This scenario piece is really a rough idea I had. It can be classified as an
episode "insertion" and it's something I've had an inkling to write since
well before Nemesis was ever conceived of, therefore I hope that no one minds
terribly my taking a "backward" step with the Riker/Troi relationship in
order to have a little fun with the characters. Please take this lightly
since I do break from canon and it's not the most polished piece. It's all
in the spirit of fun.

There is a single line from the novel "Imzadi" and one from the novel "Imzadi
II" in here somewhere. I 'borrowed' them and displaced their context for
this piece. Caveat emptor.

A few quick notes on time and setting: this would take place directly during
the middle of the episode "All Good Things" which as we all know is the final
episode for TNG before the movies--Picard is travelling backward and forward
through time, etc... It opens just as Picard has released his bridge crew
from a senior staff meeting. Riker asks Troi if she'd like to have dinner
with him given that he has the bridge for night shift and it's going to be a
long night. She politely declines and advises him that she has plans... with
Worf. There is a moment of pause before Riker pretends to smile at her and
says he'll see her tomorrow. Afterward, however, there is a scene on the
bridge where Picard is trying to communicate with Riker, letting him know he
may have to take command of the Enterprise if the Captain's 'delusions' persis
t and Riker doesn't answer immediately, staring straight ahead at the
viewscreen instead. He is obviously distracted...

"All Good Things"
(by: QDestinyy@aol.com)
Rated: PG (thus far)

"Speaking of delusional, Commander, are you quite all right?"

Riker heard nothing while his cool blue eyes stared directly ahead, taking in
the Enterprise's primary view-screen without really seeing much of anything
at all.

"Will?" the captain tried once more.

Snapping promptly to the fore, Riker stammered, "I'm sorry sir, I'm just a
little distracted, that's all. But I'm fine. Be ready to take command. I
understand."

Picard scrutinized his younger first officer for a silent moment before he
finally nodded, "Very well then, Number One, you have the bridge," he rose
from his chair and walked away; far more eager to leave the commander centre
of the Enterprise than Riker realized he probably should have been. But given
the circumstances...

Circumstances....

He almost sighed aloud. How nice it would be to get up and walk off the
bridge himself, every now and then. Especially now--when things on board the
Enterprise seemed only to hold a shadow of the importance they might
otherwise have held, if his own personal demons weren't gouging at the
corners of his soul. It was only during moments such as these--scarce indeed
during Riker's sterling tenure as first officer--that he allowed himself to
wish he already was a Captain. If only to be able to leave the bridge in
someone else's capable hands and fight against the implacable and ill-timed
fury of the demons on his own accord.

Glancing aside, he noticed Beverly Crusher still sitting in Deanna Troi's
bridge chair. The doctor's wise blue eyes looked back at him with solemn
understanding, but in their hapless reflection he could read the vivid pity
she'd been silently affording him. It only made him angrier than before.

"Why don't you go, Will," her clandestine whisper surprised him, given that
she was suddenly standing next to his left arm. When had she left her chair?
"I've got the bridge for now. An hour, or three... I can handle things
here..."

He looked to her quickly, then shook his head. "I said I'm fine, doctor,"
tempering his voice to match her quiet cadence despite the flare of intense
frustration he was suddenly feeling.

She'd been extremely discrete, he couldn't fault her for that. And there were
only four other officers on the night shift this evening, but still it irked
him that she would bring this up at all. Not when her eyes had clearly
indicated that she had to know...

"Commander," Beverly's hushed rejoinder filled with a irritation all her own,
"it's not often we get an opportunity to see where we're headed, and then the
means to take a different road. I'm not saying this to you as a doctor or an
officer, Will, but as a friend. Things aren't always what they appear to be.
So swallow that pig-headed pride of yours for once in your life and take a
chance!"

Insanely, Riker thought, Crusher's cool blue eyes had seemed to illuminate
from within. He held her gaze for only a second or two longer before the
fingers of his left hand curled firmly over the arm of his command chair.

"All right," he hissed, then offered her a final, appraising glance before
raising his voice to a publicly audible level, "Doctor, you have the bridge
for the next couple of hours," he rose from his seat, "you know where to find
me."

Crusher nodded, and Riker noticed she smiled at him as well. "Aye sir."

He didn't bother with a further backward glance, striding purposefully onto
the turbo-lift instead. He was well on his way before he finally gave pause
to consider the potential folly of his rash--though suddenly
imperative--decision.

*

"You have not said much, this evening."

Sitting across from Worf at a table in his quarters, Deanna Troi managed a
short nod. "I'm sorry," she smiled at him, "I'm just a little bit...
distracted, that's all."

"Distracted?" the Klingon furrowed his great brow, "by what?"

'Oh Worf', she mused, never a minced word--which was something she had always
admired about him. Well, why stop now? Perhaps it was the best course of
action to be completely open about this, after all. She caught his eye. "Did
Will seem... strange to you this evening during the meeting, at all?"

"Strange?" Worf sat forward, but he pondered respectfully for a moment,
giving her request a dutiful degree of consideration--a trait Deanna also
found particularly endearing--before he gruffly replied, "I do not think so.
Why?"

"Well," she began anew, then trailed off when she realized it would be
difficult to put her feeling into words, "I'm not really sure either. I know
that you and he are friends. And he spoke with you briefly before the
meeting. He didn't seem... upset at all? Worried?"

Of course she hadn't been referring to the carefully (and quickly) concealed
disappointment Will had failed to hide from her when she'd refused his dinner
invitation. But all throughout the meeting, he had seemed oddly preoccupied...

Nodding sagely, Worf speared a piece of food from his plate and looked down
at the paradoxically smaller Troi. "It is possible. As the captain informed
us all, there are many... strange... circumstances that may present a
potential threat to the Enterprise. Perhaps Commander Riker was considering--"

Before he could finish his sentence, a single light went off in Deanna's mind
and she sat forward in her chair with a start, quickly opting not to speak of
it aloud. "I'm sorry," she managed, placating Worf by shaking her head at his
automatic concern. "I had a thought, that's all."

"A thought you do not wish to share," the Klingon mused.

Deanna smiled, "A thought I'd like to explore a little more before I wonder
at it too much further," she paused, "Worf--"

He sighed, "You may go." At the sight of her raised eyebrow, he quickly
amended, "I meant, we may... reschedule."

Placing a small hand atop his larger one, Troi quietly stood, "thank you for
understanding," she leaned forward and kissed him briefly.

When she had gone, Worf rose from his chair and moved slowly to stand at a
giant portal window. With his eyes on the vacuum, the Klingon stoically
regarded the stars.

*

Half a corridor out of the turbo-lift, Riker suddenly stopped. What the hell
was he thinking? Was he just going to march into Lt. Worf's personal
quarters, pull Deanna from her chair and declare his undying desire for her?

With a wry, sardonic twist of his lips, he released a disgusted breath of
air. This was crazy. In point of fact, it was not only crazy, it was a damned
inconsiderate thing to do to Deanna as well. Even if he didn't understand her
reasons...

