"The Escort"
QDestinyy@aol.com
Rated PG-13
Notes:  I've not gone through and edited this piece as such.  It is what it is.  Buyer please beware.



Major Mareck Ba'en of the Bajoran militia bent slightly at the waist. His handsome countenance and appreciative brown eyes swept casually over Deanna Troi before he extended his arm and smiled. "Counselor Troi, I'm honoured to see you again."

"The feeling is mutual, Major..." she offered him a friendly acknowledgement. "We should be arriving at Deep Space Nine in less than three hours. You must be looking forward to seeing home again, after so many months."

"I'll admit," Mareck glanced out of an expansive portal in Ten Forward, pausing thoughtfully while the lights of a million stars at warp flew by, "the idea of 'home' has only recently begun to sink in. But the prospect is certainly appealing."

"I can imagine," Deanna smiled. "Do you have a family--on Bajor?"

"If you mean a wife and children," Mareck inclined his head minutely, "the answer is no. I've always been too much of a... career officer, for that kind of commitment. At least, so I've been told on more than one occasion, by the fairer sex." His saucy grin coaxed another smile from Troi.

"Well," she said dryly, "I'm sure you're not the only officer who's ever laid that particular claim."

The Major sighed. "I'm certain you're right. Only sometimes..." his eyes scanned the distant stars while Deanna regarded him. He was thinking, and it was clear to her that there was more beneath the surface of his practised, professional exterior than simple duty might proclaim.

"Sometimes?" she prompted gently, realizing that a simple conversation had transformed her into the familiar role of 'The Counselor' yet again. Still she found herself more curious than concerned with the fact.

"Only sometimes," Mareck lifted his shoulders apologetically, "I ... speak without meaning to."

"Somehow, Major," Deanna's smile widened, "I find that difficult to believe."

He studied her for a moment; an instant of silence before his own amusement returned and he had tilted his head to one side. "I understand there is to be a 'formal' event this evening, Counselor. Hosted here, on board the Enterprise before we disembark. I would consider it a great privilege, if you would ... allow me to escort you... if not as an 'official' date, then perhaps, as one soldier to another?"

His request was so sincere that Deanna found herself truly entertaining it. He was extremely handsome; a fact she'd noticed immediately upon their introduction four days ago. And he was obviously also thoughtful. He'd make for interesting conversation, if nothing else... For a single, thoughtless moment she considered saying yes. Until she remembered... "Oh," she cleared her throat softly, "actually Major, I--"

"Actually... " A tall shadow emerged behind her and a strong hand settled gently on her arm, "the Counselor already has an escort for the evening. Major."

"Commander Riker," Mareck squared a pair of broad shoulders. He traded a glance between the two starfleet officers and then glanced at the floor. "I do apologize. I wasn't aware. And to you, Counselor."

"There's really no need..." Deanna turned sharply and shot Riker a withering look. "I was very flattered by your offer."

"Yes, well, it appears it was ultimately misplaced. In any event, I think I'll take my leave for the evening. Perhaps I'll see you both later on as we reach the station. Good evening, Commander. Counselor." With a swift turn, the Bajoran made his way toward the entry to Ten Forward, and Deanna turned cold eyes on Will.

"That was completely uncalled for," she frowned.

"What?" he lifted his shoulders. "I didn't say anything--"

"Didn't you?" she shook her head. "I was perfectly fine on my own until you came charging over here, placed your hand on my arm and practically declared to him that I was your property!"

"Deanna, that is NOT..."

"Save it Will," she scowled, advancing toward him and lowering her voice. "The last time I checked, I was perfectly capable of answering for myself. I will socialize with whomever I choose, and if your level of trust in me is not great enough to allow me a private conversation with another man in public place, then at this point, I think it's rather in question whether Major Mareck will be the only officer without an escort for the evening."

"Deanna--"

Without another word, Troi spun around and marched toward the doorway of Ten Forward. Leaving a startled, and very flustered Commander in her wake.

*

"Deanna, I said I was sorry..." Riker paced Troi's quarters like a caged animal, "I didn't mean for it to sound as though--"

"Oh you didn't mean for it to sound that way?" she challenged him from across the suite, "how precisely did you mean for it to sound, Will? When you march over to me, lay your hand on my shoulder and tell the Major--on my behalf--that I'm involved with you!"

"I never said that we were involved!"

"Oh please! You might as well have written it in crimson letters behind the bar in Ten Forward!"

