A short piece, spun from an exercise for the longer story I've been working on.  I wrote this tonight and thought I'd share.  Spelling and grammar might not be up to par.


"Double Entendre"
By:  QDestinyy@aol.com

Rated R for ADULT LANGUAGE and situations.


Looking out on a throng of familiar faces, Will Riker drew on the slide of a well-worn trombone.   He felt humbled.  Anxious.  Energized.  And a little afraid.  But not unpleasantly so.

He recalled his first music teacher.  A stern, but exquisitely gifted old man, who staring down through the wire-frames of his antique spectacles, had confidently informed a terrified seven-year old boy that his fear was well warranted.  Not simply warranted ... it was necessary.  And that any performer who didn't experience at least a modicum of stage fright, would never capture the reward of a truly inspired performance.

'Be afraid, William!' the old man demanded, 'and let that fear compel you through your first motion.  Demand of it nothing less!  Your technique and your talent will carry you through the rest.'

And so it had. 

Though Riker was never to become the famous musician he'd once dreamed of.  He kept up with his playing.  And he was considered gifted, if not exceptional.  He'd always known that choosing Starfleet meant he'd end up leaving other things behind.

Curling and releasing his fingers, Riker scanned the intimate gathering and found the pair of eyes that he'd been searching for.  He quietly exhaled.

Deanna was here tonight.  She'd come despite their agreement, and he was both relieved and apprehensive at the same time.  But the magnificent reality of live performance was that, regardless of personal disarray, the 'show' would always take precedence.  All else could melt away until its end.

Riker would be on stage for three sets.  

Lifting his instrument, he saw Deanna share something humorous with Beverly Crusher.  He watched her eyes; shining with amusement, and though he couldn't hear her laughter through the hum of conversation, he knew that it was there.  It was good to see her smile again.

She hadn't smiled a great deal in the past few days.

The other band-members began.  Riker limbered his arm and drew a deep breath.  Cool metal pressed against his lips...

Deanna's eyes found his.  She stood with her back to the bar, a drink in her hand while she toyed with the stem of the glass.  And God, she was beautiful.  She had always been beautiful.

Watching her, watching him, Riker carried one song into the next.  He flew through the first set, and entered the second.  He was aware of the Captain and the Doctor; the Chief Engineer, the Klingon Security Head and the ship's Second Officer.  He saw all of them from where he stood, but his interest ... lay solely with Her.

She knew as much.  She had to have known.  Deanna looked away a few times.  She traded a smile with Crusher and shared a laugh with LaForge.  There were times when she was even caught in conversation, light as it was.  But her attention ... was never gone for very long.

Until HE arrived.

Jarrod Korell.  With his tall, blonde persona and his striking green eyes.  He was distracting for all the women in Ten Forward, but he only had eyes for Troi.

Of course.   Riker quelled the rush of jealous rage in his veins.  Deanna was as beautiful and exotic as Korell was.  They seemed the perfect match...

Rolling the last of the third set from his lips, Riker lowered the warm instrument in his hands and accepted his applause with gracious warmth. 

His eyes strayed out to the intimate crowd and he nodded at Beverly's cheer; at the Captain's appreciative smile, and at Geordi's raised glass.

But Deanna wasn't looking his way anymore.  She was smiling, laughing, caught beneath the arm of the dashing Korell. 

Her eyes shone when she turned to Beverly and shared whatever it was that lit her features.  Her ebony hair tumbled as a fall of wayward curls across her shoulders.  And Riker forced his next exhale while he stepped down from the stage.

Jarrod Korell was a civilian trade negotiator.  One of many the Enterprise had ferried back and forth throughout the years.  But Riker didn't trust the man.  He didn't like him; and he knew that it was more than just the carefree way he'd draped his arm around Deanna Troi.  Or the way she smiled in return.

Stowing his scowl, Riker's eyes met with Picard's and the older man nodded slightly.  He knew; he had to have known that Deanna's association with Korell -- now nearly two weeks -- had long been draining his First Officer's resolve.  But he said nothing.  As Jean-Luc Picard was wont to do.  He never spoke of what he knew.  It wouldn't have been seemly.

