifted herself to her feet, "Gods, it is true," she trailed off, rounding on her son-in-law. The elder Troi grabbed hold of Khell's arm with punishing force and she thrust him forward. "Darian! You've chosen to kill for the sake of your 'higher form', and this is how the Gods have answered! THERE is your bond! Between a Human and a Betazoid! There is 'Imzadi'!" Darian's whisper was faint. He sank to his knees and dropped his head into his hands, "what have I done?" he begged, "what have I done?" But Riker heard none of it. Lost as he was in a place he couldn't begin to understand. His hands cradled Deanna's delicate features between them, and he leaned forward, placing his lips against hers. Her face was radiant. He saw her features shine as though they drew the light from the stars. And he couldn't let her go. Not even in death. Not even if he knew how. The ache in his chest began to swell. He felt his strength ebb, and he found himself uncertain whether he could continue to sit upright. Rolling backward, he caught Deanna as her head fell onto his arm. Without warning or visible cause, her body suddenly arched. Her hands clenched stiffly and with an open mouthed gasp, her lungs filled with breath as though she had been drowned. The sense of it was magical. Impossible, but undeniable. The last thing Riker realized before his consciousness slipped entirely from his control was that the pain in his spirit was gone. He felt whole again. Deanna felt real. Enveloping her with trembling arms, he collapsed against the beating of her heart. CHAPTER 52 Consciousness was a matter of clarity. When Riker opened his eyes he was suddenly certain that he was in a hospital room. Bathed in soft orange light, he had to blink to reorient his senses. Forcing himself to rise, he made it half way up before he realized he hadn't the strength to bring his body all the way. With a groaned expletive, he fell backward onto the mattress and turned his head to regard the glow of a sunlit window. Exotic vegetation twined across the outer windowsill, peppering the glass with tiny flower buds he didn't recognize. The pane was open a crack, and the air that trickled inside on a summer's breeze was far warmer than the interior temperature of the room. It smelled of lilacs... "Deanna," he gasped as he forced himself to move again. The power of the imperative was stronger this time, and he found the means to rise. Gingerly stretching the muscles in his neck, Riker used the opportunity to take in his surroundings. He was alone. The room was small, but cheerily appointed, and he had been correct in his preliminary assessment. He was definitely within a Federation medical facility. Swinging his legs from the edge of his bed, Riker's feet touched down on a series of frigid floor-tiles and he cringed. He was also seriously out of uniform. A quick glance further into the room yielded a clean and unused civilian garment, draped carefully over an empty visitor's chair. Absurdly thankful that he wouldn't have to stumble into the corridor wearing a smile and an awkward convalescent gown, Riker pulled the clothing from the chair and began to assemble it onto his body. His strength was already returning, and with each new breath, he found it easier to move. When he was fully clothed, Will cast a backward glance at his bed before he stepped cautiously into the hall. * Finding Deanna's room in a foreign maze of myriad corridors was easier than Riker had anticipated. For some reason, as each passage bled sequentially into another, he knew instinctively where to turn. Under any other circumstance, he might have considered that instinct on the damned odd side of normal. But rather than analyze this time, Riker opted simply to 'go with it'. It was, he decided, only the latest in a series of unexplainable truths he'd experienced since he'd met Deanna Troi. Her door was open when he arrived. Halting just outside, Will shut his eyes and let the air out of his lungs. It didn't sound as though there was anyone else inside with her. More to the point, it didn't *feel* that way, but Riker was unwilling to analyze that particular reality just yet. His first few footsteps into the Ambassador's room revealed that she was deeply sedated. Her breathing was even and regular, and her body -- what little he could see of it behind the simple sheet she lay under -- looked paradoxically unmarred. Pulling a chair toward her bedside, Riker sank gratefully into the seat. His hands sought Deanna's and he gathered all five of her warm fingers into his grasp. She didn't stir, and he was thankful for that. Because he didn't know what he might have said if she had opened her dark, expressive eyes and looked right into his soul. "Deanna," he whispered into the silent room, watching her sleep. "My beautiful guardian angel. What were you thinking?" Riker's smile was slight, "You're lucky you're not awake, or I would tell you how universally crazy it was for you to step in front of that weapon. You could have been..." he leaned forward, closing his eyes at the swell of his own emotions, "You scared me, so much," his whisper caressed her ear, "I don't know what I would have done if..." "She's going to recover, Commander Riker," a powerfully familiar voice spoke up behind him, "thanks in great part to you." When he turned, Riker faced the unreadable, indomitable expression of Deanna Troi's mother. The former Federation Ambassador. "Shouldn't you also be in bed?" she chided him, walking slowly from the doorway, "the doctors said you were very weak." "I'm fine," Riker shrugged, irrationally angry with her for regarding him in a moment he would have preferred he hadn't shared. If Lwaxana sensed his displeasure, she made no comment. "Your crewmates are also well," she said, "they were with you quite late, save for that other one. Commander, what was his name? Ferrity? Garirity? He wouldn't stay any longer than he had to. Took his ship and flew away," she gestured vaguely while Riker sighed. "But I assume the other two will be back to see you again. You were all very brave. Which is more than I can say for my son-in-law." Lwaxana's voice grew sorrowful. "He tried to take his own life, last night." Riker's eyes widened. "What happened?" "Suffice it to say, Commander, that my people have had a terrible task set upon us. Several members of our government have already resigned, and we will need the rest to pull together in order to find the strength that we'll require to recover from this," her expression flashed with new resolve, "though I have no doubt that we will." "Neither do I," Will managed a slight smile, "if there's one thing I've learned about your people, Ambassador, it's that very little stands in the way of your integrity." "I'm proud to hear you say that, William," Lwaxana regarded him speculatively. "And I owe you a debt of gratitude that I can never repay. My daughter would certainly have died." With an uncomfortable sound, Riker released Deanna's hand. "Mrs. Troi," he began, "I'm not sure what you think may have happened, but I didn't do anything. I don't understand any of this." "I myself am just beginning to understand, Commander. And so will you, in time." "Something happened between us," Riker acknowledged, "something I can't explain. Though God knows I've thought about it." "You care for my daughter," the older Troi spoke matter-of-factly, "I could sense that from the moment we first met. But I didn't realize, at the time..." she trailed off thoughtfully before raising her dark gaze once more, "In my own defense, I can only say that I was trying to do what I felt was best for her. It seems, however, there are times when even love is not enough." Glancing back at Deanna's still form, Riker slowly nodded. She looked as peaceful as a sleeping angel. And perhaps that was a fitting image to take away with him. "Mrs. Troi?" he finally asked, still focused on the woman in the hospital bed, "do you believe in soulmates?" Lwaxana didn't hesitate. "Yes," she nodded, "unquestionably." "Well, I never did," shifting his attention from Deanna's bedside, Riker met a pair of dark eyes. "Half a year ago, I would have sworn that each of us had a finite purpose here. And when we died that purpose would end." "I take it that viewpoint has changed?" "I've always known that I would die in the service of Starfleet someday, and that I'd never question that duty," said Riker, "But now I'm also sure that I would trade my 'soul' for Deanna's happiness," he released a quiet breath. "That feeling is ... unlike anything I've ever known." "It is just for that feeling, William," the older woman smiled as Riker rose to his feet, "that you will have my blessing, when the time comes." Leaning down, he pressed his lips against Deanna's forehead, lingering for a moment before drawing himself back to his full height. "Well, it's like you said, Ambassador. Sometimes love just isn't enough." Lwaxana watched him as he moved from her daughter's bedside and walked to the doorway. Her dark eyes locked on his steel expression. "You're leaving Betazed," she spoke when he did not. "If I stay and she wakes up," he kept his eyes averted, "then I might never leave." "And would that be so bad, Commander?" Her question hung in the balance between them until Riker sighed. "You told me on Earth that Deanna had a destiny to fulfill. I didn't want to understand what you meant. Deanna told me the same thing herself, and I dismissed the concept like I've dismissed a lot of things I didn't want to have faith in over the years," he smiled ruefully. "But even if I don't believe in fate, Mrs. Troi, I believe in Deanna. And I want her to have everything. I want her to be what she was meant to be. She can't be that with me. We both know that." Lwaxana didn't respond. Riker forced himself to take another step into the corridor before her voice caused him to turn. "You are 'Imzadi', William... your destinies are intertwined." Motionless and silent, he looked back at her. "I can see by the look in your eyes that you already know what that word means," she thinned her lips, "and this is not a surprise for you." "Tell your daughter something for me?" Smiling at a distant memory, he found the words he needed. "Tell her I said ... 'RaBeem'." He felt Lwaxana's eyes on the back of his skull, but there was nothing left to say. With a resolve that bordered on desperate, Riker kept his focus straight ahead when he turned and walked away. CHAPTER 53 With an audible gasp, Deanna Troi's eyes flew open and she sat up half-way in bed. The room was bright, filled with vibrant sunlight, but it took her a minute until her vision swam unsteadily into focus. "Will," the croaked whisper of her voice burned in her throat and she winced as a slender hand settled gently against her shoulder, bearing her back down onto the pillow. <Rest now, Little One, you've lost a great deal of strength.> Closing her eyes, Deanna felt the warm solace of her mother's affectionate mental presence. <It's cold,> she shivered beneath her blanket, <I feel--> <It will pass,> Lwaxana smoothed back her hair, <you're feeling the telepathic echo of the trauma, but it's over now. Let it dissipate.