"te valere
jubeo" (I bid you
farewell)
QDestinyy@aol.com
Rated R for adult sensual content.
[==Chapter
1==]
The smell of her hair. It was the
most amazing thing. After twelve years, the one thing he remembered best
about her, was the smell of her hair. Oh, he'd
been with other women, humans and other species (embarrassingly too
numerous to mention). But in all his travels as a starfleet officer; all
his erstwhile romantic adventures -- there was nothing in the universe so
compelling and so ... mystifying ... as the vaguely floral scent of Deanna
Troi's hair. And so it began on that fateful
morning. The one Will Riker woke up in, barely conscious; barely aware of
where he'd spent the full and complete hours of the night before.
The fact that they were still in her bed
wasn't lost on him, of course. That much he remembered. The rest of it
however, was the kind of thing romantic holo-novels often referred to as
'a bit of a blur'. Trouble came with the
light of a new day. It brought with it the full weight of consciousness --
an infuriatingly logical state of mind.
Consciousness, it seemed, had a penchant for purchasing an unwelcome sense
of clarity. It made him think. About life; about choices; about the
nine-hundred light year list of reasons why everything had gone so
horribly wrong with him and Deanna. And then
there was the way it all started. It was just that particular morning, in
fact. The one where he woke up next to her, breathing in the warm
fragrance in her hair. Riker closed his eyes and let his mind wander...
Yes. It all started ... with the smell of her
hair...
=/=
"Are you going to lay there, staring at the
back of my head all morning?" A quiet voice
interrupted Riker's muse as he lay, half-propped on one elbow, eyes lost
in a dark mass of loose curls. She'd
straightened her hair. It happened a couple of years earlier, shortly
after her liaison with Lieutenant Commander Worf fizzled out. And Riker
had always wondered why... why the hair went straight, at least. He knew
the reason it hadn't worked out with the
Klingon. "Does it bother you?" he whispered
back, reaching behind her and taking up a small tendril between gentle
fingers. "No." Deanna sighed. It seemed to him
that he could almost feel her eyes close, though he couldn't see her
face. "I love the smell of your hair," Will
went on, pulling up close behind her. His chin brushed the top of her
shoulder and he draped an arm casually around her waist, drawing their
bodies flush. Deanna laughed. "Well, I'll
remember to lend you my shampoo..." "Uh uh."
Riker's grin was lost in the nape of her neck, "not the
same." They were quiet after that. His hand
drew lazy circles on her abdomen until he felt her cease the motion,
threading their fingers instead. "Penny for
your thoughts?" He heard her exhale.
"There's something I have to tell you." She
used her other hand to raise and then release each of his fingers. Riker
sighed and lifted his head. Deanna only fidgeted when she was nervous or
worried about something. "What is it?" he
asked, still toying with her hair. More
silence. She was thinking. "Can we go to Ten-Forward?" Deanna's voice,
when it finally came, was quiet, "for
breakfast?" "Sure. Yeah." Shifting his gaze
from the back of her head to the window above them, Riker nodded slowly.
If the sound of her voice were any indication, this was going to be
serious. "Are you sure this isn't some
Machiavellian plot to get your hands on something chocolate at 0700?" Will
smiled and turned her around to face him, tucking her hair behind her ear.
"Well, you're right about one thing," Deanna
smiled back and bent forward to kiss him. "I'm definitely going to have
something chocolate." Pinning her arms behind
her, Riker silenced her yelp of surprise with the warmth of his mouth.
"Thought so." He let go her hands and she lifted them over his
neck. Their breakfast plans were placed
indefinitely on hold.
=/=
The chrono over the bar flashed 0830 hours
when Will Riker choked on his replicated coffee and stared in abject
astonishment at the woman across from him.
"Transferred?" he sucked in a breath.
"Promoted, actually," her voice was small, but her eyes betrayed the pride
that she was feeling. "They've offered me 'Head of Psychiatric' at
Starfleet Medical." Riker forced his mouth
shut, slowly shaking his head, "Deanna, that's-- that's--"
"Wonderful news?" she provided helpfully.
Filling in the blanks as she so often did when he was at a loss for words.
And why shouldn't she have? It wasn't her fault he couldn't formulate a
coherent sentence. Not her fault that he was sitting there with his jaw
next to his cup on the table. "Of course!" he
stammered, "I mean, it *is* wonderful news-- wonderful news--"
"Congratulations?" This time, she tipped her
head in confusion. "What?"
"Will, are you feeling all right?" Her voice
softened with the query. "Or is the portal behind my head really that
incredibly distracting?" Tearing his gaze away
from the stars, he met her eyes and smiled. "Yes. I mean no ... no to the
part about the portal," Riker shook his head to clear it. "Yes to the part
about 'congratulations'. Deanna, I'm really happy for you. This is -- it's
great!" He faked another smile. Reaching for
her hand across the table, Riker took four small fingers into his larger
grasp. They were sitting in a 'quiet spot' of
Ten-Forward. A table Deanna seemed to favor. Quaint, out of the way, and
secluded from the otherwise hustle-bustle activity center that the
Enterprise's lounge was capable of. "Really?"
she asked sincerely. The worst part was the look in her eyes. Eyes that
seemed to glow with the prospect of his approval. He felt like a total
heel. "I was a little worried..." she
admitted. Her gaze fell as she ducked her head. "I was worried you might
not think it was such a good idea." He stared
at her. Not a good idea? "What do you mean?" he
asked. "Well, the Enterprise is the flag
ship..." And he was the career-centric bastard
who'd lived that flag ship for most of his life as an officer. She thought
he might not approve of her taking a planetside assignment? Yes, that had
to be it. For some reason he'd never been able
to fathom, Deanna seemed to care what he thought. Despite everything.
Despite the fact she'd never needed his advice in any professional sense
of the word, nor in winning the accolades she'd managed to earn throughout
her career. For some god unknown reason -- she still seemed to
care. "Then you've accepted?" He side-stepped
the question. Rather eloquently, he'd thought. But her tolerant gaze
reminded him he was speaking with an empath.
"Not officially." She studied him frankly. "You know, you certainly don't
feel or *sound* very happy for me." Deanna's
slight frown might as well have been accompanied by a bat'leth hit to the
head. He didn't sound very happy? He didn't even know what planet he was
from, at the moment. Never mind how he was supposed to feel. Feel... about
her leaving. About Deanna, his most cherished friend, his confidant,
his... "Well," he cleared his throat, "to be
honest, Deanna, I'd thought--" He trailed off,
staring back at her without the nerve to speak. Or the words he'd hoped to
say. She returned his look; chin lowered, eyes
wide. "You'd
thought--?" Instead of answering her, he
stalled. "When would you
leave?" "A week from today." Her voice was
soft and her eyes still held the look of unease he'd managed to put in
them the moment before. "I'm still waiting on word from Admiral Ryan,
and... I haven't told anyone about the offer as yet, except the Captain."
"And me." Will corrected, trying in vain to
separate what was left of his thoughts from the rush of unwanted emotion;
a desperate, irrational sense of panic that suddenly gripped his soul. "A
week ... from today?" His heart felt like it
had dropped eighty decks to a crashing thud, somewhere between his
diaphragm and a deeper, far more painful nether region as yet
undiscovered. "Will, I realize this must seem
sudden to you. But it's something that I've been thinking about for nearly
a month now." Wide eyes settled on Riker's and he froze in his
chair. "Wait a second, Deanna, a month? You've
known about this since before the Briar
Patch?" She nodded, eyes
downcast. "But... you didn't say anything. Not
a word." He stared back at her in bewilderment. "Why didn't you at least
tell me that you were thinking about it? Tell me something. As a friend,
Deanna. Nevermind what happened later. How can you sit there and justify
that?" "I'm not justifying anything!" Her
voice rose an octave when she sat forward in her chair. "I'm telling you
now. I didn't know what I was going to do before. I had a lot of things to
sort out..." "Well," He shot back, "maybe you
should have thought of those 'things' before you hopped back into bed with
me!" Riker regretted the words from the moment he'd spoken them, but they
were gone none the less. He couldn't take them back. "Deanna, I'm sorry--"
his voice trailed off, "I just-- it's--"
"Will, I realize we need to talk about this." Her eyes had taken on a note
of concern. As well they should have. She was an empath. She could sense
what he was feeling. And he'd been doing a damn poor job of keeping a lid
on his emotions just now. Riker forced
himself to exhale. "Honestly, Deanna, you caught me off guard. I don't
know what to say. All things being equal, I *am* very happy for you. I've
always known you were destined for great things..."
"But?" "But," he
conceded. Letting out another breath, he raised his gaze to hers. "What is
it that's been happening between us lately? I know we haven't really
discussed it, but don't you-- I mean, I thought it
was--" "You thought," Deanna's mouth opened
and then closed again. "You thought that we were going to enter into a
long-term relationship? A committed
relationship?" "Well," His eyes narrowed.
"Yeah. Okay, yes, that's exactly what I thought. I was
wrong?" Deanna stared at him forever. The
silence seemed almost to echo between them before he heard her sigh. "Oh,
Will," she breathed, "I'm so sorry." "You're
sorry?" She was
sorry? "Yes." Her simple nod made him want to
grab her across the table and shake her. Or kiss her. Or do *something* to
knock the incredible, sensual woman he'd been sharing every night with for
the past fourteen days, back into place. "Will," she took his hand this
time, "you and I have always had a complicated
relationship." "I'll grant you that." He still
hadn't moved. "It's not that I don't care for
you," her eyes captured his, "or love you."
"But?" He threw the word back at her mercilessly, watching her slight
cringe. "But," her answer was calm and
logical, "I think we can also agree that a committed relationship between
us isn't very suited for success." "Not
suited--?" Riker's mouth fell open. "Deanna, you didn't seem to object to
our being together last night," his blue eyes flashed. "Or the night
before that, or the one before that, or--"
"This isn't some spur of the moment decision, Will. It's something I'd
been thinking about for a long time." "That's
just it. At the very least Deanna, you and I are friends. Good friends,
I'd thought. But you said nothing. Nothing in all this
time..." "I hadn't decided." She looked away
contritely. "And now you have? What synched it
for you, Deanna? Was it the fact that we were spending more and more time
together? Or the fact that our being together has always terrified you?
Now you're saying that the past two weeks were nothing but one last
memorable tryst ... is that it?" "That's not
it. That's not what I'm saying at all." She shot back, eyes
narrow. "Then what is it, Deanna? Was it just
some physical *thing* you thought was happening between us? Because
believe me, I could understand--" "Yes, I'm
certain you could!" She shot back at him, white hot. "I'm sure you'd have
no problem understanding that particular excuse for a relationship, but
unlike yourself, Commander, I don't enter into liaisons that are strictly
about--" "Sex?" He spat out the word; saw her
turn pink and watched her face when she scanned to room unconsciously to
see if anyone had heard. In that moment, Riker couldn't have cared less if
they had. "You could have fooled me. You could have fooled a lot of men
over the years, I think." She looked as though
she wanted to hit him. And even he had to admit, he would have had it
coming. But she took the moral high ground instead. The damnable Betazoid
answer to everything. He nearly threw up his hands in
disgust. Locking her gaze with his, Deanna
raised her head proudly and measured her control. Not a moment later, she
began to speak. Calmly. "We have discussed
this before. We both know know that *realistically*, there is nothing
further to say which has not already been said ... one way or another. Sex
has nothing to do with this, and you know it. You and I are..." she
trailed off with a frown, "... we're not ... we're just not ... fated."
Startled by her own choice of words, Deanna paused. But the longer things
hung in the air between them, the more noticeable her nod became. "We
never were, Will." "Fated?" What the hell was
that supposed to mean? "You look in your crystal ball for that answer, Ms.
Troi?" "I'm not fighting with you about this,
William. I'm not." Deanna sucked in a breath and exhaled slowly.
It was infuriating how she could calm herself
that way while he was left seething. "To be
fair," she forged ahead relentlessly, "You've been offered more than your
share of commissions from Starfleet. Any number of which would have taken
you from this ship. So if you want to look at things that way, then you
could just as easily have been reassigned."
"But I wasn't," Riker pulled his hand from hers and sat back in his chair.
"You're right Deanna, I've been offered a few commissions, opportunities
to leave the Enterprise and take command of my own ship. And I turned down
all of them. You want to know why?" "I'm sure
you had your reasons." She was right. He did
have his 'reasons' for giving up those other commissions. Reasons which,
as of right now, seemed far less significant than they had at the time.
The core of Will's being shook with his rage,
and his fear. To lose her this way was unconscionable. She was everything,
he realized. And he was everything, with her. But not if she was gone. Not
like this... His hands fisted on the table.
She would leave. She would try, at least, but he would stop
her. "Deanna," He spoke her name met her gaze
head on. "I am taking this position, Will."
Ready with an answer, staring back at her
with exactly what he felt like saying on the tip of his tongue, Riker saw
her dark eyes sparkle in the light of the Ten-Forward lounge and suddenly
realized her confidence was far from locked in.
