"Truly, Madly, Deeply"
By:  QDestinyy@aol.com
Notes:  A short "moment in time" to go with my others.  No extraneous plot. 


Curling her hand above her head, Deanna pressed her face into the plush receptive softness of her pillow and drew a shallow breath.  It was ship's night.  And she had come off a full day of counseling sessions much as she had every other night for the past several weeks.

Exhaustion for "Counselor Troi" was something that always crept up on her.  Something neither expected nor welcome.  None the less, it always came.  On a ship filled with careless, untrained human minds, it always hit like a hammer on the delicate shield of her Betazoid psyche.  And just always, she needed to find an escape.

With a tired sigh, her hand traced the edge of the cloth next to her face.  The pillow on which she lay.  Not the one that lay as still as morning's whisper next to her head. The one that was ostensibly... 'his'.

Will hadn't called.  Again.  It was six days now since she'd seen him, and two days since their last COMM conversation.  One might have found an irony in that.

Irony that they served together on board the same ship.  That they held quarters directly adjacent to each other; had been passionately and romantically involved for nearly ten months since their return from the Briar Patch, and yet the closest contact they had had with one another during the entirety of the previous week was a handful of tinny, wholly unsatisfying COMM calls.

Riker was far from pleased. 

In point of fact, he was hurt.  She understood that, and though she knew the reason why, she held him back at arms length -- for four full days and four full nights.  She kept him away.  Until he stopped calling at all.

That part hadn't been her intention.  But it had happened even so.  And in retrospect, she should have known it would.  She should have known better than to expect he wouldn't ask why.  Or feel cut off.  She might even have realized those things were happening on some level -- only she hadn't the energy or the inclination to share her reasoning with him at the time. 

Perhaps, in retrospect, she should have.

It was a private time for her.  It always had been.  From the time she was a young woman, studying at Starfleet Academy, she'd taken her leave of the world once every few months and enclosed herself in the safe, enveloping folds of a restive, healing meditation.  Completely alone.

On Betazed, that kind of solitude had never been overtly required.  The minds of a billion trained telepaths tended not to intrude on the delicate balance of one another's psyches.  But with humans... and in Starfleet ... there was no such compromise. 

After a time, no matter the skill of the mind, the shields began to crumble.  The walls began to crack.  And her patience--her long practiced serenity--all of it was tested with the full force of a shattering skull.

The problem was that saying the words: "oh honey, I really have such a headache" was somewhat tired already by Terran standards.  And admitting that she felt such a mental weakness of any sort was barely acceptable to her own (quite stubborn) sense of pride. 

So she hadn't even bothered after the first of the evenings that she begged an excuse, any excuse, to get away.  She hadn't even answered his calls.

The problem was that Will had tried again the next night. 

And the one after that. 

On the third attempt, he'd really gone all out.  She understood from Beverly--on the morning after the fact--that he had stayed up all the night before making slight, perfecting adjustments to his long and laborious holodeck project.  He brought in candles and fragrance.  A program of the waterfalls she remembered so fondly from Venezuela on Earth.  He thought of everything, it seemed.  Everything except the possibility she wouldn't come.

And after that evening, he hadn't called again.  Not the previous night, nor had he called today.

The meditation cycle was something she only did after hours.  Three precious nights alone that would never interfere with her duties on board the Enterprise.  Because of that, it had never been an issue that she had felt necessary to report to the Captain.  Or to Riker as personnel.  It was her time.  Her quiet, private time.  At least it always had been... until now.

With the familiar sensation of renewal fresh inside her spirit, Deanna realized that she could very well have hurt Will's feelings.  Hurt him in an unintentional, but particularly profound way.

Perhaps it was time she explained.

Rising slowly from her bed, she perfunctorily replaced her uniform and glanced at the door. 

"Troi to Riker," she tried, but there was no response.  "Computer, locate Commander Riker."

<<Commander Riker is in Ten Forward>>

Odd, she thought.  It was well after his second duty-shift on the bridge.  He should be exhausted after nearly twenty hours on deck.  But her sense of him was light-hearted.  Jovial, even. 

She left her quarters, took the lift to deck ten, and as the doors hissed wide at her impending arrival, she finally understood Will's happy mood.  Up on the stage with a four-piece quartet--trombone in hand--was none other than her Imzadi.  First Officer of the Flag Ship of the Federation.  Playing for all his heart at a fast-paced, happy melody which had her smiling within instants.