Traversing the bodies of the crowded lounge, Riker met with Doctor Crusher first.  She grinned and hugged him, whispering in his ear that this was the best she'd ever seen him play.  And if the circumstances hadn't been what they were ... Riker might have agreed.

As it was he smiled.  He accepted her hand and squeezed it.  But he never took his eyes off Troi. 

Korell looked his way and offered a tight smile.  Riker knew he was aware that there had once been 'something' between the ship's Counselor and it's Executive Officer.  Doubtless he was aware of what Deanna had already told him, and then there was the obvious gossip; that there was some sort of 'past', and that they'd only recently re-separated after a brief but torrid affair in the Briar Patch. 

The other man had beamed on board no more than two weeks after the Enterprise had left that patch of space.  And finding Troi 'available', he'd wasted little time.

Riker supposed he couldn't truly fault Korell for that.  It fit in with his modus operandi.  What little of it had been discernable from public and Starfleet records, at least.  He was more prolific with women than he was successful in negotiation.  But he didn't seem to lack for work either.

"Commander," Jarrod offered a polite nod, "you play remarkably well," he smiled, "are you sure you haven't missed your true calling?"

Though Riker returned his glance, he said nothing at all.  That, in and of itself was rather unlike him.  But it felt good, Riker had to admit, it felt damn good, to give in to his anger -- at least in some small part.  His eyes, instead, found Troi's.

"You decided to come?" he asked her pointedly.

Ignoring his barb, Deanna shrugged loosely, "As it turns out, I had nothing better to do."

With an obvious glance at Jarrod, Riker smirked, "I can see that."

Her dark eyes narrowed.  Even Jarrod seemed taken aback by the unguarded affront.  He opened his mouth, but Riker rounded on him.

"I would suggest, MISTER Korell," he growled, "that you don't bother to speak, if you can't improve the silence."

Korell's mouth snapped shut and then opened again.  "I beg your pardon?"

Riker ignored him.  Turning to Troi, he snapped, "Deanna, this was a private performance.  As I recall, I sent out invitations.  If you want to waste your time, fucking this asshole..." he gestured to Jarrod while the Counselor's eyes widened, "...then that's your business, but I would prefer not to have to stare at your trash while I play."

Deanna slapped him. 

Hard. 

It was the first and only instance in the time Riker had known her that she had ever resorted to a physical gesture of anger, and he was more than taken aback. 

With his fingers lightly pressed against the edge of his face; where he could still feel the impact of her ire, Riker caught her frigid stare.

"Commander!" a flabbergasted Captain Picard intervened, stepping in front of Will, "that is quite enough!  Jarrod Korell is a guest on this ship and you will treat him with the appropriate respect!"

For a brief moment, Riker locked eyes with his superior officer.  They stared at one another in livid silence, until Riker finally turned.  "If you'll all excuse me," he muttered, "I'll be retiring for the evening."

Without a backward glance or even an apology, Riker strode from the room, holding his breath until the doors to Ten-Forward hissed shut behind him.

Riker spent nearly an hour wandering the corridors of the Enterprise.   He paced the hallway in front of the arboretum like a caged animal, and then strode onto the turbo-lift, calling deck nine.

Fifty-three minutes, he noted the chrono, and as the doors slid open, he made his way to his quarters and stepped inside.  Without ceremony, he snapped the Starfleet communicator pin from his vest and dropped it onto a chair, staring down at it impassively.

Then his eyes were on the door. 

He frowned.  "Computer, privacy, my quarters, for the remainder of this evening."

<Acknowledged,> the dulcet voice replied.

Riker looked back at the door.  Then without another moment, he marched toward it and through it, turning left in the hall.

He stopped one doorway later and faced the closed panel, glancing at his chrono a final time.  

Fifty-eight minutes. 

Entering an access code as familiar to him as his own, Will breathed a silent prayer that Deanna wouldn't take his blood for this -- on top of everything else.  But the door slid quietly aside, and it was dark within.  He took a long breath, feeling a tangible sense of relief wash over him. 