If he'd wanted to, he could probably have
hurt her -- as much or more than he'd just felt his own hurt just
now. But something in the way she was looking
at him robbed him of the ability to do that. He found himself unable to
utter the scathing remark on his tongue. Not even because he cared about
her. But because somewhere along the way, what mattered to her had become
what mattered to him, even more. "This is
what you really want?" He asked her after a moment of
silence. "Yes." She seemed to relax a little,
proving to him that he'd made the right choice. "It's an incredible
opportunity, Will. Starfleet medical is remodeling their entire command
structure; it will be a chance for me to become a part of instituting
changes where we've only ever dreamed of finding room until now. I can't
imagine any more rewarding career decision at this point in my
life." Riker nodded slowly, watching her gaze
shift from excitement to nostalgia, to something far less readable. It was
probably one of the only times he'd ever envied her empathic
abilities. "Then you should take it."
Deanna sighed softly. She considered his
words in silence for a time, choosing to watch him, rather than speak. And
suddenly she looked away, as if frustrated by her own inability to
communicate what she was feeling. The fact
was, when he thought about it clearly, Riker had to concede that she was
right. In the final analysis, he and Deanna had already made their
decisions. Made them without ever really making any actual decisions at
all. They'd decided what course their lives would take a long, long time
ago. "Thank you," Deanna's hand slipped back
into his and she squeezed his fingers. "Will, what happened between us
these past few weeks was... unexpected," she blushed again. The effect was
surprisingly endearing for a woman who definitely knew what she'd gotten
herself into. For some reason, the thought of it still made her skin turn
pink. "Our being together again was wonderful," her eyes found his, "you
know that. And maybe it's good that it happened now. In just this way."
She paused thoughtfully. "But you and I both know that your place has
always been here, on this ship."
"Deanna--" "No. Please, let me
finish?" He looked at her and found that he
could only nod and shrug. "Will. This is
where you belong. Flying through the universe in search of adventure. I've
always known that. It's one of the things I've always loved about you."
The sound of her sigh clutched his heart. "We've known forever that our
paths would intersect, run parallel and then part again some
day..." A shivering silence descended between
them until neither could take it any longer. It was Riker who finally
spoke. "I guess so," he whispered back. "It's just that I -- I never
pictured you leaving like this," his lips turned up into a sad echo of her
earlier smile, "--in some dumb, completely unrealistic way, I think I
pictured us getting old together on this damn ship, up here as the
Counselor and the Commander." There were tears
in her eyes. And where they'd come from so quickly was as much of a
mystery to Riker as the reason he couldn't jump out of his chair, grab
her, pull her into his arms and tell her he was never going to let her
go... "You had to know that wouldn't happen,
Will," the quiet sound of her voice stopped him cold. "Not
really--" He looked down at their joined hands
and suddenly wished that he *could* cry. Or find some means of expressing
the horrible hole in his spirit. "Yeah." Lifting her fingers from the
table, Riker pressed his lips against her palm. "I will miss you... so
much," he met her eyes, "Imzadi..." In the end, he could never stay mad at
her. Not while her eyes held so much hope. "And I would never stand in
your way. You deserve every success. Every happiness this universe has to
offer," he even tried out a genuine smile. "I think the universe probably
owes us all a favor or two by now." "It does,"
she agreed, eyes bright. "I should have
figured." Riker tipped his head in a typical display of wry humor. "Every
fifty years or so, some new council of Admirals gets together and decides
to change the 'face of Starfleet' -- and the rest of us end up going along
for the ride." "Wasn't it you who once told me
that 'going along for the ride' was never a command decision?" She offered
him a smile of her own. "Did I say that?" he
smirked. "Chalk it up to the arrogance of
youth." "I think it was last week..."
"Ouch." "I'm
going to miss this." Her smile transformed into a serious expression and
she pulled her chair around the table, next to his. "The way you always
make me laugh." Deanna laid her head on his shoulder, staring quietly at
the same stars he'd seemed so taken with earlier. For long moments,
neither spoke. "Deanna," Will finally broke
their silence. "We've always tried to be honest with each other,
right?" "I hope so," she
affirmed. "And we'll always have our
friendship." He sounded so young when he said
it. Deanna took his hands in hers. "Will, you're very special to me. That
will never change. No matter which pathway our lives take us on, the one
thing we will never lose is our friendship."
"Because we'd never let it go." "Because,"
her long hair drifted across his shoulder. "Because, it's meant more to us
than any change in vocation, or status, ever could." Deanna's fingers
tightened around his. "And what's a few light years between a couple of
old friends, anyway? Nothing to bar them from keeping in touch, I'd
say." "Absolutely nothing." Riker's answer
came easily. But there was something in the moment that seemed to whisper
in both their ears. A foreboding prediction that time and circumstance
might meddle in even the most innocent plans of
friendship. It was to be uncannily
accurate. =/=
One week later,
Deanna Troi left the Enterprise. Bags in hand and furniture in tow, she
transported to the surface of the planet Riker was born on. He wouldn't
seen her again for nearly a year...
=/=
[==Chapter 2==]
Searching for a
place to live in downtown San Francisco was never something Will Riker had
imagined himself doing. Hauling the full bulk
of an oversized satchel across his shoulder, he turned his face to the
morning sun and looked up at the sky. It was a beautiful day. And he was
planetside. For the first time in what felt
like decades, William T. Riker had both feet on the ground. And there was
no starship waiting in the atmosphere to beam him the hell out of dodge if
things went wrong, or crazy, or ... whatever they so frequently did when
'things' concerned the nature of his relationship with Counselor Deanna
Troi. Hell, he was probably insane just for
being here like this; unannounced and completely uninvited. It probably
*was* decades since he'd spent more than a month on Earth and it was
certainly even longer since he'd contemplated going planetside and staying
planetside for any length of time. With a tug
at his shoulder strap, Riker adjusted the incongruous bag yet again. It
was large, which was good. And it was fairly utilitarian, which was also
good -- except that it proudly displayed the starfleet logo on a blue and
gold decal that glinted every now and then when the light hit it just
right. It reminded him of his past. And his
future. But mostly, it reminded him that he'd traveled light years on the
Enterprise; said goodbye to just about every friend and make-shift family
member he'd ever known or cared about; left the destiny of an impending
captaincy -- and worst of all -- put on hold the one bit of his life that
still seemed to make sense: his commission in
Starfleet. On second thought, he wasn't
'probably' insane. He was flat out, one hundred and thirty percent,
certifiably nuts. That, and he was standing in the middle of the sidewalk
with a bag he could barely lift and no plans for a place to stay
tonight. Maybe it was a good thing he was on
his way to see a Counselor, after all...
=/=
"Deanna, are you well?"
The sound of a voice startled Deanna Troi
from her thoughts and she turned to face the man who stood in her office
doorway. His name was Laram Andrew. And he was
a doctor with the San Francisco Centennial Medical Facility; a civilian
attachment of physicians who worked among the bureaucrats of Fleet Command
-- if only for the soul purpose of ensuring that patient care was never to
be compromised for the sake of a statistic. He
was a man with far reaching influence and ideals. He was also tall, dark
and very handsome; nothing short of a paradigm for the colloquial
expression. Laram had smiling eyes a
compelling intellect. He was very attentive, always approachable -- and he
was extremely interested in Deanna on a level that definitely moved beyond
professional. The problem was... The problem
... was ... her gaze diverted back toward the window for barely an
instant. "Deanna?"
"Sorry--" Turning again where she stood, Troi offered Doctor Andrew her
full and undivided attention. "I'm fine, Laram. Just daydreaming."
"Something 'off' out there?" Laram asked with
interest. He was remarkably intuitive when it came to those sorts of
things. Almost uncannily so. "No," she
shrugged, allowing herself one final glance behind her, "I don't think
so." "I, um, I missed you last night." He
cleared his throat delicately, "at the
reception." "Oh!" Deanna frowned. "Yes, I'm
sorry Laram. I know I promised I'd be there. Believe me, I tried. I had a
patient call me in at all hours, I wasn't able to leave the facility until
after the party..." "Good." Laram
nodded. "Good?" her brow wrinkled in
confusion. "Well, that's almost exactly what I
told Admirals Ryan and Parson -- not knowing, of course -- I took a the
liberty of hazarding a guess. And now I won't have to pretend that there
was an error somewhere along the way." He smiled.
Deanna felt a sudden sense of gratitude
toward him for the gesture. His explanation had undoubtedly saved her four
or five COMM messages this morning from irate members of the
Admiralty. "Thank you," she
said. "Don't mention it, my lady." Laram's
charming enthusiasm was infectious. Deanna grinned back at him and shook
her head. In truth, she would have been lying
if she weren't to admit that she was attracted to the dashing doctor. Well
enough for her to allow his increasingly familiar invitations over the
past few months. She'd even begun to accept, more often than not. And he
had never disappointed. Whenever they were out
together, he made her feel comfortable and happy. It was a level of trust
in companionship that Deanna hadn't felt in a very long time. And she
found that she liked it. She liked Laram. A
lot. "Are you off for lunch, then?" she
asked. "Yes," he grinned back at her, "and I
was hoping to persuade you to join me." "Oh,
I'm sorry, I wish I could!" Deanna sighed. It was a beautiful day, and a
break -- perhaps a walk in the park -- would have felt wonderful just
then, "But I'm afraid I can't leave. Not until I've met with three more
appointments. I'll be at least another hour--"
"I can wait--" "No. Go on ahead. I'm not even
certain I'll be ready to leave once I'm through with those three. You know
how it can be," she offered him a crooked smile.
"Now correct me if I'm wrong, but won't you
be on leave for a couple of weeks as of this
evening?" "Yes." Troi nodded enthusiastically.
"Which is precisely why there's so much to be done before then." Placing
one hand on her desk, Deanna studied an interminable stack of dataPADDs
still awaiting her authorization. "Perhaps we
might have dinner tonight, then? A celebration of a break, long overdue?"
Laram suggested. "That sounds
nice." "I'll hold you to that, Counselor.
Dinner, tonight. I'll pick you up at your place. Say 19:30
hours?" "I'll be there." Deanna smiled.
With that he was gone. Out her doorway with
the same flare he'd entered it. And Deanna exhaled quietly. Her gaze
strayed back toward the window behind her desk and she studied the
cityscape in the distance. For some reason
she was unable to fathom, she'd had the strangest sense all
morning... =/=
[==Chapter 3==]
"Okay, that wasn't so bad." Will Riker spoke
quietly to himself, studying the electronic document in his hand. It was
nearly evening. But he now had a place to live. And it was a great place,
if he did say so himself. He'd never imagined
himself vying for property on the west coast of the North American
continent. But, then again, he'd never imagined himself taking more than
three weeks shore leave, either. Not in this
lifetime... Unfortunately, his now 'official'
residence would be another week before it was ready for occupancy. In the
interim, he'd made arrangements to stay in the officer's quarters at Fleet
Command. One of the perks of being a Starship Commander -- even a Starship
Commander on an extended leave of absence.
Still, with the trivialities of personal administration finally settled,
Riker had begun to feel better in general. And the prospect of seeing
Deanna again after more than a year, well, that was ... it was ... he
sucked in a deep breath of air and smiled.
They had communicated, he and Deanna, after she'd left the Enterprise. But
somehow, though they'd started off speaking three or four times every
week, eventually the days had grown longer between messages. Time and
distance separated their worlds; ship's night became Earth's morning --
and the feeling he'd begun to sense in the pit of his stomach that
something had changed for Deanna, refused to allow him to rest some
nights. It was just such a night, in fact,
that he'd woken in the midst of a particularly disturbing dream. Calling
Deanna's name, heart hammering against the inside of his chest cavity,
he'd shot up in bed and realized -- she was a hundred light years
away. That night had synched it for him; had
made him realize that he would never truly be able to let her go. He'd
asked for an extended leave of absence the very next day.
The Captain, for his part, had been
unexpectedly sympathetic. As Riker's commanding officer, Picard would have
had no inkling of the reason for the Enterprise's first officer's request
to leave the ship so abruptly. But as a friend, as a mentor, there was no
doubt in Riker's mind that Jean-Luc Picard knew exactly why he'd said:
"Go. Will. Get the hell of my ship and make things right in your life." As
a friend ... there was no question at all.
Will Riker had to go to Earth. He had to find Deanna Troi and make her
understand. He had to tell her what he'd waited far too long to tell her
already. And if there was a 'God' up there somewhere in the universe,
Riker had prayed that it wouldn't be too late when he
did. Standing outside the building of the
Officer's quad, Riker stretched the sore muscles of his shoulder and let
his eyes wander toward the west. There was only one thing to do before he
took off in search of Starfleet Medical's Head of Psychology. One place he
needed to go. A tradition he'd started years ago while still a cadet at
the Academy. He would go to that place now; the place he used to visit so
often in his youth. He would go there. And then he would go and see
Deanna. =/=
Another day of
appointments, meetings and administrivia had nearly come to a close for
Counselor Troi. And so it was that Deanna finished the last of her
paperwork. Looking forward to nearly three weeks of leave, she punched her
access code into the final PADD on her desk and sat back -- finally
satisfied. It was over. And now she could
relax. Well ... almost. Glancing up at the
antique clock which hung stoically next to her window, Deanna noted the
hour. It was 18:00. She'd have just enough time to get home and to change
before Laram arrived. Casting her senses
outward, Deanna allowed herself to release the measured control of the
day's activities. It was a calming ritual she'd employed ever since she
was a cadet at the Academy; surrounded by torrents of cascading, often
conflicting human emotion day after day. On board the Enterprise, it had
often saved her from nervous breakdown to be able to filter out the
emotions and the minds which existed around her. Never completely, of
course. As any Betazoid would attest to, an awareness of one's
surroundings was never to lapse. However a small shield was certainly a
helpful reprieve among species who were not telepathically inclined.