"Deanna, you're making a much bigger deal out of this than it really is. If you would just listen to--"

"I beg your pardon? I am making a big deal out of this? You're the one who can't even leave me alone for five minutes to have a conversation with another person without charging over, phasers on kill, and I am the one making a big deal out of this? I don't think so, William. I think you should leave now, and I don't think I want to see you again this evening."

"Deanna--" Riker shook his head, "I'm not a child. You can't 'scold' me because I didn't play the game the way you think I should!"

"Well, if you're not a child, you shouldn't consider our relationship 'a game' to begin with, should you?"

"This-- this is ridiculous. We both have orders to be at the gala, we can't just... skip out because you're angry."

"We won't," she answered serenely; far too serenely for Riker's liking. Damn her Betazoid equanimity. "We'll both be there," she continued logically, "separately. I don't recall there being anything in the regulations about having a formal 'date' for the affair, do you, Commander?"

"But--"

"I think you should leave now."

"Oh the hell with it!" he growled, glaring back at her, "you want it like this? Fine. I'm gone. But you're the one who blew this whole thing way out of proportion, Deanna. And to be honest, I'm a little sick of your self-important Betazoid condescension anyway. Why just make it tonight? Why don't we just forget the whole thing and be HAPPY with our lives -- for a damn change!"

Shaking with unspoken vehemence, Deanna shot back: "Fine! Go. Be HAPPY!" She watched the door to her quarters slide closed behind Will, but she was positive--had there been the possibility--it would certainly have slammed. "Fine..." she echoed; livid beyond reason with the quiet, empty room. She lifted a vase from a nearby table and shattered it utterly on the door.


*

"Will? You look like hell. What happened?"

"Good evening, doctor," Riker turned his head and scowled, "nice to see you too."

With a slight frown, Beverly Crusher took his arm and sat him down at a table near the rear of the Ten Forward bar. The room was fully decorated for the evening's festivities and the very first of the guests had only just begun to arrive.

"So..." she began, "full dress uniform, a night of cocktails and dancing, and William T. Riker arrives alone, without so much as a devastating smile?"

"Doctor," he sighed, "I really should go check with the master chef and make sure everything's prepared--"

"Not so fast, Commander," Crusher clamped a hand down on his sleeve. She stared at him intently until he was certain her sharp blue eyes had burned a hole in the front of his forehead. And then she sighed. "All right. Let's hear it."

"It's nothing much," he offered her a shallow shrug, "Deanna and I had a fight-- that's all."

"That's all." Beverly sat forward, "when you say fight, do you mean, a 'real' fight? Or just an argument..."

"I think I heard something hard and clay smash to smithereens on my way out the door," he sighed.

"Oh." For a short time, Beverly said nothing. Suddenly she smiled, and patted his hand. "Well, congratulations Will. That would be your first 'real' fight since we got back from the Briar Patch right? I'd say you're well on your way to a happy marriage some day..."

"Doctor, this isn't funny."

"Who's laughing?"

Extracting his hand, Riker set it aside. "The way we left things, Beverly, I doubt there'll be a reconciliation. Never mind a marriage--which, by the way is a little premature to talk about, wouldn't you say? We've hardly been 'back together' for more than a few months."

"Yes," the doctor nodded, "and if you ask me, 'a few month's without a single major fight has got to be a record somewhere. Most couples I know have at least one blow-up a week."

"You know, I really don't want to talk about this."

"Suit yourself," she tipped her head, "but I think you'd be better off if you did."

"What are you, a Counselor now?"

Crusher laughed. "Well you know what they say... whatever needs fixing..."

Riker was quiet for a minute. He looked back at the door and considered getting up and leaving without another word. But besides being inexcusably rude, that kind of action would ultimately solve nothing of his dilemma. And the truth of the matter was, despite his anger, there was a part of him that wished he could somehow get an 'impartial' female perspective.

"I was a little jealous," he finally confided, "I saw Deanna with Major Mareck--"

"The Bajoran officer?"

He nodded, "--and I didn't like it. I saw how he was looking at her. But even worse, Beverly, I saw how she was looking at him."

"Like what?"

"Like...I've seen her look at other men before. Before she and I--"

Beverly blinked, but said nothing.

"--Anyway, I heard him ask her to the reception this evening. And I don't know, something suddenly snapped. I went over there," he trailed off quietly and frowned, dropping his head into one hand. "I acted like a jack-ass, didn't I?"