> With her mother's soothing guidance, Deanna allowed the foreign sensation to melt through her body. As promised, it flowed from a tangible ache to a formless vague sensation, and she was soon able to breathe again; able to sense the warmth of the room. <Will,> she tried again. <He's fine, or he was when I last saw him,> the older Troi glanced at her hands. <Physically, you're both fine.> When she opened her eyes a second time, Deanna was caught in her mother's dark expression. <He's gone,> Deanna confirmed. <Yes> After a moment's silence, Lwaxana sighed, <You should know, several of the Federation's doctors were baffled by your recovery. They're trying to account for it with some kind of 'scientific' reasoning, though the gods only know why they bother--> <They can't, can they?> <No> Deanna sighed and glanced at her coverlet, <Mother--> <I know, dear. I know.> Guiltily, Deanna realized there was something she had yet to ask. Something she should have by now. <And Darian?> Her mother frowned. <Darian will also be fine, physically. All though I doubt that you or I will hear from him for a while. Neither he, nor Brella Nayam.> <I should see him.> <I would advise against that,> Lwaxana shook her head, <Give him time. Give yourself some time.> <Mother, he never meant to hurt anyone. I know him; he felt desperate. Trapped...> <Perhaps he was, dear. But we all have choices, even when we're trapped. And Darian made the wrong choices. Ultimately, he did end up hurting someone. He hurt you.> The two women held eye contact and Deanna was certain that her mother hadn't been referring to any sort of physical 'hurt'. <I forgave him for that,> she sent sadly, <I'd already forgiven him before we left Earth.> <Then let him be for now,> Lwaxana's posture fell, <Deanna, they've had your marriage contract annulled. Nearly a year of your life in the balance and it took less than an hour to file the paperwork. I couldn't have interceded, even if I'd wanted to, and do you know why?> she didn't wait for a response, <Because according to law, there was never a marriage to begin with. I should have known that Darian was already bonded on the day of your wedding. I should have realized, even if you didn't, but I was blinded by my own aspirations for you. It's as much my fault as anyone's that you were robbed of a year of your happiness. Oh, Little One, can you ever find it in your heart to forgive a foolish old woman?> Sighing at her mother's familiar theatrics, Deanna reached for her hand. <Mother, you are neither foolish nor old. And I was not always unhappy. How can I regret a moment of my life, when every instant has made me into who I am?> Her question fell on the dramatically tragic eyes of the women who'd raised her. Lwaxana managed a wan smile. <I did bring you up well, didn't I?> <Yes, Mother.> <But when did become so wise?> Deanna laid an affectionate hand atop her mother's, <I haven't been a child for a while now, Mother. It's only taken you this long to notice.> CHAPTER 54 Stepping into the courtyard of Betazed's second-largest Federation medical facility, David Sellars found Rachel Morris leaning against a great tree. She had her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes were fixed on something only she could see. "Hey, you okay?" he asked, stopping alongside of her. "Fine," Rachel glanced up at him and shrugged, "just thinking." "About?" "Life. Choices." "Ah, the deep stuff," Sellars smiled, "should I come back another time?" "It's okay," with a tired sigh, Morris righted her posture, "have you seen Will?" "Actually, that's kind of what I'm here to talk to you about," Sellars dropped his gaze. "What is it?" she took a step forward, "he's okay isn't he? He's not--" "No, he's fine," David lifted his hands, "I guess he's better than fine. Rach, he's gone." "Gone?" "Gone. Left Betazed. They say he caught a transport early this morning..." "WHAT?" Rachel released a short breath, "he just took off and left us here? After we were up all night standing over his bed? He just *left*?!" "In Will's defense," Sellars cut in deferentially, "I think he had a lot on his mind..." "We're his *friends*, David. We were *there*. Jesus, he's so self-involved sometimes, I just want to slam him into a bulkhead!" she curled her fingers and scowled. "Did he leave a message? Anything?" David slowly shook his head. "So we were just supposed to guess," allowing herself a short laugh, Rachel turned to a bench and fell onto it without ceremony. "That's Will Riker all right. Figures." "He left us the 'DEFIANT'." "Gee, aren't we lucky. Now we can explain to the Admiralty why we 'borrowed' it..." "Not exactly. I think the Admiralty has already been busy making us out to be some kind of heroes. I, um, I got this, this morning as well," extending his hand, Sellars held out a dataPADD. Rachel skimmed it. "A medal?" she gaped, "Starfleet is giving us each a medal? This is a joke, right?" "'Fraid not," grinned David. Clearing his throat, he read from the PADD, "'for exceptional valor during the Betazed Incident on stardate 43232.1 ...yadda yadda yadda...'" "'The Betazed Incident'?" "That's what they're calling this whole thing. I think they figure it makes it less embarrassing, somehow." "Yeah, well, they're all idiots if you ask me," she turned away from his outstretched hand in disgust. "Maybe Brella and the Ambassador's husband were right." "I heard what happened to Minister Khell," Sellars frowned. "He'll live," Morris deadpanned. "You know, they don't exactly have prisons on Betazed," Sellars' voice grew quiet. "They don't consider them 'civilized'." "Any place you feel trapped is a prison, David. Call it whatever you'd like." "What I mean is, I'm not sure whether I'd prefer to be locked up in a room without a door -- to having a bunch of people inside my head all day long, trying to figure out where nature or my parents went wrong..." She frowned, "Brella isn't crazy, David, I knew her well enough. She's just terrified of the future." "She was ready to kill for her beliefs, Rachel." "And we've condemning her for it. Why? Because she's Betazoid? How many times have you been willing to fight; even kill, for what you believe in, David? I know I have..." "It's not the same." "No," Rachel almost smiled, "we're human, so that makes it different. We're *expected* to fight. To kill if we have to..." "You and I have never taken hostages at gunpoint," he interjected, "*That* makes it different." "Speak for yourself." "Stop it," grinned David, "you're scaring me." "I'm serious, David. This universe is a mess." "Yeah, well, it's the only one we've got. So I guess we have to live with it." "Maybe. I've been thinking about that, too." Sellars grinned. "You want to take on the whole universe now, Rachel? Okay, sure. Between you, me, and Will, I think we could do it..." Though she returned his smile, Rachel shook her head; "Somehow David, I think we probably won't be seeing Will for a little while." "If I know our boy, he'll go full throttle into a command post on some ship and forget about everything else for a few months," he sighed. "At least until his career is back on track. I think he needs that," she glanced out the window at the vivid Betazed sun, "especially now." "If it means anything," David touched her arm, "I know he's always respected you. Even afterwards... even now." "Thanks," Rachel turned where she stood. "In most of the ways that matter, for Will and I it'll always be that simple. With or without some 'mystical' Betazoid prophecy." David cringed slightly. "I guess if I were you, Ambassador Troi probably wouldn't make my top-ten list right about now, either." Rachel released a slow breath. "It's not her, David. Not really. Actually, as odd as this sounds, I don't even dislike her, and believe me I've tried. From what little I've heard her say, I respect her point of view. She's not vindictive or spiteful. I can't even be mad at Will for falling in love with her..." With wide eyes, he took a backward step, "I'm sorry, is Rachel Morris in there somewhere? I was just talking to her a second ago..." Morris offered him a wry scowl. "Laugh while you can, Sellars. The thing is, when I try and think about where Will and I went wrong -- aside from what you might think is the obvious -- I'm not even sure that we ever doing the right thing to begin with. We might have ended up killing each other if we'd gotten married." Her thoughtful smile was slight. "I'm sorry, Rach," he placed a sympathetic hand on her shoulder, but she looked away. "David, I'm going to put in for a formal transfer from the Section." "What? Are you sure that's such a good idea? Will may have been angry when he said it, but he was right about one thing. I've never heard of anyone resigning from 31." Rachel shook her head, "I have to do this. It doesn't matter what they allow. I need something new; something that I can feel proud of, you know ... just in case some day I really do decide to get married... have couple of grand-kids." Off his incredulous expression, she offered a crooked smile. "Hey, it could happen." "I think you skipped a step there, Morris--" Sellars grinned. "Did I?" He sobered. "Rachel, all kidding aside. I just don't want to see you looking over your shoulder for the rest of your life. And neither would Will." "Not to worry, Commander," a woman's voice spoke up behind them, "I have a feeling that 'Section 31' will not continue to peruse this particular matter. I wouldn't be much of a Federation Diplomat if I couldn't still pull a few strings..." Both Starfleet officers turned. "Ambassador Troi?" Rachel took an automatic step forward. "Yes, as a matter of fact," Lwaxana Troi smiled, "oh don't look so shocked. I never did enjoy retirement. It's dreadfully boring you know, spending all day long attending one luncheon after another, keeping up appearances. It's much more fun playing with all of those stuffy, Starfleet Admirals that I remember so well. I wonder if Norwig J'Nathan is still there. He and I had a WONDERFUL disagreement about the Tellerite trade negotiation on Gartham IV..." When Sellars and Morris exchanged a baffled look, Lwaxana waved an arm. "Well, don't just stand there Commander Morris, I've gone to a lot of trouble to have you reassigned as my liaison officer -- for the time being at least -- and I'll need some help arranging for our trip." "Trip?" Rachel digested the first thought she'd managed to absorb. "Wait a second, Starfleet assigned ME to YOU?" "I have your orders somewhere here," the older woman searched her elegant bag, "if you absolutely have to read them, though I can assure you a Betazoid never lies," she paused, "well, almost never. But in your case I certainly would see no reason to," her voice lowered to a solemn tone, "this will keep you away from 'Section 31' for a few months, after which time you may be assigned wherever you wish." "With all due