With a Starfleet-issue satchel over one shoulder and his uniform jacket across the other arm, Commander William Riker decided that he must have looked as weary as he felt.

Five months of his life he'd spent on a rolling rattle-box of a ship, trapped on the edge of the Romulan neutral zone and under deep cover while they gathered vital intelligence for the Federation back on Earth.

It was a mission he hadn't volunteered for, but one he accepted with grim determination when it was 'suggested' to him that his presence and command experience would greatly expedite the process.

Under most circumstances, it was also the kind of assignment he would have jumped at the chance to take. A change of pace -- even from the galaxy-renowned Enterprise -- and a new adventure for Will-The-Thrill Riker. Everything he'd ever wanted out of a Starfleet career -- until the past several years had turned a dare-devil young Commander into a seasoned veteran of battle. And a man who knew that life's most precious gift was coming home at night.

Who knew? He chuckled to himself, amused at the errant thought while he walked around the corner of Deep Space Seven's "Delta Gate" and straight into the arms of an overjoyed Betazoid.

"Deanna?" he croaked through clenched teeth when her grip around his throat cut off most of the oxygen en-route to his brain.

"Will!" she finally released him, catching the edge of his uniform jacket when it fell from his arm. She peeled it from his grasp and beamed, "You're back!"

Riker cocked his head and grinned at her uncensored enthusiasm. The truth was, he had to admit he felt the same way; albeit he hadn't the energy to show it.

"I missed you..." Deanna squeezed his jacket and gave his tired frame a thorough visual examination before he could move.

"Hey," he leaned forward conspiratorially, waggling both eyebrows, "baby I missed you too but -- this ain't the place."

Expecting of one of her tolerant glares, or even a roll of the eyes, Riker found himself half-startled when all she did was smile. She certainly -had- missed him if she was giving up the opportunity to chide him for a less-than-gentlemanly comment.

He smiled back, considering the notion that maybe he ought to leave the Enterprise on assignments of several months more often...

Standing there only a moment longer, the thought also occurred to him that she was still staring up at him. And that he was staring at her. And ... that he sure as hell had missed those two incredible eyes.

He'd missed her, more than he'd thought it was possible to miss anyone.

With a lazy smile and a twist of his arm, Riker released the satchel on his shoulder and let if fall to the floor beside him. He took one giant step forward and gathered the comparatively tiny Counselor right off her feet, into his arms.

"Imzadi," his whisper was lost in her hair. He took in the smell of it -- of her -- and the way she felt after so many months; finally deciding that it wasn't just great to be home. It was damn incredible.

When Deanna's small hands clasped the back of his neck and he felt her warm lips on his, Riker set her back on her feet -- if only so that his knees wouldn't give way to the hot flood of feeling that poured as liquid between them.

She was one hell of a kisser for such a tiny little thing. But then again, she always had been. With or without the link they shared.

"I knew there was a reason we hit warp ten on the way back," he spoke someplace between her breath and his.

"A good reason," she mumbled, but her eyes stayed closed and she kissed him all over again. Kissed him as though it hadn't been five months since they'd done the very same thing -- it'd been more like five years.

The thought of that almost made him laugh. There were times when she really did know him better than he knew himself. And obviously -- this was one of them.

"So, Counselor, you busy tonight?" he asked her, swallowing her smile against his lips.

"I might be," she laid her head on his chest.

"Really?" he grinned, "Because I was thinking of asking you out on a date, Ms. Troi... Our fourth 'official' date, that I recall," but it was difficult to recall, with her hot, damp kisses on the base of his neck. He shut his eyes and exhaled.

"Are we at four already?" asked Deanna, still teasing him wantonly.

"Officially...," Riker managed to step backward and he smiled when she frowned at his lapse in intimacy. "Unofficially..."

"Oh no you don't, we're only counting officially from now on," she shook her head emphatically.

"Okay then," he shrugged, "it's definitely four."