It was short lived.

"Will?" a sharp voice called out from the darkness, "what the hell are you doing here?"

"Deanna," his eyes scanned her quarters, first left and then right.

"He's not here," she droned, walking slowly toward him with her hands on her hips.  "And neither should you be."

Pausing where she stood, Deanna's onyx eyes locked onto his immutable expression.  For a long moment, they held that way.  Neither moved, neither spoke. 

"Will?" she asked again when he hadn't responded.

Taking one step toward him, and then another, Deanna reached him in a matter of seconds.  She looked him over, long and hard, and though he hadn't moved an inch, she launched herself into his arms, hugging him desperately. 

"Will," her soft gasp was lost to his chest while both her arms wound around his neck.

Riker shut his eyes and drew her closer.  "Are you all right?" he whispered, almost fearful of the answer.  But he could feel her nod against his chest.

"I'm fine," Deanna lifted her head and reached up with one hand to trace the edge of his face.  "Are you?" she asked, "I'm so sorry--"

Capturing her fingers, he brought them to his lips.  "It's not important.  I thought you were brilliant," he smiled, unable to feel anything but irrational giddiness at her presence in his arms after so many days.  "Do you think he bought it?"

Deanna exhaled, nodding slowly.  "Yes."

"Deanna, the thought of him ... touching you ... it makes me..."

"Shh," Troi pressed her fingers to his lips, "I'm a big girl, Will.   I can take care of myself."

"That isn't the point."

"I'm okay," she smiled at him, "you know ... there's a part of me that loves that you're jealous; that you care enough to be this angry, even though we're both following orders," sighing softly, Deanna traced the outline of his lips with her fingertip.  "I never thought I'd see the day."

"Deanna," Riker shook his head, "This isn't funny.  I've been reading up on him.  I know what he's capable of.  What he does to people when he doesn't get what he wants--"

"Will, we only have a few more days.  Just two or three and then I feel that he'll give me what we need, he's started to trust me.  To believe that I'm not entirely happy here.  I know it can work."

He took her hand, lifting it from his lips and curling his fingers around hers.  "No matter what happens, I won't allow this to be dangerous for you.  There's a point where it could go too far," his darkening eyes flashed.

"I promise you," Deanna was adamant, "I'll never let it get there.  He may put his arm around me, I may even allow him to kiss me now and then,"

"Deanna--"

"But beyond that, there will be nothing.  There HAS been nothing.  Will," reclaiming her hand, she placed it back at her side.  "I have orders from Captain Picard, the same as you."

"With all due respect to Captain Picard," Riker growled, "If Jarrod Korell so much as breathes on you the wrong way, I will personally see to it that he never takes another breath."

Deanna rolled her eyes, "my hero."

"I mean that Deanna," he frowned at her amused expression.

"I know you do," she smiled, stepping back into the circle of his arms.  "But, since you're not even supposed to BE here Commander," her voice was coy as she reached up to caress the edge of his face, "you might as well kiss me before you have to run back to your quarters and we have to pretend that we despise one another again..."

Riker lost himself in her fathomless eyes.  One moment, he was sure of what he wanted to say, and what he'd make her understand.  And the next ... he found he couldn't remember his own name. 

With a frustrated sound, he hooked an arm behind her waist and pulled her toward him; even closer than before. 

"Despise one another?" he looked down at her sultry expression, "I can't even keep my hands off you."  he lost his will entirely and met Deanna's searing, searching kiss with identical fervor.

Touching her, closing his eyes and feeling the warmth of her breath and the press of her lips on his, Riker let go of all reason.  He simply gave up trying. 

Light and sound merged together; Deanna melted against him, her fingers clasped at the back of his neck.  He heard her moan of encouragement as he wound them both in a tighter embrace.

Two weeks had seemed like forever.  And since they'd only just rediscovered one another scarcely a month before that, it made the time they'd spent apart even harder.

Riker thrust Deanna gently against the wall, closing the gap between their bodies and recapturing her mouth before she'd had time to re-assess.  

