"Evolution (Gamma)" [PG-14]
QDestinyy@aol.com
Timeframe: Post "Insurrection"; barely.
Deanna Troi jumped. The door to Will Riker's suite slid automatically aside and she clutched her hand across her chest in a moment of startled pause.
"Never one to be out-done are we, Mr. Riker?" Her whispered observation was lost to an empty corridor, but she smiled anyway, stepping quietly inside. "Will?"
The cabin was dim. There were no visible signs of current occupancy, and she was about to go in search of him elsewhere, when something stopped her.
Over the years, they had called that 'something' many things. A bond; a link; an empathic connection. 'Imzadi'. However they'd chosen to refer to it, there was never any denying that it existed; a powerful, spiritual force that drew them together in ways mere mortals found difficult to define. That was the romantic version, at least. The more practical version probably held them aloft as yet another example of extraordinary psychic phenomenon; something for the Terran and Betazoid text-books.
"Will?" she called again, rounding the corner of his living-space and entering the open door to his bedroom. She found him there, just as she'd expected she would. What surprised her was the fact that he was sleeping.
The sense of him she felt was busy enough to occupy a complicated bridge-rotation. Yet here he was, still in his uniform, sitting half propped against the pillows with his head lolled off to one side and his eyes closed in slumber.
Shaking her head as though that would somehow jostle the familiar empathic sensation of a "sleeping Riker" back into place for her, Deanna regarded him in bemused silence. She might have considered that he was teasing her, except that beneath the restless chaos of his nerves, there was a familiar sense of calm; something she -did- recognize, far-off as it was.
It had been a long while since she had felt this particular emotion from him in such vivid measure. Even so, the truth settled over her like a heavy sheet of duranium. He was anxious, unsettled. He might as well have stenciled the word: "STRESS" in bold, orange letters above his bed and then set them ablaze.
Deanna cringed for him, because she knew that if he were awake, he would probably have done the same thing himself. Why hadn't she sensed any of this earlier? This wasn't the sort of worry that descended on a person in a matter of minutes. It would have taken him days to get this far. And without her knowing? Especially given the new 'circumstances' of their personal relationship. They saw one another almost every day, and she felt closer to him than to anyone else she had ever known. It simply didn't add up.
"Will," she whispered, sitting lightly on the edge of his bed. "Where are you?" She watched the rise and fall of his breathing and saw his eyes shift restlessly beneath closed lids. Tracing the edge of his brow with her fingertips, Deanna looked down at him worriedly.
Without warning, he gasped; a sharp, shallow intake of air sucked into his lungs and he sat bolt upright, swallowing once before catching his breath. "What?" One hand raked back through his hair and he glanced around the room, settling on Deanna in only a few short instants. "Oh," he sighed, "Hi."
"Hi yourself," she chided him, "are you all right?" When he didn't immediately answer, she placed the back of her hand against his forehead and drew it slowly down across his cheek. "I think you're working too hard, Will."
"Nah," he manufactured a smile, "just a strange dream, that's all. I should have known better than to lie down right after I got back from my shift," he captured the hand she held against his face and trapped it there as the smile he wore slowly began to transform into a genuine one. "Long day I guess. Nothing out of the ordinary."
Deanna narrowed her eyes and looked him over thoroughly. "You 'ordinarily' have dreams like this?"
"Deanna, it was nothing. I don't even remember what it was about."
She sighed. "Will, if something were wrong--"
"I would tell you." He looked directly into her eyes. "If something was really a problem, I would."
Returning his solemn look with one of her own, Deanna shook her head. "So you wouldn't, by any misguided sense of protectiveness on your part, try not to say anything to me? Given that Beverly still hasn't cleared me for full duty shifts since the fever. That wouldn't, by some bizarre set of flawless Will Riker logic, constitute what you feel is a 'good reason' to keep me from worrying, would it?"