For nearly a year he'd been trying to tell her; trying to show her through
actions, if not always words, that he was hoping for more. He hadn't been
with anyone else; hadn't even flirted with another woman beyond the simple
polite pleasantries that men and women always exchanged in social company. In
point of fact, he'd been decidedly unlike Will Riker, and though it had taken
some willpower every now and again to keep his personal promise in-tact, he
had kept it none-the-less. Especially when Deanna had no real idea of what
he'd been hoping for, and no formal reason not to see whomever else she might
like to. They still had their previous 'arrangement' after all. And he hadn't
exactly said or done anything to nullify that.

Despite everything, staying focussed to the thought of a new kind of
commitment hadn't been anywhere near as terrifying as Riker had once imagined
it might be. Maybe he had changed, after all.

Then again, maybe Deanna hadn't. For the past several months he'd spent hours
at a time planning where and how he was going to tell her the truth of what
he'd been feeling. He'd always imagined she would listen to him patiently.
Offer him that warm, familiar smile she always seemed to keep on
reserve--just for him. And then he'd ask her to alter their previous
agreement. To change their entire universe and tear down so many years of
well-healed barriers between them so that he could feel the magic of her
intimate touch again; inside his mind and outside his body. There was nothing
that had ever felt more incredible to him than the sweet caress of Deanna
Troi's touch.

He had plans to tell her all of it, and dreams that she would fall back into
his arms and they could finally put the chains of the past behind them. Of
course, even he had to admit that the dreams were a little kitschy; naive to
say the least. And the timing just never seemed 'right'. So on and on went
the status quo. The friendly banter, the flirting and the dinner dates that
ended far too late for friends... far too early for lovers.

Until two months ago, when she'd started seeing Worf.

Directly on the heels of a fantastic evening he had spent together with her;
a night in his quarters when they talked long into the early morning hours;
long after their weekly poker game had ended. He had almost told her then.
Almost...

And then the next day she was out with Worf, on what would become the first
of many evenings spent with him.

Riker had thought about that afterwards. Either she was oblivious, or
uninterested, and the thought of an oblivious empath simply didn't fit the
profile. So that left only the latter option. Indifference. In which case he
knew he had to be fair to her, and to their agreement. He had to allow that
the 'time' might never come, and that they'd finally moved in different
directions--romantically at least. Even if she still had the power to make
his heart beat faster just by entering a room. And even if he was too much of
a damned coward to tell her so.

Maybe it was simply time to stop. Over the past several weeks he'd come as
far as to nearly resign himself to that knowledge. And he had almost
succeeded. Until this afternoon when he had wanted--more than life--to rip
Worf's heart out through his iron Klingon chest. Tear it away with all the
fury of a militant Tarcalian Razor Beast. Those weren't the thoughts or
actions of a friend. Not to Deanna and certainly not to Worf.

Something had to give. Someone had to...

Turning abruptly on his heel, Riker marched back toward the turbo-lift,
muttering curses to himself as he went. It was better this way, no matter how
a person looked at things. And if a person did look at things for a while,
that person would also realize that he had absolutely no right in hell to
interfere in the first place... Deanna didn't belong to him, and he didn't
belong to her. It was ridiculous to think otherwise. That was simply how it
was...

"Will?"

A beckoning voice shook Riker out of his private mental diatribe and forced
him to a halt mid-stride.

"Deanna?" he rounded on her, face to face, and all of a sudden he saw nothing
but the fathomless darkness of her eyes--and the concern in every feature of
her beautiful expression.

"I thought you had the bridge this evening?" she enquired.

"I do. I did," he stumbled and caught himself within the same breath, "I
thought you had plans all night?" The moment the words had left his lips
Riker realized how indelicate they'd sounded. But 'done was done' as the old
saying went, and so he simply stared at her and waited for a response.

None came.

"Are you all right, Will?" she stepped around him slowly, examining his eyes,
"you seemed... a little distant this afternoon. And you've not been yourself
these past few days. Tonight especially..."

"The Captain's got a lot to deal with just now," he offered that by way of
explanation, but it was clear Deanna hadn't bought into it, so he met her
look dead-on, "and for that matter, so have I."

Her hand caressed his arm, "I've spoken with the Captain this evening," she
said gently, "and quite frankly, he's not the one I'm worried about just now."

"Well let me put your mind at ease, Counselor."

"If you need anything--" Deanna pressed.

"I'm fine."

"Or if you want to talk," a gamine smile transformed her lips. "Though I
realize that talking about what's bothering you isn't exactly your favorite
pastime... " her playful expression sobered, "you know that I would listen."

"Deanna," Riker finally sighed. "I really am all right. I'm sorry if I...
inadvertently interrupted anything, tonight." He tapped the side of his head
ruefully, indicating his awareness of their bond; that he understood his mood
swings had a penchant for throwing her off, from time to time.

"You didn't," she shook her head, "I was only worried. That's all. But if
you're sure I shouldn't be?" A final look of enquiry was all she offered him.

"I'm sure," he lied, steeling himself for her inevitable departure.

"All right," she acquiesced. Deanna regarded him a silent moment longer
before adding, "are you on your way back to the bridge, then?"

Riker couldn't help himself: He grinned, "you know me well, Counselor."

"Very true, Commander," she fell into step beside him, approaching the
turbo-lift that he had only recently departed from. They were silent for the
rest of their journey, until they arrived at the lift-door and Deanna's dark
eyes turned to fully regard him.

Riker smiled at her and stepped inside, but before the door could close, he
held it open. "I guess I'll see you later then?"

Pausing for only an instant, Deanna followed him within, ignoring his
startled expression, "Actually, I think I'll come up for a while. If you
don't mind."

Rather than question her--or revisit his earlier indiscretion in bringing up
her personal plans for the evening--Riker raised one eyebrow instead. It was
enough to make her smile.

"I promise not to be a mother-hen, I'm just not doing as much this evening as
I'd planned, so I might as well--"

"Have dinner with me, then?" Riker asked without thinking. The pointed look
on Deanna's face was enough to make him amend, "unless you've already eaten
dinner?"

"No," she recalled, nodding thoughtfully, "I'd love to have dinner with you."

"That's great." He grinned.

"Computer," she spoke into the dormant lift, "deck ten."

"Computer," Riker cut in politely, "revise that--deck eight."

Deanna turned and he looked down at her. She didn't have to say the words,
"deck eight?", they were already in her eyes.

"My quarters?" he asked, "unless you mind?"

"Of course not," her curious expression softened, and Riker realized that she
was hoping he would talk to her once they were 'safe' within the confines of
his own familiar surroundings.

Well, every now and then it was probably a good thing for the ever-empathic,
all too infallible ship's counselor to get a surprise or two, wasn't it? He
nodded down at her and smiled.

*

Dinner was almost gone and Deanna was casually propped against a wide,
expansive living-room chair, when Riker saw her finally begin to relax. That
meant--he was certain--she was about to try and get him to voice whatever was
on his mind. But he was ready for the query, so he pre-empted it instead.

"Can I ask you something?" he leaned forward on the couch where he'd been
sitting.

"Shoot."

Riker grinned at her, "did you know that you use more Terran colloquialisms
than I do?"

"That's your question?"

He cocked his head and laughed, "Not exactly no. It just occurred to me."

"Well, I've been stationed on a Star ship filled with a largely human crew
compliment for so long, I suppose a few things have worn off on me," her
shoulders rose and fell.

"It's definitely endearing."

"You really think so?" Deanna wrinkled her nose, "Mother never misses an
opportunity to tease me about it when I go planetside for a visit."