In the ensuing decades of her service to
Starfleet, Deanna had become adept at employing just the right measure of
balance where her empathic senses were concerned. That was why it came as
a moderate surprise to her when she let her shields go this evening --
confident that the rush of a full day's activity would have mollified the
minds of everyone within measurable distance. She discovered that the
'feeling' she'd been having all day long had only grown stronger. More
identifiable... Deanna sat forward in her
chair with a start. Looking first at her window and then toward her office
doorway, she rose to her feet and stood there, momentarily
startled. An instant later, she lifted her
head. Dinner plans temporarily forgotten; she snatched her light uniform
jacket from its place near the door and skipped out of Starfleet Medical's
primary complex at a sprint.
=/=
[==Chapter 4==]
If there was one thing more than any other
which had captivated Counselor Troi in her first few weeks back on Earth,
it was the breathtaking beauty of San Francisco bay at sunset.
She'd almost forgotten how crimson and filled
with fire the horizon became. As a student, so many years ago, she'd
certainly appreciated the majesty of Earth's single yellow sun. The way it
descended like a ball of liquid gold in the distance. But being here again
this past year had reminded her of many things she'd temporarily
forgotten. Some of which she'd not even realized she'd
missed... Walking slowly in sand of the
water's edge, where the rush of daylight met the shivering kiss of
twilight, Deanna moved with purpose. The sense she'd felt was stronger
here. And she was almost certain now. Or as certain as an empath could be
about such things. Her short journey had taken
her out of the primary medical complex and down a well traveled length of
beach which followed the ocean. There was no one here this evening, likely
because it was a little chillier than most residents were accustomed to,
and possibly also because it was neither a holiday nor a particularly
special stretch of beach to search for. In fact, it was fairly plain in
comparison to a great deal of the other spots she'd discovered during the
past several months. Still she was certain
that she was in the right place. Almost there now. She arrived at a rocky
outcropping, slowly placing her hands against its surface for purchase
while she climbed over it, rather than going
around. And that was when she saw him.
Moving with careful deliberation in the sand;
head bowed, barefoot with his pant-legs rolled up nearly to half-calf, was
just about the last person in the universe that Deanna had dreamed of
seeing this day. She froze where she stood.
Both boots in the sand on the other side of the rock she'd barely managed
to climb, Deanna stood there and watched him, hardly daring to breathe.
What was he doing here? Why hadn't he called
and told her -- *something*? When had he arrived? Her mind spun a thousand
other questions while her body remained rooted in place.
For his part, the object of her scrutiny
continued what appeared to be a vigil in the sand. It seemed an eternity
had passed and she hadn't even realized she was moving again, but all of a
sudden, a pair of brilliant blue eyes met her gaze -- and he was standing
right in front of her. "Will?" Deanna acted on
impulse, jumping forward and throwing her arms around him in a hug that
was clearly meant to assuage more than a year's absence. "Will!" She felt
his arms slide around her, closing firmly at her back as she struggled to
quell the racing of her heart. "Oh, gods its
so good to see you! When did you get here?" she stammered, freeing herself
from his grasp temporarily. "This morning,"
he answered circumspectly; looking down on her as though he were worried
she might shatter at any moment. "How did
you--?" Deanna tipped her head and placed her
hands akimbo at her waist, affording him a wry
glance. "You sensed that I was here, didn't
you?" he suddenly grinned. "Well, this
certainly isn't my favorite stretch of beach, if that's what you mean."
Her own smile followed quickly, but she resisted the urge to hug him
again. Had it really been fourteen months since they'd stood in the same
space at the same time? "Will, I had no idea you were coming! You should
have told me!" "Why?" he interrupted. His
voice was suddenly cool and a familiar sense of Riker reticence washed
over her. "Is this a bad time?" "No!" Deanna
shook her head adamantly, "of course not. It could never be a bad time.
It's just-- I-- I'm shocked, that's all." "I
know." Riker's tone fell an octave. "I'm sorry. I avoided telling you,"
his blue eyes dove into hers, "on purpose."
"What? Why?" When he didn't answer immediately, Deanna came forward and
touched his arm. "What's happened? Is something
wrong?" "Yes," he nodded, and his eyes were as
serious as she had ever seen them. He must have noticed her expression
shift because he hurried to add, "not in the way you might think though.
Everyone on the Enterprise is fine. They all send their regards." He
smiled. "Beverly wanted me to give you an extra hug for
her." "Oh," Deanna exhaled. Thank goodness.
Then she glanced up at him expectantly.
"Well?" Riker shook his
head. "As I recall," Troi grinned, "I only got
one hug. And I'm fairly certain that one was from you." She wrinkled her
nose teasingly. "Far be it from me not to
follow through on a promise." Riker laughed. Stepping forward, he
enveloped Deanna in yet another hold, laying his chin atop her head. Her
arms reached behind him, pulling herself far enough within the circle of
his embrace so that he completely surrounded
her. When they'd been like that for some time,
she turned her head and murmured against his chest. "I think you'll just
have to owe me that hug on Beverly's behalf. This one seems to be from you
as well." Riker closed his eyes and smiled.
"All right," he squeezed her one last time before they stood
apart. "You changed your hair." He reached out
and touched it absently. "Yes," Deanna
agreed, "I thought it had been straight for long
enough." "I like it," he smiled, "curly like
this, I mean." Deanna blushed. The heat of it
touched her cheeks so profoundly that she was able to feel the difference.
And where had *that* come from? She'd known Will Riker's preference for
her hair from the very beginning of time. His stating it another time,
another way should certainly not have affected her like
this. "So," she began, "what are you doing out
here, anyway?" Shivering in the cool breeze, Deanna drew her jacket closed
in front. "It's freezing!" "Freezing?" Riker's
grin lit up his features. "Deanna, where I grew
up--" "I know, I know, it was forty below and
there were polar bears in your bathtub..."
"That wasn't exactly what I was going to say," Will offered in his
defense. "But it was close enough?" She smiled
back. "Yeah." Shaking his head, Riker
shrugged. "Close enough. And I was ... testing the
sand." "Testing the sand?" Deanna stared at
him as though he were certifiably mad. "An
old Academy tradition of mine," he glanced up at the memory, "before any
major event or examination, I'd come out here and ... test the
sand." "I see." She nodded
sagely. Riker smirked. "Is that the Counselor,
'I see'? Or is that the 'he's nuts', 'I see'?"
"Tha-- I--" Deanna grinned, "I'm not even going to answer
that!" "God I missed you." Eyes suddenly
serious, Riker looked at her anew. He was studying her again, in the way
he had when they'd first laid eyes on each other. Not here on the beach,
but across the span of decades -- when she'd seen him for the first time
on Betazed... "I missed you too," she quietly
exhaled. "Come on, I'm cold, and I'm sure you have a hundred stories to
catch me up on from the Enterprise." Hand extended, she waited for him to
accept. He did. Riker pulled her toward him.
He scooped up his shoes from a nearby rock and together they walked
arm-in-arm along the beach.
=/=
[==Chapter
5==] "That's
completely ridiculous, Will Riker, you're not staying there." Deanna
regarded him irately. "Those quarters are little better than prison
cells." "Deanna, it's the officers barracks.
We all have a bed and a table, a couple of chairs and a replicator. What
more does a person need? Besides," he smiled casually, "it's only for a
week." "I don't care how long it's for. You're
not staying in that place. You're staying with me." Her eyes narrowed, "I
still can't believe you've done this. If I hadn't seen you standing here;
spoken to you and reassured myself you weren't -- somehow cloned by the
Romulans -- I'd never believe it. How long were you planning on being a
civilian again?" "I don't know, Deanna," his
eyes fell for an instant, "honestly, it's all a little up in the air right
now." Troi paused in her scrutiny. "Dependant
on what?" "I'd rather not say just
yet." She stood there for a time and said
nothing. Merely looked at him with that way she had; the one that made him
feel as though he should confess everything to her and get it over with.
It was a feeling he knew was a calculated effect on her part. But he
wasn't going to allow it to win this time.
"Okay." She finally nodded. "That's fine. But you're not staying in those
quarters." He stared back at her, then finally
lifted his hands in defeat. "All right. You win. But only because they
seem to be paying you a hell of a lot more than they're paying me on board
the Enterprise," he grinned, "Look at this
place!" Turning in a slow circle, Riker
examined the elegant enclosure. Deanna had taken an apartment nearly
eighty floors up in one of the largest buildings San Francisco had to
offer. Her own, often familiar, furnishings were scattered about in a
discerning manner and there were numerous other items of interest which
were obviously new. Either that, or they'd been too large to display in
the comparatively tiny quarters she kept on board the Federation Flag
Ship. Marking his appraisal of her living
space, Deanna seemed to color slightly. "It's not really that, frankly.
Though the promotion certainly helps."
"Promotion?" Riker turned where he stood. "You mean, beyond the head of
Starfleet psychology?" His eyes flew to her collar where an extra pip was
indeed on display. Deanna cleared her throat.
"Well, technically, I do have the equivalent of an entire ship's
compliment under my command..." she shrugged her shoulders in a manner
that was almost apologetic. All Riker could
do was grin. "Deanna! That's amazing news!" His voice suddenly faltered
and he stopped. "Wait a second, why didn't you tell
me?" "I--" she cringed. "I wasn't sure I
should." "Why not?" he asked, suddenly feeling
as though she'd carved a hole in his chest with one of the statues on her
coffee table. "Well," Deanna's gaze fell and
she studied the floor, "I know how long you'd been hoping to make Captain.
And even though you turned down the option more than once, it just didn't
seem ... right somehow, that I'd gotten there
first." "Oh." Riker swallowed. "Deanna, that's
not..." he came toward her and then stopped only inches away. "You should
never have felt that way," he whispered. "Are
you so sure?" She tipped her head up and met his eyes. "It's not that I
thought you would ever be petty, Will. I know what an admirable man you
are, but I also know how much of your life you've wished for this..." her
hand stole to her collar and she carefully removed the tiny pin. It lay
there in her palm. "Do you know that I would give this to you in a
heartbeat ... right now, if I could?" "Dea,"
Riker lifted his hand and pressed it to the side of her face. "I want you
to know that that means more to me than anything Starfleet could ever
offer." She smiled at him and his heart
skipped a beat. In that moment, he saw something change in her eyes;
watched them darken to a familiar shade; felt the warm trembling of his
spirit which always seemed to accompany the look she was giving him right
now. Their bodies were inches apart; then
centimeters; then barely a breath as his lips brushed softly over hers.
Her sigh spilled, sweet as honey along his cheek and he leaned forward,
intent on capturing her face between his palms ... but the door chimes in
her apartment sounded noisily instead.
=/=
[==Chapter
6==]
"I love you," The words as they escaped
Riker's lips, hovered precariously on a captured breath of air. They were
a surprise, even for him. Once free however,
the emotion they evoked poured liberally throughout his spirit, and he was
barely able to comprehend why it had taken him this long to gather the
courage. Had it really been so difficult to say those three -- incredibly
simple words -- all this time? Apparently it
had. Because even as his romance with Deanna had rekindled in the wake of
the Briar Patch, he had never been ready to speak what he was feeling. Not
in the way he'd wanted to; in the way he knew she needed to
hear. It was as though the emotional stability
he'd fought so vehemently for throughout their service together on board
the Enterprise had locked away his capacity to tell her what he was really
feeling; sequestered it in some dark place, where it wouldn't hurt if she
said no. Only now the doors were flung wide
open. Suddenly, he'd spoken the words. And whether it was the right time,
or the wrong time, or there was any sort of 'time' at all, he found that
he was suddenly and completely free again. As free as the young lieutenant
who'd fallen head-over-heels in love well over a decade
ago. He'd never felt more
alive. "What?" Deanna pulled backward; staring
wide-eyed at him until the door chimes rang again.
"You should get that." Riker looked back at
her, a part of him hoping that she'd tell him 'the hell with the door' and
let him pull her even closer than before; let him hold her and kiss her
again. A part of him wanted that more than he'd ever wanted anything in
his lifetime. Except that it wasn't to be.
Stepping carefully back into the room, Deanna
tucked some hair behind her ear and walked slowly to the doorway. There
she paused, regarding the monitor which displayed her
guest. "Oh, Gods.." Her head fell forward and
she shook it slowly. "Laram, I forgot!" Thrusting her hand out, she tapped
the plate near the entrance and watched it slide aside, revealing a tall,
striking man who came forward immediately.
