"Snips and Snails and Puppy Dog Tails.."
(In honor of the J'naii)
A revisionist history of the episode, or a wrinkle in time...
BY: QDestinyy@aol.com

See episodic timeframe (and species J'naii) for further details.

-----------------------------

'...our relationship won't change... will it?'

Words. They were only words. Yet they echoed with a timeless resonance in Deanna Troi's thoughts.

'We'll still be friends?'

Will Riker sat, fidgeting in her quarters, sometimes smiling, other times glancing down at his hands. He was nervous, he was anxious, excited ... he was in love. But not with Deanna.

'Of course we'll be friends,' she'd stammered, 'Maybe better friends... You will always be a part of my life, and I will always be a part of yours'

Always. That seemed like forever. It had been forever, the day before yesterday. The day before the poker game when doctor Crusher announced:

'I think... a certain J'naii scientist may be attracted to our Commander Riker...'

'Impossible!'

Well, that was what Worf had said.

'A human and a J'naii would not be compatible...'

Deanna scowled. As she recalled, she'd been the genius who turned to him and begged the question:

'why not?'

Why indeed. Because if that human were William Riker, then that *human* belonged to Deanna, that's why. Because with the self-same vehemence with which Worf had expressed his illogical arguments over poker, Deanna knew -- heart over head -- that Will Riker could not belong to Soren. The J'naii could love him, she could desire him ... but 'she' could never win his soul.

Never.

'why not?'

Her own voice mocked her. More echoes. More questions. More anger than Deanna was willing to reconcile in one evening.

Rising slowly from the couch in her quarters, she glanced down at a stack of old photos still clutched in her hand. Faces in the ancient paper stared back at her. Her father's father's memories; some young, some old. Some she thought might be related.

She had cared about that. About the box her mother had sent her, directly from Earth. Deanna had been excited about seeing every memory and wandering backward through time ... with Will. Which was why she'd called him to her quarters.

Except that he was already on his way.

'Deanna, can I come in for a bit?'

He'd stood in the stopgap of her doorway, one hand on the arch. The other -- where he always kept it, at his side. In retrospect, she should have known by the way he held his head. The way his feelings -- almost shy, for Will Riker -- washed over her on the crest of a far deeper hope.

She'd waved him through. Of course he could come in. He could always come in.

Always.

'What are you looking at?' asked Riker

'Oh, wonderful things ... photos from my father's family, from Earth... I look at them and I wonder if any of them are related to me...'

'Well, this one looks sort of like you,' he held out a stuffed teddy-bear.

Will Riker ... was forever in search of a smile. A gesture, a look -- even one of annoyance -- which justified his antic. He was the kind of man, she knew, who'd been the boy that put a frog in the teacher's desk-drawer before class.

Deanna would never have done that. As a child or otherwise, she had always been studious and respectful of authority. But she had known a few boys like Riker when she was a school girl.

Boys who traded caterpillars for gumballs in the lunchroom; whose roguish talents got them into far more trouble than she would ever have been able to suffer. But then they'd wink at her, and smile on their way out the door to the headmistress' office. And when there was absolutely no one in authority to see her, Deanna would smile back. Caterpillar or no ... wherever the frog might be. She smiled.

And then one day ... she fell in love.

'I've met someone ... '

Deanna looked down. She'd held her head up high the entire time. Until that moment. She was strong and she was ready for his words. But the look in his eyes was so familiar, so mirrored in his innocent emotion. It hurt her heart that it was not her emotion to feel.

She looked away. But only for a second. Less than an instant.

'I thought ... I should tell you.' he sighed.

'I'm glad you told me.'

Did she really say that? She was glad? Maybe she was glad. But only because she had known since the poker game that it was probably going to happen. In some way or another. Only she hadn't expected the words...

'Someone I'm starting to care ... a lot... about...'

Will kissed her. His mouth brushed softly over hers. And they had not done that in a very long time. Good friends didn't kiss that way, not even best friends. But former lovers did ... when saying goodbye.

She watched him leave her quarters. Light spirits, heart filled and willing to take on anything for the wonder he was feeling. He was every bit the man she'd always dreamed he might become. Someday. When he was ready. When they both were.