"Four..." Deanna tipped her head thoughtfully, appearing to ponder, "what happens on a fourth date?"

"Well, I'm not sure," Riker grinned, "but we did have that bubble-bath on our first--"

"That wasn't an official date," Deanna smirked, "so it doesn't count."

"I've been gone for five -months- and you're still counting?" Riker put forth his best 'injured' expression and watched her laugh. "You are a cruel woman..."

"You haven't seen what I have planned for this evening," Deanna winked at him and turned, flipping her hair behind her. Somehow, during the exchange, she'd also scooped his satchel off the floor and now held both the bag and his jacket in her hands.

She was walking away from him, doubtless aware that he would follow. And follow he did, with a silly grin on his face that he couldn't seem to wipe, and an odd buoyancy in his step which belied the fatigue he'd been feeling all the way home -- until now.

-/-

"If that's all then," Captain Jean-Luc Picard surveyed his senior staff, "we will adjourn."

A routine meeting was underway, now that Commander Riker had returned from his off-ship assignment. It was good to have things 'back to normal', as it were, and the routine of the ship had already seemed to fall more easily into place with the other man's return to duty.

Picard sighed softly, his eyes landing on each of his officers in turn -- as he always did at the end of a meeting -- to ensure that there was nothing further to be placed on the table. This time, however, he paused for a flicker of an instant when his scrutiny registered a nuance of significance.

Counselor Troi hadn't taken her eyes off Commander Riker all morning. And sitting at the opposite end of the conference table, Riker was staring right back at her as though she were the only person in the room.

"Dismissed," the Captain nodded and rose from his chair. Though he'd noticed the interplay, it was hardly a matter for discussion, and so he let them all go. But as he made his way from the conference suite, followed closely by Beverly Crusher and Geordi LaForge, Picard was certain he heard Will Riker's voice call quietly...

-/-

"Deanna?" Riker rose from his chair and called after her before she'd turned. The other officers had left the room and when Troi turned in her tracks and looked at him, he quietly exhaled. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Sure," she nodded, moving out of the doorway and back into the chamber.

Crossing from his seat to the opposite end of the table, Riker moved toward her. "I know it's only been a couple days since I got back--" He smiled at her puzzled expression. "but we still have those crew evaluations to take care of."

"We're already a week behind schedule on those," she agreed.

"Yeah, and by the way ... I meant to thank you for waiting. I don't know what I would have done if they'd already been finished when I got back."

Deanna crossed her arms and smirked. "What? And cheat you out of all that fun? I don't think so."

"So as I was saying," he scowled insincerely. "I know we've got a few evenings of catch-up to do, but I was thinking..."

"Yes?"

"...We might have our fifth date." He paused, awaiting her response. And he noted that she seemed to be considering a little longer than he'd have liked. He was about to comment on that fact when her head suddenly lifted and a coy smile touched the corners of her lips.

"You want to play hooky?" she asked.

"Well, I suppose that's one way of putting it," he threw her a devilish smile.

"I don't know," Deanna demurred, "we do have a -lot- of work to do."

"Aw, c'mon, Counselor where's your sense of adventure?"

"I lost it," she quipped dryly, "when I turned thirty-five and I realized it was hard to get up in the morning if I stayed up all night long."

"Who said anything about staying up all night long?" he grinned at her, "although if you insist..."

Exhaling her annoyance, Deanna rolled her eyes. "Be serious for a moment, Will. We've put the Captain off once already."

"Okay," he sighed in defeat. "Well, what if we ... combined the two?"

"A date with an evening of crew-evaluations?" she smirked, "My, Commander, you do know how to show a girl a good time."

Suddenly unsatisfied with her glib response, Riker's eyes narrowed. "Deanna," he growled a warning, pulling her body toward his until she landed with both hands against his chest, "tell me you aren't interested..."

