Title : I Can't...I Just Can't...
Series : TNG
Author : Sarajayne
Rating : he'll never walk tall again
Disclaimer : I think this is the reason I am still single ;-)


I can't...I just can't...

Stepping away from the irate trespasser before him, Riker suddenly realised how much trouble he was in.

"Guards! Guards!" Screamed the imperial mother, her index finger angrily stabbing in Will Riker's direction. "Take him away and exact the penalty for his lavicious actions!" Her lips curled back in distaste.

Will Riker frowned in confusion. "Now wait just a damn minute…" His diatribe halted by the gloved gauntlet of one of the guards, knocking him senseless to the floor. His head spinning and his vision blurry he was lifted crudely by the arms and dragged, knees sliding along the marbled floors, out of the palacial apartment of the now fuming queen.

"Let me go." Will drawled as his mind fought to stay conscious. The tickling sensation of blood flowing from his mouth and nose. "I didn't touch her." Shouting his innocence as they turned off from the decorative walkways into the serving corridors.

"We know." A light whack to the back of his head and a snigger of laughter echoed around the stairwell as they dragged him deeper beneath the fortress. "No one refuses the queen's request for journessa. Not even her husband. Stupid alien." The guard added, shaking his head in mirth.

The banging of his shins on each step edge brought him awake to the point he was now able to try and lift himself up from his slouched position. "When she offered it I thought she meant it was some kind of delicacy, as in food, not sex." He mumbled unsteadily trying to break his arms free.

"Don't worry, food will be your only pleasure soon." The tallest of the guards letting go to forcibly push him forward into a small sconce lighten room.

Looking around while his company locked the door behind, he began to feel a nasty tingle in his loins. "Oh no…" He wordlessly mouthed as he spied the table and it's clasps. One for each arm and leg, with the leg straps strangely far apart, and a nasty rusty red stain. "When you said my only pleasure..." he left it hanging as he was roughly injected with something from behind. "No wait! I need to talk to my captain!" He demanded in fear, finding his communicator deadly silent as he slapped it in panic.

The room began to spin, as his legs gave way, leaving him with only the numb awareness of being undressed and secured to the table. He tried moving only to watch his hand flop this way and that. But he could hear everything. The door unlocking, the rattle of a tray, and its unmistakable tiny tinkles of delicate tools upon it's polished metal surface. A medical tray.

"No, pleasshhe" He slurred as he caught the masked surgeon's eyes, a shiny implement in hand.

"Hasn't he been prepped?" enquired the surgeon aware that his patient was lucid.

The rough growl of confirmation came from the second guard who'd hardly spoken on the way down. "Her majesty said to make sure he remembered the error of his ways."

"Sheshh azzaulted nnneee." He drawled, fighting through the sickly sedative.

The surgeon shook his head and applied a cold compress of sterile fluid. Riker immediately jerked away in fear. "Well we'd better be quick, someone knows he's in trouble, heard his people were looking for him. Especially the woman." The doc grinned thinking he was doing his patient a favour, especially after seeing the black orbed beauty's fuming counterance at Riker's charge.

The next few seconds seemed to move in slow motion for Will Riker, as his genitals were suddenly separated and the keening edge of a blade sliced off one of the three most sensitive pieces of anatomy a man knew of.

The roar of pain and agony jackknifed him to arch his back away from the table surface, his screams and whimpering echoing around the stone walled room. But the surgeon carried on, plopping something soft and bloody into the bowl to Riker's left, and proceeding to hold the other testicle within his grasp.

Just as he reached to cut off the 2nd, blocking out the cries of pain from his victim, the door banged inward and a surge of yellow shirted security guards barged in.

Worf hesitated for only a second at his screaming superior officer, firing his phaser and grimacing as the surgeon slumped, letting his scalpel drop and slip across the bloodied mess of Riker's groin. "Drop your weapons!" Worf ordered as his men covered the other two guards. "Worf to Enterprise, medical emergency." He roared into his communicator finding it silent. Realising the transmission was being blocked he sent Lieutenant Richards' to find an stronger signal.