"You haven't done that in a while."

"No," she glanced at her hands and sighed, "I haven't," but her expression
suddenly sobered and she shot him a reproachful look, "are you going to ask
your question or not?"

Propping one foot on a coffee table, Riker nodded, "All right," he sat
forward purposefully and captured her expression. "Nine weeks ago after our
poker game ended, you stayed behind in my quarters. As I recall, you left
around 0300 hours." All the color drained abruptly from Deanna's startled
features, but he carried on. "I kissed you, you kissed me back and then I
asked--no, I begged you--to stay, but you wouldn't. I think you and I both
know what almost happened between us that night. What I want to know
is...what I did, or may have said that night, that sent you running into the
arms of one of my best friends."

Ashen-faced, Deanna stared back at him in wordless astonishment. The look in
her wide, dark eyes, coupled with the fleeting torrent of emotion he'd caught
from her just before she shut him out entirely was enough to make Riker feel
utterly vindicated: For all the evenings she had spent with Worf... for all
the nights he lay alone in his quarters knowing she was no longer right next
door, but two decks and several corridors away... it felt damn good to watch
her squirm.

"I beg your pardon?" her voice came back nearly as thin as a whisper. In all
their years of friendship; every private conversations they'd ever shared
with one another, neither one of them had ever been quite so... direct...
with an accusation regarding their 'relationship'. It was an unspoken,
unwritten rule between them while serving on board the same vessel, but it
shattered just as easily as Risean hand-blown glass when Riker laughed.

"Come on, Deanna, that's the best that you can do? You heard the question.
And I think it's only fair I get an answer this time."

As he had anticipated, it took less than a minute for Deanna's astonished
dismay to transform into righteous indignation.

"How dare you demand that I owe you any explanations for the choices that I
make in my personal life." Rising to her feet, she pointed an accusatory
finger back at him, "and how dare you presume that my relationship with Worf
has anything to do with you whatsoever!"

"Because I know for a fact that it does!" rocking forward onto his own feet,
Riker glared at her.

"What?"

"And I know for damn certain that a full-blooded Klingon warrior isn't
exactly your type, Deanna!" He reached for her arm, but she slapped it away,
enraged.

"What the hell do you know about my type?"

"You wanted me, didn't you?"

"Oh please!" The sarcasm dripping languidly from her voice was nearly enough
to make Riker turn and walk away. But his resolve was still in-tact, so he
took advantage of it before it could crack any further.

"You still want me, Deanna. And Worf... is just an excuse."

"The Gods help you, Will Riker, if you could only hear yourself talk..." She
turned toward his doorway but Riker deftly cut her off. Before she had a
moment to think, he cupped his hand behind her neck and gently tilted her
head up toward his. Paradoxically, she didn't pull away.

"I can hear myself just fine, Deanna. It's you I'm having difficulty
understanding lately. But I think you know exactly why that is..." his mouth
descended hotly on hers and the kiss they shared was short, but torridly
intense.

Troi shoved him away from her only seconds after all of it began, but she was
breathless from the exchange, and flushed from a far more intense emotion
than anger once they drew apart.

"I'm leaving," she commanded, only moments from the edge of his face; so
close that the words she spoke tickled the skin below Riker's ear.

"Go ahead." He took a giant step away from her and swept his arm out wide
toward the door. When she hadn't moved immediately, he smirked, "or stay--"

Deanna's shoulder blades snapped taught. With a rigid glare, she made her way
around his body and found the door. An instant later she was gone, without
another word, and Riker stood alone in his quarters.

The energy from their intense exchange drained rapidly, but still he didn't
move. His gaze swept out across the remnants of their partially consumed
dinner. He took in the casual disarray of his living room and then looked
still beyond--toward the starry portal which held an eternity of darkness at
bay.

The energy continued to evaporate until there was nothing of it left; not
even enough to fuel his erstwhile anger. The hatred he'd been feeling toward
Worf. Suddenly, with even that erased, it seemed as though there was nothing
in the universe to care about. Clenching a fist on either side of his body,
Riker drew from every ounce of his reserves, and turned away.

*

Livid and still shaking in the corridor, Deanna didn't notice Worf when he
appeared quite suddenly before her doorway. Taking her gently by the
shoulders, the Klingon looked down at her through a mixture of confusion and
concern. "You are not well," he stated simply, but Deanna could only look up
at him and meet his expression wordlessly.

When it was clear she was not going to respond, Worf took matters into his
own hands. Turning for both of them, he reached for the door-plate just
outside of her quarters and then paused, "your access code?"

In silence, Deanna lifted her hand and absently keyed six digits into the
pad. The metal entrance slid aside, and she felt herself being led within
before she finally found the means to speak. "I'm all right, Worf."

"You are not," he countered, unmoved. "Something has happened."

Deanna turned away from him and walked toward her replicator. "It's not
important."

With as quiet a sound of entirely Klingon frustration as Troi had ever heard,
Worf followed her steps. "Deanna, I am not a fool."

Turning back to him, she shook her head, "I never said that you were."

"Yet you conceal the truth from me. Why?"

"I'm not--" catching herself before the conversation went any further, Deanna
reached for his hand, "I'm sorry," she conceded, "I was upset, but it's not
important why, and I'm truly feeling better. More myself. Especially now that
you're here." Moving forward to embrace him, Deanna tensed when he did not
return the gesture.

"You saw Commander Riker," he spoke only when she had pulled away to look up
at him, "is he unwell also?"

"Yes," she blurted bitterly and then regretted the indiscretion, "what I mean
is, he's definitely not... himself... right now."

Temporarily appeased by her confession, Worf drew one arm around her, "and
you are worried for him."

Yet another facet of Worf's personality, which endeared him to Troi, was the
way he so rarely questioned her connection to Will Riker, or the fact that
she might be more sensitive to the Commander of the Enterprise than she was
to almost any other member of its crew. He seemed to know, almost
intuitively, that there were some lines best left uncrossed.

"Yes," Deanna admitted carefully, "I'm worried. A little..." Well, it wasn't
entirely a lie. She could be angry--livid with Will--and still worried for
him at the same time. It wasn't like him to act the way he had with her, and
it wasn't normal for him to lash out so angrily at her for seeing another
man...Klingon...she frowned politely and turned away from Worf. Complicated.
That's what it was.

"You are still thinking of him," Worf's observation was a simple statement of
truth, not a question, and the Klingon sighed gruffly when Deanna didn't
bother to respond. "You will not be happy until you know that he is all
right. I do.. understand."

"Worf," she touched her palm against his roughly contoured face, "You mean a
great deal to me. And Alexander means a great deal to me..."

He looked away briefly, "Then I was correct."

"Correct?"

"Earlier when I suggest we speak about your feelings toward Commander Riker,
you refused. Now I see I was correct. This...relationship... between us, it
will not succeed."

Deanna stared at him for a heavy, silent instant before a single tear escaped
her valiant control. "I don't know," she whispered sadly, "I'm a little
confused right now. I think... I just need some time. To sort things out."

"And if Commander Riker were here right now, and he asked you to remain with
him, you would need the same... time?"

"Yes," Troi nodded adamantly, clearing away the errant teardrop, "And my
feelings toward you have nothing to do with Will Riker. What Will and I had
romantically was a long time ago, Worf. Since that time, all that we've
offered each other on board the Enterprise has been friendship. Nothing more."

