Because I was 'side-tracked' from working on a longer piece of writing last night, I thought I'd post a bit of resultant fluff.   I'm such a suck this evening, but at least if I write this here, I won't add it into the longer, more serious scene I should be doing for the new story <smiles>    One hour, no editor, please no one point out how horrible the grammar likely is!   This scenario is purely for fun.  


"Side-Tracked"
Timeframe:  Post Insurrection 
Rated:  PG-14
By:  QDestinyy@aol.com

"How many more did you say there were?"   Leaning on the edge of Will Riker's couch, Deanna Troi drew her fingertips gingerly across her abdomen.  "I'm sorry.   I don't know what's wrong with me."

Smiling fondly, Riker slipped an arm around Deanna's waist and sat with her.  "One hundred and twenty-seven.  How long have you been feeling like this?" he covered her hand with his and held it over her stomach.

"An hour," she cringed, "I think it must have been that chocolate you gave me--"

With a playfully indignant frown, Riker squeezed her fingers, "I'll have you know, Counselor, that was genuine replicated ice-cream.  I take no responsibility."

"Of course not," Deanna whimpered and fell sideways onto the soft fabric, curling her legs behind her.   She threw him a perilous look, "it isn't funny."

"No," conceded Riker, "but you are sort of cute like that."

Troi scowled, "trust Will Riker to discover sexual innuendo in stomach ache."

"I'm not!" he defended, "I'm only pointing out--"

"Shut up, Will," Deanna released his hand and shoved it off of the edge of the couch.  "Just leave me alone..."

"You know I'd do anything for you, Deanna," he grinned, "but these are my quarters..."

"Right this moment, Will, I really don't care," she sighed and looked away.

"Doctor Crusher probably has something that can take care of that."

"I've already taken the hypo.  It's not working."

"Well, give it a little time," Riker returned his hand to hers, "I'll go and get you some water if you'd like?"  When Deanna didn't reply, he rose and smoothed a hand along the edge of her hair.  "I'll go get that water."

He was gone before Deanna looked up again, and when she did, she noticed that he'd also dimmed the lights.  Under other circumstances, she might have questioned his motives in doing that.  As it was, the painful reminder in her stomach kept her from caring.

In the five months since she and Will had resumed a romantic relationship, she had rarely had the opportunity to scrutinize his choices.     He was adamant about maintaining a professional equilibrium for them; as adamant as she herself was.   And so they'd forged a new kind of pact.  One that allowed them to continue their nights of breathless passion, followed by mornings of decorous service together on board the Federation Flag Ship.

It seemed to work, in the beginning.  But as the weeks wore into months, it had begun to wear thin on both of them.  There were moments, when Deanna wished she could simply lean over and take his hand while they sat together at a senior staff meeting.  Moments when she felt like trapping him within the confines of a turbo lift and forgetting their resolution...

Of course, they never did.  It wouldn't have been appropriate.   And the fact of the matter was that ever since the Briar Patch, things hadn't been growing easier, they'd been growing more and more complicated.  As complication grew, so too did a sense of helpless doubt that they had any hope of making this new relationship work. 

Even their open and obvious flirting had tamed in public.  Ironic, she thought, that they had been more affectionate amongst their friends when they were living in a status quo; before they started sleeping together again.

In the Briar Patch, none of that seemed to matter.  They were young again; swept away and crazy in love. Afterwards ...   they were still in love.  But while the feelings they'd allowed to resurface did not fade with the effects of the region, their awareness of the repercussions of such a relationship began to grow.

Fond glances and meaningful looks, once commonplace between them, were muted whenever they were in the presence of others.   Deanna found herself consciously averting her gaze from Will's during meetings.  And when she wanted more than anything to touch him, she would force herself to leave the room instead;  forever aware of his eyes on her back.

Of course, this made their off-duty hours all the more passionate and frantic.  They wasted little occasion with words and spent a great deal of time giving in to torrid, needful fantasies they held at bay during the day. 

Not that she entirely minded those.... 

Smiling slightly, Deanna realized that the pain had started to ease.  With wary vigilance, she lifted herself from the couch and sat up, looking out at Rker's quarters.  It was taking him an awfully long time to get back with that water...