Grabbing a wad of medical pads, Worf pushed aside the unconscious surgeon, removed the scalpel that was now lying atop the fine slice it had carved across Will Riker's member, and pressed down hard against the blood loss. Riker grunted from the pressure, his head whipping up to only fall back hard to the table with a loud thump.

Ignoring where his hands were placed, Worf viewed the room, checking that the Tahirawians had all been removed under guard. Ignoring Riker's pleas for Worf to release the pressure, the Chief Security Officer glanced at the shredded Starfleet uniform on the floor and growled.

Will Riker was breathing hard, his groans hoarse and distressed, as his head rolled side to side to try and escape the pain. Tears were staining his face, and already there were red raw marks under each tightly secured strap.

"Dr Crusher's on her way sir." Richards' stated as he ran back into the room. His eyes averted from witnessing his naked and moaning senior officer. The Klingon's continued pressure over Riker's groin confirming where all the blood was coming from.

Ensign Havric was already unbuckling the straps, remembering a time when she'd last heard Riker moaning. Her cheeks blossoming with colour.

"He's going into shock." Worf realised, as Will Riker began to shake. "A blanket, now!" Ordered the Klingon just as Crusher ran into the room.

"Status!" she yelled immediately viewing the bloodied wad of fabric being pressed into Riker's groin and the choked sobs coming from the shaken officer. Worf's description of the cultural mishap was straight to the point. "Ensign Havric, get this to sickbay stat and ice it up." Shoving the metal bowl and its gruesome contents into her hands. "Worf, keep the pressure up." She added focussing her attention on dialling up her hypo and thrusting its contents into Riker's corded neck.

"Will? Will can you hear me? You're going to be alright." She called to him watching as the hypo erased some of the pain lines around his tightly closed eyes. "We're going to have to move you, but I'm going to dose you up on pain killers, alright?" She waited for the small but noticeable nod. Issuing another slather of hypos she soon returned to Worf's side.

"You can release the pressure now." Adhering a proper pressure pad and something to reduce the capillaries so he wouldn't continue to bleed out, she surveyed the damage. His penis was still attached but the large deep cut would hamper him for a while. Pulling the blanket into place for modesty sake, she sighed heavily and looked up to the silent Klingon.

"Worf. Can you carry him for me? It'll be faster than ordering down a stretcher." Knowing that she didn't have to ask the Klingon twice, she stood aside and watched as Worf cradled he injured human to his chest. Riker was like a brother to him, and the angry fire in his eyes spoke vengence.

Riker's long legs hung limply from under the small blanket, blood smeared thighs showing tell tale signs of his predicament. But what had Beverly worried at that point was the increasing circle of blood forcing it's way through the blanket, regardless of the padding she'd positioned. "Just a few minutes Will, we're nearly there." She called to him, watching his eyelids flicker, as they headed back to the fortresses' battlements where the transporter signal was strongest.

As the corridor gave way to the decorative walkways of the palace, the Imperial queen could be seen arguing in the grounds with the Captain and a very pale Deanna Troi by his side.

Her patient, bloodied and sweat slicked, groaned as Worf readjusted his grip on his slipping charge. "Easy Worf." She responded automatically, watching as Will began to feebly fight off the tighter grip Worf had placed around him.

Regardless of the fiery look the Security Chief sent Crusher's way, Richard's guided them to the far end of the corridor and through a small door to where the emergency beacons stood. "Richard's to Enterprise. Emergency transport to sickbay for four." He ordered and the transporter beam soon sliced away the lavish vision of golden columns, and replaced it with the white clinical atmosphere of sickbay.

Directed through the ward to the OR, Worf soon released his now still Commander to the biobed. Something he had performed on numerous occasions. Would this be the last time? Grasping Riker's clenched fist, "To fight is to survive." he ordered like rumbling stone.

