Short, dialogue driven, very plotless, and more 'sappy' than it probably should be. It's Sunday night!
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"Therapy"
"I came to see Alana." His voice was soft; assured as ever, less than normal somehow. She tipped her head.
"Alana isn't in today. Her daughter's ill, she's taken some time to look after her. Would you like to rebook?"
"I'm sorry. I didn't know." He glanced behind him at the door but found it shut.
Her fingers danced across the console at her desk. "I can set you up tomorrow, 0900?" It seemed a natural response that she should look at him and smile just then. He paused in thought, then shook his head.
"Another time?"
She thinned her lips, her gaze once more on the screen before her. "I'm afraid that's all I have."
He shrugged and smiled. "I guess it's next week then."
She cleared her throat. "I've got one opening, with one of the others. If you've got ten minutes, she can see you at twelve."
"I usually see Alana. I really it might be better if I wait until next week..." He glanced behind him at the door once more.
The woman shook her head. "I don't think she would like that. I've rebooked all her other patients for the day, but if you had to miss... I think she'd want you to keep things moving forward. Are you sure you wouldn't stay?"
He sighed and looked down at his boots.
* * *
The door slid open and Deanna Troi moved inside, glancing at the PADD in her hand once before turning her gaze out into the room.
"Hello, I'm--" Her voice trailed off mid-sentence and she froze. "--in the wrong room?" A tiny smile touched the corners of her lips. "At least, I assume I'm in the wrong room, since I didn't believe it was possible to be standing in a counseling suite looking across at... Will, are you all right?"
The mirth left her face when she watched him shift in his chair; saw him swallow uncomfortably. But it was the sudden pulse of emotion she felt from him which enveloped her more powerfully than anything else.
"I didn't know you'd be here." He cleared his throat.
"Obviously." Her dark eyes settled on him appraisingly. "I wasn't given a name," She qualified. "We're on rotation to compensate for Alana this afternoon, and I picked up this slot. Did you want to see someone else?" She tried to sound as nonplused as she could, but it was difficult not to wonder what had brought him here, and in such a state. And so it was that despite the cautioning voice of her ever-present professional ethic, she couldn't help asking, "Have you seen Alana before?"
He nodded slowly.
"Well," She looked at the PADD and then raised her gaze back up to take him in. "I can see if one of the others is--"
"No, nah, it's okay." He afforded her a forced smile, knowing she would be able to tell it wasn't real. He was unable to come up with anything better.
"You really should reschedule." Deanna dropped her hands and watched him move around the desk.
"And then what?" He shrugged.
"Well, you could come back when Alana's available."
He smirked ruefully. "What's a matter, doc? Do I present that much of a challenge?"
Her eyes widened and she suddenly grinned. "Oh my, he's figured me out. What ever will I do?"
"Deanna..." He threw her a look and then paused, shaking his head. "This is *very* awkward."
"I realize." She wrinkled her nose affectionately and then whispered: "Which is why I suggested you reschedule."
"By the same token, it's a little exciting, in a way, isn't it? I mean, I've never actually seen you -- as a counselor -- before." He afforded her a charming smile.
"Believe me, Will." She laughed. "That's a *good* thing. If you ever wanted to talk -- as a friend -- I'd stay up with you all night long. You know that. But when it comes to something like this." She trailed off at a loss... "Professionally, I just don't think it would be ethical--"
"You don't think we'd be able to separate it from our personal lives." He nodded in acknowledgment.
"Do you?" She tossed back, crossing her arms over her chest.
He looked over at her. "Probably not."
She turned and set the PADD down onto a nearby counter surface, and he mumbled at her back. "Not that we even have a personal life..."
"Pardon?" She threw behind her.
"I'll be outside." He rose from his chair and pointed offhandedly at the door "Rescheduling."
"That's not what you said." Her eyes narrowed.
"Nope."
"You're angry with me." Deanna's eyes widened and she tilted her head.