"But you would like more."

"Worf, that isn't true!" she pleaded with him, half annoyed that she should
be pleading at all. "What is it with you two?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Both of you seem to think that my relationship toward you is contingent on
the other. Well it's not."

Releasing a frustrated breath, Worf levelled a steady expression on her. "I
did not say that your feelings for me were contingent upon your feelings for
Riker, however you cannot tell me that he is not your foremost concern in
this moment!"

"I am not--" Deanna stopped. Worf did have a point. In this particular
moment, her feelings toward Will--however confusing--were first and foremost
on her mind. "--going to fight with you about this," she amended. "Worf,
please. All I need is some time..."

"No, Deanna," still shaking his head, the Klingon placed a heavy hand atop
Troi's shoulder, "what you need is to find the honour that you owe yourself.
And it is clear to me now that you will not find it with me. The Captain was
correct. If we continue down this path, there can only be conflict. Commander
Riker is as my brother."

Deanna gaped at him. For the first time in--likely her entire experience with
Worf --he sounded far wiser than intransigent. But how was he able to look at
this so stoically when all she wanted to do was scream?

"You will always hold a special place in Alexander's life," he went on, "and
in mine."

"You're breaking up with me..." she said the words so softly, she almost
didn't hear them herself, but Worf certainly had.

"I am... taking a necessary step. It is without honour for a warrior to court
a woman whose love is already possessed by a brother."

"Oh, this is ridiculous!" with a furious breath, Deanna threw both hands into
the air and turned aside, "first Will tells me what I want, now you're
telling me what I'm feeling," she rounded on Worf and demanded, "at what
point do I get any say in the matter?"

He offered her a sympathetic nod. "You... have already decided."

"Worf, I've already told you--at least a hundred times--Will and I are
nothing more than friends."

"So you have given yourself to believe."

"What do I have to do to convince you?"

"Go to him."

"What?"

"You must go to him, and discuss your ... feelings. At that time, if you do
not wish to stay, then I will be convinced."

A pair of dark eyes widened and Deanna replied, "you're joking, right?"

"A Klingon does not joke about such matters."

"Worf, I'm not going to 'go to Will' and say anything. My life is my own. To
live as I choose. If you're not happy with our relationship, then that's one
issue, but I'm not about to cross back and forth between you and Will just
because the two of you are engaged in some kind of ...ridiculous ego-war. I'm
not a piece of property--"

She could see the anger in Worf's eyes before he'd ever overtly expressed it,
but in the moment it might have surfaced, some higher-power within the
Klingon's psyche reined his temper into check. He only sighed.

"No," Worf placed his hand against her cheek and spoke softly, "you are not."

It was in that instant, that Deanna realized just how much it had taken for
him to have this conversation with her at all. How many days he must have
been agonizing over it. Every moment between them was a compromise of one
sort or another; her feelings for his honour; his instinct for her delicate
physical condition--relatively speaking. It was finally apparent to her that
no matter how much they might attempt to succeed, or how much they cared for
one another, he was ultimately right. Their romance would flounder. It had
struggled every instant from the moment it was born.

Covering his fingers with her own, Deanna squeezed his hand, "you will always
hold a special place in my life, as well."

Worf nodded, then uncharacteristically--he smiled, "I am glad we agree."

With a single step, Deanna crossed the distance between him and threw her
arms around his enormous frame.

"I have been thinking..." Worf began after a silent moment had passed between
them, "...that I may... bring Alexander, to visit Qo'Nos. There is a
monastery there--"

Troi tilted her chin and found his eyes, "You're leaving?"

"I do not know," he conceded, looking down at her, "I have only... been
thinking."

"I see." Deanna looked aside. "When would this... visit occur,
hypothetically?"

"Within the month."

"And would you return to the Enterprise?"

Again, Worf released the Klingon equivalent of a sigh, "I do not know."

Nodding wordlessly, Deanna replaced her head on the front of his chest and
looked out into the suddenly expansive darkness of her quarters.

"There is always time," she heard him comment softly. And in the turbulent
canvas of her muddled, confused emotions, she finally understood what he'd
been trying to make her see...all along.

*

When gamma-shift came to a close on the bridge, it was nearly 0400.
Acknowledging Data's arrival, Riker rose from his chair to exchange the
command center of the Enterprise. "You have the bridge, Mr. Data."

It was only after the android took his place in the center seat that Riker
finally allowed himself to trade a final, brief glance with doctor Crusher.
He had spoken with her--lightly--on and off during their shift, but not about
the single hour of his departure, and not about anything even remotely
personal. Even so, there was no pity in her eyes this time; only the grim,
grey light of a shared understanding.

Filing one after the other into the turbo-lift, beta-shift disappeared from
the bridge without ceremony, and Riker was the last to follow. Since his
quarters were higher up than any of the other more junior officers--a
privilege of rank--he was the first to disembark from the turbo-lift, and the
first to make his way towards a welcome night's reprieve.

Here, in the dead of ship's night, as he walked through the near-deserted
corridors of deck-eight en route to his cabin, it occurred to him how truly
tired he was. Not only physically, but emotionally. The single--brief but
explosive--encounter he'd experienced with Deanna had all but drained the
vitality from his spirit. He'd been a robot on the bridge for the rest of
the night; mechanically playing out a familiar pattern learned by rote these
past seven years aboard the Enterprise. He had done his job, and done it
adequately. But no one who knew Will Riker would have said he'd done his
best. He simply... wasn't there.

Keying his access code into a wall-panel, Riker waited for the door to slide
aside and stepped inside. His eyes fell on the starlight shining wanly
through a portal near his bedroom, but he was almost too tired to care.
"Computer," he requested, "quarter lights."

The room was bathed in soft orange luminance, and he reached behind him to
unclasp the back of his uniform--when he noticed her sitting on a living room
chair.

"Deanna?"

"I know, it's late..." she apologized.

Riker's his eyes adjusted while she rose to her feet and approached him, but
the sound of her voice was welcome; almost as welcome as the realization that
she was no longer blocking him from whatever tiny measure of sensation his
all-too-human mind had become accustomed to feeling around her.

By his recollection, she had left his quarters furious. And that was seven
hours ago at least. In truth, he hadn't thought he'd talk with her again for
at least a day or two. She had a right to be angry. Then again, so did he.

"It's all right," he regarded her speculatively, locating the tiny clip on
the back of his neck and finally unfastening it--if only so he could breathe
more readily. She had that effect on him, too.
"What can I do for you, Counselor?" he asked, rather than pulling her into
his arms. Tasting the heat of her soft, sweet lips the way he'd just been
imagining. He still remembered how disappointed he'd been with her, and how
she had yet to answer his question.

"You look terrible," she observed, candidly reaching for his shoulder and
smoothing an imaginary wrinkle from the edge of his uniform collar. Her hand
lingered near the edge of his neck.

"Thanks," he managed a crooked smile, "it's called... twenty-one hours on the
bridge with only a single--unscheduled--break. You should try it some
time..."

"Very funny," she crossed her arms over her chest and appraised him. "Well?"

He stood there. "Well what?"

"Are we going to go on like this, pretending that this evening never
happened? Or are you going to apologize..."

"Apologize?!" he gaped.

"...so that I can forgive you," she finished with a pointed look.