Riker blinked in surprise. Opening his mouth to argue, he frowned instead. "Look, Deanna--"
"I don't need to be protected from what's bothering you, Will. I'm a trained psychologist, and more than that, I'm your--" she paused for long enough that Riker was able to lift a finger and agree.
"We still haven't really defined that, have we?"
Deanna exhaled; a short, frustrated breath. "It doesn't matter. What matters is that you're honest with me." Pressing two fingers across his lips before he could continue, she whispered, "I love you."
"Deanna--"
"--and if something's upsetting you, I need for you to tell me."
He sighed. "I'm not going to be able to get a word in edgewise or change the subject until I agree with you, am I?"
She shook her head.
"All right." Drawing a deep lungful of air, Riker liberated the two fingers she'd placed against his lips and gathered them, along with the rest of her smaller hand, into his. "I have been having dreams for a while now. Sometimes, they're disturbing."
Deanna nodded, wordlessly encouraging him to continue.
He looked down at their joined hands. "Dreams about you."
"Me?"
"Sometimes," he affirmed. "Other times not. But the ones that have been bothering me are about you."
"What have you been dreaming?" she asked softly.
"Deanna," he lifted his eyes and fixed them on hers before he began. "I know how to take care of myself. I know how to take care of a Starship. I know how to take care of my Captain, and this crew."
"I'm a part of this crew," she interjected.
"Yes," he smiled. "You are."
"But you don't know how to take care of someone you're serving with, and also involved with," she finished for him, nodding her understanding.
"Someone I'm serving with," he amended, "and someone I'm in love with."
Tilting her head, she offered him an unreadable expression.
"Whatever else we may be to each other, Deanna, you've become the single most important part of my life." Riker shrugged loosely, "I don't know how to reconcile that, sometimes."
Deanna smiled at him. She smiled at him, and suddenly, the unreadable expression she'd been wearing was accompanied by a feeling which was clearer to him than any he had ever known. Joy. Unmitigated, uncensored, unselfish joy.
"This is keeping you up at night?" she asked, threading her fingers through his.
Riker uttered a low sound and shook his head, "It's pretty ridiculous, I know. I didn't want to tell you, because I also know how strongly you feel about this issue. And I fully expect you to give me the talk about taking care of yourself again, so go ahead, let's have it." He shut his eyes and exhaled. "I'm ready."
Laughing, Deanna crawled over him on the bed and straddled his lap. "You're so adorable when you're wise," she took his face between her palms and leaned forward, dusting their lips together.
Riker opened one eye, "you mean I'm not getting the talk?"
Still smiling, she shook her head. "No." Deanna sat up, face to face with him. "For being honest? For telling me that you love me?" She stopped him from interrupting by leaning forward and hugging him. "For missing the Omega-launch so that you could have the great satisfaction of nurse-maiding a feverish empath back to health?"
"Ah, that was no big deal," he shrugged, winding his arm around her even so. "Turns out things didn't go quite as smoothly as we'd planned. There's still a lot to configure."
"I think it is a big deal," she pressed quietly; "I know how much you were looking forward to being there for the launch of those upgrades."
"Well, it looks like I'll still get a chance to work on them this week anyway."
Deanna shook her head. "Not the launch," she pointed out, "I think that was very noble of you ."
"Noble?" with an incredulous sound, he shifted their positions, pulling her down beside him. "Deanna you scared the hell out of me."
"Not on purpose," she laid her hand flat against the front of his chest and left it there. "And you've been so understanding, lately, I've been meaning to thank you for that as well."
"Thank me for what?" he laughed.
"Will, you've spent every night with me since I've been ill, without ever once expecting anything more than my arms around your body. And there are so many other things you've done; little things just to make me smile, like--making me cocoa for breakfast," she smiled affectionately. "You've been forcing me to ask myself the same question every day since we've been together again."
"What question is that?" he looked genuinely curious.
"How I could possibly have chosen to live my life for so long on board the Enterprise, without you in it."