But he was walking in the wrong direction.

'Will....'

Deanna called out after him, except the doors had closed. They'd been closed for several minutes. And it didn't seem clear why she'd bothered to speak at all.

'I'm not glad...'

There was no one to hear her, save for the teddy-bear. Save for the photos she set down as she stood.

<Harris to Troi> Deanna's comm badge beeped. It startled her. But the reprieve was a welcome one. She cleared her throat.

"Troi here."

<Counselor, you asked to be notified if there was any change in the J'naii personnel stationed on board. They've just beamed down three members, exchanged one of the scientists for another. >

"Soren?" asked Deanna, though a certainty flowed through her.

<Soren and two guards as escort. And if I may say so, Counselor, the one called Soren ... didn't seem very happy about the transfer.>

"Understood.. Thank you lieutenant. Troi out." Deanna stood motionless. Her hand hovered over her comm badge, but did not activate it. And then she sighed. "Computer, location of Commander Riker."

<Commander Riker is in his quarters.>

Again Deanna paused, drawing breath. She glanced at the door.

"Troi to Riker."

<Riker here, what is it, Deanna?>

"Will..." it hurt to speak, for some reason, it hurt to breathe.

<Are you all right?>

"Yes," she lied, "I'm fine. It's Soren. She ..." Deanna paused. She? Well, without question it would have to be 'she'... "She transported off the ship. There was apparently an armed escort, I thought you should--"

<What? You're sure they were armed?> he cut her off, and she could feel his disquiet through the barrier of their quarters.

"Yes, Will...Lieutenant Harris claimed that Soren seemed somewhat reluctant to leave. Perhaps you should visit her quarters first. There might be an explanation--"

<Understood.> Will's reply sounded forced. <Riker out.>

"...and out." Deanna dropped her head.

.o.

Three hours later, Lieutenant Worf emerged from Riker's quarters. Deanna bumped into him in the hallway, and he seemed gruffer than usual; in a hurry to escape her scrutiny. She let him go without inquiry, but only because she was more concerned of the reason for his hasty departure. Of the man inside the door that she approached. She rang the chime.

<Who is it?>

'It's your Imzadi, can't you sense it when I'm standing three feet away?' Deanna's mind conjured the phrase with acerbic agility, but she didn't send it. Because she was wholly disgusted with herself for even feeling the slightest bit territorial.

"It's--"
"Deanna, come in..." Riker called back simultaneously.

Her eyebrows rose. He'd spoken before she had, and he probably hadn't even realized it, as distracted as he so obviously was.

Deanna stepped into his quarters, surveying a quantity of equipment strewn casually across his table.

"Planning a yard-sale?" she tried out a smile.

Will looked up at her. He watched her standing there, and his expression was as serious as she had ever seen it. Deanna froze.

He came for her with purpose, and he wrapped her in his arms. Rigid beneath his brawny embrace, she found she was also unable to breathe, though his hold on her grew lighter.

"No matter what happens," he whispered, "never forget how much I care about you."

It was the sound of finality in his voice, which caused her to shiver.

"You're going down there," she pulled away from him. Will stood at arms length and he nodded.

"I have to. Deanna, what they're going to do to Soren ... it's wrong. No matter the cost. I can't let it happen. Do you understand?" He trailed off and his eyes took on a light of their own.

But she didn't respond. She couldn't respond. Because she did understand. And it tore her heart in two.

"Deanna," Will spoke as though he'd read the thoughts from her own mind, "I think I'm in love..."

"Then you should go," she whispered. "You should listen to your heart."

The smile and the genuine joy in Riker's soul warmed the ache in Deanna's chest, if only a little.

Will's eyes grew serious again. "If anything happens ... down there."

"Will," Deanna reached for him and touched his face with her hand, "you have to do what's right ... for you."

"I love you." He took her hand and held it. Looking down on her with the pure wonder of uncensored affection. "You know that, right?"

"Yes," she swallowed the sharp pain in her heart, "I know," and when he had gathered his things and left her standing in his quarters, Deanna backed against the wall. "I love you too."

.o.

Wait!