It wasn't long before he felt the first stirring of her thoughts collide with his, and innocent longing transformed into the heat of undernourished desire.

"Will," her hot whisper was honey against the side of his face, "I can't even remember where we are..."

He shuddered.  His whole body shook with the force of it, and his mouth sealed over the pulse in her neck, suckling gently. 

Deanna gasped.

<Jarrod Korell to Counselor Troi-->

Both of them froze.  Caught in time, they stood a heartbeat apart, chasing reality.

<Korell to Troi, are you there, Deanna?>

Will's chest formed a knot.  His fists clenched at his side and Deanna regarded him longingly, before he found the means to slowly nod.

She tapped the badge on her uniform.  "Troi here.  Hello, Jarrod."

<Deanna,> the other man's buttery voice came back, <I realize we said goodnight, but I was wondering if I might see you again.  For just a little while, in my quarters?  I have something I'd like to share...>

"Yeah, I'll bet he does," Riker muttered, acknowledging Deanna's gesture of silence with only an angry exhale.

"It is a little late, Jarrod," she stalled, and Riker could tell she was doing so only to sound as though she weren't eager to discover what he might be willing to say, "I wasn't planning on going out--"

<I promise you,> Korell's smile was evident, even over the COMM.  <I'll make it worth your while.>

Deanna paused for a brief moment, her eyes met Will's and he wouldn't look away.  "All right," she finally answered, "I'll be there in ten minutes."

<Wonderful.  Thank you.>

The COMM fell silent, and Troi looked down at her hands.  "There's no reason I should be feeling guilty about this," she muttered sullenly.

"No," Riker managed a breath and stepped toward her.  He took her hands in his.  "I don't know what's wrong with me.  I just can't stand him.  And I don't like knowing that you're with him.  This isn't the officer in me, Deanna, it's--"

"Only a couple more days," she reminded them both.  When she glanced up at him, Deanna squeezed his hands.  "We need to finish this, Will, we need to have proof or he continues unchecked.  If it's any consolation to you, he's not my favorite person, either."

"Really?"  he smiled back at her, feeling a measure of his good-humor returning, "and just who IS your favorite person?"

Deanna grimaced.  "Will Riker, your ego is larger than is conceivably possible on so small a starship."

"So it IS me then," he grinned his satisfaction, capturing her by the waist just as she turned away. 

Though she ceased her futile struggle, Deanna regarded him coolly.

He laughed.  Reaching forward, he caught her next escape attempt and thwarted it, kissing her deeply instead.   He kissed her until her body slowly melted into his; until her arms lifted from her sides and caught his shoulders for stability.  He kissed her until they were both breathless and disoriented. 

And then he let her go.  Pausing in her doorway, he waited for it to open and then looked back over his shoulder, captivated by her fond expression.

"Deanna, when we were together the last time on Betazed, you told me that you wished I was a little more open about expressing the way I feel," he sighed, watching her from the corridor.  "I know I wasn't always very good at that sort of thing.  But I want you to know ... I should have told you then, every day."  Taking a shallow breath, Riker slowly exhaled.  "I love you," he whispered simply.

Deanna's dark eyes widened, her mouth fell open; she exhaled a quick breath of air ... before the doorway slid mechanically shut between them.

'Well,' Riker mused, staring at the artificial barrier.  She'd need a little time to think about that, anyway.   He made his way back to his quarters and stepped inside.

"Computer," Riker called to the quiet enclosure of his suite, "list all recent requests for my location within the last hour."

<There have been two requests for your location within the previous sixty minutes.>

"By whom?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.

<Both requests were filed by Jarrod Korell.>

Glancing at the communicator he'd dropped on his chair, Riker shook his head. "Nice try, Korell," he lifted the pin and examined it thoughtfully, "but I don't think you're going to be spending any time alone with Deanna tonight, after all..."

-o-

"Computer, mute audio."

Jarrod Korell stood tall above the communications console in his quarters, but when he turned, he fixed his eyes on Troi. 