"Yup."
"Why?"
"Do I have to have a reason?" Riker exhaled and shook his head. "Just forget it, okay? I'm sorry. I'm not really angry with you, I'm just ... it's nothing. I'll see you later."
"No, you won't."
He'd turned to go, but her comment brought him up short. "I beg your pardon?"
"You'll see me now." Deanna's voice held an unusual edge. It made him shift where he stood. "Sit down, Will."
He debated leaving anyway; walking through the door, knowing she was standing there. He thought about defying her somewhat obvious command, but infuriatingly, the part of him that normally thrived on such gestures seemed to have taken a vacation. Riker found himself turning around. He stared at her for a moment, watched the play of light in her resolute expression, then exhaled loudly.
His lip curled into a smirk. "You can't counsel me, Deanna, it wouldn't be ethical."
"You mean given our -- circumstances." Her voice was sober. Her eyes never left him.
"Whatever you want to call it." He shrugged and looked away.
"What would you like to call it?"
"You know what Deanna? This is *not* why I'm here. I came ... to see Alana." He picked at the cuff of his uniform sleeve, suddenly fascinated by something he found there.
"So you've mentioned." She shrugged. "I don't believe you."
Riker froze for an instant. His head lifted spontaneously and he threw her an incredulous look. "Gee, that's a damn shame. I can't tell you how sorry I am to hear that." Turning where he stood, he made his way back toward the door. "Suit yourself." His hand touched the cold metal plate on the wall when a low voice intruded from behind him.
"Walk out that door Will Riker. Try me." He barely recognized the words as Deanna's, but they halted the motion of his hand as surely as if she'd sliced the appendage right off his body.
He dropped his arm.
"Why are you angry with me?" She asked the question again, but she asked it of his back. He hadn't turned around.
"I have better places to be right now, Counselor. Is that a good enough reason?"
"Strike two, commander. Last pitch." Deanna crossed her arms over her chest and pinned the back of his head with a sharp look.
"Great personality, counselor. Your patients must really love you."
"You're not my patient."
He turned around. "Well, then I guess you know what you can do with your questions, don't you? I've got bridge duty in an hour."
"You're not on duty today."
"How the hell do you know that?"
"Why are you angry with me?" Her voice remained level, but her expression demanded an answer.
"Are you always a pit-bull when you're in here? Or did I just luck out today?"
"Sit down, Will," she smiled sweetly. Too sweetly. He glared at her.
"Why? What difference does it make whether I'm sitting or standing? If you're so uncomfortable, why the hell don't you sit down?"
"I'm not uncomfortable." She shrugged, but then she dropped onto a nearby couch and crossed her legs. "Now will you sit down?"
He regarded her suspiciously for a moment, then took a seat opposite her on another couch.
"That wasn't so hard, was it?" Again she smiled. He sighed loudly.
"What inning are we on again, Deanna? Because I'm not really enjoying this game."
"Neither am I." She leaned forward. "So why don't you just tell me why you're so angry with me, and we can move on."
Riker laughed; tipped his head and chuckled loudly. He smirked at the confused expression on her face. "What? You mean Alana hasn't told you yet? I thought you psychologists shared everything."
He was mocking her, but she refused to bite into his easy mark. "Alana never even mentioned you were seeing her. And I certainly never asked. Will," her hand crept forward and she placed it on his arm across the distance. "If something's wrong, I wish that you would tell me..." she regarded his ambivalent posture, "as a friend."
Riker stared at her hand where it lay atop his sleeve. Then he looked up at her, pulling the arm from her grasp. "As a friend," he echoed.
Deanna drew her fingers back, looking first at his retreating hand, then directly in his eyes. "That's why you're angry with me," she whispered. "It has something to do with our friendship." She stared up at him and for the first time since their conversation began, she looked helpless.
Riker tore his gaze away from hers and looked back at the door. "I don't want to talk about this. Okay?"