She was thinking of calling for him, when she noticed something different on the wall.  Rising slowly, she made her way across the suite and stood in front of a small side-table.  Sitting alone on top of it was a silver holo-emitter, switched on.

The image was of her, in Ten-Forward, nearly three years earlier.  It had been taken at a party, and though Deanna didn't remember the occasion at first, it was clear from her own expression that her shining eyes were fixed on Will Riker. 

In an instant, all of it came flooding back.   She recalled the way he'd coaxed her into laughter; that it was he who held the camera, and that she hadn't even meant to attend the gathering that night, except that he had shown up at her quarters with a single white Earth rose.

Feeling oddly self-conscious, Deanna shook her head at the obvious reason Will had chosen to keep this image displayed.   Even in the years before they'd ever resumed their romance -- the look in her eyes was starlit.

"Was I really that pathetic?" she whispered aloud.

Deanna's fingers brushed the base of the emitter.  It was then she noticed there was something else next to it.   A data PADD that was still switched on.  Tentatively lifting the small device, she noticed the entry-title and found herself too curious to let it go.  Scrolling through the text for a brief moment, she finally set it into a nearby comm interface.

"Computer," she asked, "play sequence."

A likeness of Riker appeared on the screen, and judging by his uniform, it was nearly five years earlier.  Deanna stared in puzzlement as he began to speak.

<Personal log, star date 45473.2.  This is... going to be a lot harder than I thought,> he sighed in the view screen.  <It isn't the first time I've sat here and recorded a log... about Deanna.  But I guess, I just, I need someone to talk to.  And it's times like these that our ship's Counselor probably wouldn't be the best idea...> he shook his head ruefully.  <Deanna met someone on our mission to Moab Four.   Aaron Conor.  I know that she cared for him a great deal, and I know she's hurting right now -- though she won't talk to me about it.  At first, I thought that all I would feel was jealousy, when I left her down there on the planet that first time.   I knew she wanted to see more of him, because I saw the way she looked at him.    But I wasn't jealous for more than a few hours.  Not even when Aaron practically sent me back to the ship with a personal message for her.  He obviously had no idea...   It's a blessing and a curse, I guess, when you know someone as well as I know Deanna, you always know when she's falling in love...> Riker's voice grew quiet, <I wish she would talk to me.>

<PLAYBACK PAUSED>  the computer's default inter-log procedure flashed on the comm screen while Deanna simply stared at it in silence.  It would be wrong of her to proceed with this.  Casting a backward glance into the room, she saw that Will had still not returned.  It would be very wrong...

"Computer," she whispered, "continue playback, next log entry on file."

<Personal log, star date 45498.1.  The Ullians are gone.  And after what happened, I can't say I'm sorry to see them go.   The officer in me realizes that this was an isolated incident, and like any other crime, it wasn't condoned or planned.  But when I saw Deanna lying in that bed, I realized what it might be like to lose ... my best friend.  I missed her so much.  I didn't know that it was possible to miss another person that much.   I still don't know if it's possible to hear the voices of the waking world when you're in a coma ... I remember a few of them from when I was out.   But I don't regret saying what I did ... even if she did hear me.  Even if she knows...>

The screen flickered off and then on again while Deanna moved slowly toward it, regarding the frozen image of Will Riker. 

"Knows what?" she interrogated the monitor as though it could talk, but a sense of morbid curiosity took over instead.  "Computer, how many log entries are there?"

<There are forty-seven personal log entries contained in this file.>

"Confirm instances of the name 'Deanna' in these files."

<All forty-seven entries contain the name Deanna.>

Sighing thoughtfully, Deanna sat in the chair at the console.  "Computer, skip ahead, last log entry on file."

Abruptly the screen changed again.  But it was still Will Riker looking back through the display; his uniform was once again different, perhaps two further years later.  