Beverly laid a hand on Worf's shoulder and hurried him out. "Ogawa, prep him for surgery." Her orders carried out as she headed off to change into her scrubs.


"……we'll have to see how responds in a sexual environment, but medically everything should work." The voice hazy but familiar poked it's head into his pink fluffy cloud. Disturbing his dream of gelded stallions parading around in burgundy Starfleet uniforms.

"Think we can find someone to help test that theory?" The same voice jibed.

Angry at the jest being played before his unconscious self he rose through the pink mist, becoming heavier as he struggled to fight back. The mist was clearing but a slab of numbness was still holding him back. The orange glow of light beyond his lids taunting him as his eyes refused to open. "ack off..." he cracked from between cracked lips.

The protective orange soon dispelled as an eyelid was forced back by a pair of fingers and light shone into his iris, skewering his brain and forcing him back to the realisation that the numbness had now been replaced by aching agonising pain as he tried to sit up. Grimacing he took a few short sharp breaths and swallowed back the nausea that was threatening to erupt.

Beverly's fuzzy form swam back into focus. She was leaning over his bed, eye light in one hand and a fist planted on her hip. "For someone who nearly became the next imperial eunuch of Tahiraw, I'd think you'd be grateful for the hours I spent stitching your stallion status back on."

Memory snapped back into place, and a hand instantly headed for his groin only to be slapped away by Deanna. "No touching or it may drop off." She smiled as fear consumed him.

Eyes wide like saucers, "It's all there?" he asked fearfully. Avoiding direct eye contact from the women either side of him, as a red glow coated each cheek in embarrassment.

"All there Commander." Beverly confirmed. "But untouchable. You're going to be very sensitive down there as the sedatives wear off, and I don't want anymore damage before the tissues have had ample time to bond."

"Did they..." he swallowed heavily, still starring at the square bump in the covers. A platform of some variety keeping the covers elevated over his injured person.

"Remove everything? No, one of your boys was a little lost for a while and a nasty deep gash across the left over guys, but we've repaired everything. Just sit still, don't move and have pure thoughts for the next few days." She winked.

Will Riker groaned at her jest, and rested his head back down onto the pillow. "It wasn't my fault, I thought she was inviting me back for dessert, not her as the after dinner mint." He confessed hoping Deanna could sense the truthfulness he was relaying. She was his fiancé after all. And the last thing he'd wanted to do was hurt her.

"The captain has cleared up the misunderstanding. Though the Imperial mother has asked that you be banned from her planet. And for the sake of diplomacy the only way to explain your refusal of her advances was to say that you're my husband, well nearly anyway." Deanna relayed to him, a hand now gently smoothing the creases out of his bedding across his chest.

"Mrs Riker already?" He queried with a small grin.

"No. Mr Troi." Deanna winked, watching his smile wither slowly as he gave in to the lingering sedation. "I proposed to you, so I get to keep the name." She grinned.

"I'll just be thankful that your mother didn't castrate me when I tried to dodge her marriage proposal all those years ago." He smiled. Knowing that upsetting Lwaxanna could have landed him in this same position if Betazed followed its older customs along stricter avenues such as Tahiraw. "I'm sorry." He apologised, meeting her eyes with his.

Heavier footsteps approached "No apologies Number one. Though I am surprised that a chef such as yourself would mistake the Tahirawian word for love as a dessert." The captain was wearing a small smile under the imposed serious façade.

Will closed his eyes and groaned. "Am I ever going to be left alone to forget this?" His voice pleading for his friends to leave it lie.

Picard gave the man his wishes and progressed onto future events. "Welcome back Commander. I hope that you will be present on the bridge by week's end. We have a vast array of tasks to accomplish after our last diplomatic mission. And time will wait for no man, not even my injured Number One."

"Aye sir. As soon as Beverly lets me move, it'll be a pleasure to put this behind me." The First Officer appreciative of his superior officers' understanding.