"I am interested," she whispered, focusing her attention on an errant thread at the edge of his lapel. She lifted her eyes and smiled when she met his dark expression. "But we've got far too much to accomplish, and tonight ... is not the best night to play."

"I guess not," Riker sighed loudly. "Duty, honor," he rattled off the first two standards of the Starfleet Officer's coda.

"Sacrifice." Deanna finished for him, appending an elfin smile.

"Wanna go AWOL?" he grinned.

"Oh can we?" she pleaded, "Lets steal a shuttle craft and set up a vegetarian restaurant on Qo'nos."

-/-

It was late evening when Riker placed the last of his finishing 'touches' on the dinner table in his quarters. It wasn't elaborate or fancy by any means. He hadn't lit any candles or replicated the most expensive champagne. And he was dressed in a casual outfit, which he knew would be mirrored, in some way, by Deanna's own choice of attire.

They never dressed up for crew evaluations. It was a time most often spent during the latter hours of evening and often into night. It existed outside of regular duty hours because -- quite frankly -- there simply weren't enough hours in the day to complete the task and tend to their other responsibilities.

Which wasn't to say they hadn't tried to make the best of the situation.

Year after year, they met in either his quarters or hers. Shared a modest dinner and then bent to the task of sorting through nine hundred officer evaluations.

It was a task that had the potential to stretch on interminably. But somehow, through the ambiance of a casual series of evenings and a great deal of laughter, they were always able to finish on time.

This year, of course, would be an exception. But only because he'd been gone these past few months, tending to another assignment. And realizing just how much he wished he'd been back here -- doing just this sort of thing -- with her.

The thing of it was, that ever since the Briar Patch, they'd gotten a lot closer. In more ways than he was able to analyze. It wasn't only the physical part -- which was amazing, he had to admit -- it was more that things in general were different. And now that he'd spent the past few months away from the Enterprise, he'd finally come to realize that...

"Will," he heard Deanna's voice from around the corner of his living-room. Without question, she had let herself in with the access code she knew by heart. And she was happy. He could feel it. Another thing he'd realized of late...

"I thought I'd come by a little early and bring the--" Deanna trailed off when she entered the room and stopped in the doorway. "Whatever you're making smells *wonderful*," her hand caught the edge of the doorframe and she glanced behind him at the replicator.

"It's just another good old fashioned Earth dish," he shrugged, "nothing fancy."

"Well I'm starving!" she grinned, "and your nothing fancy is usually better than anyone else's whole evening at a replicator."

Riker smiled. He had to admit, he'd always enjoyed hearing about it when people appreciated his cooking. It was probably the most domestic habit he had, but he took a great deal of pride in what he could accomplish.

"I should apologize though," he tried not to grin, "I was all out of vegetarian g'agh."

"Good," Deanna wrinkled her nose distastefully. "I keep meaning to cut back on that..."

Riker laughed. He stared at her for an instant and then shook his head slowly, "God, I love you."

Deanna's eyes widened and she stared back at him, utterly silent. Her gesture plunged the whole room into silence. But it was ultimately he who broke the quiet.

"What?" he cocked his head expectantly, "did I grow a third eye?"

"No," she shrugged, "it's not that, it's just... you haven't said that to me. Not for a very long time."

And she was right, he realized belatedly, he hadn't; hadn't said anything like that to her -- and meant it in the way that he just had. Not for years. Not since...

"I'm sorry," he exhaled shortly and felt yet another emotion which had been foreign to him for a very long time. Uncertainty. Defenselessness. He looked away self-consciously, hoping to clear his head.

"No," Deanna came forward and placed her hand gently against his arm, "don't be." Her eyes traveled upward until she met his gaze directly. "Please don't be."

"Deanna," Riker took her wandering hand in his and turned to face her, suddenly serious. "There were a couple of times out there, that I almost didn't make it back."

She nodded slowly, "I know that."

He didn't think to ask her how, or to dispute her claim. Because the truth was that he knew it wasn't false. That she had known, because he had as well.