"Well..." Beverly afforded him a sympathetic smile, "I'm not sure. Deanna was attracted to Major Mareck and that upset you. But that doesn't mean she was necessarily going to act on that feeling. What exactly did you say when you got there?"

"Oh," he snorted, "something brilliant like: 'She's mine, take your filthy eyes off her or else...'"

Crusher's mouth fell open. "You're kidding."

"Well, it's what I wanted to say, anyway," Riker smirked, "I think I just told Mareck that Deanna was already spoken for this evening. I might have embarrassed him a little, I guess..."

"--and her?"

"What?"

"Will, do you think she would have said 'yes' to Mareck if you hadn't been there?"

"Honestly?" he sighed, "no."

"Then why go over there at all?" Crusher gently squeezed his hand. "By speaking on her behalf, you took away Deanna's option to let Mareck down herself. Even if you were worried she might have said yes to his invitation, it was still her call to make. If you trust her, you have to let her make those kinds of choices and believe she's not going to break that trust..."

"I do..."

"And you're going to have to realize that she's going to be approached by other men from time to time."

"All the time," Riker scowled into his hand, "Beverly, I've never been jealous of anyone Deanna's spoken to before. I'm not even the jealous type!"

"Maybe not," she smiled, "but something made you walk over there this afternoon."

"Something I'm not sure I want to explain."

"Well, whenever you figure out what it was, I think you and Deanna need to have a talk. Until then..."

"Until then," he cut in, "she doesn't want anything to do with me. And I'm not sure I blame her. I said some pretty dumb things before I walked out of her quarters."

The doctor slowly stood, looking down at him compassionately, "I guess that means you're lucky you're involved with an empath--and a Counselor. I don't know anyone more willing to look at both sides of an disagreement than Deanna usually is."

Regarding her in silence, Riker sighed. "I hurt her, Beverly," he said softly. "At the time, it's what I wanted to do."

"We all say and do things we're not proud of when we're angry, Will. Just don't leave it alone too long. That's the best and only advice I can offer. Whether you want to confront the issue or not, things like this don't usually 'get better' on their own."

"I'll take that under advisement, Doctor."

"Good," she thumped his shoulder affectionately with her hand, "now why don't I go see about that chef for you?"

Without waiting for a response, Beverly turned and headed for the back of the lounge. Riker followed her movement, looking up for the first time in many minutes. It seemed that in the period it had taken them to share their intimate conversation, Ten Forward had filled with guests.

The reception had officially begun... and neither Counselor Troi, nor Major Mareck were anywhere in sight.

*

For an instant, Riker's heartbeat froze. Surveying the room, his eyes settled quickly on the door and when it finally side aside, he felt his stomach rise up into his chest.

Major Mareck strode confidently inside. At his right--though they were not officially touching--was Counselor Troi. The Captain greeted them both. In the distance, Riker could see how Troi would smile in welcome to each of the guests of the Bajoran deligation, but her eyes returned to Mareck on several obvious occasions.

He only wished that he could hear what they were saying.

When the music began, it was clear the Major intended to ask the Counselor to dance. Riker saw the other man approach her; watched him hold out his hand. And though the words in her mouth were silent from this distance, he could sense that she was going to accept.

A column of heated protectiveness rose up unbidden within him and he fought it down. Beverly was right. Deanna had the option to make her own choices, whether or not he approved. She could speak with whomever she liked; and dance with whomever she wished. But Riker wished--as he watched Mareck Ba'en take hold of his Imzadi's hand--he wished she wouldn't dance with HIM.

Reality was apparently not on his side for the evening. Deanna and Mareck joined a host of other bodies on the floor, and though the Major held her at a decorous distance, it was impossible for Will to watch. He turned away, stalking sullenly toward the bar.

"Scotch," he told the hostess, "straight up."

Handed his 'beverage', Riker downed it in a gulp and grimaced when the first lick of fire descended in his throat. Synthehol or not, it was strong. It also gave him the 'imaginary' willpower he needed to turn around again, and when he did, he saw both Troi and Mareck laughing at some amusement only they had shared.

'God I love her smile...' he leaned back heavily on the bar. 'Her eyes... the way she moves her head... When did these feelings get so strong?' It's only been six months!'

No. If he were truthful, it had been longer than six months. It had been longer than six years. Twelve, perhaps?  "This is ridiculous," Riker spoke softly; under his breath. "What am I worried about?"