"Deanna," he beamed, leaning forward and kissing her cheek. "You look
lovely as ever, but I thought you were allowed to change out of the
uniform while you were on leave?" He was
teasing her, quite obviously. And she managed a small smile, but the
moment was doomed from the start. Because the instant that Laram Andrew's
curious gaze scanned the rest of her apartment, he was acutely aware that
his arrival had been an interruption -- of something, at
least. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize you
had company." The look he threw Deanna was clearly apologetic, but also
perplexed. "It was to be 19:30 hours?" "Yes,"
Deanna sighed. "I'm the one who's sorry Laram. It's my fault, I lost track
of the time..." "Actually, it's probably my
fault." Will Riker stepped forward and managed to nod amicably; a feat
which -- under the circumstances -- he felt as though he probably deserved
an award for. "I'm afraid Deanna was talking with me. She and I are--" he
glanced at her and noted the silent request in her eyes, "we're old
friends." Riker finished deliberately. "I showed up a little unannounced
and we were just catching up." He looked to her again, this time daring
her to argue. "Weren't we, Deanna?" "Yes," her
answer came quickly, and she diverted her gaze from Will's to Laram's.
"Laram Andrew, meet Will Riker. A dear friend of mine," her eyes locked
with Will's. "Commander Riker serves as first officer on board the
Enterprise," the tremor in her voice lifted as she gestured between both
men. "Will Riker, this is Laram Andrew, a doctor of some note here in the
facility. And a friend." She emphasized the
word 'friend' in a way that made Riker want to deck the young doctor,
rather than shake his hand. <How very diplomatic of you, Deanna>
Will cleared his throat, instead. "It's a pleasure, Doctor
Andrew." "The pleasure is mine, Commander,"
Laram beamed, "I've heard a great deal about
you!" "Really?" Riker turned to Troi, "should
I be worried?" he smiled, somehow comforted by the knowledge that Deanna
was seething. But Doctor Andrew had already begun to
laugh. "Absolutely not!" Laram chuckled, "In
fact, I've never heard Deanna speak of anyone with higher
regard." Deanna seemed to blush again, and
Riker's eyebrow rose, but the comment he'd initially planned on making
sank back into his throat. Whatever she'd said to Laram, it didn't excuse
his acting like a complete ass right now. "I'm
sorry, doctor," Will forged a convincing smile, "you two -- obviously had
plans. I don't want to interrupt." His eyes fell on Troi's, but she
demurred. "Laram," Deanna smiled sweetly, "if
you'll give me five minutes, I'll meet you downstairs in the
foyer?" "Of course." Nodding respectfully in
Riker's direction, Doctor Andrew turned and stepped through the doorway.
"Take as much time as you need." Again he smiled genuinely. And Riker
wasn't certain he enjoyed the fact that he was beginning to like this
Doctor Andrew, despite himself. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Commander.
I'm certain we'll have a chance to speak again
soon." "Likewise, doctor." Will agreed. And
with that, Laram was gone. The doorway slid quietly shut behind him and
Riker was left standing in the apartment with a moderately irate Betazoid.
"Deanna, I really don't want to keep you. You obviously have somewhere to
be." "Oh, don't be flip with me, Will." Her
dark eyes flashed. "I do have plans with Laram, but I'm going to be back
later on tonight and when I get here, we need to
talk." "I suppose." Riker shrugged, hoping to
portray in mind as well as body, a far less affected front than he was
feeling. "I was thinking... maybe I should stay at the officer's quarters
anyway. It really--" "Will Riker, when I get
back here tonight," Deanna snapped, "if you aren't sitting right in that
chair--" she indicated a large overstuffed piece of furniture in her
livingroom, "--then you might as well never speak with me again, because I
certainly will not acknowledge your
existence." He might have thought she was
being melodramatic. Overreacting at least. If it weren't for the drop-dead
serious look in her eyes. Stepping backward
into the apartment, Riker found himself at a loss for words. "Fine," he
was able to manage. "One night." Troi's eyes
narrowed. "Look, Deanna, you said you wanted
to talk, so we'll talk. But I don't see any reason to extrapolate beyond
that discussion." His own eyes darkened and locked with hers. "Do
you?" "Just be here when I get back," she
warned him a final time. Turning away from
the confrontation, Deanna marched into her bedroom and was gone.
=/=
When she emerged
nearly fifteen minutes later, she was utterly transformed.
Sitting in a wide arm-chair near one of the
floor to ceiling windows of her apartment, Riker saw her step through the
doorway and caught his breath soundly in his
throat. She wore a long, elegant evening dress
that kissed the floor beyond her ankles. Tumbling, loose curls had been
brushed out their full length, and the rest of the raven mass was caught
up within a simple clip. No doubt there hadn't been time to do what she'd
wanted to with her hair. Even so, she was
exquisite. Riker fought to keep himself from
staring in unabashed awe. Whatever else a year of distance had done for
her, it had only deepened the response he felt at seeing her this
way. It also looked as though wherever she and
doctor Andrew were headed, it was going to be upscale. Now that he thought
of it, the doctor had been wearing a black tie beneath his coat. Riker
swallowed the iron ball in his throat and forced his intemperate thoughts
into abeyance. "Deanna," he called to her as
she reached for the door's release, "you look ... very beautiful." He
caught and held her gaze. Deanna stared at him
for a moment, quietly assessing his remark. The enormity of her luminous
eyes seemed to take in all of him at once. But then he heard her exhale.
"Thank you," she smiled
diffidently. "I'll see you later," he watched
her nod. And then she too was gone. The door slid closed. And he was all
alone. Again.
=/=
[==Chapter 7==]
"Counselor," Laram Andrew leaned forward in
his chair and smiled, "you look absolutely exquisite this evening, if you
don't mind my saying so." "I don't. And thank
you," Deanna returned his smile and glanced about the restaurant. It was
beautifully appointed -- and obviously very expensive. When Laram had
called her office this afternoon and suggested she dress up for the
evening, she hadn't begun to realize how much of an evening he had
planned. "Are you upset with me?" he asked the
question softly. "What?" Shaking her head,
Deanna looked back at him. "Of course not. Laram this is beautiful. Why
would I be upset with you?" "I'm not sure," he
admitted, "you've just seemed a little -- preoccupied, since we arrived.
Is your mind with your friend, then? The one from the Enterprise?"
She might have wondered at his remark, except
for the smile in his eyes. It was honest; as forthright as he'd always
been with her. He seemed genuinely concerned that he'd done something
wrong, and Deanna suddenly felt horrible for not having told him the
complete extent of her 'friendship' with Will Riker.
But how was she to impart that kind of
information to another person when she herself was so often confused by
it? "No. Oh, I'm sorry." Placing her napkin
carefully in her plate, Deanna proffered a small smile. "I've been a
horrible dinner companion, so far." "I beg to
differ." Laram seemed to contemplate for a moment, before he dropped his
gaze. "You know," he began slowly, "when I first met you, I thought I'd
never known anyone more ... vibrant, in my entire life. Not to mention
more beautiful..."
"Laram..." "Please, let me finish." He paused.
"I hope you'll believe me when I say that I don't mean this in any kind of
trite or casual way. There was this ... air about you ... something I
really can't explain. I'd never met anyone with your determination; your
exhilaration for the kinds of things most of us were already cynical
about." He reached across the table and pulled her hand into his. "You
made me love being a healer again, Deanna."
"But you've always been a wonderful doctor. I've never known you not to
love what you do," she argued. "I wasn't
always," his gaze grew serious. "In fact, in the months before you
arrived, I was thinking of leaving the facility." Troi's eyes widened
while he continued, "I was tired of the struggle. The bureaucracy and
intrigue with Starfleet Command. I was nearly ready to give everything
up." Laram quietly exhaled. "Believe that you changed that in
me." "Laram, I can't." Troi shook her head
incredulously. "I always felt that you were so positive about what you
did. I never once sensed anything other than genuine happiness from you in
your work. In fact, you were an inspiration to *me* when I first took over
the position. You were so thoughtful and
understanding--" "What I'm trying to say, is
that I care for you, Deanna." His hand continued to hold onto
hers. "I care for you as
well--" "What I mean," he pressed on in a
heartbeat, face flushed, "is that I'm in love with you. Deanna, I've been
in love with you for months." Before she was
able to respond; before she'd moved at all, Laram Andrew slid from his
chair near the table and down onto one knee before her. In his hand, he
held a tiny box, and Deanna's mouth fell open.
"I realize this may seem rushed in comparison to other courtships, but
we've spent a great deal of time together these past several months. Time
that I cherish with everything I am. I know that it's possible you may not
return my feelings to the fullest extent of what I feel for you right now,
but if you feel that you ever could -- or would -- you would make me the
happiest man in the universe if you would marry me, Deanna Troi." His hand
extended, the box now open to reveal an exquisite diamond circlet. Laram
swallowed visibly. "Will you marry me?"
=/=
Trapped within the confines of an apartment
that seemed to be growing smaller by the instant, Will Riker paced back
and forth. He stood next to a window, then made his way to the door. The
waiting had shifted from moderately unbearable to utterly interminable. He
might still have withstood it, if the demons of his own beleaguered
thoughts had agreed to remain silent. His
restless wandering carried him close to Deanna's bedroom doorway and he
caught a glimpse of the inside of the suite. The first thing he noticed
was the turn of her bedcovers. They were immaculate, of course, but there
was a characteristic flaw in the arrangement -- something only she had
ever done, to the extent of his recollection. The edge of the coverlet lay
just as he remembered it had on Betazed ... and later, on board the
Enterprise. Did Doctor Andrew now share that knowledge,
too? Riker's fist fell hard against the frame
of her door. Groaning at the punishing force of his own blow, he shook out
his hand, which -- though it eased the pain of the limb -- did nothing to
relieve the other sort of ache he was
suffering. "I have to get out of here," his
voice hissed, barely a breath. Stopping once
more by the living room, he paused and surveyed the apartment. Sparkling
starlight dripped magically through each monumental window; as though the
view outside Deanna's high-rise had been dusted in
silver. "Now." Riker sucked in a breath.
Grabbing hold of his jacket, he spun on his heel and turned for the
door. =/=
[==Chapter
8==] It was
pouring rain when Deanna Troi made it back to her apartment. The increase
in precipitation was a fairly routine phenomenon for San Francisco in the
fall, but it seemed chillier this night, somehow.
Having wished Laram goodnight, she'd walked
the last block on her own. It wasn't raining when he'd kissed her -- as he
so often did at the end of their evenings together. And it wasn't raining
when she had responded -- as she so often had -- the warmth of his touch
as compelling as ever. Still she hadn't
wanted company on the final leg of her journey. The block and a half of
city-street that would inevitably take her home; inevitably bring her face
to face with Will Riker. It started raining,
only after Laram had gone. A fitting end to a fitting day, which, in the
final analysis, could not have been more surprising.
One after another, the moments ticked by in a
series of paradoxically intertwined revelations that had left her spirit
feeling dizzy and out of control. Yet she had made several decisions
already; one in particular which would surely change her
life. Alive in the aftermath, was part of her
that wished she hadn't forced Will to stay behind at her apartment. That
she hadn't issued any ultimatum of the kind, all things
considered. Swiping her access card quickly
past the automatic door, Deanna ducked inside the lobby of the high-rise
and stood there, dripping on the floor. She was freezing. And she was
shivering. But the thought of making her way upstairs engendered a greater
feeling of discomfort than the former two
combined. Glancing around the foyer, she
noticed several parties turn and direct a sympathetic gaze in her
direction. She must have looked a fright; like a drowned animal at the
very least. Insanely in that moment, she
wished for the comfort of the telepathic lifestyle she'd left behind on
Betazed. The kind of rapport that would never have made her feel as though
she had to 'explain' why it was she'd suddenly been caught in the rain and
drenched. Where she was born, there would be no questions, because there
would be no mystery at all. For the first time
in the fourteen months since she'd arrived on Earth, Deanna Troi felt
homesick. Allowing herself a quiet sigh,
Deanna made her way to the lift and stepped inside. Mercifully, it was
empty, and the ascent to her floor took little more than thirty seconds
during which she tried her best not to think of anything at
all. Her living room was dark when she
entered. Dropping her pass card and her purse onto a nearby table, Troi
made her way inside and quietly glanced around the enclosure, confirming
what her senses had already told her. Will
Riker was gone. "Well, I suppose I should have
known better." She whispered under her breath, allowing her soggy coat to
slide down her shoulders. "Known better than
to take a walk in a rainstorm? I'd have to
agree." The sound of his voice startled her.
In the absence of any kind of empathic sense, it made her
jump. "Will?" she turned to regard him. And
there he was, leaning casually in her doorway. Looking -- if it were
possible -- a hell of a lot worse than she
did. "The very same," Riker threw her a wry
smile, "the one and only." He shook his head while he walked. "The biggest
idiot that ever lived, apparently."
"Will..." "No, Deanna, it's fine. I'm the one
who's the idiot. You're -- fine. You're--" his eyes examined her briefly
and then fell with sudden certainty on the one part of her body she'd been
trying desperately to keep away from him. The second last finger on her
left hand. A wall of emotion he'd been
blocking from her quite successfully until now, exploded with shuddering
force. "You're engaged?"
=/=
[==Chapter 9==]
"Will, come in out of the doorway," Deanna
curled her fingers automatically, effectively blocking his view of the
sparkling gemstone. Her arm dropped to her side. "You look a
fright." "So do you," he quipped. "And don't
change the subject." "Charming, as always,"
she walked toward him and took his elbow, pulling him from possible
scrutiny in the hall. Once vacant, the entry to her apartment slid shut.