Riker sighed, "Look, Deanna, I'm tired. It's late. I can't deal with this
right now--" he turned away from her and headed for the bedroom. Until she
caught hold of the back of his arm.

"You'd rather we stayed angry?" the accusation in her fathomless dark eyes
was almost profound enough to make Riker relent. Almost.

"Okay," he countered, "lets say I did 'apologize' and you 'forgave' me, at
what point would I be given the opportunity--or the choice--to forgive you?"

"Me?"

"Come on, Deanna, you're not that naive."

She narrowed her eyes, "I rather think I'm not naive at all."

"Then don't act like it." He never raised his voice, but the cadence of his
imperative was far from lost on Troi.

She stared at him for a moment before relenting, "maybe you're right, maybe
this wasn't such a good idea. I'll go."

"Suit yourself." Riker shrugged and turned away a second time.

"Will--" she called after him. He stopped, but didn't face her. "I'm
sorry."

Indecisive for only an instant, he looked back over his shoulder. "For
what?"

"I have to spell it out for you?"

"Yeah. You know what, Deanna? This time you do."

"All right," she sighed, but he could hear the aggravation in her tone. "For
disregarding your feelings. I'm sorry for not considering what you might be
going through, and not realizing that Worf and I--"

"Oh, bullshit!" This time it was he who advanced toward her, "you started
seeing Worf because of what *you* were feeling!"

"That's right," she met his look of challenge dead-on, "what I was feeling
for Worf--"

"Like hell. What you were feeling for Worf?! That is rich, Deanna, that is
just--" Riker suddenly stopped. Circling her slowly, he took a deep and
cleansing breath, but opted not to say another word.

Deanna dropped her arms from their crossed position over her chest and
clenched one hand at her side. She regarded him forebodingly.

He had unnerved her with his outburst. He could tell that much not only from
the tension in her shoulderblades but from the faint, ubiquitous 'presence'
she always seemed to occupy inside his mind.

In the muted light of his quarters, Riker could tell a lot of things.
Including the fact that he'd never wanted to kiss Deanna Troi more than he
did in this single moment of insanity.

"I'm tired of fighting," he finally spoke, observing the tilt of her head.
She didn't trust him--not right now.

"Oh, well, you've proven that quite admirably already."

"You think I'm acting like a jerk? Fine. You know what? Maybe I am. But I'm
not ready to apologize just yet. So you should probably act on that instinct
of yours, Deanna. Do us both a favor and go."

"What is it with you?" she shook her head, "we've been serving together for
seven years and I've never seen you like this..."

"What is it with me--" Riker trailed off quietly, looking out at the stars
then back at her shadowy face. He bent suddenly and lifted his coffee table
from the middle of the floor, shifting it off to one side and clearing the
center of the living-room before he turned to her and held out a hand.
"Dance with me?"

"W-what?" Deanna peered at him as though he'd grown a second head, "are you
out of your mind?"

He sighed wanly. "I'm tired, Deanna. It's late, and whether it suits your
finer Betazoid sensibilities or not, this little argument of ours is
definitely over for the night." Troi's mouth fell open, then shut again, but
Riker only shrugged. "I feel like... listening to a little music before
bed. So here's the deal. You can either stay ... and dance with me. Or you
can go. Feel free to decide at your leisure." He moved toward a portal and
placed his hand on the top of the frame, looking out at the stars.
"Computer, jazz, twentieth-century, something soft."

The interior of Riker's quarters flooded with a familiar, balmy melody, but
he kept his back to Troi.

"You're nuts," she whispered candidly, "you know that, right?"

Riker smiled. Her reaction was far better than he'd anticipated. "I'll
consider myself so-informed, Counselor." He turned to her, re-offering his
hand.

Deanna stared at it--then him--for several moments longer. "I must be
crazy," she finally sighed, accepting the gesture and placing her smaller
hand into his.

"Why?" he murmured, bending slowly to her ear, "is it crazy to be dancing at
oh-four-hundred hours on a starship?"

Unable to help herself, Deanna shivered, "I'll bet it's somewhere in a
text-book I have yet to read--" but she began to relax into the swaying of
their bodies.

Riker dipped her expertly, then brought her back into his arms. "You read
too much," his lips caressed her other ear, "no time to play..."

Recovering from the momentary change in altitude, Deanna softly cleared her
throat. "That isn't true. I 'play' ... quite well, Commander."

The heat of Riker's quiet laughter tickled Deanna's cheek and she found
herself closer to his body than she'd consciously meant to be.

Lifting a fingertip, he gently released the clip in the back of her hair. It
spilled like curls of raven silk across her shoulders before he whispered, "I
guess you do."

Eyebrow raised, Troi captured his expression. "You have something against my
hair-piece?"

"I like it better this way," he shrugged, "it reminds me..."

"I know what it reminds you," Deanna smoothly cut him off. But she was quiet
after that.

The song went on for several minutes more, and Riker could feel her slowly
come alive within his grasp. The way her arms relaxed, her body moved with
his, her hand migrated slowly from his shoulder to his neck...

It was peaceful--like the whisper of a wonderful memory, too long
forgotten--before Deanna finally spoke. "Do you ever think about your family,
Will?" she asked him softly.

"My family?" he echoed, but she didn't ask again. After a second or two had
passed, he looked down at her and shrugged. "You mean apart from my dead
mother, my incarcerated twin-brother and my nearly estranged father?"

"You're so flip, sometimes," she sighed.

"Deanna," Riker took a breath, "I have no family. Not really. You know that."

She looked up into his eyes, "what about me?"

"You?" his voice dropped suggestively, "well, I guess you know what I think
about you..."

Deanna halted their motion. She kept her dark eyes fixed on his, affording
him a tolerant expression, until he acquiesced that humour would not excuse
him from her imperative this time.

Riker frowned, "If you mean 'that' kind of a family, then I guess I do have
my friends here on the Enterprise. The Captain, Data, Geordi, Worf, Beverly
... and you."

"And that's all you want?"

"It's all I need."

She looked away.

"Deanna--" he shook his head in frustration, "wait a minute, are you saying
you want more of a family?"

Troi stared at him in silence.

"You mean like, marriage... children... that kind of a family?"

"Will," she placed a warm hand on his arm, "I'm not saying anything. To be
honest, for the moment, I want many of the same things you want, but there
are some times when I do think about the future, and, there are other times
when I think about ... more."

"And in that future," he deadpanned, "you picture you and Worf?"

Pausing uncomfortably, she offered no response.

"I didn't think so," pulling her back into his arms, Riker recaptured her
hands. "You don't think I understand, do you? I see the way you look at
Alexander, Dea. I know how much you love that boy."

Deanna's dark eyes flashed when she glanced up.

"Worf has a son. And he's a damn good father."

"He is. But Will, that's not--"

"Let me finish," Riker placed a finger on her lips, "I also know that he
asked you to help him raise Alexander and that you agreed. He told me how
much he admired you for that. But I don't think he really understood why you
decided so quickly."

"It wasn't all that quickly," she drew away from him.

"I know that too." Taking a moment to examine her tenderly, Riker smiled.
"Deanna, you're wrong, you know," he drew her chin up with his hand, "it's no
where near too late..."

"You can't understand," she countered.

"Ian's not gone, he's 'out there', somewhere, and Alexander can be a part of
your life, no matter where he is...it doesn't have to be like this."