respect, ma'am," Morris shook her head, "what about your daughter? Is she still unwell...?" "Oh, she's fine dear, thank you for asking," Lwaxana smiled. "You young people are so resilient. When we left the hospital a few hours ago, she was talking my ear off. Aloud, I might add, which is a dreadful habit to have acquired. Of course you can't possibly realize -- being human -- but I imagine it'll only get worse. Just wait until you have children of your own someday. Deanna may be twenty-nine years old but she's still got a lot to learn about life. And incidentally so do you dear ... your rank is crooked," Lwaxana came forward and lifted Rachel's collar, adjusting a row of tiny circular pins, "These really don't do a thing for your uniforms, do they? You'd think that Starfleet would think ahead when they come up with their designs. Oh well, I suppose we'll just have to make due." Fixing the small ornaments back onto the edge of Morris' collar, the Ambassador regarded her handiwork with a smile. "There. You look lovely dear." "Well," Sellars grinned at Rachel's stunned expression, "I think that's my cue. Ambassador," he nodded deferentially, "it was an honor to formally meet you." "Not so fast young man," Lwaxana fixed him with a serious look, "I understand you're still in possession of a Starfleet prototype vessel?" Off David's wide-eyed expression, she rolled her eyes, "I have orders to pass on to you as well, Lieutenant Commander." CHAPTER 55 Two days after Will Riker left Betazed, Deanna Troi had a visitor. In the house that she grew up in, she had spent most of the last several hours taking stock of her life. Of her feelings. And of course, they turned to Will Riker. Wherever he was, whatever else he'd done, he held her in his arms and called her spirit from a place that even she had trouble fully comprehending. Her body shivered in physical remembrance of the power in that moment. There was very little else she brought back with her in the aftermath, but that one truth she would always remember. Standing on her balcony, the Betazed breeze whispered through her hair and she looked up at the sky. He was up there somewhere. Maybe on a starship. Maybe far, far away... A throat cleared softly and Deanna jumped, turning toward it. "Ambassador Troi?" Rachel Morris ascended the stairs onto the terrace of the Troi mansion, "I'm sorry if I frightened you. You seemed a little distracted." Deanna frowned thoughtfully. "I didn't realize anyone was here." "I just got here." Morris folded her hands protectively across her mid-riff. Sensing the other woman's discomfort, Troi came forward, "Commander, are you all right?" "Fine. I'm sorry. I came here to talk to you, and now that I'm here, I feel like I have no idea what to say." "You could start at the beginning?" said Deanna, "that usually works best." Morris shook her head wryly, "I guess it does. Look, Ambassador, I'll get to the point. I saw what happened to you in that jungle. I saw Will pick you up, and I'd swear to an inquisition... there was some kind of light. I was hoping ... " "You'd like to discuss what happened." Deanna regarded Rachel for a long moment before she finally nodded, "All right. But we should start with the fact that I'm not an Ambassador anymore." "I understand you keep the title though, from what I've been told." "True, but I think I'd rather my Mother was the only 'Ambassador Troi' in this house for a while," she extended a hand, "Please call me Deanna?" Morris grinned, "You're right. I guess we really haven't been properly acquainted yet, have we?" she took Troi's hand and shook it firmly, "Commander Rachel Morris. Friends call me Rachel, or Rach, and sometimes a few other things that probably shouldn't be repeated in polite company." Deanna smiled. "Well it's nice to 'properly' make your acquaintance, Rachel. I'm sure we have a lot to talk about..." * The Starfleet administrative complex in San Francisco was bustling with early morning activity when Will Riker received his formal summons to appear before a superior officer. Taking the long way inside, he slung his light-satchel over his shoulder and wound his way through a maze of familiar corridors before arriving at his final destination. It had been more than two days since his return to Earth, and the order was certainly not surprising. Neither was the spartan 'welcoming party' that blocked the sunlight in Admiral Norwig J'Nathan's office doorway. "Commander Riker," the Admiral scowled, "step inside please." "Yes sir," Riker nodded expediently, following the stout Bolian into his working quarters. When the door slid shut, J'Nathan appeared distracted. He rifled through a stack of dataPADDs and finally picked one up, switching it on. "Riker," he muttered, "your actions were impetuous, and in flagrant disregard for Starfleet protocol." Without asking to what he was referring or why, Riker promptly agreed, "Yes sir." Where nothing he'd previously done had sequestered the Admiral's attention from his paperwork, J'Nathan's sharp gaze suddenly snapped up and pinned on him. "You're not even going to defend yourself?" he demanded. "No sir, I commandeered a vessel and took her to Betazed without prior authority or protocol in place. There's no excuse for that." Grumbling under his breath, the Bolian dropped his girth into a chair. "Yes, well, true as that may be, the powers that be have seen fit to overlook it." "Sir?" Riker raised an eyebrow. "You and your colleagues are to receive medals of citation for your assistance with ... 'The Betazed Incident'," the Admiral huffed, "I know, it sounds ridiculous, and believe me I wasn't the one who came up with the idea. It's taken us a bit longer to pin you down since you left so quickly Commander, but I'm afraid your trip home was a little premature. We're going to have to send you back." "Go back?" Riker gawked, "But, sir, I--" "There are politics involved here, Will. Those sorts of things go beyond mere mortals like you or I." Riker was already shaking his head when J'Nathan trailed off dispassionately. "Was there something you wanted to say, Commander Riker?" "Yes, Admiral, as a matter of fact there is." Will leaned forward over his superior's desk. "When I joined Starfleet, I was naive, brash, and full of idealistic objectives. I thought Starship Captains were beyond reproach and men like you were gods." "Your point being?" "In the past six months, I've seen more of Starfleet's 'tawdry underbelly' than I ever knew existed. And to be very honest, I don't know what to think anymore. There are days I don't even know why I enlisted." To Riker's moderate surprise, J'Nathan threw his head back and laughed. "Welcome to the Fleet, Commander!" he barked, "You'll make a damn fine Captain some day." Unimpressed, Riker sat back in his chair. "With all due respect sir, I can't go back right now." "You WILL go back, Commander," Norwig cut him off, "Admiral Lloyd wants to see you personally, and if I were you, I'd start thinking about my career again sometime soon. Six months planetside doesn't do a hell of a lot for a man like you, Riker." The two men locked eyes before J'Nathan nodded, "It takes courage to do what you know is right, even when you haven't been granted 'permission' to do it. I'll give you that. It takes a certain kind of character. And I admire you for it." "I appreciate that, sir, but--" "...but if I EVER hear that you've stolen a piece of Starfleet property to run your own vigilante errand again Mr. Riker, I'll bust you down to ensign and chain you in the latrines on the Hesspra Mining colony! DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR COMMANDER?" Riker swallowed his next comment whole, "Yes sir. Perfectly." "Good," he snorted, "Now get the hell out of my office. There's a transport waiting outside. Be on it. Admiral Lloyd will be waiting for you in the Federation Pavilion when you arrive at Betazed. And if you ever want to see a promotion again, I'd recommend you don't miss your flight Commander Riker... Dismissed." With little more than a curt nod, Will turned on his heel and left J'Nathan's company. His thoughts were still conflicted, but until he got his career back on track, it seemed his life's objectives might never be as clear to him as they once had. Maybe Admiral Lloyd would be amenable to helping him sort out a few professional details as well. If he could get the hell out of Betazed again quickly enough, things might just work out after all. CHAPTER 56 Lifting a hand to the brilliant sunlight outside of the administrative complex, Riker spotted his ride and jogged toward it. A Fleet Ensign holding a passenger manifest stood near the shuttle's entrance and Riker nodded at him as he took a step up into the utilitarian craft. "Flying light today, Ensign?" "Yes sir. This one's off to Betazed, and you're the only one on it." "Just me?" Riker frowned. Lloyd's summons had come with a few strings attached if he had commandeered a flight-craft for only one passenger. "Then we'll be leaving immediately?" "Yes sir. Have a safe trip." A long trip. Riker sighed. It was going to be at least nine hours before he saw the Admiral at the Federation Pavilion on Betazed. In the interim, it seemed that there'd be plenty of time to brood. Stowing his light satchel in the overhead compartment, Riker dropped without ceremony onto a passenger bench and looked around him. Though the windows were expansive and the sunlight bright, there was very little to see in the small utilitarian space. Leaning back against a cool, titanium bulkhead, WIll pulled his feet up onto the bench and took advantage of the four vacant seats next to his own. As the telltale hum of the shuttle's engines droned in the background of his senses, he found himself free to think. For the first time in over two days he let himself remember. And of course, the first thing that flooded his consciousness ... was Deanna. Deanna smiling at him from the cradled warmth of his pillow. Deanna pretending at formality and then slipping her hand within his; tugging him into an empty room. Deanna's warm whisper. Her touch. Her kisses... Her shining eyes when she looked back at him across the span of a million lifetimes, and said goodbye. Placing his thumb and his forefinger into his eye sockets, Riker drew a painful breath and let it out again, consciously quelling the unwanted sensation. Thoughts of Deanna Troi were definitely not what he needed to be focusing on right now. Maybe someday he'd be able to remember her and not suffer through a desperate sense of loss. Maybe someday he could think back and all he'd have left of the memory would be a smile. Someday, but not today. He closed his eyes, and let the drone of the transport carry him into a light and fretful rest. * Standing on an alabaster balcony adjoining a great hall in the Second House of Betazed, Senator Nayam observed the twilight. She could come and go as she chose. She could live her life, or not, as she so decided. But she was banned from all telepathy. Banned from any communion of the