But when his eyes turned suddenly and met with hers, Riker's countenance abruptly fell.  Taking a stool near the bar, Deanna watched as the music played on, but she could sense Will's heart was no longer in it.  All he wanted was escape.

An escape, she realized, not far from kin to the one she herself had taken very recently.  Frowning at the thought, she lifted the drink she was handed and kept her eyes on his impeccable performance.  She saw him finish the set, though all the while it appeared he was steadfastly avoiding her gaze.

When the music finally ended, Riker set his instrument down and shook hands with the other performers.  A quick smile at each of them and a polite goodbye, and he was off the stage in an instant.  But not before Deanna could catch his arm.

"Will," she stopped him near the bar and felt him tense beneath her hand.  "I'd like to talk to you for a few minutes, if you don't mind."

"Actually Deanna, I'm kind of busy this evening.  Maybe we could do this some other time?" he manufactured a smile and she frowned at it, responding automatically.

"Is that supposed to be a come-back?"

"I beg your pardon?" he stared at her through cool, unblinking eyes.

Releasing his arm, she shrugged and recomposed herself.  "All right.  Please call me when you have some time, Commander?" 

There was no mistaking the formality in her tone, but Riker simply nodded, leaving Ten Forward without another word.

Regarding her drink for a few minutes longer, Deanna finally sighed.  She let the glass slide back onto the bar and stood up slowly, following the man she loved into a hall he no longer occupied.


****

It was another full day before she saw him again.  And only because they'd been assigned a mutual and familiar task by their Captain.  A research project for an upcoming diplomatic visit with the Prime Minister of Saro IV in the Sarona system. 

As was protocol in the penultimate hours before any 'delicate negotiation', Picard had sent both Riker and Troi to the ship's expansive resource facility.  There they had a finite amount of time to become 'experts' on Saronan social custom.

'Experts', Deanna almost smiled, keeping step with Riker while they walked in silence through the Enterprise's lengthy corridors.  She didn't think she could count on one hand the number of cultures they were supposedly 'experts' on.

Glancing sidelong at Will, she wondered for a brief flash of an instant whether he was thinking the same thing she was.  In truth, she couldn't tell WHAT he was thinking.  Or feeling for that matter.  Ever since their abbreviated conversation in Ten Forward, he'd been blocking her mental queries with all the deftness of a Betazoid pro.

"Will," she opted to break the silence and try again, "I really think we should talk."

Without missing a beat--or a step--Riker shook his head. "Frankly Deanna, I'd rather not have this conversation right now.  If that's all right with you."

"What conversation?"  she followed him into the empty resource center and watched the doors close behind them, allowing her frustration to show for an instant. "You don't even know what I'm going to say!"

Riker turned and fell into a chair at a console.  "Don't I?"

"What?" leaning over the panel next to him, she challenged, "what is it then?  Tell me."

He said nothing, keying in his identity code instead.

"You're angry with me," she went on, "you want to hold onto that anger."

"I thought we were looking up Saronan social customs," growled Riker, "this isn't a counseling session."

"Then tell me how to get through to you!"

"I said not now!"

She held his gaze until he released a livid breath and returned to the console.  "It says here, the Saronan majority are vegetarian."

"Fascinating," Deanna deadpanned.  Sinking down into her own chair, she turned on a screen.

"Their class system was abolished nearly four hundred years ago and now they live in relative equality..."

"You know, I haven't seen you in over a week."

"Terrific, is that a new record aboard ship?  I'm sure you're very proud of it."

"Will, that isn't fair."

Riker scrolled down his panel.  "In the early twenty-second century, the Sarona adopted a democratic system of government in place of their older monarchy."

"You hate this.  You can't stand being in the same room with me."

"Their former ruling class was divided into--" He suddenly stopped.  "Deanna, I don't hate this.  I'm just mad, all right?  I have a right to be mad once in a while."

"You're more than mad.  You're hurt.  Will, we were spending so much time together, it was every night.  I just needed--"

"You don't have to explain.  You wanted to be alone."  Without lifting his head, Riker's eyes remained fixed on the screen.  "I think the Captain wants this information by 1700 hours."

Sighing softly, Deanna turned to her own screen.  "All right."

They were both silent for the span of several minutes, while a host of computerized information flickered across their panels and each of them extracted electronic portions of the text.

It was Riker who finally spoke.  "If this isn't right for you.  If you don't want to do this anymore, Deanna, you only needed to tell me."