Deanna ran. Down the corridors. Into the turbo-lift. Through several decks of Enterprise. And out ... To a skidding halt near the entrance to transporter room four.

She arrived in time to see the doorway open, three officers inside. Two were not in uniform. Worf and Will.

The other...

"Crewman, you're dismissed."

She entered the room as though each breath she took didn't catch in her chest.

"Counselor?" the young man stammered. "I--"

"I said you're dismissed," her eyes turned on him.

He blanched, "yes, sir," and left the room in a hurry.

"Deanna? What are you doing here?" Will spun on his heel. He was shaking his head, glancing backward at Worf as though the Klingon was somehow responsible for her impromptu appearance.

"I came to give you this," she thrust out her hand, dropping a silver pin inside his grasp. It wasn't regulation. It wasn't even Starfleet. It was...

"I can't take this. It belonged to your mother..."

"For the love of the gods, Will, take it!"

His eyes grew wide. But there wasn't any time to argue. So he nodded, closing his fingers over the tiny COMM badge.

"This thing's older than I am," he smiled at the pin, stepping backward several feet onto the transport pad.

"It'll serve for a transport lock," she saw him frown and added, "just in case."

"You shouldn't be here," he sighed, turning to Worf for concurrence. But the Klingon seemed unwilling to comment.

"Better me than a crewman on duty! Are you out of your mind, Will? If anything happens down there, the first thing the court-martial will ask would be who saw you both off the ship out of uniform ... he'd have to tell them where he was tonight."

"So would you," he countered.

She shrugged. "I was washing my hair."

A second or two later, Will grinned. "You'll have to hurry," he took three giant steps from the transport pad, reaching for both her hands. "Because we'll be back before you know it. And I want you to meet her..." his eyes locked with hers, "I mean really meet her. I think you two could be friends..."

There was no time for Deanna to yank the dagger from her heart. Worf stepped off the transport pad, taking hold of Riker's arm. "Commander," he interrupted, "we must--"

"I'm well aware Mr. Worf, we've got a second," Will never looked back. Instead he squeezed her hands. "Thank you," he whispered.

"Be safe," she looked to both men (if a Klingon could truly be called a 'man'). Tonight, as they had in so many other instances, they were fighting for a common purpose. Perhaps the barriers of semantics would fall away yet again.

Deanna lifted her head resolutely. Will was staring at her. The look in his eyes was strange, but she was far too captured by her own feelings to sense whatever stirred his expression.

"Go..." she pushed him gently backward until he stepped onto the pad, "make it right."

Riker nodded, still silent. His face took on the light of shining purpose, and he was once again consumed with a glow she barely recognized.

Taking up position behind the transport console, Deanna keyed in a set of coordinates.

When she looked up again, Will glanced away. His fingers closed and opened at his sides.

"You may energize."

The imperative came from Worf. For the span of an instant, Deanna was startled by the sound of his voice. But her hands knew the order. They danced on familiar keys.

There was a hum and flash of sparkling light. And then there was no one in the room but her.

No one to watch when she closed her eyes.

No one to judge the reason why.

.o.

'...I've met someone....'

The Enterprise seemed distant to Deanna. Filled with emotions; so innocent of the conflict below them ... a world they'd only planned to visit.

"It all goes on..." she whispered to herself, star-gazing through the window in her quarters. '"..forever and ever, it moves us whether we stand or we run..."

'...I'm glad you told me...'

Laying her head on the back of the chair behind her, it seemed as though the 'voices' of her memories had finally begun to quiet.

'...our relationship won't change... will it?'

Yes.

It would change. But that was fate. Things changed. Life progressed. New experiences were destined to move and manipulate a larger truth.

A delicate glass in Deanna's hand tipped gently back and forth. There was nothing chocolate inside it. Only the fruity taste of a wine the Captain had gifted her nearly two years earlier. Warm and sweet, it drew the tension from her limbs while she stared at the ceiling.

He'd been gone for nearly three hours.

No word, no signal. No emotions... she couldn't sense him at all. It was odd. Not uncomfortable, nor unexpected, perhaps... inopportune.

The link they'd forged in the heat of passionate romance had long since cooled from years of platonic friendship.