If he considered the issue, it wasn't even Mareck that bothered him particularly. It was the 'idea' of Mareck. Tall, good-looking, difficult to analyze, with as commanding a presence in the Bajoran militia as Riker himself held with Starfleet. And maybe some of those traits were inherent in the reason that Deanna did find him attractive. She'd always been drawn to a challenge...

But she wasn't in love with Mareck, Riker rationalized. She was in love with him. So why was he so uncharacteristically apprehensive? Having watched her interact with numerous other men under countless other circumstances, Riker couldn't remember a single other time he'd felt more threatened. And it was as irrational as all hell. Why now? Why here?

'Because you're afraid she's going to realize you're not good enough for her...' a small voice in his psyche struggled to rise.

"Bullshit," he looked down into the bottom of his glass.

'If you were really honest with yourself, you'd admit that you've never been in a committed relationship this long before. Not even with her. And now you're scared you're going to screw it up again," Riker turned the glass and slapped it down onto the bar, but the annoying inner voice would not shut up. ' It's the faithful Riker curse. Somehow, you're going to wreck it all, and it's the one thing in your life you finally realize you're not prepared to lose..'

"Maybe I already have," he mumbled quietly. But his thoughts collided with a vicious slam. 'Don't be a coward...'

A coward? Will Riker was many things, but a coward was not one of them. Closing his eyes, he thrust the inner voice aside and concentrated on a single thought. A single truth. He cleared his mind and sent, <Imzadi...> to the only other person who could ever possibly hear...

On the other side of the lounge, Deanna froze on Mareck's arm. Riker turned in time to see her, and he willed himself to stand his ground.

Her eyes found his, their focus shifted from surprise, to moderate indignation, to concern when he hadn't moved. But then she looked away again self-consciously, as though she wasn't willing to 'see' him in this way at all.

'Damn it, Deanna...'

All right. If she was going to play it that way...

The music ended. Another song began and it was far more intimate than the one before had been. From across the bar, Will watched Deanna grin and step away from Mareck. The two engaged in conversation for a moment more, but their casual body language didn't bother him as it had before. Picard came up on the left of Troi and Major Mareck smiled.

Deanna was obviously attracted to the tall Bajoran officer. He was obviously enthralled with her as well. Even so she hadn't touched him in any intimate way. Hadn't moved beyond the realm of polite and friendly interaction.

There was definitely a potential there, but... but suddenly Riker realized, he didn't really feel threatened by such trivial things. That he hadn't for a very long time. It had to be something else.

But what? If not the spark of jealous bitterness? A sense of fear? Impossible. Of real, impending loss? Unthinkable.

Despite his argument with Troi, despite their words and actions later, he could feel her laughter from across the space. Could sense the genuine regard she held for Mareck. Even her pleasant surprise at the Captain's presence in their circle. The truth was, he could feel it all. And in between those things, he knew he also felt their unremitting link. A force that burned forever, no matter the unrest in his heart.

Riker smiled.

Deanna could dance with Mareck all night long if she so chose. She could have kissed him; held his hand, or even... taken him to her bed as she had done with other men throughout the years before their rekindled romance. She could do anything she liked. Because the connection in their souls would always be.

In a single, ancient and powerful way, Deanna Troi belonged to him. Whether she chose to admit the fact or not. He belonged to her as well. As long as neither one of them let go, they would always belong...

Picard placed a congenial hand on Mareck's shoulder. Nodding at Troi, he lead the Bajoran officer toward a larger group in the back of the room and Riker saw his chance. He'd waited until now because the same mistake a second time would only have branded him a fool.

Deanna was alone for the moment. She didn't look in his direction, but he could sense she felt his eyes. He saw her turn and walk toward a giant shining portal to the stars, and there she paused; eyes fixed in silence on the vast expanse beyond.

Drawing a breath, Riker crossed the space between them. He came up cautiously behind her and he stopped. Regarding her back, he watched the fall of flowing hair that kissed the top of her shoulders; the delicate curve of a neck he loved so well. He slowly exhaled. "Feels like you could almost 'lift one out' and hold it in your hand, huh?"

Deanna didn't turn. He knew she'd heard him; knew she'd felt him long before. But her eyes remained set on the stars, and her heart--he could feel--was hurt.

"There's nothing I can say, is there?" he asked, trading one foot for the other on the floor. They were both in their dress uniforms, a testament to Starfleet and yet somehow she looked fragile, standing silent--bathed in starlight--all alone.

"There's something left to say?" Deanna's voice came back, a quiet remark. "You left out something else you loathe about me?"

"I was angry."