<Personal log, star date 47996.2   I've lost her.  She and Worf are ... making plans to get married.   God, I didn't do a damn thing about it, either,> he drew a hand back through his hair, <I think a part of me doesn't even believe this is real.  Maybe if I close my eyes and open them again, I'll see her standing in front of me.  Smiling.  I'll look in her beautiful eyes and she'll say how silly I've been; that I could never lose my Imzadi.  And I'll be able to take her in my arms and tell her how much I love her.  That I haven't stopped loving her for an instant since the day we first met.   God, I need to tell her--> he looked away from the screen and drew a shallow breath, whispering, <She really is gone, isn't she?  I know that.  I just want her to be happy...>

The screen went blank.   

Riker's log entry was over, but Deanna continued to stare at the dark square portal, eyes filled with glassy unspent tears.  She lifted a hand to remove their evidence, when a sound from the other end of the suite startled the motion.

"I'm sorry I took so long," Riker entered through a far-away door, "I thought instead of water, you might like--" he froze on the other side of the room, "--Deanna, are you all right?"

Quickly divesting herself of the rest of the unwanted moisture, Deanna rose to her feet and turned.    "I'm fine," she nodded, placing a hand on the back of the chair.

"What are you doing?" he started toward her again, setting a steaming mug on the living room table.

"I was feeling better," she gestured vaguely at the wall behind her, "I went to see that holograph, and I got a little side-tracked."  

"Side-tracked?" Riker's frown was slight as he regarded the blank console behind her.

It occurred to Deanna that she could come up with any explanation.   She thought of it, and then dismissed the idea as 'fancifully human'.  She wouldn't lie about this.

"I found this on the table."  Lifting the data PADD into her hands, Deanna held it aloft.  "I'm sorry.  Will, I shouldn't have--"

"You watched that?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"Deanna--" releasing the air in his lungs, Riker walked across the suite to the window and stood at it before he turned, "those are personal logs."

"I know," she met his eyes and didn't deny the subtext she saw there.

"I was going to delete them."

"Why didn't you?"  Moving slowly toward Riker, Deanna stopped a discrete distance away.

"I don't know," his shoulders rose and fell, "I ... got side-tracked."  

"Will--"

"So now you know," he cut her off, studying her with conflicted eyes, "I guess that's all right."

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" Deanna said, "why didn't we ever talk?"

Riker glanced at the floor.

"All these years," she pressed, "Will, all this time--"

"What would you have said?"  Lifting his gaze, he fixed her with a sharp look.  "Do you even know?"

"No," she conceded, "but that doesn't mean we couldn't have figured it out.  Together."

"Deanna, I spent most of those years wondering what the hell I was feeling.  I didn't know how to reconcile what I wanted with what I needed.   You knew that," he shook his head, "you knew it better than I did.  That's why you insisted that we be nothing more than friends.  I understand that, now."

"But I didn't know," Deanna took a step toward him, placing a hand on his arm, "Will, I didn't know that you still loved me.  I thought you weren't sure--"

"Maybe I wasn't."  Riker spread his hands, interrupting her, "all I really knew for sure was that I needed to be with you.  However that happened, whether we were friends, or more than friends, as long as you were here.  As long as we still had that.   I didn't know whether what I wanted was to move forward or to go back.  Deanna, I was completely confused, and you were right.  It took me years to realize that being your friends just ... wasn't enough."

For a long moment, she regarded him in silence.  "I'm sorry," she whispered, "I must have seemed so pitiless, so uncaring."  New tears replaced the ones that she had swept away.   "But I thought you had made up your mind.  I thought you knew what you wanted..."

"Deanna, don't cry," stepping forward, Riker wrapped her in his arms.  "Please.  Imzadi, don't cry.  It doesn't matter now."

"It DOES matter!" she pulled from him and held his arms at length.  "And I'm not crying because I can help it, Will, I'm crying because ... because all of this time, it didn't have to be this way.    I look at that holo of me, sitting there on your table, and I remember the moment so vividly.  I remember you standing in the doorway of my quarters and my telling you to leave.  And when you didn't; when you handed me that rose and told me you wouldn't leave unless I went with you, Will, I loved you so much..." she almost laughed, "I would have given up everything for you in that single, selfish moment of insanity.  If you had said, 'Deanna, I want to be with you forever, run away with me,' I would have said YES.  Do you know how weak that made me feel?"