Had she been the same naive girl who once told Will Riker -- no, she'd insisted to *lieutenant* Riker -- that a physical relationship was not the forgone consequence of romantic love for a Betazoid?

Deanna smiled.

Yes, she had said that. But what the hell did she know? She was barely a woman. And he ... was very ... persistent.

The calm of the drink expressed her thought as a sigh. She sat up slowly and set her glass down. Old photos lay strewn across her table, waiting to be sorted; waiting where she left them right after his visit.

Deanna picked one up and held it lightly between her fingers. There was a little boy, two men next to him, and a large old shuttle which had to have been more than fifty years old.

The men held the boy up, suspended by both arms over the nose of the vessel, and the smile on the child's face shone through the passage of time.

On the back were the words, "Ian and Michael, 2311"

Deanna's eyes widened. There had been no mention that there might be photos of her father in the box. Photos which must have been taken with a camera several generations older than any of the men in the image. Had they done it for kicks? How old must her father have been at the time ... six or seven?

The same age she was when he died.

Her fingers traced the surface of the precious paper, while her other hand clutched the midriff of a tiny stuffed bear.

Deanna blinked, annoyed at her own body. "I will not cry," she whispered aloud, forcing her posture into an upright position. Her thoughts focussed.

She had shed many tears for her father in her lifetime, but these she felt immediately were born of a different kind of pain. A kind, perhaps more merciless, which she had not felt for many years. It wasn't her own feeling of sorrow which taunted her.

It was Will's.

.o.

As the prickle of transport released them, the jungle air surrounded their senses; thick with the heavy scent of vegetation. Riker took point in front of Worf, phaser in hand.

Flora of all sizes and distinctions -- some of which he recognized from Soren's brief biology lesson -- made it difficult to travel in a straight line. They followed the lights of the J'naii complex instead.

"Commander, are you certain she will be at the designated coordinates?" Lt. Worf pulled up behind Will.

"As certain as I can be Mr. Worf ... and you don't have to call me Commander down here," he gestured to their civilian attire, "We're not exactly on a Starfleet errand."

"I will call you Commander."

"Suit yourself," Riker shrugged, unwilling to waste any time arguing.

It was a Klingon's fierce sense of loyalty; his unswerving dedication to honor which had brought him to Riker's quarters earlier that evening, requesting that they take on the mission as a team.

"May I ask ... a personal question?" They'd been walking for only a few minutes, when Worf spoke again.

Riker chuckled. "Are you sure you don't want to hang onto that one, Mr. Worf? We may be sharing a cell for few years if this doesn't work out. We could run out of things to talk about."

Unmoved by his dark attempt at humor, the Klingon grunted. "We will be successful."

Will sighed, but gave no answer, "go ahead," he threw behind him, still plodding through the dense foliage. "ask away."

"Your ... relationship ... with the J'naii. I do not understand it."

"What's not to understand? I love her, Worf."

"Yes," the Klingon frowned, "you have said so, and I do not question your word. It is just..." he looked away, frustrated, "it is a matter of honor that we rescue ... 'her' ... from a fate she does not wish for. But she is not--"

"What?" Riker cut him off with a wry smirk, "my type?" His eyes took on a far-distant expression and he almost smiled. "You don't know her, Worf. No one on the Enterprise knows her -- hell, no one on this planet knows her -- the way I do. You don't understand."

"I have already said that."

"Yes, well, I mean that maybe you can't understand."

"Then explain it to me."

Riker craned his neck backward, turning uncomfortably, "We don't really have a lot of time here, Worf..."

"There is time enough," Worf pressed, "do you wish to ... marry her?"

"I--" Riker froze and faced his friend. "have you been talking to Deanna?"

Worf's eyes widened. For a Klingon, he looked almost stricken. "I have not," he growled, "should I?"

"No!"

"You love her." Worf stated matter-of-factly.

Riker was about to respond to the affirmative, when he realized that it was anyone's best guess whether Worf had been referring to Soren ... or Troi.

"SHE loves me, Worf," Will took the opportunity to turn the conversation back to the J'naii, "and yes, I love her. I haven't felt this way in a very long time and it means something. We can't let them do ... what they're going to do to her."