Reflexively, he pulled her toward him, laying his forehead gently across hers. "I think that fever got to your head."
"Maybe," she shifted against him, "or maybe it's all right to be a little maudlin sometimes, if it's what you really mean to say."
Riker sighed, recovering the formal focus of his earlier emotions. Deanna felt the change in him, but remained silent, watching instead while he tried to formulate the tenuous thread of his thoughts.
"I think," he finally began, "maybe the dreams are just a part of the evolution of whatever it is that's happening between us," pausing for emphasis, he shrugged. "Maybe a part of me is trying to come to terms with the way things are right now, and the way I want them to be in the future."
"Perhaps," she agreed. "But even if there's more to the dreams than just a simple, transient worry, Will, as long as you share those feelings with me, we can make things right again."
His arm tightened around her shoulder, "I'm not giving up on us because of some crazy anxiety dreams."
"I'd throttle you if you even considered it," she smiled. "And it's not crazy to worry that someone you care about might get hurt, or that something bad could come from that caring if you let yourself feel too deeply. The gods know I spent a lot of years pushing you away because of those very same fears. But I finally realized something."
"What?" he looked down at her.
"That fearing some intangible 'what-if' wasn't going to make me care any less if you were hurt. Ignoring my feelings wasn't going to save me, or you, in the end. And I was miserable whenever I knew you'd found a temporary happiness with someone else; whether I chose to admit that aloud or not."
"I never knew that I was hurting you, Deanna," Riker shifted down onto the bed and turned her in his arms so that they now lay face to face. He propped his head in his hand.
"I know," she echoed his posture. "I can't imagine it was much more comfortable for you when it was the other way around."
Looking past her for a thoughtful moment, he frowned. "Not very. But I always figured it was just... good old fashioned jealousy."
Deanna smirked. "A part of it probably was. I certainly won't pretend I've never felt that particularly evil emotion where you're concerned."
"You know, I never realized it could be so easy to talk about this sort of thing." An unexpected spark of childlike interest filled his expression, "These last few months, I feel like every time you and I end up alone together, I can't stop running off at the mouth," his blue eyes flashed. "Not exactly what I would have thought my response would be, if you know what I mean." Deanna's eyes rolled skyward while he grinned. "This isn't some clever Counselor Troi ploy is it?"
"I only wish 'Counselor Troi' was that clever," she smiled demurely, "I have heard, however, that fourteen years of friendship can do this sort of thing to two people."
"We have spent a lot of years learning how to talk to each other," he mused.
"Well," Deanna lifted a hand and tapped him gently on the cheek, "you turned out to be pretty easy to talk to, for a cocky, relentlessly ambitious ladder-climber."
"Ladder-climber?!"
She leaned forward, effectively ending his protest with a soulful kiss. "I'm glad we had a chance to explore that aspect of our relationship and that we became such good friends."
Still recovering from her intimate caress, Riker found that he couldn't stop smiling. "Me too."
"Even if it set us back?
"Who says we've been set back?"
"Well, isn't that partly what the dreams are about?" Resting her arm, Deanna laid her head on a nearby pillow, tucking it beneath her.
Riker looked back at her. "You really are one hell of a Counselor."
"You're just realizing this now?" she teased. "Will, I know that a big part of your life has always revolved around getting your own command. I know how much it means to you, and I know that it's always been your dream."
"It was my dream for a while," he agreed. "Not anymore."
"Are you so certain of that?"
"Absolutely," he answered without hesitation. But then he frowned, thoughtfully looking up at her. "Deanna, if I ever did... entertain ... an offer to leave the Enterprise, do you think you might... entertain an offer to come with me?"
Troi felt his large hand encircle hers, and she glanced down at it before meeting his gaze. "Is this a hypothetical?"
"Yes," he nodded adamantly, "nothing I'm currently looking at, I guess I've just been wondering. Never got around to asking you how you might feel."
"Then the answer is yes," she squeezed his hand. "If you asked me to, I would definitely... entertain the offer."