"I'm not 'changing the subject'," Deanna half frowned, "I'm just not
having this discussion in the middle of my hallway, if you don't
mind." "Absolutely not," Riker glared at her.
"We can have this discussion wherever you'd like. I don't anticipate it'll
take more than five minutes, anyway." "Will,
that isn't fair," she snapped, shrugging the remainder of her coat from
her shoulders and gathering the dripping garment into her hand. She
searched momentarily for a place to let it go and found nowhere it
wouldn't quickly drench whatever it touched.
Scowling in frustration, Deanna simply placed it on the table near her
door and turned around to face him. "I think you owe it to me, and to our
friendship to let me speak." She saw his blue eyes flash with resentment,
but that mattered less than that he seemed to be listening to her, despite
his anger. "Especially because you aren't in full command of all the
facts." "Facts?" he almost laughed. "That is
an engagement ring, isn't it?" Riker's gaze dropped to her hand, then
returned to watch her expression. If her
sense of him hadn't been so anxious and war-torn, she might have allowed
herself the luxury of being livid with his attitude, but he was clearly
upset it only seemed counterproductive to mix her own displeasure with
his. "Yes," Deanna sighed, "it is an
engagement ring." "Then I understand
perfectly," he shrugged. "I know exactly
what--" "A lot's happened since we last saw
one another, Will," Deanna interjected. The painful pulse of her own chest
was becoming more of a distraction than she was willing to
tolerate. "I can see that," Will shot back.
"Obviously, it was also a lot more than you were willing to share with
me." She winced at sound of his voice.
Combined with the cruel force of his emotion, it felt as though he had
slapped her. Though he surely wasn't aware that he even held that kind of
power over her, and she wanted to keep it that
way. "Why are you doing this, Will? she asked.
"We're friends. You're my *best* friend," her voice faltered, but only for
an instant. "This isn't the way it's supposed to
be..." "Friends," Riker exhaled loudly. It
seemed to deflate his anger a little, but not for long. "Friends don't
keep these kinds of life-altering choices from one another, Deanna. They
don't--" he threw his hands up and then dropped them abruptly, "they don't
turn their whole lives upside down without a word, without a call and then
expect--" he trailed off. "Expect what?"
Deanna shoved a dripping tendril of hair from her face in annoyance. When
he hadn't responded, she raised her voice another level.
"What?" "I don't think you want to marry him."
Riker suddenly shot back. The fact that his response in no way answered
her previous question seemed less of an issue than the implication of his
words. Placing both hands on her hips, Deanna
exhaled quickly. "Will you stop this?" she demanded, "will you let me
speak?" "No," he shook his head, "not this
time, Deanna. You're always the one doing the talking. Always finding some
damnable, Betazoid bit of reasoning for why I'm not allowed to feel
whatever it is I'm feeling. Why it makes me less of a sentient life-form
or... whatever the hell it makes me. But I am not apologizing anymore." He
glared at her, eyes ablaze. "Face it, Deanna. If hadn't come back here and
said ... what I did. You wouldn't be wearing that ring right
now." She stared at him agape. Her earlier
comment forgotten, she shook her head. "There it is again. You're standing
there, right in front of me, and you can't even say the words anymore.
Words you managed fewer than four hours
ago..." "That's not the point." He
scowled. "It's exactly the point! Laram loves
me, and I--" "Wait, let me guess?" Riker
growled. "You love him too, he's everything you ever wanted in a man. He's
perfect," Will looked away, then back again, "and maybe he is perfect,"
Riker conceded quietly. Deanna's eyes widened at the sudden shift in his
emotion. "But that's not love, Deanna ... god help me. God help us both,
this is love." Pulling her toward him,
startled and completely off balance, Riker gripped the damp fabric around
her arm and lay his lips atop hers. The kiss was warm and sweet and wholly
consuming. It was barely there, however. And
that in itself was a surprise, considering his emotions had forced her to
expect a far more primal sense of urgency in his touch. His mouth was
unexpectedly gentle, and his hands -- ignoring the soggy state of her body
-- pulled her flush against his torso. "Don't
you feel that?" he asked softly, his warm breath still tickling the edge
of her face. Deanna's heart was racing almost
painfully against invisible restraints. When he pulled from her and took
her hand, lightly placing her palm against the front of her own chest, she
stared down at it for a moment, then lifted her eyes to
his. It was a long time before the luxury of
speech returned. "It isn't enough," her dark eyes locked with the full
extent of his expression and she refused to allow the tears she felt to
show themselves. "Don't you understand that,
Will?" Her words had hurt him. She knew that.
But they were the truth. And watching the light in his eyes dim
considerably, Deanna also knew that she'd been right to remind him of
it. "If you're hoping I'm going to suddenly
understand what the hell that means, Deanna, then -- I'm sorry, but I just
don't get it." "I know," she smiled wanly. A
smile filled with the pure and simple kind of understanding that only a
deep friendship could ever provide. "You never did," her shoulders rose
and fell. "Well, maybe I'm beginning to."
Riker turned from her, back rigid. She saw him clench both fists at his
sides as he marched toward her doorway. There
was something else she still needed to say to him. Except that he never
allowed her the opportunity. Standing in the
shadow of her doorway, Riker paused, his voice barely a whisper. "That's a
hell of a bigger diamond then I could have ever given you, anyway." The
door slid open, and Will Riker ducked through it, leaving her behind in
the wake of his remark. Eyes wide, lips
slightly parted in surprise, Deanna watched him go, and only once the door
had closed, was she able to scream. Snatching
a ceramic statuette from the console table in her hallway, Deanna hurled
it mercilessly towards the door with every once of strength she possessed.
The artifact shattered with punishing force, exploding into a billion tiny
shards. But she felt nothing. Not even the
tiniest measure of satisfaction. Not even the tears that mingled with the
raindrops on her face.
=/=
[==Chapter
10==] The
officer's quad was dark when Will Riker arrived. It was dark when an
apologetic young lieutenant handed him the bag he'd left behind and
informed him that they no longer had the room he'd requested. Which wasn't
a surprise, considering he'd given it up only a few hours earlier in the
day. And so it was -- also in the dark --
that Will Riker left the Starfleet building; bag in hand, to walk out into
the ever-pouring rain. At 01:00 in the
morning of his first full day back on Earth in years, Riker couldn't have
imagined things would end up more wrong. Not if he'd sat up late at night
on the evening before he left the Enterprise and tried to think of it this
way. It might have been funny. If it wasn't
so damned pathetic. He might even have laughed at his own predicament.
Then again, what about his competency in romance had ever been
particularly stellar when it came to Deanna Troi?
She was the one woman in the entire universe
he'd fallen all over himself to get to know; to know beyond his previously
status-quo consideration of whether she might be as incredible in bed as
she was beautiful. And she was the only woman he'd ever fallen for -- in
any real sense. She was his friend and his
confidant and he was so damned hopelessly in love with her that he
couldn't stand the distance of a year and nearly a hundred light years
anymore; so that he'd given up his life and his career on board the
Enterprise. Because those things hadn't mattered anymore. Not in
comparison to the way he felt at night when she wasn't
there. A damned fool. That's what he was.
Slinging his bag over his right shoulder, Riker gave in to the rain and
let it fall. On his face, over his hair, his eyelashes; soaking through
the fabric of his jacket, shirt and pants. He stopped caring and it
stopped mattering. The fact was he'd never be
able to escape his feelings for Deanna. Not tonight, at least. Because it
seemed he'd left his smaller bag in her apartment. The one that contained,
among other things, his credit chits, comm badge, and identification.
No, it appeared that after everything they'd
said and everything he'd done, there was nowhere for him to go tonight but
back the way he'd come.
=/=
At 04:00 hours, Deanna Troi was sitting at
her dining table, staring vacantly through its glass surface. Both of her
hands were wrapped around an untouched glass of chocolate; the once-warm
liquid now long-since cooled. This was the
first day of her long-awaited leave? This was what the next three weeks
were going to be like? And what then, after that?
A quiet sigh escaped her lips as she thought
about the feelings she had sensed in Will. Most especially in the final
words he spoke. He'd meant what he said about the ring. But less of that
was directed at hurting her as was directed at himself. The question was,
why? There had been many times throughout her
friendship with him that she'd found she learned a new facet of his
personality; moments when she thought she knew him as well or better than
she knew herself, and then he'd throw her a curve. Like
tonight. There was a knock at her door.
Glancing at the chrono on her wall, Deanna
frowned in puzzlement. It was 04:15 hours -- quite a few hours early for
company. Consciously centering her thoughts, she sorted through the tumble
of chaos she'd managed to allow her mind to slip into and rose from her
chair. Her senses finally focused, and then she stopped.
Eyes on the door to her apartment, she made
her way to the entry with careful deliberation. It was a short walk, but
it seemed to take forever. And when she arrived at her destination, her
hand hovered without conviction over the
doorplate. At the sound of yet another short
imperrative, she finally exhaled. Tapping the access key, she watched the
door slide quietly open and knew that he would be standing there. Which he
was. Dripping water all over her carpet. They
stood like that, appraising one another interminably. Neither spoke, but
Riker looked so pitiful that after only half a minute, Deanna couldn't
keep from smiling. "You look terrible," she
observed, crossing her arms and examining him thoroughly.
Riker cleared his throat. "I um, I forgot one
of my bags." "Ah." Nodding slowly, Deanna
stood backward from her door and gestured that he should enter. He did.
But he looked miserably embarrassed in general. That in itself was enough
to assuage the rest of the anger she'd felt toward their earlier
argument. She watched his back as he walked
carefully into the darkness of the apartment; heading toward a small
satchel that she was now certain had been sitting on one of her living
room chairs all night long. While he moved to
get it, she slipped into an adjacent room and emerged in time to see him
lifting the bag into his arms. Before he could
turn, Deanna crept behind him and draped a large towel over his shoulders,
gently forcing both bags from his hands and pulling her arms around as
much of him as she could reach. She lay her
head sideways across his back, feeling the towel grow warm and damp
beneath her cheek as she hugged him lightly.
"You must be freezing," she spoke before he could, "and you're soaking
wet. You need to take a shower, and dry off. You're not going anywhere
tonight." Deanna felt him tense beneath her arms. "Don't argue with me
right now, Will," her voice was soft,
"please." When she sensed the protest drain
from his limbs, her own body finally relaxed. She lead him toward her
guest bathroom without another word. Closing the door, Deanna stood
outside until the telltale sound of the shower was audible. Only then did
she turn back into the living space. Her eyes
fell on the larger of the two bags Will had been carrying. It was
Starfleet issue, and it was as drenched as the rest of him had been. But
that would be on the outside only. Inside the carryall, she knew the
contents would have been protected from the rain. Which was good, because
it would give him something warm and dry to
wear. Opening the bag, Deanna lifted several
neatly folded garments from inside and placed them onto the couch. Among
these were a well-worn shirt and a pair of loose, comfortable pants Will
seemed to favor at night -- whenever he was on shore leave.
She remembered the last time she'd seen him
wear them, and she smiled. It was on a short trip they'd taken together.
Not long after their return from the Briar Patch.
Reaching forward to close the bag once more,
Deanna suddenly stopped. A tiny engraved box was glinting in the starlight
that filtered in through her living room windows.
She remembered this box. Hand extended
automatically, she found herself taking it gently into her grasp.
"Imzadi," she whispered the word she knew
would open it. The small container clicked
once, its cover moved aside and Deanna exhaled slowly. He hadn't changed
the password. Not in all these years.
For the second time in over a decade, Deanna
looked down into the antique silver casing. This time however, she was
squeezing it with more force than she'd intended. The fragile, engraved
surface bit the palm of her hand. Consciously relaxing her hold on the
box, Deanna let her eyes fall on its contents
instead. It was an engagement ring. And it was
as beautiful as she remembered. Simple by comparison, its pattern was far
less elaborate than the one Laram Andrew had given her. Without question,
it would never have been as valuable in any material sense. But though it
may never have appeared in the same window as the one she wore on her
hand, this particular ring was far more...
The water in the shower suddenly stopped and Deanna's head lifted quickly.
Closing the tiny box with trembling fingers, she placed it carefully back
within the carryall and covered it once more.
Gathering the clothes she'd placed aside, she went to set them neatly on
the floor outside the washroom door. He would find them there, and she
wanted to spare him having to ask. With one
final glance at the still-closed doorway, Deanna walked back out into the
living room to wait.
=/=
[==Chapter
11==] The moment
Will Riker entered her living room, Deanna knew that he was there.
Standing at one of the enormous windows, she turned and regarded him in
silence. Riker exhaled slowly, but she was
the first to speak. "Better?" she asked, arms
crossed over her chest. "Yeah," he nodded,
"and uh, thanks." He glanced down at his clothes and then back at
her. "That," Deanna smiled, stepping toward
him. "is what friends are for." He bridged the
gap and stood directly opposite her, feeling ... exactly the way she'd
wanted him to feel. Like a bit of a heel, though he knew they'd both said
things they probably regretted right now.
"Yes," he nodded, lifting his hand so that he could press it gently to the
side of her face. "I guess so." "There's an
extra room, around that corner," Deanna pointed toward the hallway while
his fingers traced the contour of her cheek. "Will..." she finally stopped
him, reaching for and capturing his wandering hand. She held it and closed
her eyes for a moment. "You don't want to
marry that guy--" Riker heard his own voice and he knew he shouldn't have
spoken, but the words tumbled forth unbidden.