"Carry on doctor, I shall enjoy reading your report." Dismissing him from the clinical smell that was sickbay.

"So speaking of moving…" Will left the end of the sentence hanging.

Beverly gave him a tenderly pat on his shoulder. "Give it a few days Will. I don't want anything to move out of place in case of complications."

"Such as?" He queried with one raised eyebrow.

"What she's saying Will, is that, if you damage your little buddies down there by moving they may not rise to the occasion when they're meant to." Deanna winked enjoying every second that it took for Will to become completely pale. "Then again we haven't verified that part yet, though we do know that men can still father children with one testicle." Rubbing the fear in further.

Will catching on decided to turn the tables. [ Well that's good news for our children's sake Imzadi ] He sent watching as she blinked in surprise, redness flushing her own cheeks.

Beverly watching the unspoken exchange cleared her throat loudly. "And no transporting away to your quarters either. I've placed a ban with the transporter chief until I have cleared you."

Raising an eyebrow he queried her reasons. "You know I heal better away from prying eyes Bev. And this is one injury I don't want the crew to know about." Hoping the embarrassing nature of his groinal injury would soften her a little. Then again knowing Beverly it'd only make her extend his leave.

Beverly took the middle line, Hard but soft in her approach. "One…you are in a private recovery room with only Ogawa, Dawsen and myself as your staff. And two…the level of microsurgery we performed could leave you transported to your quarters without your baggage. Now…did you say something about quarters?" Beverly flashed her wicked eyes.

Will gulped hard and held up both pale hands. "Um no, that's fine. Thanks doc."

Beverly lent down and laid a kiss on his cheek before ruffling his hair. "Good. I'll ask Ogawa to bring you some dinner and help you upright. And Deanna, do you have a moment? I need to discuss a case or two." The two started off to the door, Deanna blowing a kiss his way before exiting the room.

Now free of witnesses, Will waited just to be sure before lifting up the warming sheet to view the padded area below. Not only was the whole area packed and strapped to stop him moving his legs further and closer together, but also there was also what looked to be a cool pack peeking out from under the wadding. He'd been ice packed, no wonder he was numb. Well, there was no way he was going to be able to check that the guys were whole and well, so laying back, releasing the sheet, he concentrated on trying to fall asleep again before dinner came knocking.


Dreams of snowballs and juggling knives soon vanished as the burning touch of a hand probed his nether regions. "Finishing the job?" He queried tiredly. The light warming sheet folded back leaving his lower half to shiver painfully from the cooler air of sickbay.

"Stop shivering Will, it's not that cold." She admonished, clinically playing with his genitals as if they were a science experiment. "And you can stop that flush, I've seen these friends of yours many a time when you've been out of it." Beverly Crusher taunted.

"Do I need to file a report about a peeping tom in sickbay? Or sexual harassment perhaps?" Deanna sweetly asked as she leant around the corner of the recovery room. Due to the sensitive nature of the first officer's reputation, he'd been hauled into a restricted area from prior eyes and smirking smiles.

Awake and alert he pushed himself up, rubbery arms braced behind him. "Beverly has started a game of billiard balls, wanna come play." He wiggled his eyebrows, relief rushing through him as he spied all three items of his person present and attached.

Deanna came by and sat beside him on the bed edge, brushing a lock of hair from his brow. "My mother won't let me play with boys. Said they're too dirty."

Beverly shook her head and continued to check her patients connecting tissues. The swollen dark redness starting to reduce thanks to the ice pack they'd placed over it all night. "Well consider this, he was nearly a girl, Deanna, would your mother mind then?"

"Well I would." Both Deanna and Will answered in tandem, a soft giggle from both. "Can I take him home?" Deanna asked changing subject and looking away from Will's intense blue eyes. She could feel his love for her. And right now, the lack of guilt and embarrassment bereft of his soul felt good.