"We cannot," the Klingon agreed, "but that is a matter of honor. A matter for any warrior."

"I'm not here as a warrior!"

"You cannot be here as a lover," countered Worf, "there is no wisdom in love."

"Which is probably why I might be giving up my career, my friends on the Enterprise, my life in Starfleet..."

Deanna.

Her name hung unspoken at the forefront of Riker's consciousness. As did her face; her presence. The way it felt when she slipped, like a warm caress, inside his thoughts. Or on Betazed, when she wrapped her arms around his soul and claimed it for her own. He might never feel those things again.

But that was the past. Even Deanna knew that. Soren ... was the future. His future.

"Tell me something," Riker rounded on Worf, "if there's no wisdom in what we're doing tonight, then why are you here?"

The Klingon took less than an instant to ponder. He halted mid-step and growled.

"It is the right thing to do."

Riker might have said more, but in the midst of the jungle, the lights of the enormous J'naii government complex loomed large. Thrusting his arm outward, Will halted the Klingon's progress and together, they dropped to a crouch.

"Over there," Worf's gruff whisper came next.

"I see them." Riker peered at a small approaching party. "There she is," he hissed under his breath. "Lets go..."

They hopped to their feet and started forward, meeting the group of J'naii half way.

"Excuse me," Riker began, "I'd like to speak with her--"

Will's question trailed off as one of the guards leapt to attack. A matter of moments; instants really, and he and Worf had subdued both of the soldiers. They were so much slighter in stature; they hadn't stood a chance.

For a brief instant, Riker saw Worf frown, and he knew that the Klingon must have been thinking the exact same thing he had been.

Obviously inferior in size, the guards were nearly the same height as Soren. Only 'she' had chosen a gender, but the others ... He and Worf might as well have knocked out two other women. And for some reason, even Riker's twenty-fourth century mentality cringed at that fact.

Unfortunately, there wasn't time for pity. Grabbing hold of Soren's arm, Riker pulled her with him, running headlong into the jungle.

They had done it! They were free ... and she was with him. A sense of euphoria flooded Riker's body with adrenaline. It pounded in his ears and his heart so powerfully that he hadn't heard Soren's protest. Or the words she was speaking, until he let her arm go.

"Soren," Will watched her back away from him. She was shaking her head, apologetic. "we're free," he moved towards her, "we can be together..."

"Why would I want that?" she asked. So innocently, she tipped her pretty head and frowned.

"I love you--" he pleaded with her, already aware of a much more dangerous truth. They'd taken her love for him and twisted it. Despite the heat of the jungle, the adrenaline in his veins began to freeze.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

Sorry. The word echoed in his consciousness. Sorry. He had given up everything. He had done it right this time. And she was sorry...

The last thing Riker heard before Worf grabbed hold of his arm; the last thing before the J'naii calmly -- peacefully -- retraced her steps toward the complex, was the sound of his own voice.

"Soren!!" he yelled after her, heedless of the consequence. But she didn't even turn.

Alerted to the skirmish, twenty or thirty more guards begun pouring from the complex, while Riker remained frozen.

"Commander, we must go *now*!"

It was Worf who reached inside the belt-clip on the Commander's waist, extracting an old communicator pin. Worf who activated the COMM signal. Worf who held Will upright as the glow of transport shimmered around them.

.o.

"Where is he?" Deanna stood, arms akimbo, at a table in Ten-Forward.

A gruff voice echoed off the metal rim of a replicated cup, "he is not well."

"I know that, Worf, I've just come off the bridge," she stared him down, "I want to see him. He's not wearing his COMM badge and he's blocking me from..." her voice trailed off as she realized that Worf would not understand the object of her distress whether she explained it or not, "Is he on the holodeck?"

With a sigh of exasperation and a downward glance, Worf frowned. "I ... do not know," he looked up from his drink, "When we returned last night, he went straight to the bridge. He was there until my duty shift this morning. I have not seen him since."

"And you don't intend to tell me where you think he might be, either... aren't you his friend?" asked Deanna.

"Of course I am!"