"He's a good man, Will." Deanna's eyes opened once more and she looked
back at him. "And he loves me." Riker stared
at her, offering little more than a look of silent conflict. She stared
back at him, equally silent for the span of several
seconds. Finally, Deanna's look became one of
annoyance and she raised both hands in front of her body. Dramatically
placing the fingers of her right hand onto the circlet which adorned her
left, she pulled the ring off in one fluid motion and held it aloft.
"I'm not engaged to anyone," her voice was
remarkably calm. "Yet," she added perilously, keeping him pinned with a
direct gaze. "Okay, now you've really lost
me." Riker took a step backwards and she seemed to be able to feel his
confusion. "You're wearing a ring which, presumably Laram Andrew gave you
after -- presumably -- he asked you to marry
him." "Yes," she nodded, "so far your
presumptions have all been correct. Now, if you'll let me explain beyond
your next presumption this time," her dark eyes flashed, "the one that was
incorrect, we might actually begin to have an adult
conversation." "Don't patronize me, Deanna,"
he frowned. "I'm not patronizing you Will, I'm
asking you to let me speak for five seconds. Is that
possible?" Riker let his shoulders fall.
"Yeah." Deanna took in a breath. "Laram did
ask me to marry him," she fingered the tiny ring in her hand and quietly
exhaled. "I told him I'd think about it." "But
you were wearing his ring when I--" "I was
trying to explain that to you when you arrived!" Now she sounded annoyed
with him. "Not that you deserved any explanation, mind you. Not that it
was your 'right' to know..." "Okay, you're
right," he spread his hands and shrugged apologetically. "I was a bit of a
jerk about that. I'm sorry." Deanna eyed him
speculatively for a moment, then nodded. Her body turned and she moved
slowly into the living room behind him. "It
started raining while I was on my way home. I had the ring in my hand and
I didn't want to lose it so I put it on my finger. I guess," her voice
grew quiet and she shrugged, "--a part of me also wanted to know what it
would feel like, but the primary reason was a little more practical than
that." Riker stared at her hand. "But you were
wearing it until just a second ago. Correct me if I'm wrong, and I know,"
he paused dramatically, "you don't *owe* me any explanation. But I can't
imagine it was raining in here for the past few
hours." "No," Deanna acknowledged with an
exasperated frown, "I kept it on after you left. I was ...
thinking." "Thinking," he echoed, still
uncertain what to make of everything she'd told him. She was thinking all
right. Thinking about marrying someone else. "Deanna--" he
began. "Laram's going to be gone for a week at
a medical conference. I promised him I'd have an answer for him when he
gets back." "I see," Riker shook his head,
"actually, I don't see. The man asked you to marry him, Deanna, either you
want to or you don't. It should be the most incredible feeling you've ever
had to say yes to something like that. When you love someone that much...
what is there to think about? You should scream and throw your arms around
him and--" He trailed off, watching the hint of color that stole into her
features. "That was different," she whispered,
realizing full well that he was describing another proposal; another
lifetime. "Why?" he
asked. "Because it was," she threw back
petulantly. "Because you don't love him like
that," Riker cut in, "not the way you love
me." "I do love Laram," Deanna
argued. "Enough to tell him you have to think
about his marriage proposal? Deanna," Riker stepped forward and drew his
fingertips across the edge of her neck, feeling gratified when her breath
caught and she stilled his hand another time.
"I left the Enterprise and I came down here because I figured out that
what you said about 'fate' that day in Ten Forward, was real. Except that
you were wrong. I think we are 'fated' to be together. I think there's no
other way for us to be, and I'm going to prove that to
you." "Will, we've had this
conversation--" "You said I had a week,
right?" he saw her eyes widen before she took another step
backward. "No," Deanna shook her head
incredulously, "I said I'd give Laram my answer in a week, when he gets
back." "Then by my calculations, that gives
*me* a week to prove to you that we belong
together." "That's ridiculous, Will," she
scowled, "we've been 'together' as friends for over a decade, what makes
you think that now, all of a sudden, our lives can change like
that?" "Because they can," he answered simply.
"Because you love me, and I love you," he nodded at her startled look.
"You said I couldn't say the words and maybe that used to be true. But not
anymore. I can say them now, Deanna. And I will." He leaned forward on
impulse, kissing her softly. His lips dusted lightly across hers and she
seemed to melt toward him for barely an instant. Before he pulled away
with a whisper, "until you believe it's true."
Deanna stood there. She stood there and she watched him in abject
amazement. "When I ask you to marry me again,
Deanna, you're going to say yes," he smiled at her incredulous look, then
continued on teasingly. "You will, you know. You're going to jump up and
throw your arms around me. We're going to hold onto each other," his voice
sobered, "and I'll tell you how happy you've made me, and then ..." Riker
dipped his head, brushing the side of her face with his. "Do you know that
I would give anything to hear you whisper in my ear again, the way you did
that night..." Deanna shivered. Her body
betrayed her and he felt her warm breath caress his neck for an instant.
But then it was gone. She was gone. She pulled away from his intimate
grasp and held her arms across her midriff protectively.
"That was a long time ago," she whispered
back. "It was yesterday," he countered, "a
minute ago." "Will, I don't want you to be
hurt--" her voice was calm and reasonable
again. "Give me this week, Deanna." He found
her eyes and drowned in them. "You owe it to us, and even to
Laram." For a time, she looked away from him.
Her eyes scanned the view of the city behind his head and he knew that she
was thinking. Finally she turned. "Laram is
going to be back next Saturday," she started.
Riker grinned. He'd known Deanna long enough to realize he'd won what he
was asking. "But you'll give us this chance ... come out with me tomorrow
night?" He held out his hand and saw her smile back in defeat.
"I suppose," she caught his hand in hers, but
added coyly, "but only because I can't wait to prove you wrong about that
marriage proposal. I am *not* twenty-three years old
anymore." "Really?" Riker asked, hooking his
arm around her waist and pulling her forward with a startled gasp. "I
hadn't noticed." Deanna laughed and pushed
back against his chest with both hands, freeing herself. "Goodnight,
Will." The palms of her hands remained on his torso for a moment, and she
looked up at him for the flicker of an instant before removing her touch
all together. "Goodnight," he called after
her. As she made her way toward her bedroom,
he sent one final word directly to her thoughts in just the way she'd
taught him. The way he'd hadn't tried to send to her in over a decade.
<Imzadi>
Deanna paused in the doorway. Her step faltered but she didn't turn
around. Instead, he saw her shoulders tense, and watched her disappear as
the door slid closed behind her.
=/=
[==Chapter
12==]
"I was thinking," Riker stood before Deanna
in her apartment. They were having breakfast, and he was smiling
roguishly. She arched an eyebrow at his tone.
"Thinking?" Deanna sat in a chair and plucked the edge off of her
croissant, "I've heard that there are people who do that on a regular
basis," she teased. "Does it hur--" Cutting
her off by snatching the bit of bread from her hands, Riker laughed. "Such
wit, Deanna!" He took a bite of his new prize while she glared back at
him. "You know there -are- four others in the
basket," she reproached him, hooking another roll before he could pull
them all out of reach. "Yes, but yours tastes
better." "I'm
sure." "Anyway, I was *thinking*," Riker
paused for emphasis and grinned when she awarded him the look he was
hoping for, "--that I'd like to take you somewhere in particular tonight.
But it'll have to be a surprise." "A
surprise?" she sat forward with interest. "What kind of
surprise?" "Well if I told you that," he
winked at her, "it wouldn't be a surprise."
"Will!" "Will you come with me, or not?" he
asked, finishing off the last bit of her croissant and dropping into a
chair of his own. She eyed him speculatively.
"That depends," her voice dropped an octave and she placed her hands on
her knees, leaning toward him. "On what?"
Riker met her look of challenge with one of his
own. Her dark eyes flashed and she grinned at
him. "On whether you'll help me clean up before we
go." "What?" he sat back in his chair,
gesturing around him, "Deanna you're the most fastidious person I know,
there isn't a hair out of place in here, what needs
cleaning?" "That's not an answer, Will," she
smiled sweetly. Riker stared at her for a
while, and then shrugged. "Okay. Of course I'll help. You know I will.
What are we doing?" "Great," Deanna beamed,
pressing down on her knees and rising to her feet. She knew that he'd
accept. Will had never backed down from hard work -- domestic or otherwise
-- in his life. That wasn't the point in any event. She had other plans...
"I'll get the box." "Box?" he shook his head,
"what box?" "Oh, just a few old things I'd set
aside part of my leave to get done. Things I'd been putting off doing for
a while." Deanna threw the comment over her shoulder while she walked into
the other room. "My mother's been hounding me for eons to sort through the
pile of family heirlooms she's kept safe over the years. I only have about
a quarter of the collection here, of course, but I do have to put them in
order." Her voice carried from around the corner, "there's only about
three hundred or so..." Three hundred? Riker's
jaw fell open. His mind spun a picture of three hundred cob-web-covered
artifacts, all of which would look vaguely similar, all of which would --
of course -- be priceless to the indomitable Lwaxana
Troi. "Three ... hundred..." he
croaked. "Yes!" Deanna's cheerful voice came
back to him as she emerged dragging a box that was larger than she
was. Riker rose to his feet and hurried to
assist her, helping her shove the crate into the center of her living room
where they finally let it stop. Their journey
complete, Deanna allowed herself to fall backward onto the rug. She caught
her balance with her hands behind her and blew up on an errant strand of
hair that crossed her forehead. "Deanna,"
Riker suddenly smiled, "if this is one of your Machiavellian plots to get
me to give up, it isn't going to work."
"Machiavellian?" she blinked and shook her head, but he could see that she
was trying not to smile. "I'll sit here with
you for the rest of the afternoon and all night long. We can do anything
you'd like. Hell, we can catalogue the fibers in your rug if you're up for
it. I don't care, as long as we do it together," his eyes found hers, "I
can't think of anywhere else I'd rather be." A
weighted silence settled between them, before Deanna rolled her eyes. "Oh,
please!" she laughed. "You're not getting out of
this." "Well," Riker grinned, "it was worth a
try." "Yes," she acknowledged, "and a good
try, I'll grant you that." "But will you grant
me more than that?" he asked her, eyes alight. Deanna tipped her head and
looked back at him in puzzlement. Leaning
forward, Riker slipped his hand behind her hair and cupped the back of her
neck, pulling her toward him. There was a fraction of an instant when he
wasn't certain she would let him; a moment when she could have pulled
away. But she didn't. His lips sealed wantonly on hers and their bodies
shifted closer on the rug. "Will," Deanna
mumbled breathlessly. Their mouths disengaged with an audible sound, and
her body rocked backward as though she were dizzy. He looked at her, but
she shook her head slowly. "Not like this."
Deanna's head fell and Riker moved away from her, giving her the space she
needed. When she didn't look up right away, he placed his hand against her
face and turned it gently. "Hey," he
encouraged softly, "it's okay." Reaching around her into the large crate,
Riker extracted one of the oddest looking statues he'd ever seen. "So," he
peered at it quizzically, then raised his gaze to hers, "what exactly *is*
this, anyway?" Deanna exhaled slowly and
smiled. =/=
[==Chapter
13==] "Where are
we going?" Deanna pleaded. "Will Riker, if you-- oh!" Her feet sank into
soft sand and she nearly stumbled before he caught her in his
arms. "Careful," his whisper caressed the edge
of her hair. Resisting the impulse to shiver,
Deanna thinned her lips and frowned. "How can I be careful?" she
muttered. It was late evening, and though
they'd spent the better part of the day sorting through several hundred of
Lwaxana Troi's most precious possessions, they had finally managed to
finish the task. "I told you," she heard his
voice and felt his arm slide easily around her shoulder. "You'll
see." "Not if you keep this blindfold on me, I
won't!" "Oh, all right." Riker laughed and
spun her gently around, pulling the cloth from her eyes. "I guess we're
close enough." "To what--" she held his arms
for support as her senses righted themselves, and then she gasped. "Where
are we?" They had only walked several blocks
from her building, she was sure of it. But they were in a place she'd
never seen before. A quiet, seemingly untouched stretch of waterfront that
lay hidden in a nook between two enormously tall, rocky outcroppings.
Where they stood, between two towering walls of rock, it seemed that they
could see forever across the water. What was
perhaps even more marvelous, was that it would have been impossible to
stand where they were standing at all, except that the tide was out and a
margin of sand no wider than a meter had been exposed; allowing them
access to the nook. "Will!" She turned to him,
clearly thrilled, "how did you ever find this
place?" "As a cadet in the Academy," he
shrugged nonchalantly, "I guess I did a lot of exploring. Don't forget, I
grew up in Alaska, and nothing compares to the wilderness and the
mountains up there. I'd get restless..."