"Like what?" Straightening her posture, Deanna finally let go, "I'm happy,
Will. Worf needs me. Alexander needs me. Both of them love me. And I
love them... I do love them."

"I know you do," he shook his head, "Deanna, you have more love in your
spirit than anyone I have ever met. Enough for every person on board this
ship, for all your friends and family, and even more to spare. I never
understood how you could give and give like that, and never ask for anything
in return, not in all these years. But now I do understand," he pulled her
close to him and whispered in her hair, "Imzadi, let me be here for you."

Deanna's head fell forward. She buried her face against his chest and shut
her eyes. "I know you love me."

He held her firmly. "Then let me give you what you need."

"It's not that simple."

"Why not? It can be. If you'd just accept it, Dea, I could be what you need
me to be."

"What I've 'accepted' is that we've been through this before. We keep going
through this--"

"No, we haven't," he cut her off mid-voice. "We haven't been through any of
'this' before." He released her and pulled back, "I'm not just trying to get
you into bed with me on the off chance that maybe one day down the road,
things might grow beyond that point for us. We're at an impasse, Deanna,"
taking her shoulders gently, he turned them both toward the portal and the
stars, "we've come so far together, and now there's only one way left to go."

"Ohh, you're good," she groaned, "there's a part of me that ... it would be
so easy for me to believe you right now."

"Then you should listen to that part of you," he squeezed her hand. "You
can."

"I want to," she followed his beseeching expression all the way into space,
"Will, I really want to..."

He leaned toward her, taking advantage of the lack of distance between their
bodies; he brushed her lips tenderly with his, whispering, "Imzadi..."

"Will--" Deanna shut her eyes, "please--" she swallowed harshly, forcing
herself to be strong; to pull away from the compelling heat of his caress.
"...stop."

He was gone in an instant. Still looking down at her, this time from an all
too great distance, Riker sighed. "I'm not going to push you, Deanna."

"I know that." Her eyes fell shut and she replied, "I'm sorry, Will."

Riker offered her a pallid smile. "Don't be."

"I-- have to go."

He nodded and she turned before he called her name once more.

Deanna halted near the door.

"Will I see you at poker... tomorrow night?" he asked.

She looked aside, "I'm not sure."

Riker glanced at the floor.

"Goodnight, Will," she crossed the threshold into the corridor.

"Goodnight, Deanna." He watched her go.

*

"That really was an incredible program." Stepping out of the Holodeck,
Deanna took a cleansing breath.

"I am glad you approve." Worf nodded his ascent.

She turned and regarded him fondly, "Worf-- I meant what I said earlier, in
your quarters."

If it were possible for a Klingon warrior to sigh, Worf managed the feat with
admirable stoicism. "I too, will always cherish our friendship. Your life
will remain a part of Alexander's, and I hope--" he paused for emphasis, "of
mine as well."

"Thank you," Troi touched his arm, "thank you for understanding," she added,
"I'm going to miss you both a great deal when you leave for Qo'Nos."

Drawing his shoulders taught, Worf offered a brief nod, "I believe it will be
good... for Alexander. There will be many challenges, and the trip will not
be easy..."

"But neither of you would have it any other way," still smiling, Deanna
leaned toward him for a parting kiss.

They were almost oblivious, when the turbo-lift door slid unexpectedly aside
and an anxious version of their Captain emerged, wearing nothing but an
evening robe.

"Captain?" Deanna inquired, "are you all right?"

Waving away the Counselor's concern, Picard approached them. "Mr. Worf," he
asked, "what's the date?"

"Stardate 47988."

The Captain's rigid posture relaxed. He released an audible breath before
Deanna tried once more, "Is something wrong, sir?"

"No," Picard smiled, "no, I um--I think I'll get back to bed... I could use
some sleep."

Trading an instantaneous glance with Worf, Deanna could only stare in hapless
astonishment as the Captain retraced his steps without another word,
disappearing inside the waiting turbo-lift.

"Well... that was odd," she mumbled, revisiting Worf's still-dubious
expression.

"It was most... unusual," he agreed. "Do you believe there is cause for
concern?"

She frowned, "I didn't sense anything unusual from him. Other than the
obvious, he seemed fine... just relieved, I'd say."

"If there was any concern to the Enterprise..." Worf appeared prideful, "I am
certain the Captain would not conceal it from us."

Amused at his predictably immediate defence of their Captain's 'sense of
duty', Deanna smiled. "You're probably right." She offered him her arm,
"shall we?"

They entered the vacant turbo-lift in companionable silence.

*

"Take it..." Beverly Crusher tossed her poker hand onto Riker's living-room
table and stood.

"Any time, doctor," he smiled, "any time."

"Four hands in a row... how does he do it?" Scowling through narrowed eyes,
Worf scrutinized the Enterprise's first officer, but Riker only shrugged.

"I cheat."

The Klingon's expression darkened perilously.

"...I'm kidding!" Riker laughed, but Worf continued to glower.

Moving thoughtfully away from the table, Beverly finally looked up. "You
know, I was thinking about what the Captain told us all... about the future,
about how we all changed and drifted apart... Why would he want to tell us
what's to come?"

"I believe this situation is unique, doctor." Data pondered for a moment
before continuing. "Since the anomaly did not occur, there have already been
changes in this timeline. The future we experience will undoubtedly be di
fferent than the one the captain encountered."

Though he watched the exchange with interest, Riker's mind had already begun
to wander to more personal issues of timelines and alternate futures, so that
when he finally interjected, his voice was far more thoughtful than his
previously playful mood had indicated. "Maybe that's why he told us. Knowing
what happened in that alternate future allows us to change things now," his
blue eyes darkened and fixed solemnly on Worf. "So that some things never
happen."

The meaning behind Riker's challenge had been clear--he hoped to patch things
up with Deanna, some day--and Worf could not have missed the intent of his
words. The look they exchanged was sharp and long, before the Klingon finally
offered both a nod and a half-smile. "Agreed."

Riker grinned--far more relieved than prideful. Sometimes, friendship *was*
thicker than blood. They were about to deal another hand when the chime in
his quarters suddenly buzzed.

"Come in," he called, knowing before she'd ever entered that Deanna was
standing on the other side of the door. She had come, after all...

Flashing a brief smile at Worf and turning a less-confident glance on Will,
Troi asked, "am I too late?"

Riker would have grabbed her and held on forever if reality had lent itself
to such a gesture. Instead, he kept the double-entendre of their exchange
alive to only knowing ears. "Of course not, pull up a chair."

She did, but the chair she pulled was set down directly next to Riker's, and
she threw him a sidelong smile that made his heart skip a beat when she sat
down.

"What's the game? she asked, feigning ignorance of the first officer's mood.

"Five card draw," replied Data, "deuces wild." The android began deftly
dealing each player a hand when the door chime rang a second time.

All of them turned--this time in surprise--when the Captain stepped inside.

"Is there a problem sir?" asked Riker.

"No. I-- I just thought I um--I might join you, this evening." Picard
tentatively approached the group before enquiring. "If there's room."

"Of course," Will stood and lifted a chair from the wall, placing it next to
his own--effectively separating himself from Deanna once more. The things a
man was willing to do for his Captain... "have a seat."