mind until her people deemed it wise that she might find a way to reintegrate. An idea she deplored anyway, under the circumstances. Darian would not speak with her. Darian would not speak at all. In retrospect, she might have chosen the same fate, had their roles been reversed. It was 'quiet' in their world now. There were no other voices, no myriad thoughts and emotions. No sense of life. And for what? In the end, there was nothing. Only a desperate sense of longing, and an ache that seemed to go on and on. Turning to the man she had loved for more than a decade, she saw him perched on a couch. His eyes were fixed on a painting that hung on the wall across from him; a nameless red-gold blur. He would look away from it every now and then. He would stare at the floor. Starting toward him, Brella began to reach instinctively for his thoughts. The way she had countless other times before. They way they'd shared their minds since they were barely adults. But there was nothing this time, and she recoiled from her own attempt, realizing she had forgotten yet again. Despite the lingering reality of their 'sentence', it was still so easy to forget... Coincidentally, Darian chose that particular moment to look up. She regarded his thoughtful expression, and she almost smiled. "Senator," a towering manservant with statuesque features and a deep, baritone voice--a species favored as 'hired help' by the Great Houses--stepped decorously into the room. "You have a visitor." A visitor? Brella glanced at Darian, but he had already looked away. "Please send them in, Mr. Jarrl." With a profound nod, the manservant disappeared. Only a few moments later, he returned, escorting a guest. "Commander Riker?" Brella's dark eyes widened. "Senator, Minister," Will traded a look between them. "I hope this isn't a bad time." "It's all right," Senator Nayam rose to her feet, realizing with a modicum of surprise that Darian had also done the same. "All though I must admit I am surprised that you would choose to visit." Riker glanced at the floor and then righted his gaze. "You were not planning on coming here, were you?" Brella tilted her head. "No," Will conceded, "I hadn't planned on it. I left Betazed a few days ago. They called me back, but my transport arrived a little early, and--" "You deserve our apology," Brella lifted her chin, "and yet I realize even that would be inadequate." "I didn't come here to humiliate you, Senator," Riker sighed. "Or for your regrets. I'd be arrogant if I didn't admit that a part of me even understands why you did what you did." At Riker's words, the Senator managed a wan smile. "You know, I have come to place far greater admiration on what you call 'Human Intuition' these past few days." "Well it looks like you're not too bad at it," Will took a step into the room and glanced around. "I was actually hoping to speak with Minister Khell..." "Ah," Brella sighed, "I'm afraid, Commander, that Darian is not--" "I will speak with him," Khell's voice was quiet but unmistakable. Brella turned and they exchanged a meaningful look. "Well," she whispered, "it seems that you have done in a moment what none of the rest of us could do for several days, Commander Riker." It was obvious the petite Betazoid was hurt. Riker shifted uneasily as she walked slowly from the room, leaving him alone with Darian. The Minister only sighed, "Commander," he sat down on the couch, "you mentioned you left Betazed three days ago." "Yes." "May I ask why?" "I'm a Starfleet officer, we move around..." "That is not the reason you left," Khell's dark eyes lifted. "I don't have to be telepathic to know that much is true." "I didn't come here to discuss that, frankly, Minister." "Then what are you here to 'discuss', Commander Riker?" For a long moment, Riker looked back at Darian. "Deanna," he finally said. "I see. Then my 'ex-wife' knows you're here?" "No," said Riker, but his eyebrow rose slightly at the comment. Darian nodded, "You heard correctly. Our marriage was annulled three days ago. I was bonded to Brella before our wedding ever took place." The Minister sighed and looked out through the open veranda doors, "I should never have kept that from Deanna. In retrospect, there are many things I should never have kept from her." "I would have thought that you of all people, would abhor lying." When Khell threw Riker a sharp look, he returned it in kind. "Betazoids do not lie," said Darian. "There is no meaning in falsehood for us. However, that is not to say that we do not have our own minds, Commander Riker. Or that we do not keep secrets." Riker slowly shook his head, "You split hairs like a practiced politician, Minister. You know, there was a time when I thought I didn't understand your people. Now I know that it was only you I couldn't figure out. Every other Betazoid I've met has been a hell of a lot easier to like. So I guess I have the honor of returning the favor you granted me in error the first time we met. I feel sorry for you, Darian." "Then you are not alone." "You never deserved Deanna." "And you do?" Khell tilted his head. "I didn't say that," Riker's blue eyes flashed, "This isn't about me, or what I deserve. For whatever her reasons, I know Deanna cared about you. She cared what you thought of her, and that means I have to be missing something. Because if Deanna cares about you, you can't possibly be as pretentious as you pretend to be." Darian looked away. "You are not my enemy, Commander Riker. But I am less than myself right now. I apologize for my behavior toward you. From the very beginning, I was wrong--as you have already proven. Now, perhaps you should go." "I'll go," said Riker, "but I came here to give you this." Extending his hand, Riker held out a small holo-chip. He dropped it into the Minister's palm. "Deanna left it on the shuttle after her visit to the consulate in San Francisco. It was addressed to you." Khell's eyes lifted and locked with Will's. "I didn't look at it," Riker shrugged, "I have no idea what's on it. I just thought you should have it." Darian glanced at the tiny chip and then nodded in silence. It was the last thing he communicated before he stood and walked slowly out onto the veranda. Looking after him for only a moment, Riker sighed. Then he turned for the door and let himself out. CHAPTER 57 <Little One!> Lwaxana Troi caught her daughter's arm near the railing of a grand stairwell. Her body provided a welcome sense of balance and Deanna steadied herself. <Really darling, you're not completely strong yet, are you sure you won't let me handle this? No one will mind if you aren't the one up there...> <No, Mother,> Deanna forced her focus inward, regaining her equilibrium, <it will be my last act in the capacity of a Federation Ambassador, and I will see it through.> The older Troi looked concerned for an instant, but her expression soon transformed into a proud smile, <I did raise you to have spirit, didn't I? You really ARE my daughter.> <You should know, Mother,> Deanna chided, but she returned Lwaxana's familial hug. <Ambassador,> a solemn attendant slipped into the room and her eyes fell on Deanna, <it's time.> Taking an instant to smooth her hands along the fabric of her cumbersome gown, Deanna released another breath. <Lets go,> she nodded to her mother, and together they ascended the stairs. * "Riker, you jerk, where the hell have you been?" Rachel Morris caught Will's arm and spun him around. "Nice to see you too, Rach," he recovered his balance and shrugged, "I was taking care of a few things." "Yeah?" she scoffed, "like what, your raging libido?" "Hey, hey, is this a party or what?!" David Sellars exclaimed, sliding into Rachel and slapping Riker on the arm, "where they hell have you been, man?" Rachel turned to David and scowled, "he was 'taking care of a few things'." Sellars raised an eyebrow, "anyone I know?" "Damn it," Riker's mouth fell open, "is that all you two think I do?" "Well no," David shrugged, "I guess you also fly frigates into starships..." Riker glowered at his friend for only a moment before he shook his head and smiled, amending, "Fragments of starships, thank you." "Whatever," laughed Sellars, tapping Will on the sleeve of his dress-uniform, "You look bold as brass, Commander," he turned to Rachel, "so do you, babe." "Yeah?" Morris smiled sweetly, "call me babe again and you'll wish your family jewels were made of brass..." "Ouch," stepping backward, David threw Riker a look, "she's a lot meaner now that you two split, ain't she?" "David, I'd like to introduce you to the REAL Rachel Morris." "You know, it really must have stung when they shipped your ass back here after all the trouble you went through to ESCAPE," Rachel smirked, "has Lloyd seen you yet?" With a disdainful sigh, Riker looked away, "Nope. I waited two hours in the Pavilion and then they told me to get up here. Meeting's been postponed until after the medal ceremony." "And doesn't that just beat all?" Sellars nodded, "us stealing a prototype, flying all the way out here, disrupting some kind of 'Section 31' operation and getting a CITATION for it!" he laughed, "no one but Will-the-Thrill Riker could pull something like THAT off!" "It probably didn't hurt that the Ambassador's daughter had a bit of a thing for him, either," quipped Morris. Riker turned to Rachel and glowered at her choice of words, before he realized what it was she'd actually said. "Ambassador's daughter?" "Oh, you hadn't heard?" Morris sighed dramatically, "No, of course you wouldn't have, would you? You were too busy running away..." she offered him a sharp look, "Deanna Troi stepped down. Apparently, she was a pretty damn good Starfleet psychologist before she took up her mother's torch." "She--" Riker stammered, "stepped down?" "Not that you'd care," Morris continued, "I mean, soldiers like you and I have our careers to think about, don't we?" Her question fell on deaf ears because Riker was too busy staring at the wall. He barely heard Sellars' indignant exclamation, and he almost didn't realize that he was being hurried out through a small ornate doorway. Before he took another breath, Riker found himself standing on a giant platform, staring out at a sea of people -- and face to face, with Deanna Troi. In a singular moment, all the emptiness that surrounded him evaporated. She must have been blocking his sense of her. Either that or her mother had been, because one moment he had no inkling of her presence, and the next--as though a valve had been released--her spirit encircled his soul. The sound of the spectators vanished. A vortex caught his senses and spiraled them inward. And Riker exhaled sharply, unable to rationalize any farther than the next instant. <Try to relax,> he heard Deanna's voice, clear and musical in his thoughts. When he caught her gaze, she nodded in understanding. Though he was completely unable to formulate a coherent thought, she was obviously far more adept. <Take your breath as though the rhythm of your body is under your own command,> she instructed. Abiding