Deanna regarded him for a time, wondering just how many times he might
have gotten 'restless' and just who else he would have shown this place to
when he did. It was silly of her to feel jealous of that, but she did, and
she caught the look in his eyes when he realized her expression had
changed. As though on cue, Will settled her
backward into his arms and stood facing the water, "You know what's
strange?" he chuckled, "I've never shown anyone this place before. I think
I was keeping it all to myself." The tension
in Deanna's body immediately released and she felt an irrational sense of
relief flood through her. "So, you'll have to
promise not to tell anyone about it," Riker went on. The tone of his voice
was light, but there was deeper innuendo in the words he chose. She'd have
to promise not to tell Laram, he was saying. No matter her
decision. "I promise," she whispered. And it
was difficult not to turn in his arms. Not to lift her hand and brush it
lightly across his temple the way she often had in the
past. That wasn't the only thing that was
difficult. The lines she'd drawn were already beginning to blur; something
she knew would happen when she'd agreed to allow this week. But there was
a part of her that couldn't deny him; a part of her that had never been
able to turn Will Riker away. So she fought
the impulse to turn, and watched the sun begin to set instead. It had to
be the reason he'd brought her here. It was so beautiful -- she was almost
able to forget everything else. Almost. They
were quiet for a long time. Content to exist with the pleasure of the
breeze and the smell of sea-salt in the air. When at last the fiery ball
had descended into the horizon, Deanna felt his arms squeeze her
gently. "I love you," he whispered into the
edge of her ear, tipping his face so that her long, loose hair caressed
his cheek. Deanna would have spoken, except
that she couldn't. Her eyes filled with glass and she stared ahead;
straight ahead, without blinking or moving.
"And I know," Will went on quietly, "I know that I hurt you. And that you
can't trust me yet, the way you once did. But you mean everything to me.
And I want you to know that. Keep it safe in your heart until the day
comes when it will mean something to you
again." The wind picked up and blew her hair
backward just then. It howled past the rocky walls on either side of them
and Riker used the noise as an excuse to pull her closer. But that was all
right. Because she wanted to be closer. She wanted everything he was
promising her and she couldn't accept any of it. So closer would have to
do. The problem was that he was right. She
didn't trust him. She wanted to; gods she wanted to. But wanting was all
she had right now. Wanting and the feeling of Will Riker's strong arms
around her body, while her spirit wept inside.
=/=
[==Chapter
14==] That
evening on the beach was the nearest form of intimacy that Will and Deanna
were to share in the next several days. They
spent their time together as friends in the aftermath. And even that
night, as they walked towards her building after dinner, conversation
remained on lives and acquaintances, primarily aboard the
Enterprise. In a way, Deanna was grateful for
that. She hadn't seen Will in over a year, and spending time with him as a
friend had offered her a previously rare opportunity to simply enjoy his
company. To talk and laugh with him the way she used to, without the
pressure of struggling with 'more'. He'd taken
her to a fairground on the fourth night -- which she supposed was
reasonable, considering she'd made him spend the whole day in a museum
beforehand. He'd been remarkably amicable about the whole thing.
It appeared that time and circumstance
-could- change a person. All the more incredible because the Will Riker
who had discussed Rigaliaan art with her all morning long was definitely
not the same Will Riker who hadn't been able to see past the 'goopy paint
swirls' in the Betazoid Cultural Museum all those years ago.
It seemed a paradox that the two of them
could have spent the better part of a decade as officers -- serving in
concert on board the same ship -- and never have visited a museum together
again. But they hadn't. And so she'd never realized that his opinions had
changed. Or that they'd both grown up somewhere along the way. Perhaps she
hadn't been looking... As the days ticked by,
their time together grew more and more precious to Deanna. And not simply
because she was growing more comfortable around him. She'd always enjoyed
Will's company. He was one of her dearest, most cherished friends -- but
in ensuing moments of late, she felt as though she'd come to know him in a
way she never had before. Something had
changed. It seemed almost as though he had managed to separate himself
from the part of his personality that lived for Starfleet. The greater
part of him that kept secrets and never allowed a sign of weakness to
creep through. The most noticeable difference
of all was the fact that he would talk to her in a way 'Commander Riker'
never had. About issues and memories of his childhood she'd never heard
before. On the first night it had happened,
her expression must have telegraphed her surprise -- because he'd smiled
at her and shrugged, a little self-consciously.
She remembered taking his hand and urging him
to continue. Trying conscientiously -not- to allow herself to play the
part of the counselor she was so used to, but rather to listen without any
sort of thoughts at all. Will seemed to
respond to that best of all, and she had learned things about him in one
night of talking which blew away more than thirteen years of what she'd
-thought- had been an intimate knowledge of his life and his
past. To know someone -- or feel she knew
someone -- that well, and then to discover there was so much more. It
staggered her, and she discovered, almost to her surprise, that she wanted
to know even more. What else was there he hadn't told her? How much more
of him could there be to ... love. It was
finally Friday evening, and Laram Andrew would be back from his conference
in fewer than twenty-four hours. He'd come for her then, and he'd want to
know her answer. As she had promised he could.
The only problem was, she was more conflicted now than on the night she'd
taken the ring from his hand. "Hey," Will's
careful voice interrupted her thoughts. She felt his hand on her arm and
she turned. "Deanna, what's wrong?" his eyes softened and he reached for
the tears on her face, brushing them away.
"Nothing," she blinked the moisture back, smiling wanly.
"Nothing." "You don't cry over nothing," he
argued, appraising her with serious concern. "If I'd said or done
something, you would tell me right?" "Yes
Will," she raised her hand to his forehead and brushed it softly. She
would have kissed him, if she thought she'd be able to stop afterwards.
"It isn't you." It wasn't him. Not directly,
anyway. Not if she didn't count the fact that she'd already made her
decision. The color in his blue eyes darkened.
"I got a comm message from Admiral Nakamura this
morning." Wiping the last of the tears from
her eyes, Deanna straightened visibly. "Really?"
Business. Business was good. It would allow
her to think. "Yes," he nodded. "He'd like me
to come off leave for a day or so. Tomorrow. They want my help with a
special tactical exercise. A brand new ship they've never tested
before." "Oh," Deanna nodded and smiled at the
light in his eyes. This was the Will Riker she knew. The one she
remembered. She was even grateful for the reprieve from her otherwise
difficult thoughts, until it hit her that tomorrow would be their last day
together. "Oh," she repeated softly. "Well, it'll probably be good for you
-- to get back into things," she offered him a crooked
smile. "Yeah," he agreed with a smile of his
own, "I was thinking the same thing." "You
know," she cleared her throat softly, "I do have some things I'd like to
tie down in my office. And some messages I'd like to return before another
two weeks go by. I could probably get some work done as well, tomorrow.
I'll just extend my leave by an extra day or
so..." "Okay." Riker nodded. "So then I guess
-- this is it. Our last 'night' together, so to speak. I mean, the end of
the week and all." It was then that Deanna
realized he hadn't even mentioned Laram's name in six days. Not once. Not
to compare and not to belittle. Not even in jest. He'd left him completely
out of their time together. And that was also something she'd never have
imagined the younger Will Riker doing -- not when he felt
threatened. "I guess it is," tucking her hair
behind her ear, Deanna met his eyes and looked up into them. He was
staring down at her in a way she hadn't seen before; a way that broke her
heart. "I haven't decided," she insisted as though arguing the point,
helpless when the tears began to fall once
more. "Yes you have." He looked to the floor.
But then his gaze lifted. It locked with hers and the cerulean storm
behind his eyes appeared to ignite. "You have," his voice broke. She'd
never heard it break before. "But God help me, Deanna, I want this night
with you," he reached for her and took her hand. "For the first time or
the last time. I want to take it with me," he kissed her fingertips, "and
I swear to you I'll never interfere..." She
was on him in an instant. Crying, sobbing as though her spirit could
release the pain. Her lips sought the comfort of his mouth and her arms
wound fiercely around his neck.
=/=
[==Chapter 15==]
"Imzadi," she whispered to him; watching him;
releasing her hold on his neck as she fell backward onto the cover of her
bed. She couldn't stop crying, though her
body responded helplessly to the heat of his touch. Parting her legs with
his thigh, Riker hovered on top of her. He kissed her eyes and her tears;
her mouth and her neck while she tangled both hands in his
hair. "Shh," he brushed her lips with his,
"let me look at you." Will's hands traveled
low along her body; his attention drank in every feature; devoured her so
hungrily she thought that she could feel his gaze wherever it touched
her. When the moment seemed as though it might
consume them both, he bent his head and touched her forehead with his own.
"Let me love you," he whispered, seizing her mouth with new urgency.
Deanna's tears fell harder. Hot liquid
spilled down over her cheeks and onto his face wherever he touched her.
Still his kisses continued, and she held him as their bodies rolled
together on the bed. This was the third time
in the short period since he'd arrived on Earth that he'd spoken those
words to her. But the voice that he gave them never touched her so much as
the feeling she sensed when he spoke. The honesty. The whole, consuming
sense of hope. She let him slide her clothes
away from her body. Loving every centimeter of exposed skin with his
contact. And she watched him where she lay against his body.
Flesh pressed against flesh as Deanna opened
her mind to the only person she'd ever shared it with in her life. Her
spirit sang for him. It called to him and wrapped his mind in the kind of
embrace that moved beyond the boundaries of literal expression. To say
that she was making love to him this way would have been semantically
incorrect. And yet the way it felt was just
so... "Will!" she called his name and felt his
thoughts merge with her own. They hadn't done that since Betazed. Not in
over a decade. And she cried. She cried
because their bodies joined anew, his touch drove her higher than it ever
had before, his kisses painted her physical body with the blinding light
of ecstasy -- and still she wasn't sure. He'd
hurt her that much. When he'd left her alone the last time. He'd ripped
away her soul.
=/= They lay
together; bodies intertwined in the aftermath of the most physically
intense coupling Deanna could ever remember. Spooned inside of Will's
larger frame, she felt his arms close protectively around her and his warm
breath when he brushed a damp portion of her hair away from her
ear. "You were right," he spoke so quietly she
was barely able to hear. "I don't deserve you." His arms tightened over
her body. "I can never make up for what I did," he went on, "and I was an
idiot to think that I could just fly back into your life because I'd made
some kind of new discovery. Because -I'd- finally clued in." His sense of
sorrow and self-deprecation very nearly overwhelmed her. "You were there
all along and I didn't know, Deanna. I never knew how much I hurt
you." This wasn't what she wanted. For him to
leave her now, feeling ... hollow and empty. For him to move on in typical
Riker fashion, with yet another scar he was unwilling to let
heal. What happened between them had happened
years ago. His betrayal had broken her heart. But whether she had ever
fully healed or not, she -had- found a way to move on. They had their
friendship now. And hadn't she warned him that she didn't want to hurt him
by doing this again? But she'd slept with him
anyway. She'd made love to him and let him touch her -- of all places --
in the most intimate corner of her spirit.
Again. Pulling his arms more closely around
her, Deanna shut her eyes and pressed her back against his chest. "It's
not like that," she finally managed. "I should never have done this to
you." "No." Riker's voice was firm and he
turned her in his arms so that she faced him. Her hands fell on his chest
for support. "No, I had to know, Deanna," he searched her eyes and then
trailed off. "I deserved to know." A familiar
press of burning emotion stung her eyes and Deanna forced it back, livid
with her own body for not following orders.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. But rather than allowing her remark, Riker
shook his head. And he smiled. "You deserve to
be happy," he reached for her face, touching it gently. "You deserve to go
through life waking up every morning and feeling safe and loved. Being
able to trust the person next to you is a part of that, Deanna. Knowing
that whoever that is will always be there, no matter what." He leaned
forward and dusted her lips with his. "I want that for
you." Sucking in a deep breath of air, Riker
extricated himself in silence from their lover's embrace. He gathered up
some of his clothes from the bedside and before Deanna was able to utter a
word, he pulled his pants on and turned
around. "You know in ancient Latin, there's a
saying," his head tipped thoughtfully and he nodded after a moment. "Te
valere jubeo, Imzadi." When she wrinkled her brow, he translated. "I bid
you farewell." Deanna said nothing. There was
nothing she could say. Her eyes filled with tears and she stopped fighting
all together when they fell without remorse. She watched Will while he
dressed. When he came toward her and kissed
her a final time, Deanna shut her eyes as his mouth lingered gently at her
lips. "I'll see you, tomorrow." Will's
expression took in the whole of her at once. "Captain," he added the last
word with a meaningful smile. And then he was
gone. She heard him gathering his belongings from the room he'd spent the
past several nights in; she listened for the front door of her apartment
as it slid open. She dropped her face against the pillow on her bed where
the lingering reminder of his aftershave still mingled with their
coupling. And she screamed as the dull ache in
her heart forged a crack and shattered like glass. All over her spirit.
All over again.
=/=
[==Chapter 16==]
Twilight spun the red-gold liquid of a sunset
into patterns too numerous to count while Commander William Riker stared
thoughtfully across the waterfront. Thrusting
both hands into the pockets of his pants, he made his way slowly along the
beach toward his home. The house he'd purchased was less than a kilometer
ahead of him, and he had yet to see it at this time day.
Had it really been a week already? A week ...
he paused and glanced up at the sky. Or a
lifetime? The day had gone by quickly. Though
officially he was still on leave for personal reasons, his temporary
assignment with Admiral Nakamura's new shuttle had served as a reminder of
how much he loved his career and his life in Starfleet. Ironically enough,
it was also a reminder of how much he loved Deanna. But what he felt for
her was even more. Uttering a wholly
frustrated sound, Riker pressed the ball of his hand against his eye and
forced himself to exhale. He calmed the heavy ache in his chest with the
smell of a breeze that was crisp and salty.