Replacing the warming sheet across the now re-padded and ice packed groin, Beverly stood upright and snapped off her latex gloves. Her eyes caught Will's jerk at the sound, a flashback of another pair of gloves, she assumed. "Another day or two, and then we can even look at light bridge duties. Sitting should be fine, but moving….he's going to be a bit slow."

'Like a shuffling old man." Will replied. Knowing how much it hurt just having the doc moving things down there, and that was without the harsh mistress of gravity and dangling free.

"Well more like a scantily dressed man." Doctor Crusher replied, collecting her things. "You'll need to wear loose clothing Will, so if you want to get back into uniform, it's going to be a skant for the next week or so." She watched his features turn pale.

"No..no I can't…I can't wear…a skant!!" He cringed. What the hell were they, and who the hell created them, his mind fought angrily. If the original one-piece uniforms weren't bad enough, the same designers had created a universal skant. A sort of man dress some called it. Then again the same designers had issued those short dresses Deanna had worn. His mind spinning from horror to delight of men in skants and Deanna in her Farpoint days, he hardly noticed Beverly's musical laugher as she left the room.

Her parting words. "For a man who once wore native attire on angle one….I'm sure once you're desperate enough to get out of here, we'll have you Skant-ily clad. "


Gently bracing himself, Will Riker assumed his command chair on the bridge. A soft sigh escaping his grim lips. Focussing forward he tried to block the tiny sideways glances he was getting. Even the Captain was bearing a small smile.

"You might want to sit a little differently than you normally do Number One." Picard suggested quietly, his head nodding in the general direction of Riker's long legs spread wide.

Commander Riker grimaced slightly and readjusted his posture and seating position. His current uniform obscenely showcasing his wares to anyone forward of his position if he had kept up his usual trademark leg sprawl. "Sorry sir. Not used to the old uniforms." Will made another mental note, not to lift his leg in his usual customary lean against the Con station. An eyeful of Riker junior was not what he wanted to present to Data nor any other officer right now.

Picard just nodded but kept his laughter internal. Beverly earlier at breakfast had warned him of Will's contractual agreement to take up light bridge duties again. Clearing his throat he watched as the current bridge shift moved their focus off Riker and back to their work.

Leaning ever so slightly to his red-cheeked First officer, Picard quietly reprimanded the broad officer for his lateness. "Due to your recent medical circumstances, I will overlook your delay here Number One. But I must enquire, did you have any trouble making your way here, you are over an hour late."

Will glanced sideways and spoke as if he and the captain were discussing the weather from far away. But the quiet words that sought the French Captain's ears made the man smile. The tale of Deanna helping him to find the right kind of manly boots to hide his long hairy legs warmed his heart for many an hour after.

For Will's sake the shift soon ended peacefully and quietly, that was until Will stood a little too quickly and gasped in pain. He'd waited as long as possible for the old shift to leave and the new to settle into their positions. The thought of sharing a turbo lift with crewmen too green to know not to stare at a superior officer's legs, was not an option.

"Shall I call the doctor Number One?" Picard enquired, standing by his first officer's side, watching the young man slowly exhale.

"No sir, I'll be fine." [ Just two more days Riker, just two more days she said.] Will repeated over and over in his head like a mantra. "I'll see you tomorrow sir." He replied once the captain dismissed him. The urge to shred the damned skant was becoming more and more irresistible.

Waddling up the ramp, he started to wish he'd headed for the side turbo lift near the viewer but had decided not to give in to his ailments. That was until the turbo lift doors suddenly shunted open and Worf strode out.

Taking in Riker's short cranberry and black skant, and the long black boots. Worf spied the muscled hairy tops of his legs that weren't covered by uniform or footwear and made one comment that left the captain uncomposed for the rest of his second shift.

"Nice legs"

Unsure of what to say, the turbolift doors shunted closed, and the first officer fled painfully to his quarters promising never to wear a skant ever again.


The hairy legged end ;-)