"My darling," he smiled, "I wonder ... if you might lend me some advice.  Something I've been wondering about..."

"Of course," Deanna smiled, "what sort?"

"The man you just heard on this recording.  Do you believe ... he was sincere?"

"Are you asking me whether he was lying or not?"

"In a way," Korell walked slowly toward her, placing his hand on her arm, "I'd like to know whether you think he would be easily swayed, if I were to enter into negotiations with his people on behalf of the Cressidans."

"You want to know whether you could trick him."

Jarrod smiled, "I wouldn't put it that way," he leaned forward to kiss her, but she demurred.

"Jarrod," Deanna shook her head, "you know that I can't use my empathy to aid in your negotiations.  We've already established that, and believe me you're not the first to have inquired." 

"Oh, come Deanna.  I'd never use what you told me to HARM anyone, merely to achieve a somewhat greater bargaining position in the long term.  Who would be aversely affected?"

"The Kammora for one.  You'd be bringing the Cressidans an unfair advantage."

"Really?  What if I WERE Betazoid?"

"You're not."

"Yes, but it's entirely possible that I might have been."

"I highly doubt that, Jarrod," Deanna frowned, disappointed that he'd called her here not to confide in her of a previous escapade, but to ask for her help with a brand new underhanded dealing.  Although a part of her knew that she would face this moment eventually.

"Deanna," he leaned in closer once again, whispering against her ear, "you do realize how much it would mean to me.  How much I could make it mean ... for you."

"Mean for me?"

"You're a woman, Deanna.  Lets drop this 'Starfleet' pretense.  You have needs, desires, not all of which are physical.  Material, for instance?  I know you're not happy on board this ship.  I think you would find the Cressidans to be very, very generous employers.  As generous perhaps, as you would find me ... to be a lover?"

Deanna quelled her impulse to gape.  It was impossible that he had survived this long in his trade and been this stupid... wasn't it?

"I suppose that depends, Jarrod," she smiled seductively, "What do you want from me, specifically?  And... what are you offering?"

-o-


When Riker rounded the corner of the corridor on deck twelve, he was met by an armed security detail and a hall filled with personnel.

Swearing beneath his breath, he launched himself past the first two officers and headed directly for an open doorway.

"Commander," Worf didn't so much step in his path, as he effectively blocked Riker's passage into the suite.  "Doctor Crusher's team is within, we have been ordered to grant them space to assess."

Suppressing his immediate response, Riker composed himself.  "Worf, Deanna's in there," he said, wondering uncharitably -- for the first time since the Klingon had rejoined their crew in the Briar Patch -- when he was going to leave again.

But Worf only nodded.   He nodded!  There was nothing more, and Riker might have decked him for his stoicism. 

"Mister Worf!" he barked, "I am ordering you to step aside!"

"There's no need to shout at Worf, Will," an annoyed voice piped up from behind the much larger body of the Klingon officer.  Riker felt his heart leap solidly into his throat.

"Deanna?"  He didn't notice when Worf stood aside, or even when the Klingon officer proffered him a knowing, and slightly pitying smirk. 

His eyes focused solely on Troi as she walked quietly toward him through a flurry of activity.

"What happened?" he asked, staring after her into the suite, "are you all right?"

"Don't I look all right?" she placed her hands akimbo on her hips, "YOU on the other hand ... you don't look all right at all."

"Where's Korell?"

"In there, he'll also be fine," Deanna chucked a finger backward, "we have what we wanted," she sighed, "but you were right.  He wouldn't take 'no' for an answer."

Riker frowned sharply. 

Bridging the remainder of the gap between them, Deanna pressed her palm against his chest.  "You can call off the war horses, Will.  He never had a chance." 

When he didn't offer further comment, she removed her hand.  "You were about to go charging in there after me, weren't you?"

Looking down at her, Riker saw Deanna's dark eyes fill with silent expression.  The problem was ... she was right. 

"Okay," he nodded, warring with a primitive impulse to examine her inch-by-inch for hidden injury, "so you're all right.  And I'm an idiot."