Pausing mid-task, she set her instrument down and turned away from her screen, placing her hands in her lap.  She faced him directly.  "Now see, you're wrong again.  You've jumped to a conclusion and it's not the right one."

Releasing a breath, Will set his own PADD down and turned as well.  "All right then, explain to me why you blew me off four days in a row."

"Three."

"What?"

"It was three days, and I didn't 'blow you off', I had a very good reason."

"Right.   I got that.  Deanna, don't you think I can see it when you look at me?  That light in your eyes that used to be there, it hasn't been there for over a month.  You've been distant.  Moody. Preoccupied.  Your heart isn't in this, and I guess I just didn't want to recognize that reality at first.  I didn't want to believe it was true or I thought I could fix it, but I can't hold this up by myself.  No matter how I feel.  I know that.  And I understand if your feelings have changed. Believe me--"

"You understand?" she stared at him in disbelief.

"Yes."

"So, you'd have no problem then.  Just walk away now.  Go back to being friends."

"If that's what you want."

"No holds barred, no consequences..." Deanna continued.

Riker stared at her for a brief instant.  "Your friendship means more to me than any 'consequence' ever could."

"Perfect," she lifted a hand and waved it in the air, "Then it could just be over, right?  Just like that."

"Deanna, you're the one who--"

"Shut up, Will."

"I beg your pardon?"

Clenching her hands in her lap, she drew a measured breath.  When she finally spoke, it was softly, "You know, if I wasn't feeling so guilty for not being clear about this earlier, I would certainly not let you get away with a thoughtless, arrogant remark like that."

"Thoughtless?  Deanna, all I've been doing for the past WEEK is thinking!  It's all I've had the *opportunity* to do, since you wouldn't have anything to do with ME!"

"Then let me explain!"  her tenuous patience snapped like a dry twig and she glared at him.  "Stop feeling sorry for yourself for five minutes and give me a chance to talk!"

Riker sat back in his chair.  "Fine," he mumbled.  "Talk."

"For the past ten months, we've been spending a lot of time together.  Time on the bridge.  Time in other professional capacities," Deanna exhaled, "and time together on a more personal level."

"I know that.  I was there."

"Good.  Then you must also 'know' that there hasn't been a lot of time we HAVEN'T spent together."  Rising from her chair, she moved toward him.  "Will, we do everything together.  We're never apart.  It's not that I don't enjoy being with you but, sometimes--"

"You want to be alone," he looked up at her and shook his head, "that makes sense, but Deanna, for three days in a row you didn't even speak to me.  You wouldn't answer my calls..."

"I was meditating!"

"What?"

Dropping to a crouch, she placed her hands on his knees.  "Will, every few months, the stress of being trapped on a ship with a thousand untrained minds--it affects me."

"Affects you?"  Riker sat up with interest.  "How?  Deanna you've never once mentioned anything--"

"I know that!" she pushed up on his knees and stood again.  "It wasn't a problem before.  I'd just take a couple of evenings to myself and find my balance again.  Right my sense of things.  No one was ever affected."

"Oh.."  he breathed.  "So that's why you'd miss poker every once in a while?"

Deanna nodded.  "And our weekly dinners every few months.  It was easier to excuse myself when we were only friends..."

"Deanna," he paused, "wait a minute.  What about Worf?  You were with him for more than a few months.  Did he know?"

She sighed.  "I hardly see how that matters."

"Did you have to explain it to him?  Or did he just understand?"

"Now your ego is involved?"

"Just answer me, Deanna."

"All right.  Fine.  He didn't know either.  It was... believe it or not Will, it was easier to excuse myself from Worf for a few days than it has been with you."

"I see," Riker glanced at the floor.

"Imzadi," she dropped back into a crouch and held his knees, "I don't think you do understand.  It wasn't easier because he was more understanding, it was easier because... we weren't as close as you and I are.  We didn't share a bond, the way you and I do."

When Riker only shook his head, she took his hand in hers.  It was a rare moment indeed with the great Commander showed any instant of weakness, and Deanna had never had it in her heart to make him feel those moments last.

"Will, do you think for a moment that I haven't enjoyed our time together as much as you have?  Because you shouldn't," her fingers laced with his, "I love you."

"Deanna," he looked down at her and then lifted her gently into his lap; a circumstance she accommodated without protest.  "Sometimes, the past few months especially, I've felt like...  I don't know..."