She would be engaged by now. Her afternoon with Laram Andrew would have
happened hours ago. And he had to block that thought as well, because the
image of her sweet mouth kissing someone else's lips formed a knot in the
pit of his stomach. Deep breathing. That's
what he needed. Deanna's calming exercises. They had worked before.
Focusing his thoughts on the sound of his own body, Riker pulled himself
together, one heartbeat at a time. And maybe
his new home could wait another hour or so. Maybe he'd be able to find
himself more clearly in the old 'study' spot he'd once loved on the beach.
The one that took him back so many years to his Academy days. Maybe he
could take off his shoes and 'test the sand' and find a way to relax that
way again. It seemed worth a try, in any
event. There were more people than usual on
the quiet stretch of sand this evening. Perhaps because it was a balmy
evening -- but more likely because there wasn't a cloud in the sky. And
though the sun had nearly set completely, the light from the water's own
reflection charged the atmosphere with a warm and subtle
glow. Riker took his shoes off as he rounded
the bend of a long-familiar curve in the beach. He smiled at the thought
of reminiscing; at the idea of remembering how silly some of his bold and
idealistic views had been. He was he was just
a kid, back then -- a cadet, fresh into the finest Academy in the
universe. He was young, and maybe a little foolish sometimes -- naive at
the very least. But he had given in to so many nights of dreaming out here
on this lonely stretch of beach. Of quelling his restless nerves before an
exam. His eyes lifted and he scanned the edge
of the horizon for an instant, before he realized that he wasn't alone.
There was someone else in the settling
darkness. He could have peered more carefully
into the quickly dimming light, or rubbed his eyes to clear them. He might
have done either of those things, except that he recognized her instantly.
There was no need for a second glance, or a doubt in his mind that she was
real. Riker stood there, frozen in place.
Watching her while his heartbeat broke free of its confines and hammered
against the inside of his chest. She was
dressed very simply. A loose, comfortable ensemble that was clearly from
Betazed. It was one he remembered, and one that he loved.
Deanna for her part, looked up at him in
almost the same moment that his eyes had found her. She was also barefoot
in the sand and he saw her smile self-consciously at having been caught,
trying out an idea which wasn't her own. It
was the way she smiled that broke the ice for him. The color that crept
into her cheeks. Riker started toward her slowly and stopped when they
were only a few feet apart. "I knew I should
have patented that," gesturing offhandedly toward her, Riker grinned. "Now
I have no proof that it was ever my idea..."
"Yes, I'm sure you were the first to try it." Deanna regarded him
seriously, but he could see the sparkle in her
eyes. "Hi," Riker dusted his hands on the
outside of his pants, clearing his fingers of
sand. "Hi," she answered back, looking as
though there was something more she wanted to say. When that didn't
happen, he decided to speak instead. "So, I
guess, congratulations are in order?" "Yes,"
she shrugged and kicked a few particles of sand with her foot, then looked
up at him again. "Thank you." "Can I see
it?" "What?" she
asked. "The ring. I just... I don't think I
gave it a fair chance the first time around. I was a little ...
preoccupied." He smiled wanly and she wrinkled her
nose. Lifting her left hand from her side,
Deanna held it aloft for his inspection and Riker traded a glance between
her arm and her eyes. "It's a little dark out
here," he observed quietly. "Yes," Deanna
nodded sagely. "But I'm not seeing a ring..."
he went on. "No," her expression never
changed. "Then," Riker's voice rose slightly.
He leveled it off with his next breath, "--would I be totally off base in
-presuming- that no ring means ... you're -not-
engaged?" Deanna seemed to consider that for a
moment. Her dark eyes caught the light of the water's edge as she took her
lip between her teeth, chewing on it the way she often did when she was
giving something serious thought. Her gaze finally lifted. "Not -totally-
off base," she agreed. "How off base?" Will
locked his eyes on hers and froze in place. He sucked in a breath, but it
did nothing to quell the rampant beating of his heart. She didn't answer.
"Deanna," he spoke again, and this time it
was an imperative, "-how- off base?" "I guess
that depends." "On
what?" Her expression shifted and she smiled
at him impishly. "On whether you're going to ask me to marry you or
not." =/=
[==Chapter 17==]
Riker's whole body felt as though it were
going to explode; as though at any moment, the rush of pulsing adrenaline
would mix with the burning ache in his chest and he would lose control of
everything at once. Deanna tipped her head;
her luminous eyes watched him closely as the powerful rush of feeling he
knew she could sense, coursed through every vein in his
body. "Will you marry me?" he asked her
simply. Quietly. If that were possible in his present state of mind. The
whole thing felt surreal. "Yes," she nodded
back, still staring at him. When he hadn't
moved in several seconds, she opted to move for both of them; making her
way toward him at a pace that seemed to be taking forever.
Deanna stopped when she was only inches from
his face. "Wait," her lip curled into a thoughtful frown. "We did that
wrong." And then she smiled. "Ask me again."
Riker took her hand and held it between his palms. He swallowed and looked
down at her, wondering if somehow it all might shatter and he'd realize
he'd been dreaming, or that he'd been hallucinating -- the side-effect of
a broken heart. But she was still there as
each new second ticked by. Still smiling up at him with those two
incredible eyes. "Deanna," he lifted her
fingers and kissed them gently, "will you marry
me?" The universe froze and the Earth stopped
spinning for the span of several instants. Long enough for Deanna Troi to
call out: "Yes!"
She cried the word aloud; repeated it several times over, and launched
herself into his arms. Kissing his neck, his face, running her fingers
through the hair in the back of his head, Deanna placed warm lips against
his mouth and grinned when he closed their embrace at her back. "Your
turn," she murmured softly. "Do you have any
idea how happy you've made me, Counselor Troi?" He kissed her in return,
slowly savoring the familiar taste of her skin on his
lips. "Mm, yes," she whispered, "that was it."
Deanna held him very close, her eyes slid shut as she inched toward his
ear, "And that's Captain, to you. Now as to the rest--"
"The part that happened later," Will
recalled, re-capturing her mouth before she'd had the opportunity to
protest. "I could order you to get it right
this time," Deanna groaned when his hands found the edge of her blouse and
shifted it aside. "You could," he agreed. "Or
I could make love to you right here." He took her breast in his palm and
kneaded it gently. "You," Deanna gasped,
"could--" she swallowed her sigh and moaned softly. "You probably
should..." Their lips met urgently and Riker
lowered them both to the sand, pulling her firmly on top of
him. "You're not going to steal this technique
from me as well, are you... Captain?" he
teased. "Ha," Deanna giggled, "That's not your
concern, Commander." she fell forward and brushed her thigh purposefully
against the growing bulge between his legs. "Is that quite
understood?" "Oh, God," he kissed her hard.
"Yes sir." Deanna's body, when she rose to
straddle his waist, was the most magnificent sight Will Riker had ever
seen. Cloaked in the shadow of darkness, they tumbled backward in the
sand. The pleasure of their kisses and the
heat of her caress against his body was too great, almost before it began.
And so, eyes locked with hers, breathing quickly, Riker lifted them both
and set Deanna on her knees. He held her firmly against him, with his
chest to her back. "I love you," he bit her
ear from behind and she uttered a short sound. A sound he felt to the core
of his spirit. "I need you," she whispered in
return. When he entered her body, Deanna
arched her back and bit down on a helpless cry, falling slack; trusting
wholly in the support of his arms around her.
Riker's hands encircled her waist, his palm pressed hard against her
pelvis and with every thrust their bodies took, he matched it with the
heat of his touch between her legs. "Imzadi,"
she whimpered, "don't, ohh, stop, don't--" The
brush of her empathy took him moderately by surprise, but after the
shivering climax they'd shared the night before, he felt certain he knew
why she needed it. And he opened his mind to hers. They were suddenly and
wholly together. It was magnificent and
torturous all at once. Impossible, because it increased the pleasure he
felt from the woman in his arms by several hundred
percent. The sound of Deanna's voice, chanting
his name and the feeling of the constant pulse inside his mind was
suddenly overwhelming. Movement and rhythm took over where rational
thought left off. And Riker lost his mind to the ecstasy of release;
release in her arms as she collapsed against him.
They fell together, backward in the sand, and
he pulled her snug with the heat of his chest, kissing her parted lips as
she struggled for breath. Though it was dark above their heads, he saw her
smile. Lifting a raven tendril of her hair,
Riker pushed it fondly from her face. Deanna's eyes opened and she looked
back at him in a way he'd never seen before; a way he wanted to keep with
him for the rest of his life. "So," he grinned
at her, "Captain," he caught his breath and sighed. "What
now?" Deanna drew her body snug with his and
he could feel the warmth of her breath on his skin. "Before or after we go
back to my apartment and try that again?" she
giggled. "You know, for a Betazoid
spiritualist," he teased, "you certainly like to ... experiment with
physical pleasure." "It only gets worse,"
propping herself on an elbow, she looked back at him
matter-of-factly. "I'd say it's getting
better," he took up more of her hair and ran it through his fingers. "Much
better." "I guess we'll need to talk," her
voice grew finally serious, "about careers and
priorities." Riker nodded slowly. "I agree,"
but then he smiled, "and physical pleasure."
"And that." Deanna laughed. "I did buy a
house..." he whispered thoughtfully. "That's
true," she agreed. "But you're a starship commander. How long do you think
you'll be staying?" Riker sighed. "That
depends, I suppose." "On
what?" "Well, like you said. I am a Starfleet
commander," he paused, "I guess it would depend on my captain's
orders." Deanna's mouth opened as though she
were going to say something, but then she clamped it shut, regarding him
with a wide smile. "Really?" "I'm afraid so,"
Riker shook his head sullenly. She took his
face between her hands. "I love you, Will."
"If you can wake up every morning and say that to me for the rest of our
lives, then who the hell cares what Starfleet says." He drew her close,
and kissed her again. "We'll work something
out," Deanna smiled. "We always
do." "Something better than last time," she
frowned. "Agreed," he laughed. "Well, I
suppose I could always be a chef--" "No.
You're a starship commander," she hit his arm lightly.
Riker took the hand she'd used and held it.
"And you're a captain with Starfleet medical," he
shrugged. Deanna watched him for a time. Her
expression was soft when she finally spoke. "I'm also a starship
counselor." "So what, you want to go back on
board the Enterprise? Deanna, it's not as though you can drop rank just
like that. And a ship with two captains--" "Is
not unheard of, Will," she argued, "besides, it wouldn't really be any
different than before. I'd have the rank in title only. The ship still
belongs to the commissioned Captain, the senior staff still follow the
same hierarchy. I technically outranked Lt. Commander Data when he took
over the bridge, but he was the second officer, that supercedes rank in
most cases. It still would..." "Deanna," Riker
shook his head, "you'd be giving up the -head- of Starfleet Medical's
psychology department..." "I hate Starfleet
medical!" Deanna blurted, throwing one hand up with finality. "There, I
said it. I sit at a desk all day long, Will, and I go to meetings where we
get nothing accomplished. Absolutely nothing! And at the end of the day, I
haven't even had the opportunity to see more than one patient. It's all
admirals and administration and -- I hate it."
"You do?" He gaped at her, "but you were so looking forward to it, and in
all of your communiques, you told me things were
great--" She scowled at him; a look which
transformed into the only time he'd ever seen her pout. "I missed you,"
she whispered, "and you always seemed so right on track. I made my choice
and I didn't want to interfere with that." "Is
that why you stopped calling me?" She didn't
answer. "Deanna--" he sat up and took her with
him, running one hand backward through his hair. "--do you know that if
you'd told me one time; only -once- that you weren't happy here, I would
have--" "I know!" she shot back. "That's why I
didn't say anything. Besides, it was my
choice." "Okay," he dropped his gaze and
shrugged, "so lets -- lets do this then. I'll see if we can get back on
board the Enterprise. It's a long shot but, I guess after the past two
days, I'd have to say anything's possible."
"Yes," she nodded emphatically and Riker lifted his jacket from the ground
next to him. He placed it gently over her shoulders.
"But lets get married first?" He was asking
her, and she smiled at that. "All right." Her
dark eyes locked with his. "When?" "Two weeks
from now your leave is over... What about then? On the last
day?" "Are you certain that you're still going
to be around by then?" She was teasing him, but there was a note of
warning in what she'd said even so. Riker
threaded their fingers and leaned toward her. "As certain as I am that
we're going back to my place after this and not your
apartment." "Really?" a slow smile crept along
her lips, "Well then, Mr. Riker, I'd say you have yourself a
date." "A hell of a lot more than that, I
hope," he growled, laying her backward again in the
sand. "--every night, for the rest of your
life." Deanna finished her sentence
breathlessly. "That's better." She moved on
top of him and her hair spilled over her shoulders onto his chest. "Dea,"
he whispered when her kisses nudged the edge of his
neck. "Hm?" she nipped his
jaw. "Have I ever told you how much I love the
way your hair smells?" Deanna laughed and
shrugged his jacket from her shoulders. Her answer came in the form of her
nude body, laid flush against him in the sand.
=[END]= ...with
thanks for reading this utter bit of fluff...
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