"Yes," she turned half-way, and offered him a sidelong glance. "And Humans often say things when they're angry. Things they usually mean, but are otherwise unwilling to voice."

"Dea, that isn't true..."

"Then what is true?" her dark eyes filled with challenge. "I can tell when someone's lying, Will, you weren't this afternoon."

"All right," he sighed aloud, "What's true? How about... I love you. You mean the stars to me, and I'm so sorry that I hurt you. If I could take it back, I would. Please. I just want us to talk."

"Oh you love me," she shook her head dryly, "that's all right then. That makes everything okay."

"It means I'd rather die than see you hurt and know that I'm the cause of that pain."

"That didn't seem to bother you three hours ago."

"It was a thoughtless, prideful jerk three hours ago. That doesn't change the fact that I'll do anything to make things right again." He took a step toward her, warily reserved.

But she didn't back away. Deanna held his gaze. "I was going to say no to Mareck," she turned her head and whispered, "if you'd left it alone, I would have told him... I had other plans, with you."

"I know that," Riker looked away as well, "And I do trust you, Deanna. More, I think, than I trust myself."

Her soulful eyes narrowed in confusion.

"To be honest," he continued, "it was never Mareck that I was jealous of." Riker took a final step and stood shoulder to shoulder with her in the giant window-frame. "Next week it'll be six months since the day we left the Briar Patch."

Deanna seemed surprised at his recollection, but she regarded him frankly even so. "And?" she asked.

"And... I've never been in a relationship with anyone that long before," he offered her a meagre smile, "not even you. When we met on Betazed, it was fast and intense. We were engaged to be married so quickly, and then--when it didn't work out--I told myself that I was better off. That you were too."

She frowned. "I don't see what that has to do with now."

"Now?" he released a troubled breath, "now we're both here on this ship with our colleagues and our friends. The days fly by and at the end of every one of them I start to think, 'is this the one? Is this the night I'm going to screw up big and wreck it all?'

With thoughtful poise, Deanna lifted a hand and touched his arm. "Why would you think that?" she asked softly.

Riker looked down at her gently, "Because I want this to work. I need it to work. And it scares me a little, sometimes. I'd be less a man if I didn't admit that lately, I've been thinking about the future... and I don't know how to interpret what I see. Deanna, the only Riker in my family for the past six generations who's ever been in 'happily committed' relationship was my father... and look how that turned out," he glanced away.

"But Will, you're looking toward the future. Don't you see? And when you search ahead, you realize... you're no longer alone." She closed her fingers firmly on his arm, "That's something you've never done before. That in and of itself is a gift that I don't think your grandfather, or even your grandfather's grandfather could possibly have had."

Capturing her hand, he held it easily in his. "It just seems sometimes, it's so damn easy to blow everything away, and so much harder when you want to make things work."

She tipped her head. "I suppose that's true."

"Did I wreck it, Deanna? Did I finally 'break' whatever we had? And if I did--is there some way you can forgive me?  That you could let me try to fix it?  Make it right..."

Captivated by his honesty; by the genuine 'Riker-innocence' of his very serious question, Deanna shook her head and smiled. There were many ways in which Will Riker stood out far about his fellow officers. As a Commander, a tactician and a soldier. But in matters of the heart, there were still some times he felt to her, as hopeful and as nervous as a boy. And maybe that was one of the things she loved about him, most of all.

"Oh, Will," turning slowly, she pressed herself against his chest, locking her fingers at the back of his neck. "You didn't 'wreck' anything. And it would take a lot more than a silly argument to break what it is we have."

Offering her a grin that won its way directly to her heart, Riker wrapped Deanna in his arms. "I'm glad you feel it too," he said.

"I feel it," she smiled back, "but you have learn to trust it," Deanna captured his expression with serious intent, "just as I do. And you have to trust yourself, as well as you do me."

"I think," he placed his forehead flush with hers, "that if I know I have you with me, I can trust in almost anything, Counselor."

Drawing her fingers along the sides of his neck, Deanna's whisper poured--warm and intoxicating--between his parted lips, "Good. Because I think... I'm falling in love you, Commander," she kissed him softly.  Lightly as a butterfly; a sweet, carefree caress.

They stood quietly like that.  Alone in a crowded room filled with guests and other officers.  Riker held their bodies close, bathed in starlight from the portal high above their heads.  They traded gentle, breathless kisses while the evening lingered on.  

It was no wonder neither noticed, when the Captain caught the Doctor's eye, and smiled.


[end]