Riker's eyes lit up. "Wow," he whispered, and realization dawned on her.
"Is that what's been keeping you here--?"
"Nah," Rolling onto his back, he stared up at the ceiling, "Not really, I mean I love it here. Feels like a family on board. I have a great position."
"It is..." Deanna breathed, shifting forward and leaning across him, "stop me if I'm being arrogant, but I think I just realized that you've stayed behind all these years, because of me?"
For a long moment, Will's sky-blue eyes fastened intently on her expression. "Okay, yes. You're a big part of the reason I'm still here." She shook her head, but he continued. "And I can't think of a better reason. Or a single regret that I have ever had, because of that decision."
"You were waiting for me." It was a statement, not a question, so Riker didn't bother to answer it.
"Is that such a terrible thing?" he asked, and when she wouldn't look at him, he turned her chin with his hand. "Deanna, you taught me back on Betazed that the most important thing we have in life is faith. And hope for the future. I tried as hard as hell to let go of you. And when I couldn't do that, I found myself starting to hope..." he exhaled, "It was the damndest thing."
Deanna forced herself to sit up. She looked down at him for a timeless instant, and when he started reach out for her, she discovered almost simultaneously that there were tears in her eyes.
"Marry me?" she asked him, leaning forward impulsively before he'd had an opportunity to touch her.
Riker's hand froze in mid-air. He was about to brush the moisture from her cheek, when he stopped, and she swiped at the tears herself, more frustrated with their presence than she wanted to be.
"Will you marry me, 'Imzadi'?" she asked again. Deanna felt his emotions shift from surprise, to disbelief. Then something else. Something far more gratifying.
"You're really serious this time," he released a tentative breath, "aren't you?" Her silent nod and the grip of her smaller hand over his was enough for Will's confusion to melt away. "You're not just teasing me for my cocoa?" Deanna's head shook back and forth and he swallowed, rolling onto his knees and pulling her up into the same posture so that they were face to face. "You want to marry me?"
She nodded again, this time chasing it with a single word. "Yes," using his shoulder for leverage on the unsteady mattress. "Do you want to marry me?"
The smile he offered her was more dazzling than any she had ever known. "Yes," he took her face between his hands, smoothing back a fall of her hair. "I want to marry you."
Losing her battle with the teardrops in her eyes, Deanna allowed them to fall, laughing in the same moment. "I guess this means we're engaged."
Riker's hands continued to brush tenderly over the edges of her face, "I guess it does." He examined her for only an instant before his mouth fastened hotly over hers and sanity fled; drifted away while her lithe arms wound around his neck and their bodies sank onto the mattress beneath them.
Mouths clasped, hands began a urgent, painfully erotic journey and Riker suddenly pulled back, halting them both though Deanna groaned in protest and even his own mutinous mind began demanding what the hell he was thinking.
"Wait--" he gasped, forcing cognizance where there was little to be gathered. "Doctor Crusher said you should take it easy this first week back, you're still recovering from that flu--"
Deanna made a quiet sound against his neck and he shivered when she bit down gently near the base of his ear. "I meant to tell you," her head lifted. A mass of raven hair he loved so well fell away from her eyes and she looked down from where she'd positioned herself on top of his body. "I saw Beverly this afternoon. I've been cleared for a full duty schedule again."
"Full..." Riker stammered, closing his eyes when her kisses resumed their course along the side of his neck, "--full schedule?"
"Completely full," she giggled at the automatic response she felt in him. "I knew that would get your attention."
"Deanna Troi, you have always had my FULL and UNDIVIDED attention," he growled, rolling them both so that she was recumbent beneath him on the mattress. "But I think we've done more than enough talking for one evening, don't you?"
Gasping while his expert hands began to peel the uniform from her body, and feverish for a reason far more satisfying than Rigellian flu, Deanna sighed licentiously. "I knew Will Riker was in there somewhere."
[end]