"Well, so am I, Worf, and I'm telling you right now that I need to see him. And I think you have a fairly good idea where he is. Better than I do at the moment, which is why I'm here. Am I wrong?"

Their eyes met. The warrior and the empath. But it was she who ultimately emerged from the stand-off victorious.

"You will not dishonor him with your pity!" the Klingon growled.

"I will do whatever I feel is necessary for the sake of my friend, in whatever way I choose," her dark eyes flashed. "And I will find him, with ... or without your help. I came here because I was under the impression that we both cared about the same person. Obviously, I was wrong."

"You..." Worf seemed to choke on his own word. He slammed his fist on the table half-heartedly. "you were not wrong."

"Then tell me."

"He mentioned ... a treasure chest. But I do not know what that means." The Klingon's answer was finalized by a frustrated noise.

Deanna ignored it. She exhaled quietly. "I think I know."

"Good," Worf grumbled, "then you may leave me to finish my drink in peace." with a further nod -- her dismissal -- he returned to his cup.

"Of course," she smiled, patting his shoulder gently. "Enjoy your..." she glanced within the rim of the metal cylinder, "whatever that is."

"Hmph," he grunted. And when he thought she was out of earshot, he added one final word. "Females."

.o.
part 8 [END]...

-----------------------------

"Snips and Snails and Puppy Dog Tails.."
(In honor of the J'naii)
A revisionist history, or a wrinkle in time...
BY: QDestinyy@aol.com

See episodic timeframe for further details.

-----------------------------

It was quiet when Deanna arrived. The arboretum was nearly deserted, and she could see no one through the dense foliage. Still she knew he was here.

Beyond the clue which Worf had given her, Deanna could sense Will; could feel his pain and his anger as though it were a knife in her own chest.

Moving with deliberate caution, she wound her way through the myriad of paths until she came upon the one she was looking for.

Sure enough, he was there. Sitting in the grass, next to a pool of clear water. Riker dipped his hand beneath the surface and lifted it up again, watching as moisture slipped languidly between his fingers.

It was the children's pond.

And Will Riker had been the one to establish that. He'd also been the one who placed a life-like replica of an ancient pirate treasure chest at the bottom of the glassy pool.

There it remained, wooden planks and gold fastenings left to shimmer mysteriously beneath the surface. The children loved it, needless to say. And Deanna had always wondered why a man who had such fondness for children never mentioned having one of his own...

"I hope you brought your note-PADD Counselor," he spoke suddenly, startling her without looking up, "I probably look even worse than I feel right now. I'm sure I'll make a great case-study for one of your papers."

"That's not why I'm here Will."

"Then why are you here?" he snapped bitterly, "if not to 'counsel' me out of feeling angry. You know what, Deanna? I don't *want* to be counseled. I *want* to feel angry, and I'd rather not discuss my feelings or my mood, all right? Not with you or anyone else. So if you've come down here to play shrink and talk -- you've wasted your time."

<I'm here because I love you...> her heart spoke for her, though her lips hadn't moved.

Deanna stopped in her tracks. "Wrong again," she shrugged lightly, taking a seat on the grass next to him, ignoring his cutting remark. "I'm here because I'm your friend."

Well, that was partly true at least. She managed to look at him.

"I really just ... want to be alone right now." he muttered sullenly.

She smiled at that. "Too bad."

Riker's sidelong glance was appropriately acrimonious.

"Will, I'm sorry," Deanna sighed.

"What is it with women?" he shook his head, "you're always sorry. I'm sorry we can't be together. I'm sorry I don't feel the same way about you. I'm sorry I used to love you, but they're reprogrammed me not to." Riker turned and faced her for emphasis, "I'm sorry, but I just don't think there's a future for us."

All right, perhaps she deserved that. A long time ago. Only he hadn't said it then. Deanna swallowed a rising discomfort in her chest.

"You're hurt right now, Will, and you're angry. You have every right to those feelings."

"Well, thank you for your *permission*, Counselor, I don't know what I would have done..."

"Enough!" Deanna threw her own hands up in the air. "Why are you always throwing my job at me like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like my presence is all the more unwelcome for it? What does it matter that I happen to be a psychologist? I'm not here as a doctor, I'm here because I *care* about you, or is that so difficult to fathom? What if I was a ... an Engineer or an officer in Astrometrics...?"