"You're not an idiot," her voice fell. "A little over-protective, lately, but..."

Will shook his head.  "You're upset," he began "and you have every right to be.  I just, I can't stop this *feeling* that I have whenever you're off somewhere, alone."

"The way you so often are?"

"I'm sorry," he glanced up self-consciously, "I know we've talked about this.  I keep remembering our first mission together on Farpoint station, when you begged me not to go."

"And you were very quick to remind me of my place," Deanna almost smiled.   

"Which is exactly why I feel like such a hypocrite right now.  I understand all of it, Deanna.  Logically, up here," he tapped the side of his head, "It's just-- I can't stop thinking about it.  No matter how many rational reasons I push through my head--" Riker cast a backward glance at the still-open doorway in the corridor.

Without a word, a judgment or a thought, Deanna moved toward him.  She wrapped her small arms around his neck and hugged him close.

They were standing in the middle of the corridor.  There were officers at several of the doorways, each hard to task.  There were even one or two pairs of eyes that turned to watch them when their close proximity became something more. 

But all that Riker could think about was how close this situation had come; how it might have turned out differently.  And how helpless he would have been to stop that from happening.

"Deanna," drawing his arms around her body, he touched a soft fall of her hair and pulled her closer.  "I know I shouldn't be feeling this way--" 

"Lets go somewhere where we can talk?" she asked.

Riker nodded his ascent.  But as they left the corridor and turned into to a nearby passage, his hand came down gently on her arm.  The motion stopped her progress and she glanced back.

"Are you sure you're all right?" he asked her again, pausing at the entrance to a turbo lift door.

"Of course I'm sure.  What's gotten into you?  You're acting as though I might break apart at any moment."

Staring down at his own reflection in her dark, confused eyes, Riker drew in a breath.  "You're going to think its ridiculous," he finally spoke.

"Try me," she said.

"Okay."  Placing his hand on the wall, he shrugged. "From the moment I stepped into that hallway, I've been feeling a very intense sense of impermanence.  I think I came very close to losing you tonight."

Looking down at her, he wondered for a brief moment if she thought it sounded as foolish as he did.  They were officers, both of them.  They'd served together on countless assignments involving a potentially dangerous outcome, and yet here he was all of a sudden, unable to let her out of his sight. 

"Tonight, specifically?"  Deanna asked the question for him, settling back against the same bulkhead he'd already chosen to lean on.  They stood side by side.

"I don't know," he admitted, "maybe it's not just tonight.  Maybe I'm only now beginning to realize it goes beyond a single moment.  I guess it's possible.  And believe me, it's frustrating the hell out of me as well."

"All right," Deanna nodded thoughtfully, staring out at the wall across from them, "lets put this another way.  What do you think it would take to help resolve these feelings, and your frustration?"

"Forever the Counselor," Riker managed a smile, "I don't know the answer to that, Deanna.  I wish I did.  What I do know is that it's been happening on and off again, ever since you and I--"

"Yes," dropping her gaze, Troi sighed, "I think we both knew that resuming a romantic relationship on board the same ship would never be easy.  That's why we guarded against it for so long."

"You're right.  And maybe it used to matter.  But this time is different, Deanna.  I don't want us to stop, just because we're confused," he turned and saw her still leaning against the wall.  "I'm not willing to give you up again."

"Perhaps that isn't your decision to make," lifting her head, Troi met his eyes.  "Perhaps it never was."

"I'm in love with you," he whispered adamantly.

With a short unidentifiable sound, she looked away. 

"No Deanna," Riker moved toward her, "I'm not going to make this easy for you.  I'm not going to pull back so that you can feel justified in remembering why it ended the first time."

Though she turned to him, her eyes were filled with conflict and she said nothing for several eternal instants.   

"You need to give me some space, Will," she finally spoke, offering him a serious look.  "You need to let me do my job, for one thing.  And assuming that ... whatever it is that's happening between us is real ... we will both need to re-establish some semblance of normal again.  Before the Captain begins to notice as well.  Can we do that?"