"And do you also know what happened to 'duty, honor and sacrifice' when that happened? Do you know what I was thinking about -instead- of those things?" He balled his other hand into a fist and looked to the floor, almost too quickly to notice her nod again.

She gathered him quietly into her arms and held his head against her own. "I know," she whispered. "And maybe I'm the one who should be sorry..."

"You can't be," Riker pulled away from her with purpose. "Don't you see? If I'm sorry and you're sorry, then it means that none of it's supposed to happen." He threaded their fingers, "and it is. I know that it is."

"It doesn't have to," she argued far too reasonably for his liking.

"Deanna, I *love* you," he shot back, "does that even matter?"

"So you love me," she finally answered for him, walking slowly around his body and out into the room. He followed her pacing with his eyes.

"I do," he acknowledged, "and you--"

"I feel what you feel." Deanna stated simply, turning where she stood.

He smiled at her, "it's more than that."

"It's really not."

"You feel what -we- feel," he corrected her, watching her expression shift toward casual disbelief. "You see, I get it now, Deanna. I get it and it can't ever be the way it was again."

"Will--"

"I love you, Imzadi," he smiled this time, feeling gratified in her dissipating sense of disbelief. It didn't matter anymore, because this time ... "I know. I know what it means now. That when it comes to us, it means you love me too."

"It's bigger than we are," again she argued, again he shook his head.

"It's not bigger than we are, Deanna, it -is- who we are." Carefully bridging the gap between them, Riker stopped a breath away from her. "Stop making excuses for me. Stop pretending. Stop pushing it away, we made a choice!" He caught and held her expression, daring her to defy his words as much as begging her not to. "When we got back from that Briar Patch, we chose a new path. And it was right."

"No!" She screamed at him, and he was taken aback by the vehemence of her imperative. "No it wasn't 'right' Will. You left again, for months." Deanna turned away, shaking free of his nearness. "You took off the first chance you had..."

"I had to!"

"For your career?" she shot back.

"Goddamn it, Deanna!"

"You were gone for five -months-! You said yourself it might have been longer, you didn't know for sure. You almost didn't make it back!"

"I left because I had to!" Will caught her look of abject disbelief, but forged ahead. "Because Worf pulled me aside on that Ba'Ku planet and do you know what he said to me? He said my feelings about you hadn't changed since the day he met me. He said that that 'place' ... just let them out for -- how did he put it? -- a little fresh air." When she continued to look back at him without comprehension, he strode toward her and seized both her hands. "Deanna, a -Klingon- saw something in my relationship with you, which I had analyzed for -years- and never understood. He made me realize--"

"You needed to test it??" The anger in her voice rose more than a notch.

"I needed to see if it was more than that 'fresh air'. I thought it was. I thought I knew but..."

"You weren't sure." she met his look head on. "Again."

"I had to go," he argued, sounding a hell of a lot more dejected than he'd meant to when he opened his mouth.

"You took the easy way out."

"It wasn't a way out. I'm back here, aren't I?"

Deanna stared at him for a moment. She stared at him and then she shook her head. "I don't know. I don't know where you are sometimes."

"Well you should," he threw back at her vehemently, "you should know, because wherever else I've ever ended up 'geographically', the rest of me has always, -always- been right here. With you." He paused to gather his thoughts and his breath, "and that's what I realized out there. Among other things. That 'where' I was didn't matter. And if you were so god-damned 'spiritually enlightened' the way you've always claimed to be, you'd have known that too!"

Riker hadn't meant to sound quite so harsh when he'd started. He'd simply meant to explain. But by the time he was done, the words were spoken, and Deanna was looking back at him in wide-eyed astonishment -- not only at his tone.

"I'm not perfect," he finally whispered, "I never will be. And if what I am isn't enough for you," he paused and let his gaze fall from hers before he raised it again. "Then maybe there isn't anything left to say."