"Would you care to deal, sir?" Data extended the deck of cards and Picard
smiled, accepting the gesture.

"Why thank you Mr. Data. Actually, I um, I used to be quite a card player in
my youth," he quipped. But then a single thought occurred to him. Pausing to
glance at each of his officers in their turn--his family, side-by-side at a
single table--Picard sighed, "I should have done this a long time ago."

"You were always welcome," Deanna returned warmly.

Recovering from his momentary nostalgia, the Captain smiled. "So... the
game is 'Five Card Stud', nothing wild, and--" shiny plastic cards slipped
easily through his fingers, finding new homes in each of his officer's hands,
"--the sky's the limit..."

*

It was oh-two-hundred hours when the last of Riker's poker guests finally
folded.

"Too rich for me, Commander," Geordi LaForge set his cards on the table and
rose from his chair, somewhat lighter in credits than when he'd arrived.

"Calling it a night already?" Riker grinned.

"I should have listened to my conscience and done that a few hours ago. You
and your winning streaks..."

Extending his hand, Riker laughingly shook Geordi's and the chief engineer
turned to Troi.

"G'night Counselor." LaForge smiled.

"Good night, Geordi," Returning his smile, Deanna leaned forward to whisper
conspiratorially, "don't worry about Will, we'll take him down another
night..."

"I heard that!" scoffed Riker from only a few feet away. "But if you two want
to try another few hands... you know I'm always game." His eyebrows rose and
fell, but Geordi only shook his head.

"Some other time, Commander. It's late. Counselor Troi was the smart one,
folding early and watching the rest of us lose our lunch money..."

Deanna chuckled, "I like to quit while I'm ahead." She chucked a thumb in
Riker's general direction, "He has nights like this, and as that old western
Earth song goes..."

"'You gotta know when to fold 'em,'" Geordi laughed, "I hear *that*,
Counselor."

"Goodnight then, Geordi," Riker's expression sobered and he nodded at his
friend, "I'll see you tomorrow afternoon."

"See you then," LaForge found the door and disappeared through it without
further ceremony.

He was gone for a second or two when Riker finally sighed. "Always a little
anticlimactic at the end of a long night, isn't it?"

"Mm," Deanna acknowledged thoughtfully.

Turning to clear away a small stack of replicated dishes, he heard her move
quietly back to the poker table and begin sorting through the haphazard array
of cards.

"Looks like you cleaned up again tonight, Commander," she offered him a wry
glance over her shoulder and he flashed her one of his signature smiles.

"Can't help it if I'm the best."

Deanna rolled her eyes, "you could try to be more modest about it."

Coming up behind her, Riker hooked a friendly arm around her waist and drew
her backward, "I could," he whispered, "but what would really be the point?"

"Will Riker," Deanna laughed, "you are incorrigible ... as ever."

"And you, Ms. Troi..." He turned her slowly in the circle of his hold,
"...are breathtaking... as ever."

She smiled, lifting a hand to trace the side of his face with affection.

"I'm glad you came," he said.

"Me too."

They stopped to regard one another, and the silence that settled between them
became a tangible entity before Deanna finally shattered it. "So..." she
cleared her throat, "it was nice to have the Captain here tonight, wasn't it?"

Returning to her task on the poker table, she didn't see Riker step quietly
behind her, but she could feel his nearness when she heard him acknowledge,
"it certainly was. And long overdue, if you ask me. I'm glad he finally
realized we'd be thrilled to have him around."

Suddenly all-too-aware of the heat of the hand he'd replaced on her body, she
opted not to face him. "You're just thrilled to have someone else's credits
to glean for you pocket."

"Ouch," Riker rose to his full height and mimed a knife to his heart, "that's
so unfair, Counselor..."

"Oh please... and your winning six hands in a row tonight was 'fair'?" she
teased. Slipping the last of the playing cards into their box, she finally
turned to regard him. It was only in that instant that she realized the
expression on his face was far from playful, anymore.

Releasing their pretence, Riker took a shallow breath. "I um... I heard from
Worf, he may be visiting Qo'Nos with Alexander in a few weeks."

Managing a small shrug, Deanna nodded. "He mentioned that to me as well."

Riker's eyes remained on hers. "Really?" he said, "so... would you be joining
him?"

Deanna looked away, then back again. "Well now, what do you think?"

"Actually, Counselor..." he swallowed the heated swell in his throat, "I'm
having a difficult time... thinking clearly... right now."

"Oh?" she placed one hand demurely on her hip. "I'm sorry to hear that,
Commander. Anything I can do to help?"

"Always..." whispered Riker, needing no further encouragement. He bridged
the distance between them in a single stride.

Without another word, Deanna wound her arms around his neck. Her lips melted
softly into his and she sagged against his broader frame. Tangling eager
fingers through the back of his hair, she pulled their bodies flush and
kissed him with all the energy in her spirit.

When they broke for air, she clasped her hands at the back of his neck. "Is
it working?" she asked breathlessly.

"Hell, yes--" Riker's mouth refastened on hers, devouring her lips with an
urgency so mutual, both of them groaned from the force of it.

"Thinking more clearly now?" Deanna's eyebrow rose mischievously.

Riker grinned and pulled her close. "Not exactly. But I am feeling much
better..."

"That's all right," she nodded sagely, "I knew this cocky, junior lieutenant
once," her face tilted forward and the heat of her sultry whisper warmed his
cheek. "He told me that thinking... is very overrated."

"Sounds like wise advice..." Riker groaned when her fingers began to draw
delicate, idyl patterns at the back of his neck. "You do know what that does
to me... don't you?" he whispered.

"What?" Deanna teased, "this?" recapturing his lips with her own.

Emerging, dazed and almost giddy from their intimate exchange, Riker smiled.
"So I guess... the question now is... where do we go, from here?"

She smirked. "You mean there's no rendezvous point this time?"

"Very funny, Counselor."

"Thank you, I've been waiting years to get you back for that," Deanna
regarded him quietly and then sighed. "Maybe the question should be... where
do you want to go, from here, Will?"

Reaching out for her, Riker pulled her tiny body against his chest. "Are you
deliberately being coy?"

"I'm trying not to be," she confessed, "but this time it's my turn to ask you
to spell things out."

"All right." Looking down at her still-dark expression, he acceded. "I''ve
been considering the future a lot lately. And I'm ready for more. Beyond my
career and beyond Starfleet. I'm ready to consider that 'more' might
mean...almost anything. But only with you, Deanna. And only if you want the
same thing, too. Do you?"

"Is that why you haven't been involved with anyone in over a year?" she
evaded his question, dusting an imaginary wrinkle from his uniform sleeve.
"Your own, somewhat dubious attempt at monogamy?"

"So you did notice." Riker grinned at her unmistakable endeavour to lighten
the moment with a semblance of humour. It was trick that he'd been known to
employ. And one that--coming from Deanna--almost certainly meant she was
nervous.

"Not that I was keeping track..." she offered him a wry smile.

"Of course not," he whispered, but Deanna didn't protest when he lifted her
chin with his forefinger. She looked back at him in silence. "I can't even
remember how I got to be such a damned coward," he breathed. "Imzadi. I
wanted to tell you so many times... I owed it to you to be honest. But the
timing just... never seemed right. Maybe it took this 'anomaly' or the
Captain sharing his experience with us to finally turn that light on for me
once and for all, but I've felt this way for very a long time. Longer than I
can ever remember feeling anything else."