She was silent for a very long time. Then he heard her mumble. "Okay."
She was sitting right across from him and the look on her face was neutral, but he could tell by the tone of her voice that he'd hurt her feelings. And God damn it, why the hell did he have to care about that right now? When all he wanted was to escape. Why did it matter how she was looking at him?
Clenching his fist in frustration, Riker let out a breath. "I'm sorry," he muttered. She didn't respond. "Deanna," he looked up at her, met her gaze. "I'm not angry with you. I was, but I'm not anymore. I just have things to do, and I don't really want to have this conversation right now. I need to go."
"So go." She looked back at him, unblinking. He stood.
On his feet once more, Riker turned for the door and held his hand over the wall-plate before curling his fingers into a ball. He could feel her watching him. He shut his eyes.
"Do you love me?" he asked.
There was silence for an instant.
"What?" she answered his question with one of her own.
"You heard me, Deanna." Riker turned again. This time he faced her dead on; stared her down mercilessly. "Do you love me?"
"Of course I love you. You're my--"
"The hell with that, Deanna. Do you LOVE me?"
Her mouth opened and then shut, he heard the breath catch in her throat, but still she said nothing.
"I came to see Alana." He remained where he stood. "I've been coming to see Alana for months now because I can't do this anymore. I'm in love with an officer under my command. I'm in love with her and I can't stop thinking about her. I can't make it right and I can't make it stop..."
She was staring at him openly; eyes wide; dark and enormous. He let out the breath he'd been holding but it caught several times in his throat and he realized with embarrassment that his hands were shaking where he held them clenched at his sides.
"So go ahead and counsel me. To hell with our 'circumstance' -- tell me, please, tell me what I'm supposed to do. God knows I'll do whatever you say. I don't know anymore." He crossed the floor and dropped back into one of the couches, staring pointedly at the floor.
"Tell her." Riker heard her voice and lifted his head, watching her shoulders rise and fall.
"What?"
"Tell the officer. The one you're in love with. Tell her how you feel." Her eyes shone with unshed tears.
"I just did!" He snapped, raking his fingers backward through his hair.
"Maybe she needs to hear the words in the first person. Directly. Maybe that's all she's ever needed to hear."
He stared at her for an impossible eternity. Her cheeks were wet with moisture, his own eyes burned in their sockets. "She wants to be friends. We can't be together on the same ship ... it can't be that simple."
"Why not?" she shook her head helplessly.
"Because..." Riker stammered. "Because, I'd have to blow myself out an airlock if it was that simple."
"You could use a shuttle bay, it would faster." Deanna's lips turned up at the corners.
He opened his mouth and then shut it; glanced down at the floor and then up at her again. "I love you." He whispered harshly, closing his eyes and forcing the jagged hammer of his heartbeat to slow.
His eyes were still shut when he felt her against him; felt her weight settle onto the couch near his body; felt the warmth of her teardrops when her cheek pressed to his.
"Oh ... God." His whisper caught, low in his throat. Riker lifted his arms and gathered her close, unwilling to lose the moment. "I love you," he whispered again, willing as much as demanding a response.
She kissed him. Her sweet lips closed over his and he lost himself in the pull of her intimate caress. Their faces moved apart, her eyes drifted open and she studied him frankly. "You're not angry with me anymore," she observed softly.
Riker laughed and drew his hand up toward her face, brushing aside the moisture. "No," he admitted.
"Yes." She smiled suddenly and he tipped his head in confusion. "You asked me if I loved you. The answer is yes."
"Yes." He returned her smile. "About that airlock...?"
"Later." Deanna leaned forward and bore him backward onto the couch.
"I actually did come to see Alana." He hooked his arm around her waist and pulled her flush on top of him.
Her warm breath tickled his mouth when she whispered, "you'll have to reschedule."
"I think I'm cured."
He felt her smile against his lips. "See? My patients do love me..."
He grinned.
[THE END]