Riker stared at her.  "I don't know," his shoulders fell.

Deanna nodded.  "Neither do I," she whispered, "and to be honest, it beginning to scare me."

"Deanna," Will quietly exhaled, "you said 'assuming' that whatever it is that's happening between us is real.  I take that to mean you aren't sure."

Soundlessly, Troi glanced at the floor.

"Well then," he spread his hands and shifted to the wall opposite her, "you might as well take all the space you need.  Because I know what I want.  And it isn't to be with someone who isn't sure."

"How can you stand there and say that?"  Deanna snapped,  "all your life you've 'been with' women and never once did it make a difference.  Not once! Now all of a sudden, you need a contract in blood?  You need to be sure?"

With his hand still on the access-panel, Will turned.  "No, Deanna," he spoke so quietly that she might barely have heard him, "I don't need a contract in blood.  And I don't need to figure out if I'm sure, I AM sure.  When it comes to you, this time, THIS RELATIONSHIP, I know exactly what I want.  If that doesn't fit in with who I used to be, or who you thought I was, then ... maybe it's time you took a better look, or redefined your opinion."

"Or maybe not," she muttered, glaring down at her own uniform.  Riker turned and faced the lift doors.  "Will, I once thought that I knew you better than anyone I'd ever known. But then one day, you proved me wrong.  And no matter how much time has passed, the hurt of that day lives with me even now.  During our friendship together on board the Enterprise, I finally began to feel that it was all right to trust you again.  I'd come to understand you even better.  Perhaps because of that friendship, I'd allowed myself to care for you on a level I'd never realized was possible before. I forced myself to leave the past in the past and to know you all over again.  Maturity has allowed us both that luxury, but Will, that also means that I can see what you've become."  Moving slowly from the wall, Deanna placed a hand on the back of his arm, "and I'm so proud of the officer you are now.  Of the man.  I just don't think you really know what you want, yet.  Even now.  I don't think you realize what you need."

"What I NEED, Deanna," he rounded on her suddenly, "is to tell you what I'm feeling and to know that you feel it too; what I WANT, is to look at you again and see the way your eyes once filled with light..." he trailed off, "... you know I used to wish that some day you'd look at me like that again.  I even thought... once we were back together, that it might happen.  But it never did," Riker cast his eyes to the floor.  "So maybe I'm the fool.  Fine.  But at least, this time, I won't spend the next ten years wondering if there was more I could have said."  

The turbo lift slid open, and Riker stepped inside.

"Will," he heard Deanna's voice, but he almost wished the doors would close.  "What about a starship of your own.  A captain's chair.  Your future..."

"What about US?"

"Don't leave like this." 

When she stepped inside the lift with him, Riker forced himself to look away.

"Please," she whispered.  And then he felt his heart fall through his chest when her eyes filled with tears.  "Please don't be hurt."

As the doorway shut, Riker caught her in his arms.  He drew her head beneath his chin and held her.  "Deanna," his voice broke, "what I feel for you is real.  I know it is.  I don't need to analyze it or, rationalize it.  I just know.  And, for the first time in my life, all I want to do is to give into it," he shrugged loosely, feeling her small hands shift against his chest, "I want to be with you.  Why can't you let yourself love me?"

"Because you're going to leave," she sighed sadly, "You're going to follow your career.  Sooner or later, you're going to go.  And when that happens, if I love you even a quarter of the measure that might happen if I give into this, then I know that I will never be strong enough to live through your absence again."

"I'm not going anywhere--" he argued, tracing the small of her back. 

"You will."  Taking a breath, Troi pulled from his embrace and composed herself.  She spoke with such monotone certainty that for a moment, even Riker believed it was true.

"Tried and convicted," he shook his head.  "Don't I at least deserve a fair hearing?"

"I know that you love me," Deanna smiled, but the traces of her earlier teardrops seemed only to make the gesture tragic.  "But Will, even I can feel that you know what I'm saying is true."

"That is NOT what I'm feeling," he separated from her, "You may be an empath, Counselor, but you're totally off base with this one." 