"But I didn't say that," he took a fall of her hair in his hand and brushed it backward.

Deanna blew a short breath through her lips, "thank that gods."

Riker took her hand.  "We both made mistakes.  But we can't change the things we said or didn't say.  And whether we wasted years or lived them to their fullest, we'd still be here right now.  Maybe in another place, another circumstance, but it would still be you and I, standing face to face.  Together," he caught and held her serious expression, "I want to move forward."

He drew her out into the room.  And when they stopped at the edge of the couch, Riker pressed his palm against her stomach. 

"Are you feeling all right?" he asked the question so out of the blue that Deanna had to smile.

"Yes," she leaned affectionately against him.  "Beverly saves the day ... again."

"Well, then maybe we can set aside these crew evaluations for a few minutes, so that I can say what I wanted to say before you collapsed on my couch--"  he offered her a rueful grin.

"I didn't 'collapse'," Deanna frowned, "I laid down."

"Right," he drew them together as though they were going to dance, "I still think you looked damn sexy laying there like that..."

"Riker, you have a one track mind--"

"Two track this evening, Counselor," he corrected, separating their stance.  "I'm afraid I can't do anything about the first one.  I love the way you look.." 

Deanna rolled her eyes, but he continued undaunted, "I love the way you smile.  The way your eyes light up when you see chocolate..."

Though she swatted his arm, interest had already begun to alter Deanna's expression.

"I love the way you feel when you're curled up against me...like this," he pulled her gently forward, sitting back and settling her body in the crook of his arm.  

Deanna sighed, but didn't protest the arrangement.  Her hand moved slowly down the front of his uniform, and she felt a swell of anxiousness rise within him.  

"I didn't plan this," he began, "I don't know any of the names of any of the gods in the universe who finally decided that it was okay for us to be together.  But I know that, ever since the Briar Patch, I've spent a lot of time thanking them."

"Will--" Deanna lifted her head and traced the edge of his face with her hand.

"I think it's time that we stopped pretending we aren't just as crazy about each other during the day as we are at night.  I think we need to tell the Captain, and the senior staff, and ... the whole damn Enterprise.  I want to be able to touch you again.  In front of everyone.  I want them all to know."

"Will," Deanna's heart filled with the rare and wonderful sense of vulnerability that his admission had engendered within him, but she knew better than to swoon.  There were implications to consider.  And serious reason for their earlier decision.    "Are you sure?" she asked him franky, "Will there are days when I feel just the same.  You know that.  But we could be looked at very differently if we were open about this."

Capturing her fingertips, he held them against his cheek.  His glass-blue eyes filled with the most incredible light.     "Deanna, will you marry me?"

Her mouth fell open.  This hadn't been anywhere near the response she'd expected.  "Marry?" she exhaled the word.

"Yes, as in, spend the rest of your life with me.  As in forever.  As in--"

"I know what it means!" sitting up, Deanna folded her knees beneath her on the couch.  "I just, I don't--"

"You don't want to," the light in his eyes began to dim.

"No," she answered quickly, "Will, I do.  I do want to.  Oh, gods," she took his hand, allowing herself to drown in the needful swell of his emotions.  It may not have been planned, but it was a very romantic way to get engaged.   "Yes..."  Falling back into his arms amidst her own quiet laughter, Deanna whispered, "I'll marry you, Imzadi..." she cuddled against him until he completely enveloped her.

Riker held her ardently.  He pressed warm lips against the top of her hair and shut his eyes.  "Yes," he echoed.

"How many crew evaluations did you say we had left tonight?"   Deanna opened her thoughts and lifted her head, welcoming his mouth with her own. 

"One hundred and twenty-seven," Riker murmured when they finally emerged.

"That's a lot."

"Yeah..." the cadence of his answering spirit ignited a shiver of desire inside of Deanna, and Riker bore her tenderly backward onto the couch.

"We should finish what we started," she drew her arms around his neck.

"You're right," his body rose and covered hers; his lips caressed her neck, "Counselor?"

"Yes--"

"I think I'm getting ... side-tracked, again..."

Deanna sighed, "me too."



-end-