"Felt what way?" she held her ground. It wasn't until that moment that Riker
realized--through everything--he still had yet to say the words; to tell her
what was truly in his heart. She was an empath, and half of her was Betazoid,
but the other half of her was entirely a human woman, and that half needed to
hear his voice confess....

"I'm a career driven Starfleet officer. I have professional goals and
dreams, and some of them haven't changed. Some day, I want to captain my own
starship. My own crew, my own destiny. I used to want that more than
anything. But somehow, these past few years I've come to realise... I want
you back in my life, Deanna. More than a friend. If you still feel the same
way, too, I want to be with you again. I want to be with you forever," his
adam's apple rose and fell. "More than anything."

Deanna looked aside. When her shoulders began to shake, Riker's prideful
conscious allowed himself to wonder if she was crying, but the expression on
her face dispelled that fallacy in the moment she faced him again.

The light in her eyes was laughter. But not of the derisive or irreverent
kind. Rather of the kind that seemed almost ... tragically ironic. She was
laughing, though a river of bright teardrops slipped soundlessly through her
eyelashes.

"You know," she exhaled a tremulous breath, "I thought about what I might say
to you some day... if we ever had this conversation." Lifting a hand, Deanna
gestured vaguely into the room, "I used to wonder whether it would be you who
came to me... or me who came to you," she shook her head, "and sometimes I'd
accept what you were saying... and other times I knew that you could only
break my heart again. But every single time, in all those silly dreams... I
always knew exactly what to say." The struggle between several warring
emotions within her seemed to shatter and she turned away, crossing both arms
protectively over her chest. "Now I find we're standing here, you've been so
honest with me... and I feel lost..."

A flood of intense emotion filled Riker's heart and he knew with sudden
certainty that it was hers. Without a sound to break the spell of her co
nfession, he moved quietly behind her and placed a warm hand on her shoulder.
Not too forward, he hoped, but adequate to show that could truly share her
confusion.

Staring out into space through the portal in his quarters, Deanna remained
motionless. "I don't know what to say to you," she whispered, "I... don't
know how to make this decision anymore."

"Then don't," he replied softly. Applying gentle pressure to the edge of her
shoulders, he slid his hands along her arms.

Deanna tipped her head back against his chest and looked up at him through
shining eyes. "Don't decide?"

"Lets make the choice together," he shrugged, "the same way we can make every
other decision that affects both of our lives from now on. Together."

It seemed so simple, such a perfect solution; she nearly dropped her arms and
embraced Will where he stood. But nothing had ever been simple about their
relationship. And that thought alone gave her several moments pause. She
didn't turn.

He did it for her. Moving slowly around her body, Riker blocked her view of
the stars and stood directly opposite her, matching her dark, conflicted
expression with one of his own. "I'm a little worried," he confessed.

Deanna shook her head, bewildered.

He placed his palm against her cheek. "Whatever I say right now could blow
apart my happy, safe, little universe... and end our friendship," he paused,
"I can either go ahead and try to convince you that I all I want is to take
this chance with you right now, or I could pretend that this was all some
kind of familiar misunderstanding between us. That all I want is to be your
friend, and then I'd lose you forever, someday. If not to Worf, then someone
else."

She turned her face into his hand, "You could never lose me," she whispered.

Will smiled sadly. "I could lose the opportunity to wake up every morning and
know that you love me--in a far more fulfilling way than 'friends'. "

"I do love you," she captured his questing hand against her skin.

"I know that, Deanna. But in what way?"

For a long moment she said nothing, looking back at him intently, and Riker
found himself mesmerized by the fathomless darkness of her expression. "In
what way?" he repeated, "Deanna, I've told you how I feel. Now I need to
know..."

Deanna gripped his hand and shut her eyes. "In every way," she breathed. Her
dark lashes parted, filled with unspent tears as she released his fingers.

Riker's touch moved slowly towards her neck and he used his palm to pull her
gently toward him, wrapping his arms around her so that they seemed to
completely envelop one another. Deanna laid the side of her head against his
chest.

"I have a feeling that this may be our rendezvous point," he smiled tenderly
at her, allowing himself a rare moment of weakness; a moment to just 'let go'
and enjoy the heady rush of pleasure that her nearness had always engendered
throughout his spirit.

Deanna laughed and held him harder, "very funny."

"And I don't know about you," he went on logically, "but I don't think I'm
going to let go of your hand when we come out of the woods, this time. If
that's all right." Riker put only a moment's distance between them when he
looked down at her.

"Jungle.."

"What?"

Threading her fingers through his, Deanna glanced down at their newly joined
hands, "We don't have forests on Betazed, it was a Jungle. But even so, that
sounds like rather wise advice," she nodded, "... for a junior lieutenant I
once knew..."

Riker shrugged, "he's come a long way in the past few years."

While her gaze swept appreciatively over his older, more 'seasoned' physique,
Deanna smiled, unexpectedly impish. "I certainly can't argue there."

"Counselor!" grinned Riker; he gasped in feigned indignation, "are you
leering at me?"

Blushing, Deanna cleared her throat. "We don't 'leer' on Betazed either."
But off his wayward smirk, she sighed. "I guess I've come a long way too..."

Allowing him to draw her backward, she leaned affectionately against him, "I
guess you have." Riker dropped his lips against the top of her hair, "so
maybe it would be all right if we agree... to walk the rest of the way,
together?"

"I don't know--" Deanna bit thoughtfully on her lip, "that's a big
decision..." But she was smiling up at him when he looked down and found her
shining eyes.

"Wow," he whispered, "now I think that I'm the one who doesn't know what to
say."

She shook her head. "You could always hold me. Kiss me. Tell me you love me.
Those are all acceptable responses..."

"I could," he took a step forward that sealed the front of their bodies
seamlessly. "I could do all of that..."

Deanna frowned when he did not. "But?" she asked.

"But nothing," he grinned, crushing her gently to his chest and leaning
forward so that his lips brushed reverently across her own. The kiss deepened
almost as quickly as it was born, and Deanna grumbled her disappointment when
Riker finally broke it off. "Imzadi..." he took a grateful breath against
her thick, dark hair.

"Oh, the hell with it," Troi captured his neck and drew him back toward her
still-damp lips. "My mother was right, you know. The human predilection for
'talking' is really highly overrated..."

"As I recall, you were the one who--"

Placing a finger on his mouth, Deanna shook her head and Riker smiled.

"Let me guess," he laughed, recalling an earlier time, an earlier
turn-of-phrase. "This is the part where you say: 'shut up and kiss me, Riker'
?"

"Wow," she beamed, "you *can* read minds..."

But when his lips found hers all over again and his hands dipped low to lift
her off the floor, Deanna lost the words to keep their private banter going.

Will laid her gently on his bed. "I'll read your mind again," he whispered,
leaning forward to drop a kiss at the base of her neck, "if you read mine..."

Deanna groaned and hooked a hand behind his head to pull him back into her
arms. "Like taking candy from a baby, Commander."

Their bodies rolled sideways, breathing harshly, mouths still clasped.

"Speaking of babies..." he belayed her stunned expression with the forceful
heat of another all-consuming kiss.

Deanna melted into his arms. And there was nothing further said, where he
left off.

-end-