Riker stared at her, dumbfounded. For a moment, he seemed at a loss for words, but then his mouth twitched and he bit back a laugh.

"What?" she demanded. Angry at him. Angry at herself for being angry at all, though she should have known better.

"I'm just ... trying to picture you as an Engineer, that's all," he shrugged, "please go on."

"I'm finished," she mumbled, staring down at her hands.

Riker's own eyes fell. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Now _you're_ sorry?"

"I was sorry a long time ago," he sighed.

Unwilling to analyze his turn of phrase, Deanna echoed his sigh and dipped her own hand into the pool next to them. When she drew it back out again, she examined the droplets which fell.

"Will, Beverly told me you'd asked her to be on stand-by for your return with Soren. She said you hoped to undo any of the psychotechtic treatments they might have done," she looked up at him, "why didn't you?"

He shrugged loosely, "she didn't want to go with me."

"But you knew that was a risk. You were prepared for it."

"It ... I guess it didn't feel right anymore when we were down there," Riker's shoulders fell, "whatever else they did to her, she seemed ... happy."

"She was happy with you."

"I guess so," he paused, "maybe. I don't know. Deanna," then looked up at her, "I didn't know what was right anymore. So I let her choose. I guess it just...wasn't meant to be."

"Suddenly you're a fatalist?"

"Oh, I've always been a fatalist," he smirked resentfully, "if there's something out there that's going to hurt like hell, then it's destined for a Riker."

"That's not fatalistic, that's pessimistic," she admonished, "and that's not the Will Riker that I know."

"The hell with the Will Riker that you know!" he barked. "Maybe he's gone. Maybe he doesn't exist anymore."

"We all change Will," Deanna acknowledged, "but essentially we remain true to our spirits."

"You think I should have brought her back here? Against her will?"

"I never said that," Deanna frowned. "I only meant that you went down there with such purpose, I felt it in you. And yet you returned to the Enterprise ... without that purpose."

"She said she wasn't interested. That she was sorry, and it wasn't what she wanted. Just like--" Riker trailed off into silence.

"Just like--?" Deanna prompted.

"Never mind, it doesn't matter."

"Just like me? Is that what you were going to say?"

"Tell me something, Deanna," Riker turned and locked his eyes on hers, "tell me honestly, because I've asked myself this question a lot of times over the years. If I had ignored your request, charged past your mother that day on Betazed -- ran into your house and up the stairs, grabbed onto you and told you I was never going to let you go without a hell of a fight ... what would you have said?"

Deanna nearly choked. "I, I suppose, I might have reiterated what I'd already told you."

"That we were wrong for each other," Will nodded, "that your mother was right and it could never work."

"Something like that."

"And if I hadn't accepted that?" He leaned in closer to her, forcing their bodies to within an inch of proximity. "If I hadn't walked away because you asked me to?"

His expression was intense. As intense as it might have been were he truly living in the moment. And oh, gods, she almost wished they could have been...

"What if I'd told you I didn't give a damn what your mother thought?" he went on mercilessly, "that if you thought I was going anywhere after what we said to each other in that jungle, you were dead wrong," the whisper of his breath caressed her cheek, "what then?"

Though it was difficult in such close proximity, Deanna turned her face directly into his, a breath away from contact. "I don't know," she admitted softly, eyes forever on his, "you could be ... fairly persuasive, as I recall."

By Deanna's calculations, it took Will only an instant to realize that she was going to let him kiss her. Not the peck of a brother, or a friend, or a comforting companion. But the kiss of a lover. The kind of kiss that set a person's soul on fire.

She saw the moment of his recognition, and she knew that he was about to take her up on the offer. But just as suddenly, he froze. His gaze fell and he inched slowly away.

Deanna looked back at his downcast expression. Heart racing, her breath caught surely in her throat. They knew together, with identical certainty, what had almost happened.

"I think maybe, I just need a little time," he glanced up at her. "Alone. To get through this."

"You do need time," she agreed, still struggling with her own conflicted feelings. "but not alone."