"Am I?" Deanna sounded oddly tranquil.

Angrier than he should have been, Riker bit back his next remark and drew in a breath.  "I would move an entire planet for you.  To be with you," his darkening eyes found hers.

"And what if you couldn't?" asked Deanna.

"That's not an option."  He held her gaze.

"Planets don't move, Will.  Not by the hands of mortal men."

"On this ship?"  Riker recalled, "anything's possible.  Or don't you remember your own words, Deanna?"

"I remember," she shook her head, "--that I wasn't entirely rational at the time."

"So what?  Love isn't rational.  No one ever said it was supposed to be!" 

Deanna stared at him in silence.

Riker exhaled a bitter laugh.  "It doesn't matter anyway, does it?  Nothing I say; nothing I could possibly say would matter.  This isn't about what I feel.  It's about you.  And the fact that, whatever the reason, you don't feel the same way about me that I feel about you."

"You have no idea what I feel," Deanna's voice was low. 

"That's right," growled Riker, "because of the two of us lately, YOU'RE the one who deserves the failing grade on her communication, Deanna.  You may be an empath, but I don't have the luxury of slipping in and out of people's heads and discovering just exactly what's going on.  And whatever little I used to be able to feel from you, you've totally cut off--"

Her eyes widened.  "You knew about--"

"No," he snapped bitterly, "I didn't feel a damn thing when my 'Imzadi' shut me out of her heart.  Less than a week after we'd started making love again.  I didn't even notice."

Deanna shook her head and moved toward him, "I didn't realize that you would feel--"

"I'm in love with you!" he threw his hands up, "'Imzadi' means beloved, you told me.  It means forever.  You once expected me to feel it, no matter who else we were married to.  Deanna, you and I were bonded before either one of us ever knew we were even alive, how the hell was I supposed to feel when you just ... shut it off in the dark one night?"

"Will--"

"No," Riker snapped, rounding on her, "No, Deanna."

Deanna cut him off.  With a final step she took his face between her hands and pulled him down toward her, kissing him passionately.

For an instant, Riker was completely surprised.  Of all the possible responses he'd imagined from her, this had never been one. 

But while her soft lips moved slowly against his and her small hands caressed the side of his neck, he lost all semblance of his previous anger.  The hurt he'd been feeling melted quickly in the flood of warmth that fed him from Deanna's delicate mental quest.

With the rolling of his intemperate thoughts, her gentle intrusion went nearly unheeded as she slipped quietly inside his thoughts.  As it was, he caught her on the way inside and pulled away from her; meeting her darkening eyes in challenge, just to prove that he knew.

//I do love you,// Deanna's musical voice sang, clear and lucid in his mind.  //I love you desperately.//  She caught and held his expression.  //Imzadi, I'm afraid.//

Riker almost laughed aloud. 

Not because of what she'd said, or why; but because of the blessed, addictive, incredible way it felt to feel her spirit again.  The Betazoid who wasn't a telepath, and the human who never would be.  How the hell they could hear each other's thoughts, he had never understood...

"You don't have to be afraid," he whispered, lifting a hand to the side of her face, "whatever happens, we can figure it out.  I believe that."

Deanna turned her head into his palm.  "I want to believe it too," she spoke aloud, "but I'm not sure I remember how."

Closing his eyes, Will slowly exhaled.  It had been a long time, but he could feel the answer glide effortlessly into his consciousness, as though the years had never been.  When he reopened his eyes, he was smiling.  //Don't worry,// he sent to her as best he could, //it all comes back...//

The light in Deanna Troi's eyes at that moment was as familiar as it was totally indescribable.  Riker felt his soul fall into it; his spirit bathed in elation.  And as he pulled her toward him, teasing her lips with a kiss that almost wasn't, he felt renewed.

//You remembered,// she threw her arms around his neck.  //I can't believe you remembered!//

//There's a lot of things I remember.  A lot of things I know better now.  And lot ... I think that we can learn, together.// 

Riker smiled at her luminous expression.  He caught her hand and threaded their fingers, before he lowered his head to hers.

[end]