He saw the color drain from her features; watched her -- for the first time in his waking memory -- look just as though she'd seen a ghost. And then the tears she held at bay so long began to fall.

Deanna moved tentatively toward him and then stopped. He saw the rise and fall of her throat and the way she reached for him, then clenched her fingers back into a ball.

"Will," she whispered. "I'm so sorry. I never wanted you to be perfect..."

"Didn't you?" he asked her directly, still frozen from the dagger in his heart. "Because I've loved you so many times, in so many ways Deanna, I think -- I pretty sure that I could even love you if I knew you didn't love me. Or that you did love me, but only as a friend."

"Is that what you want?" she dropped her hand, but kept her eyes at level with him.

"No, it's not what I -want-!" Riker shook his head in disbelief, "I'm crazy about you!" He almost laughed when he saw her uncertainty. "I can't believe I'm even having this conversation with an empath."

"Well believe it," Deanna widened the gap between them. "Because I'm not perfect either."

"And I don't want you to be," he closed his eyes and quietly exhaled. "We're just two people, Deanna. Two people with crazy mixed up lives and damn unpredictable careers ... and I don't want to change any of that. It's okay to be scared."

She looked back at him in silence; eyes large and dark -- filled with something more powerful than anything he'd ever seen in her before. It compelled him to continue.

"Deanna, I'm scared too."

Neither of them spoke after that. The room was dim, the table set for dinner. The antique wall-clock near the replicator tapped out every second like an hour. But there was nothing to say.

"Then what -do- you want, Will Riker?" she made the first sound. Holding her arms across her chest protectively, Deanna tipped her head and shrugged expectantly.

He looked back at her, and he couldn't believe his ears. How could she not know? How could she be asking him? Not only because she was an empath, but because... "Deanna, you know me. You know me better than anyone. What do you think I want?"

"I think I want to hear your answer!" Deanna rounded on him, shifting her position. She placed her hands on her hips. "And maybe some day you'll get around to providing it."

"I want you, Deanna." Riker's shoulders rose and fell simply. He shook his head in amazement, "Why can't you see that? I want to marry you."

"Marry me?" She almost laughed, "Will, we've seen one another all of four times 'officially' in the past six months! Five months ago, we were only just beginning to re-explore that aspect of our lives together, before you -left-" her admonishment came seriously, but he was certain he could feel that she was more than a little excited with what he'd said. "We can't just 'jump' from moment to moment. It wouldn't make sense."

"To hell with sense!" Riker moved before he thought. He took the ground between them in two easy strides and pulled her forward into his arms. "You asked me what I want and I'm telling you. I want to wake up every morning next to ... an imperfect empath."

Deanna stared at him for a moment. Her apparent consideration lasted nearly half a minute before she placed her hand against his chest and carefully began to extricate her body from his arms.

"I don't think so," Riker caught her hand in his. He took more of her against his body and held onto her unflinchingly when she began to resist. "If that isn't enough--"

"It isn't enough!" Deanna confirmed loudly, pulling from his grasp when he released his hold on her.

"Then what are we doing here?" Riker let his arms fall back to his sides. He gestured inadequetly at the laden table and the comfortable ambiance of his quarters.

Troi looked away for a moment. She said nothing for a time, and neither did he. But then her body turned and she regarded him anew. "Crew evaluations, I thought." and her abrupt change in subject startled them both.

Riker exhaled a short laugh. Shoving both of his hands into his pockets simultaneously, he managed to shrug.

"Right," he nodded slowly, "Well, I guess we can skip dinner then." He saw Deanna's eyes divert to the table and then return to his expression. "Take whatever you want and we'll sit over there." When she hadn't moved, he indicated the dish near the replicator. "Like I said, it's just something small anyway."

Walking slowly toward the covered plate, Deanna seemed to take the moment as a welcome reprieve, and in a way he couldn't blame her. He knew she'd needed to cleanse her sense of things and clear her head from the argument. Hell, he needed those things too.