"Nervous?" she provided, "apprehensive?"

"You knew."

"I am an empath," she smiled coyly and laid her forehead against his.  "But you didn't have to feel those things Will.  I wasn't going anywhere."

"I know that.  That's not the reason.  Honestly, I think I just, I wanted to make up for all the times in our past when I was the one who wasn't a sure thing.  When I didn't know what I wanted or where I was going," he smiled as he reached between their faces and caressed the edge of her cheek, "especially when you started to seem so distant."

"It makes sense that there are times we're going to want to be together, and times we're going to need to be apart.  We can't be madly passionate about one another every moment of our lives.  That's normal, Will.  It's just... the next step in a healthy relationship.  Which is what we finally have," she furrowed her brow and threw him a wry, sharp look, "I think."

Riker laughed and caught her hand.  "You mean the next step after falling madly, passionately in love?"

When she lifted her head and found his lips, Deanna felt Will melt against her; felt his arms enfold her body and his thoughts--now free of their block--caress her spirit.  She felt...content.  For the first time in what seemed like far too long.  She felt whole.

"There was time," she whispered breathlessly, "when I was 'madly', passionately in love with you, Will Riker."

"And now?" his sky-blue eyes cleared of mischief and he regarded her with a sober expression.

"Now," she repeated thoughtfully.  "I think that 'madly' has transformed into 'deeply' somewhere along the way.  If that makes any sense at all."

Riker's smile became a dazzling grin, "Yeah.  I think it does."

"You know, there's such thing as 'alone alone' and such thing as 'alone together,'" Deanna provided logically. 

"You mean like, going over different ranks in the crew evaluation reports, but being in the same room together at the same time?" he asked.

Afforded a teasing lift of Riker's eyebrow, Deanna laughed.  "Or like... when two people who are 'deeply' in love, decide it might finally be time to live in the same space, at the same time?"

She saw him freeze.  Riker's hands fell to her waist and he held her firmly against him, "you want us to move in together?"

Adjusting her posture, Deanna met and held his wondering expression.  "I think, I mean, do you think it might not be the right time?" she spoke more quickly than she'd intended, and for the first time since the inception of their conversation, she knew that she was the one who sounded less than sure of herself.

"You know me.  I don't know a clue about time, Deanna," Riker took her hand and held it reverently against his lips, "But I do know that it would make me the happiest guy in the alpha quadrant."

Deanna couldn't help but grin.  "Really?"

"Absolutely."  he smiled and shook his head.  "I'm sorry I acted like such a jack-ass last night."

"I guess we've both been less than ourselves of late.  I'm sorry that I didn't tell you what I was feeling right away.  Of all people, I should have known better," Deanna searched his expression and managed another smile.  "I never meant to shut you out.  I won't again.  I promise."

With a slow exhale, Riker shifted in his chair and then lifted them both to their feet.  He stood across from her--a moment apart--and he took her face between his palms.  "Every day, Deanna, these feelings I have for you get... stronger and stronger.  I don't know how, or why, but I do know that I don't think I could live my life--or any life--without you here to share it with me."  He smiled as he recalled, "If that makes any sense at all."

"Yeah."  Deanna's expression transformed into a dazzling grin, "I think it does," she said.  But when her eyes filled suddenly, she covered his hands on either side of her face.  "I also think that's the most beautiful thing you've ever said to me, Will Riker."

"God I hope not," he breathed, "I'm going to have to try a lot harder..."

The sound of quiet laughter echoed in the small enclosure.  But it was interrupted when the panel they'd had been sitting at bleeped mournfully.  Both pairs of eyes were suddenly alert.

Regarding the computer for only a brief instant, Riker looked back at Troi.  "Duty calls?" he asked.

She smiled.  "For now."

He pulled her hard across the distance between them and held her firmly against his chest.  "Imzadi.  I've missed you."

"Me too," she hugged him back.

"I guess, we'll continue this...conversation... later?"

The warm caress of his breathy question sent a shiver along every nerve ending in Deanna's body, but she managed a short not and she turned her lips into the curve of his ear, whispering, "it's a date."

Riker's arms closed reflexively around her and his chin brushed the top of her hair.  He shut his eyes and smiled.  "Did you know that the Saronan majority are primarily vegetarian?"

Sagging against his larger frame, Deanna released her tremulous breath on a sigh.  "Really," she murmured softly, caressing the nape of his neck with the palm of her hand.  "That's fascinating."


[end]