her directive, Riker consciously slowed his breathing. The podium swam into focus; the sounds of the spectators lulled into to a dull roar he could absorb, and Deanna stood across from him, smiling at his success. He smiled in return. Unable to help himself; unable to keep his emotions from echoing hers. No more than an instant had passed in reality, but Riker was certain Deanna's assistance had saved him from falling. As though none of it ever happened, she turned away from him. Morris and Sellars stood shoulder to shoulder on the great expanse of a platform and Deanna took her place at the podium. She held up a hand. It draped with the fabric of her full official regalia, and it silenced the crowd. "In deference to our Starfleet compliment here today," she began in a formal voice, "I will speak the address aloud." Riker shifted where he stood. Formal events had always been an anathema for him, but they were protocol in the Federation. And he had come to stand at more than a few of them as his rise through the ranks took him closer to his ultimate goal. When Deanna looked out at the gathering in the Federation Pavilion, she was utterly composed. She was every bit the Ambassador he remembered from Earth, and yet he knew that beneath the formal gown and regal countenance, was a woman who had won his respect on a far more personal level. <A woman who loves you> He could have sworn he heard her voice again in his mind, but when he looked at her, she was still speaking aloud. "...and it is for their courage, their valor and their determination as officers, that I am privileged to perform my last official responsibility as a Federation Ambassador," she turned to an officer holding a small oval laminate and she lifted a silver pin from within. Stepping up to Rachel, Deanna carefully affixed the medal onto Morris' lapel. She leaned forward, embracing the other woman before pulling back with a smile. It looked for all the world as though they shared a knowing exchange, but the expression was gone before Riker had fully had the time to analyze it and Deanna had moved on to Sellars. When the last of the small ornaments was drawn from the tray, it was Riker's turn. He watched Deanna approach and a column of liquid heat rose up within him. It was a familiar reaction; the same response he'd always had to hear proximity from the moment they first met. Standing in front of him, Deanna lifted the small pin and placed it lightly on the lapel of his dress-uniform. She leaned forward as she had with both other officers, but when her face came into contact with the side of his, Riker's breath caught in his chest. He was the last to receive a medal, but the crowd's applause surmounted the other two awards. It crested almost simultaneously with her gentle embrace. "They think you're a hero," she whispered aloud against the shell of his ear, "for saving my life." "Your life?" Riker whispered back harshly, "You're the one who saved mine. I didn't do anything--" "Didn't you?" the last of her words tickled the edge of his neck and he shivered while she drew back to regard all three of them formally. "Congratulations, all of you," she proclaimed, "and on behalf of all of Betazed, our most heartfelt gratitude..." The ceremony ended after that. Deanna left the platform as majestically as she'd entered it, and Rachel's hand on Riker's arm reminded him that they were also to depart. They took a different exit, but he was finding it difficult to breathe. He couldn't think right or feel right. Nothing made sense except the whisper of Deanna's voice inside his head. In his whole life, he'd never experienced anything so completely addictive and incredible in the same moment. The problem was that fairy tales were for children's storybooks. Not Starfleet officers, or would-be starship Captains. Safe in the confines of the small room near the entrance to the platform, Riker fought to reorient his sanity. Only this time there was no opportunity for reprieve. Looking up from disconsolate thoughts, his focus settled on the open doorway, and Admiral Lloyd standing gravely in the hall. CHAPTER 58 Peter Lloyd was an affable man, most of the time. But his presence was neither particularly congenial nor credibly imposing when he entered the small sitting room where Riker, Sellars and Morris stood decorously at attention. "It seems congratulations are in order," the Admiral scrutinized all three officers. "Thank you sir," Rachel traded a short look with Sellars. "Commander Riker," Lloyd continued, "in point of fact I'm here to see you. However I did have a few matters of incidence I thought I could clear up before we talk." "Yes sir," Riker nodded perfunctorily and Lloyd's eyes fell on Rachel. "I've heard good things about you, Morris," said the Admiral. "But I know that no self-respecting tactical Commander craves a planetside assignment. I'm afraid the only comfort I can offer you at the moment is the assurance that this will only be for a few months. Just until we've filed away some 'other matters' with the Section." Morris released a short breath, "I understand sir. And ... I appreciate your assistance. I think under the circumstances, doing a little time planetside might be just what I'm looking for." "Wise words," Lloyd turned to Sellars. "They'll need you back at Plenetia in a day or two as well Lt. Commander. Can't lose one of our best engineers to all this tropical sunshine, can we?" "No sir," Sellars grinned, "Too much warm weather always reminds me how much I miss the cold bleak darkness of space." The Admiral laughed, "Well good. That's good to hear." Riker kept his shoulders squared, waiting for the pleasantries to end, but when the Admiral finally turned to regard him, Lloyd's expression was sharp. "Commander Riker, we can talk right here in the sitting room. Good a place as any." Accepting their unspoken dismissal, both Rachel and Sellars quietly disappeared. It was only Riker and Lloyd when the older man began to speak again. His voice was low. "I hear from a very reliable source, that you're the reason my goddaughter is alive today." "Sir, I really didn't--" "Now let me finish," Lloyd cut him off, "I don't care one way or the other what you choose to do with your career or who you choose to serve under, but I am grateful to you that Deanna didn't die. And off the record, that means very grateful," his sharp gaze focussed on Riker, "I'd save that for an exceptionally rainy day if I were you Commander, but it's there." Nodding tiredly, Riker found he was unwilling as unable to continue the argument. "Sir, it's been a long day. A long flight. I received a medal I don't think I even deserve, and a citation for something that meant a hell of a lot more to me personally than it could ever have meant to Starfleet, with all due respect." "I get your point son," Lloyd smiled, "what I don't get, is why you look like you just lost your best friend. I'd have thought this planet would be a great place for you to be right now--all things considered." Riker turned away, "Is that all sir?" "All Commander?" "Am I dismissed?" Will cast a look over his shoulder, "because if so, I have a transport to catch." "No, that's not 'all'," Admiral Lloyd shook his head in bewildered amazement, "what is wrong with you, Riker?" Will carefully exhaled. "My 'personal life' is my own business. Sir." "Yours and half this planets, mister. You *do* know they've labeled you a hero?" "I beg your pardon?" "You and Deanna Troi are the first legitimate documented instance of a connection of this magnitude in the last hundred years. This is sacred to these people. I think you'll find, Commander, that you have a hell of a time turning your back on this..." "With due respect. What I do is my own business, Admiral." Lloyd huffed, "I may look like an old man to you, Commander, but I speak from personal experience when I say that you're about to make the biggest mistake of your life if you walk away right now." The ready reply on Riker's lips died suddenly. In a single moment, all the avarice and self-loathing he'd been feeling welled to the surface and he looked desolately at the floor. "I can't give her what she's worthy of. She deserves more than I can ever be." "BULLSHIT. The universe doesn't make rules like that up for us, Will, we complicate the hell out of life all by ourselves. You may think this is none of my goddamned business, but sometimes 'our own business' stands in the way of what's right. Deanna's got a mind like a steel trap--a little like someone else I've come to know. She's just as sure you'd be better off as a Captain on some starship than 'stuck' on the surface of a planet with her. But she has powerful feelings for you. I saw it in her eyes that very first day we met, just the way I saw it in yours. And don't you dare forget that she was willing to give her life to save yours." Riker curled his hand into a fist, "I can never forget that day for as long as I live. You think I don't give a damn? Every time I close my eyes, she's the first thing I see. The way she stepped in front of me. The way she fell. I'll carry that with me forever." "Then DO something about it!" Admiral Lloyd leaned forward, "If you care that much about her, and if you can make her happy, Riker, why the hell would you turn your back on something like that?" "He has other obligations, Admiral," a serene and musical voice spoke up from behind Lloyd, "and I have never asked him for anything more than he's already given me." Deanna stood quietly in the doorway. Her long, regal gown draped majestically to her ankles and her headband--the one she only wore on formal occasions--was still threaded through her hair. She removed it slowly. Dark, nearly bottomless eyes softened at the older man's troubled expression. "Peter, my father loved you a great deal. You were his best friend in life, and I know that he would be honored by what you're trying to accomplish. But you must understand that the choices I make in my life are my own, just as Will Riker's are his." Deanna never glanced away from Lloyd, but Riker's heart was fighting for freedom against the inside of his chest. When Troi crossed the distance from the doorway and embraced the older man, her whisper was barely audible. "I wish that I could have met you when I was still a girl." Deanna hugged her godfather and she smiled, "Nevertheless, perhaps we can start now, from the beginning?" Riker marveled. It didn't matter who she spoke to or what was said; time and again Deanna Troi could humble anyone simply with a look, a smile, or a touch. She was a gift, he realized, a gift to the whole universe. "I think you give me too much credit," she pulled from the Admiral and spoke without looking up. "Did he say something?" Lloyd furrowed his brow. "Yes," she nodded, standing her full height, "but not aloud." In the silence that ensued, Deanna didn't look at Riker. Riker couldn't bring himself to look at her, and Lloyd was watching both of them gravely. "Deanna," the Admiral finally sighed, "I've got room