The firewall seemed to crack. Deanna shut her eyes to quell the rush of new pain she felt in him.

"Deanna," he whispered, "I think I realized something down on that planet. And it makes me feel... like I didn't deserve to have someone like Soren love me."

Wordlessly, she laid her hand on his, encouraging him to continue.

"I've always been happy here on the Enterprise. I knew, even before I beamed down there that no matter what happened, this place would still be here. Everyone I cared about would still be here. I'd been thinking so much about getting Soren back, that I'd almost stopped caring about anything else..." his agonized expression turned away. "When I was down there, I realized it couldn't be that simple. And so, despite everything; despite the way it felt when she said 'no', a part of me was almost relieved. And that made me feel sick about what I was about to do. What if I had taken her off that planet, what if she'd agreed and we'd run away together. And what if ... it hadn't worked out? She'd be a million miles from home. An outcast of her own people forever. She was naive, in a lot of ways. I couldn't guarantee her that things would never go wrong. And hell, lets face it, I'm not the easiest guy to love... what if she ended up hating me? Resenting me, at the very least. For taking her home away from her."

Deanna smiled softly, but Will was so caught up in his own thoughts, she was certain he hadn't seen it.

"And then there was Worf... with his god damned Klingon 'wisdom'. He reminded me of a whole new set of things I hadn't considered," Riker frowned, "that I might have been doing it because it was the human thing to do. Or the Federation thing to do. Honor, freedom, whatever you'd like to call it. My own damned sense of pride."

"You were following your heart," Deanna shrugged, "that's usually the only thing you *can* do."

"I don't know," he stretched his legs and dipped his other hand back into the pond, "my heart feels pretty conflicted." Using both arms for support, Riker leaned back. He spoke so quietly; he seemed to be talking to himself.

"Maybe someday, I'll fall in love with someone who cares enough about me to tell the whole damn universe to go to hell. Maybe then we could get through all the bullshit and the politics and ... whatever the hell else there is out there. Because nothing else will matter."

He looked up as though for the first time, clearing his throat nervously when he realized he had spoken the thought aloud. Deanna regarded him without remark.

He'd said the words. The words she'd lain awake at night, wishing desperately for him to say and to feel. It seemed a lifetime ago. But he was feeling those things, now. And even though it was partly due to someone else, the truth of his admission was almost enough for her.

"You know, you look ... incredible ... in this light, Counselor," Will amended. Another classic Riker come-back, guaranteed to lift him from an embarrassing revelation.

"Do I?" She smiled, drawing her legs beneath her. She sat up and leaned forward so that their faces were only a moment apart.

And then she kissed him. Long and deep, it consumed them both with the blazing heat of an all-too-familiar passion. Her body pressed forward as one of his hands released the grass, cupping the edge of her face.

When it was over, Deanna pulled slowly away.

"Too late," she whispered, watching his beloved blue eyes attempt to contemplate her words; no doubt replaying their conversation to figure out what she might have been responding to.

Before she lost the force of her conviction, Deanna rose to her feet and brushed the grass from her uniform.

"A little advice from the Counselor this time?" she asked.

Will was staring back at her, eyes wide, mouth slightly ajar, and the look he offered was one she hadn't seen in a very long time.

"Why not?" his shoulders lifted wanly.

"I know it hurts today, Will," her words struck home and the smile on Riker's face faltered. "But it won't feel this way forever. Each day will be easier than the last. Each morning, a new light. We never truly forget, but we can move forward..."

Drawing breath with soulful necessity, Riker let it out just the same. "Thank you," he nodded slowly, "Counselor."

She looked down at him affectionately. "Get some rest." And then she turned and began walking slowly down the path.

"Deanna!" she'd made it nearly out of sight when she heard him call after her. "What are you doing tonight?"

Deanna stopped moving. Leaning casually backward, she smiled, "having dinner with an old friend?"

She felt Will's answering grin; the warmth of his emotions, though she hadn't turned to see either.

"Okay," he spoke up clearly behind her. Deanna closed her eyes.

"Yes, Imzadi," she whispered on a short exhale. "It will be."

[~THE END~]