She stood before the replicator for nearly a minute before she lifted the dish, but Riker had already gone toward the couch and sat down amidst the data PADDs.

"Will--" Deanna turned where she stood.

He didn't bother looking up.

"Will--" she repeated herself, but her voice was just as quiet. And it was that, perhaps more than anything else, which caused him to glance her way.

"I need your promise on one more thing," her dark eyes shone in the artificial light of the cabin, "before I'll agree to marry you."

Riker waited in silence, watching expectantly while she drew herself up her full height. There was nothing left in him to say.

"This isn't a condition or a concession, even," Deanna went on, "I don't want you to think that. I... I love what you are."

He looked away first, glancing down at the floor and then at the PADDs on the smaller coffee table in front of him. Deanna walked slowly toward him, setting the dish down on the table next to the others. She arrived at the couch and stood over it for only a moment. Then she sat down next to him, folding her hands in her lap.

"But I want you to promise me," her hand slid up along his shoulder and behind his neck, where she somehow managed to lace her fingers; somehow managed to trap him within her arms and under the fathomless depth of her eyes, black as midnight. Her breath was warm against his lips, "Promise me that the next time thee are long-term travel arrangements to be made, we'll make them together."

Her mandate hung quietly in the air between them. He felt it, and weighed it, and suddenly realized that...

"Deanna," he whispered, feeling her breath as a warm caress on his lips. "I'm not asking you to marry me." Her eyes widened slightly before he continued, "right now."

Her look transformed into one he was painfully familiar with, and so he reached up, trapping one of her hands at his neck.

"I -will- ask you," he felt himself smile, and then added, "or you'll ask me. Someday. Maybe soon." Dragging her slender fingers into his hand, he held them and closed her palm. "It's what I want. It's what I hope for, someday... and when it happens, it'll be on a night where ... the stars are out just for us."

Deanna made a sound of tolerant disbelief and rolled her eyes, but Riker simply smiled.

"And who knows, maybe I'll surprise you. On our fifth date," he grinned when she scowled affectionately, poking him lightly in the ribs. "Or our sixth, or ... " Riker's fingers threaded with hers and he captured her attention, "whenever I can't wait another minute to admit that I'm -not- an empath -- and to ask you if you feel the same way about me..."

Deanna looked away in frustration, brushing with her free hand at an errant drop of moisture which escaped her careful control.

"I suppose," she spoke so quietly he barely heard her, "If I can handle crew-evaluations with you, then marriage has got to be a piece of cake."

"Ouch." Riker caught his hand against this edge of her face, lifting a dark wisp of hair away from it. "I promise to be less stubborn about the marriage part," he smiled at the look in her eyes.

"No you don't," Deanna leaned suddenly forward. Linking her hands behind his head, she kissed him with a sense of needful passion he hadn't felt from her in a very long time. For nearly a minute, Riker lost focus with everything else.

When they separated, he heard himself whisper, "No, I don't."

"Good," she kissed him again, and the whole room swam wildly out of touch with reality. This was -their- reality. What it was to be with her. With everything they were together.

"Then you'll marry me?" he asked playfully.

"Speaking of crew-evaluations..." Deanna began to slowly pull away from their embrace.

Riker looked to her and grinned when the edges of her lips turned up into a mischievous smile.

"I was thinking," she bit her lip demurely.

"You were thinking?" he prompted.

Slipping casually within the proximity of his larger frame, Deanna drew her small hands around him, holding their bodies together. She laid her head against his chest and murmured, "we should definitely play hooky tonight..."

Riker touched the back of her hair with his hand. He shifted their positions, lifting her easily into his lap, and then looked down at her, while she stared up at him.

There was a moment of communicative silence, after which she whispered his name and kissed him again, in a way that made him weak with want of her.

It seemed barely a coincidence that when the silence finally broke: they spoke the same word together. It was their answer. The only answer. And the word, of course, was...

"Definitely."

[END]