full of bureaucrats to debrief in under an hour. I have go," he paused, "but you should know, I heard back from headquarters this morning. You got your first choice. And before you even wonder--I didn't have anything to do with it. The Captain of the Enterprise requested you himself; his offer never left the table if you're ready to accept the position. You know, there are very few Captains in the Fleet who'd have the strength of character to knowingly request a former Federation Ambassador for their senior staff. I wonder if I'd ever have done it myself. But I know Jean-Luc Picard and he's one hell of an officer to serve with." "Thank you," Troi's eyes lifted and the smile she offered Lloyd was radiant. A moment passed between them where the Admiral looked almost uncomfortable, but he finally nodded, turning to Riker. "As for you Commander, you should know that the entire Fleet isn't comprised of inequitable bastards. I think you took an unfair beating for what happened with the 'VALIANT'. So I'm granting you a field promotion. If you'll accept her, you can have the 'LEGACY'. She's been ejected from the Section for obvious 'intelligence' reasons, but she's a fine ship with a fine crew--give or take a member. She'll need a fine Captain to take her tarnish off, if you think you're up for the challenge." "Admiral--" Lloyd nodded brusquely, "as I understand it, that would make you the youngest starship Captain in Starfleet history. Congratulations Riker, that's one more endeavor you can cross off your life's objectives." Riker couldn't believe his ears. In all his wildest imaginings, this was not how he'd envisioned the end of the conversation taking place. Glancing at Lloyd, he was only able to offer a mute nod and a hoarse, "Yes sir. Thank you sir," before the older man shrugged him off. Will turned into the room. Deanna was staring at him with shining eyes. Her expression betrayed her pride on his behalf and he had never felt more incredible than he did in the knowledge that she shared his joy for the realization of his dream. He'd never imagined it could mean so much that anyone else be proud of his accomplishments. But here he was. And God, it was amazing. "Good man," said the Admiral, "I had a feeling you'd accept. I've taken the liberty of declining your other offers in light of this situation. Although Jean-Luc Picard is a difficult man to turn down, even for an Admiral," Lloyd shook his head. "Be on the 'DELTA' transport at 1400 hours. They'll rendezvous with the 'LEGACY' in sector 0-0-5." "Sir?" Riker lifted his head, "with all due respect, what about Commander Garrity?" Lloyd uttered a disparaging sound. "Sean Garrity is an arrogant ass. The day they make him a Captain, I will personally resign--" Even Deanna couldn't hide her smile. "Understood sir," Will acknowledged. "The way I see it, you might just be able to convince Commander Morris to be your first officer in a few months. She'll be looking for a good ship." Riker nodded, still lost in thought. All semblance of his earlier conversation vanished in the light of the most important career opportunity he had ever received. "Thank you," he shook the Admiral's outstretched hand, "thank you again, sir." "Yes well, you deserve it," Lloyd turned for the door, "just make every moment count in your life, Riker. Trust me I've learned the hard way, it's the moments that matter. A hell of a lot more than any whole." CHAPTER 59 When Lloyd left the room, all the energy seemed to go with him. In the aftermath of his departure, Riker stood next to Deanna and he finally forced himself to look at her. If it were possible, she seemed even more uncomfortable than he felt. Imperially attired, with her headband clutched inflexibly in her hand, she presented a walking contradiction. She was beautiful. Stunning. But she looked tired. More care-worn than he'd ever seen her before. "You should be at the reception," he took the initiative and spoke first, drowning in her impossibly large eyes. "So should you," she held his gaze. "I--probably won't be going." Shifting in place, Will tugged a hand down on the top of his dress uniform. "Oh," Deanna lifted her chin, "Well, then, I suppose this is goodbye." Swallowing the column that sliced from his chest to his throat, he nodded, "for a while," gesturing vaguely, "The... 'ENTERPRISE' is, an amazing ship." "I'm very lucky the position was still available." "Oh hell Deanna, you know luck had nothing to do with it. You're amazing at everything I've ever seen you do. Every Captain in Starfleet probably lined up to request you." Blushing at his accolade, Deanna tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "You look nice," she spoke quickly, lifting her eyes and effectively diverting the subject, "I never saw you in dress uniform before. You look very handsome," she smiled demurely, "You'll make a magnificent Captain, Will." It was Riker's turn glance at the floor. Not because of the compliment, but because when Deanna said the words, her sincerity poured into him. He knew that she believed it was true. Somehow he could feel it. "So do you," he caught himself and amended, "look nice. Really nice." With a quiet smile, Deanna brushed her hand along the fabric of her gown, "Well, I suppose I won't be sorry to see this go," she mused, "it's the most uncomfortable thing I've ever had to wear in my life." Regarding her wry attempt at humor, Riker couldn't keep himself from touching her. Despite the rational warning of his head, he reached out, caressing the edge of her face. "What is it?" she asked softly. "You. It just occurred to me. You standing here--as dazzling as royalty--accepting a tour of duty on a Federation starship." "Is that all you see when you look at me?" Troi shook her head sadly, "My station? A title and a dress?" Riker stared at her until it felt as though her eyes were burning a hole in his soul. He glanced at the floor, "No." "Really? Because you seem so fond of reminding me that you think I'm some kind of 'princess' at every possible occasion," her voice rose and she twisted her free hand in her dress, "Did it also 'occur' to you that this is a GARMENT, Will? And I am not a doll..." "I never said you were." "You--" swaying where she stood, Deanna was unable to release her livid breath. She caught her balance on the edge of the wall, but not before Riker caught her first. "Hey, whoa," he held her against him, "you okay?" "It's nothing, I'm a little tired, that's all." Deanna pulled free of his grasp only to realize she wasn't prepared to stand on her own. Riker caught her again, this time turning concerned eyes on her pallid features, "let me get you back downstairs--" "NO!" she shot back, tempering her expression with a visible effort, "Mother's already worried enough about me. If I go down there like this, she'll have me sent back to the medical facility." "Maybe that's not such a bad idea." "I said I'm FINE!" Scowling, Deanna released his arm as though to prove her point, "I haven't recovered my strength fully yet, that's all." "At least sit down," he indicated a couch in the corner of the sitting room, but she only shook her head. "Deanna Troi, you are as stubborn as a--a--" Riker trailed off when he was certain that the blaze in her eyes matched his own. "God!" he exhaled a frustrated breath, "Fine. Stand. But I'm standing here with you." "You should go," she pushed him gently away from her, "you have a flight to catch." "I'm not going anywhere until I know you're all right." "Don't be ridiculous, Will. I felt light headed, it was only for a moment and it passed." "You've had this before?" He fixed her with a sharp look. "It's getting better." "Well I'm not leaving here until I'm sure it's gone." She blew an angry puff of air between her lips. "You can stand here all day if you'd like, but I'm leaving." Stepping in front of the exit, Riker blocked her path. Deanna stopped, but her eyes held daggers and her expression was livid. They stood that way; doggedly immobile for nearly a minute. In the quiet that ensued, he found himself examining her features. Her eyes, her face, the wayward curls that tumbled loosely through her hair--free from the confines of the headband she now clutched in her hand. When he realized that her fingers were trembling, he finally understood why. The small scrap of fabric in Deanna's grasp shivered as he moved closer to her. It slipped to the floor when he reached up and held her face in both his hands. And it was forgotten in the moment he brushed her lips tenderly with his. Deanna's kiss poured into him. Through every crevice; every pore in his physical body, he drank from her spirit. Their eyes closed, their mouths traded off between a torrid exploration and a breathless barely physical caress. And she uttered a quiet protest when they finally disengaged. Collapsing to her knees, Deanna took him with her. He caught her gently against his body, and her hands locked on his lower arms for support. Tendrils of hair clung damply to her forehead, but to Riker, she had never looked more beautiful. He felt the gentle warm sensation of her fingers caress his skin and he lost the will to move. "I love the way you kiss me," she took his face between her palms. There was a tangible energy that flowed between them. A force that seemed alive on its own. Riker looked back at her uncertainly. "Is that your Betazoid point of view?" he asked, "Or is your 'human physical response' taking over again?" Her dark eyes widened. She shook her head. "Will I was wrong. Is it important for you to hear me say that? I knew I was wrong from the very first moment, but I kept it from you -- because I never wanted you to stop. I've never felt a single thing with you that didn't touch me everywhere at once." Her quiet admission accompanied her hand when it moved lightly over his arm. Riker caught her wandering touch. He looked down at her while she looked up at him, and all of a sudden the question in her eyes meant more to him than his next breath. He turned his head before he finally confessed, "I never knew that I could feel like this in all my life." "Tell me what you're feeling?" she implored, coaxing his face back toward her. The question seemed odd, coming from an empath. But then again, if she was responding to even a fraction of the confusion he'd been experiencing, anything was possible. Riker focused on her, searching for expression until he recalled the perfect analogy. His shoulders rose and fell. "Like... I've never seen the stars before..." Without another word, Deanna fell solidly into his arms. He held her head against his heart and pressed his lips into her hair. "I love you," she said quietly. Easily. So naturally that Riker wondered for a moment whether he hadn't heard her say those precious words every day of his life until now. The revelation filled him. His eyes burned with the effort it took to keep himself from echoing her sentiment and he cupped the edge of her cheek in his hand, forcing her to look up at him. "Deanna, it was never you," he shook his head, "not for a minute. It was him. You know that now. You have a million opportunities to look forward to. That destiny you told me about? The kind of life that I can't ever be a part of. Leaders with... whole planets to their names will be lining up to court you. You're a Daughter of the Fifth House, remember?" he smiled, "Heir to the--" "To hell with the Holy Rings!" With both her hands, Deanna shoved him backward and he caught himself against the wall in surprise. "Who gave you the right to decide what I *deserve*?" Before he could respond, she grabbed his uniform lapel and clutched it, "And what do you 'deserve'? Do you even know? Or do you plan on spending the rest of your life disappointed because you don't feel worthy of being cared for?!" her eyes filled with meaningful moisture. "I don't know!" he caught her hand and removed it from his body, "But I *do* know that I certainly don't deserve this!" Gripping the tiny pin she'd placed onto his collar, Riker tore it free. "You stood in front of a phaser for me, Deanna. And what did they give you? A pat on the back? A signed copy of your resignation letter? I didn't DO anything!" "You touched me!" she cried. And in the silence that came afterward, she swiped angrily at the tears in her eyes, "you were the first person to ever touch my spirit. Will, you made me feel wanted. Cherished--" Reaching out, she threw her arms around his neck. "It hurts to breathe..." Uncertain where to place his hands--or even if he should--Riker felt her small body crush against him. He swallowed the swell of his own emotions instead. "You once told me I was worth a thousand 'Federations'. A billion planets," Deanna whispered, "I needed to hear that then. More than I'd ever needed to hear anything. You knew exactly what I needed and you believed in me. Well now it's your turn," her face lifted and her dark eyes fixed on his, "I believe in you, Will Riker. You are wonderful. You're thoughtful and compassionate. And... falling in love with you has been the easiest thing I've ever done in all my life." "Deanna--" leaning back against the wall, Riker placed his head in his hands, unable to formulate another word. "I'm not asking you for anything," she shook her head, "I'm not. You have a life-force that outshines anyone I've ever met. A career that stands unparalleled. You have everything you've ever dreamed of in your grasp, and you *deserve* to be happy." When Riker lifted his eyes, Deanna's expression was radiant. The words that formed on her lips were as musical and compelling as he remembered they had been the first time he heard them. Only this time, the universal translator was able to pick them up. Touching his face with the palm of her hand, Deanna whispered, "I feel your sadness. And your strength. And I know you think you understand--" she laughed through her rapidly diminishing tears, "I pledge my spirit to yours, Will Riker. In this life and the next. For a time without end. It will never matter where you are. Only that you think of me..." Riker groaned at the river of sensation her words produced. He couldn't think; he could barely breathe, but his feelings coalesced into a singular truth. A truth he'd scarcely understood until the horrifying moment that he'd held her unmoving body in his arms. She was right. It did hurt to breathe. <'Imzadi'..> he pulled her reflexively toward him. Shivering from an invisible force, Deanna regarded him with wide eyes. Her encouragement accompanied her awe, <what did you say?> He swallowed his automatic self-doubt, feeling as much as experiencing the thought, <I love you.> Deanna's head tipped backward, her hand flew to her heart and her fingers closed. "I feel it," she smiled, "Oh gods, when you say it like that, I feel it everywhere." Neither of them thought to question when their lips met again. Deanna's small body melted against his larger one and he couldn't let her go. But the moment was shattered when she suddenly clutched his arm, nearly losing her balance for a second time. Riker caught her before she could fall. "No more arguments," he admonished, "not this time." Lifting her easily off the floor, he laid her gently on a couch and tucked a pillow behind her head, suddenly grateful for what he'd previously considered the unnecessary 'Betazoid Opulence' of the sitting room. "Try to relax?" He saw her protest before it found a voice, and whispered, "'Imzadi', please." If nothing else he'd said had moved her to cooperate, Deanna grew very still at those words. She acquiesced, but she trapped his arm with her other hand before he could move away again, and she regarded him sadly. "Will. When you leave," she began, "don't say goodbye. I don't believe in goodbyes. I want to remember you just as you are now." Riker looked down at her silently. His world had long been a place of jagged certainty. Blacks and whites. Ploys and gambits. But somewhere in Deanna Troi's fathomless expression, he saw the light of his own reflection. And the way it looked was magical. The strength of her conviction was hard to believe. It made him contemplate the possibility--however remote--that if she could look inside of him and see something so pure; so valuable, then maybe, just maybe there could be such things as fairly tales after all... Lifting a hand to his COMM badge, he kept his gaze locked on hers. "Riker to Lloyd." //Lloyd here, go ahead Commander// "Admiral, if it wouldn't be too much trouble, I'd like to 'miss my flight' on the 'DELTA' transport." //Commander, I'm afraid that's the only--// "I'd like to respectfully decline the Captaincy of the 'LEGACY' sir." For several seconds, there was silence on the other end of the COMM. //Are you certain about this, Commander?// Lloyd's rigid voice came back. With his fingertip, Riker captured a drop of moisture that dripped from beneath Deanna's eyelashes. "More certain than I've ever been about anything," he smiled, "If it's still possible, I'd like to accept Captain Picard's first offer." //The ENTERPRISE?// "Yes sir." //I'll have to check on that. I don't recall hearing whether the position was filled...// "Thank you sir," he kept his eyes on Troi. "I'll understand if it is. But I'd appreciate it a great deal if you could let me know." //I'll do that, Commander,// Lloyd acknowledged. "Riker out." When the channel closed, Deanna caught his hand at the edge of her face and the look she gave him sharpened. "You shouldn't do this. Not for me." "Oh, I dunno." Sitting carefully on the edge of the couch, Riker shrugged, "First officer of the Flag Ship of the Federation? I think I'm doing it for me." "Liar," her fingers encircled his palm but she drew her lips across it. "Okay," he conceded, "I'm doing it for us." "You and I?" "Lately," he offered her a wondering smile, "I've started thinking that--anything's possible. If you want it enough. I'm presuming a lot, aren't I?" "Will--" He laid his fingers across her lips. "My turn. You made me a promise. Now let me make you one of my own." He lowered his voice and released a shallow breath. "I pledge my spirit to yours, Deanna Troi. In this life and the next. For a time without end..." The moment he spoke, Riker felt as though the world around him shivered. He caught Deanna's hand and held it while her eyes filled with brand new, radiant teardrops. But this time, she made no move to wipe them away. "Did I say it right?" he asked self-consciously, "Betazin is not an easy language to learn. I'm still not very good at the nuance, I know, I had some trouble understanding the first few books I read, but I think I'm starting to--" "Yes, Will," Deanna's expression reflected a dance of emotion. "You said it perfectly." "Oh, good," he paused mid-breath, "that's good." "I can't believe you just did that." He moved a wayward fall of hair from her cheek. "Deanna, a few months ago I realized I was ready to spend the rest of my life with one person. Me? Share my life? It was a crazy revelation, but I'd never felt so sure of anything," he smiled. "I didn't know it at the time, but now I know without a single doubt in my mind, it was because I'd met you." Deanna gripped his hand. "Maybe we aren't meant to question everything. Maybe the Admiral was right and all we have is here, and now." Riker laid his forehead gently against hers, "Deanna, if I asked you to marry me, what would you say?" "Marry?" her eyes widened. "I don't know. I've only just been released from one contract..." "It wouldn't have to be right away," he amended quickly, "I didn't mean immediately, I just ... wondered what you might say. Hypothetically speaking--" "Hypothetically speaking..." she regarded him for only a moment before she brushed her fingers lightly across his temple, "I might say ... yes." "You might?" The emotion Riker felt was unlike any he'd ever known. Their faces moved together again, but Deanna demurred. "If you asked me," she qualified. He paused, "Oh. Well. I guess then--hypothetically speaking--I might just ask you. Some time." The imminence of Deanna's ready reprimand was silenced when he took her face between his hands and kissed her for all the passion he'd ever felt for her in his soul. She struggled for less than a second before her arms drew away from her sides and her hands met at the back of his neck. By the time he pulled away again, she clung to him and uttered a frustrated sound. "Now, get some rest," he smiled at her flushed and very discouraged expression. "I'm fine," she shot him a shadowy look as she started to rise. "Oh no you don't," Riker pushed her gently back onto the pillow, "not for at least a half an hour. That's an order," he awarded her a crooked grin, "and lets not forget--your highness--I outrank you now." For an instant, Deanna's beautiful eyes locked dangerously on his. But her silent elation filled his spirit like butterfly wings, tickling the corners of his consciousness when she replied, <Yes, sir.> [---EPILOGUE---] Sitting at the CON of the ENTERPRISE's number three shuttlecraft --affectionately renamed 'HEDRA'--First Officer William T. Riker watched the stars go by at warp. On a routine flight, there was very little to do while the computer took its course corrections, soaring on its own through the darkness of space. But Riker didn't mind the tedium this time. It had been two years since his assignment to the Flag Ship. Two years, five months and fourteen days to be precise. One year, eleven months, thirty days and twenty-three and a half hours since the day he'd married Deanna Troi. He remembered the way his heart stopped beating the first time he'd laid eyes on her; the way that everything he'd ever wondered about in life just seemed to 'make sense' in the instant she'd looked up at him and smiled. God, she made him weak. And strong. Terrified. And brave. And all of it in the very same moment. Starlight glimmered through the view screen in front of the CON and Riker lost himself in a series of luminous, abstract forms. Thinking... Remembering... Until he realized that his flight readings didn't look exactly as they should have. "What the--" Leaning forward, he took over the CON, shaking his head in bewilderment. He was about to rise and sit at the other station, when a very familiar, unimaginably powerful sensation engulfed him. The touch of a small hand lay atop his shoulder and Riker turned his head sharply, watching her slender fingers slide down his arm across his chest. He felt the side of her face when it brushed against the top of his head and he smiled, trapping her hand. Riker held it to his heart. "Hello Imzadi," he whispered quietly. Responding to her nearness; to the quiet breath she blew against the back of his ear, he turned his head and caught her eyes--luminous and compelling--and he was as lost as he had been the first moment they met. With his free hand, Will drew her face down toward his. The kiss was long and mutual, and Riker let himself float in it until neither one of them could breathe. When they disengaged, Deanna's dark eyes flashed. "Need a co-pilot?" she smirked playfully. "You want to fly?" he laughed. "Well, fair is fair, don't you think?" she placed a hand on her hip. "You use to say I was pretty good--" "You were," Riker shrugged, "once." "Once?!" Deanna grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet, "I'll have you know, Commander Riker, I do have a valid flight certificate, the same as yours." Spreading his hands deferentially, Riker backed away, "My apologies," he grinned, "your highness." Her eyes narrowed, "You think you're so clever, Riker..." "I am clever," he confirmed, "I got you to marry me, didn't I?" Deanna frowned, "details." "But I *am* clever." "Are you going to let me fly or not?" "Sure," Riker lifted his hands and stood aside, "be my guest." Deanna regarded him askance, "Will you tell me where we're going now?" "Nope. It's a surprise." "Then how am I supposed to know what course to lay in?" "I don't know," he shrugged, "you're the one who wanted the CON." Rather than dressing him down as he'd expected she might, Deanna simply smiled, "That's fine," she said, standing over his chair, "I've already guessed anyway." Though his eyes widened momentarily, Riker composed himself. She was good at poker, but he was better, and that was simply a fact. "You're bluffing, Counselor," he pronounced with a wide smile. Deanna leaned in closer, brushing her lips across his earlobe, "A Betazoid never bluffs." "No, but my lovely halfling wife has been known to 'elaborate' on the truth every now and then..." Breathing deeply, Riker sighed, "Oh God, what are you wearing? You smell incredible." "Do you like it?" she smiled. "You *know* I do--" "It's called 'Take Me, I'm Yours'." Chuckling, he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her off balance into his lap as he sat down, "Nice name. I like it. It must have been--" "Invented by a man," she finished for him, rolling her eyes, "Obviously a *human* man." Her expression softened, "You still think I'm lovely, after all this time?" "All this time?" Riker laughed, but Deanna turned solemn eyes on him and he shook his head, "Are you serious?" he took her face between his palms, "I don't tell you often enough?" "I guess I'm just feeling a little insecure," she defended, "it can happen..." "Well then by all means, let me allay your uncertainty," he drew her into a gentle kiss. "You... are a living, breathing fantasy, Deanna Troi," he breathed against her lips. Deanna sighed, leaning into the encounter, "high marks for content. Low marks for originality. I remember that line." "Well, it's as true now as it was then," Riker resumed his original exploration, silencing them both for nearly a minute. "You're every man's fantasy," he finished. Deanna opened her eyes, "I don't want to be every man's fantasy," she belayed his protest with a solemn expression, "I want to be yours." Releasing a breath, Riker turned her in his arms and trapped her hand within his own. His playful antics ceased and he returned her serious look. "Deanna, you are. You have been from the day I met you. You could make my heart stop with a look." When she captured his expression, her eyes were shining in the starlight, and Riker couldn't figure out why nothing he said or did seemed to lift the veil of expectancy he felt in her. "Will, are you ever sorry you didn't take command of the 'LEGACY'?" she asked him quietly. "Is that what this is about?" he placed a hand against her cheek. "You would have your own ship right now. You'd be a Captain, with a crew of your own. It's been more than two years." He sighed, "Not for a minute, Deanna, not for a second have I regretted any of the past two years. They've been the most incredible of my entire life," he stroked the edge of her face, "are you sorry?" "Me?" "You look at shocked as I must have. But why should it be any different?" he smiled. "Are you sorry that you gave up your life on Betazed--and a pretty damn appealing future, if you ask me--to re-join Starfleet? Are you sorry that you married a guy in a uniform, with nothing to offer you but," he gestured around him, "this?" Deanna fell forward and brushed his lips with hers, "and this," she added, meaning to pull away but somehow kissing him again, "and this," her eyes closed before reality finally returned. "Not for a moment," she echoed his sentiment, and finally his smile.. "Well, then I guess we really do 'deserve' each other, don't we, princess?" Riker took her fingers and wove them through his. She awarded him a tolerant look. Glancing at the chronometer, he released a quiet breath and reached under the flight console, extracting a small, ornate box. "I was going to wait until we arrived, but--" Riker's voice trailed off, <Happy Anniversary, 'Imzadi'> he whispered in her thoughts. The tiny object was just a shade smaller than Deanna's palm, and she held it reverently, "Will, what have you done?" "Open it," he smiled. Setting her other hand to work, Deanna carefully removed the top of the regal container. When she pulled it from its slot, it fell into her palm and she was finally able to look inside. "Oh my gods," she breathed, glancing up at him. "These aren't--" Riker nodded slowly, "The Holy Rings of Betazed," he confirmed. "They're so SMALL!" Deanna giggled despite herself, "how in the world--" "Believe me," smiled Riker, "no one was more surprised than I. Well, maybe your Mother. I asked her to send them over. I think she was more amazed than amused, to be honest." Deanna dropped her head and laughed. "I can't believe you did this!" "Well, you're the one who told me no one had seen them in the last several generations. I thought it was time that changed." Composing herself, she leaned forward and placed her lips on his, "you're very sweet, Will." "Oh, it gets better," he grinned at her astonished expression. "Take a closer look." When she lowered her gaze again, Deanna was quiet for several moments. "It can't be..." she finally murmured, re-righting her posture. Riker's smile only grew, "they sure look like wedding rings, to me." "But that's impossible, we don't HAVE wedding rings on Betazed." "Apparently you have one set," he shrugged, "and they've been in your family for generations." Cautiously lifting one of the tiny circlets from its resting place, Deanna tilted it sideways. Two rows of elegant Betazin script glinted on the underside. She read aloud, "I pledge my spirit to yours. In this life and the next. For a time without end..." "Now tell me that's a coincidence?" Riker closed his hand over hers, trapping the ring inside. Deanna shook her head, "I have no idea--" "Well I have a pretty good idea," he said, leaning closer. Her eyes widened, "of what?" Before he could answer her, the hum of the shuttle's engines suddenly ceased. Will looked up in surprise as their bodies lifted slightly from the chair. Out of the portal, a mantle of soft ethereal atmosphere glowed, and the planet of Riker's birth glimmered below it. Unmoved by the view, Deanna turned a sharp look on him. "A good idea of what?" she asked again. "Did you set this flight path?" he grinned at both the look in her eyes and the fact that she'd remembered everything so flawlessly. "Yes," she leaned backward, but she blushed at his indirect praise. "I guess you weren't bluffing after all, Counselor," he wrapped his arms around her smaller body. "I told you, Commander. A Betazoid never bluffs." "A Betazoid never wears a wedding ring, either." Silently, Riker removed the circlet from Deanna's palm and let it tumble, half suspended in the near absence of gravity. "Do you?" he asked her softly. Deanna looked down at the ring. She was quiet while she studied it, but when her dark eyes lifted, she nodded slowly. Riker drew a gratifying breath. Taking her hand, he slipped the precious circlet reverently onto her finger. It was a perfect fit. Deanna's elation filled him. When she removed the other band from its box, her fingers were trembling, but she managed to complete the exchange. "I think I understand now why they're called 'The Holy Rings'," Riker drew his face toward her neck. "I think," she sighed when his mouth moved higher and claimed her kiss, "I'm starting," her attention moved to the fastening of his flight jacket, "to understand as well..." Helping Deanna with her own uniform, Riker admired the way the glowing atmosphere poured an aura of shimmering radiance across her features. Right here in this moment -- in this place that was all their own and infinitely perfect -- she truly was an angel. His very own, half-Betazoid guardian angel. A gift that he could never repay the Universe for. Filling his heart with the preeminence of her love, he examined her in awe, "I've never been much of a fatalist, but right in this moment, everything makes sense." "'RaBeem'?" Deanna played their private game through a halo of joyful teardrops. "'RaBeem'," he smiled. "So, was I right?" she straddled his lap and took his face between her hands, "is this where you were taking us?" "Maybe," Riker tipped his head and kissed her playfully. "Looks to me like we have thirty-seven minutes to find out." "Thirty-four minutes," Deanna amended. "Give or take the rest of our lives..." Cradled in his powerful embrace, she let her body tilt backward and she sighed, "make love to me, 'Imzadi'..." A torrent of shared fulfillment flowed like water through Riker's spirit. He lifted a hand, brushing the back of his fingertips lightly across her cheek, and he whispered, "with all my heart." Capturing his hand Deanna held it to her heart. Her eyes filled with starlight, and together they drifted slowly to the floor. "They loved each other, not driven by necessity, by the 'Blaze of passion' often falsely ascribed to love. They loved each other because everything around them willed it. The trees, and the clouds, and the sky over their heads and the earth under their feet." *Boris Pasternak, Doctor Zhivago With sincere thanks to the fans of "Imzadi", for indulging me in the writing of what was entirely a romance novel, borrowing our beloved Star Trek characters and canon... |