Falling Like Rain
Disclaimer: Paramount owns all ST:TNG characters. (unfortunately, I
was turned down when I tried to buy them, and so I must resort to
stealing them every once in awhile, only to give them back again once
I'm finished.) :)
They are falling again. The tears, I mean. Lately, I can't seem to
stop them. At night, when the moon rises above the trees behind my
condo, I stare up at it from my balcony and think longingly of her
and let the tears fall. I never cried until this happened; not even
when my Mother died when I was a little boy. But this has cut
through my soul like no other pain I've ever lived through before,
slicing my heart into so many pieces it will be impossible to put
them back together again.
She hurt me. Devastated me. Killed everything inside of me that was
good and whole. I hate her. I never imagined saying that about
Deanna Troi--how could I hate the other half of my own soul? How
could I hate the woman who is my Imzadi? And yet I do. Or maybe I
just hate what she did and who she became because of it.
I can still see her there, lying beside him, looking erotic and
innocent all at the same time. They were lovers, and she kept it a
secret from me for months. All the times I thought that she was
working late, all of those lonely moments in bed when she
supposedly "couldn't sleep" and was heading for Ten Forward, in
reality she was headed for his quarters. How could I not have seen
it? I should have at least sensed it telepathically. But I didn't,
and now I will never know if that is because our bond had broken or
because I simply did not want to see what was coming.
Whatever the case, I didn't know that she was having an affair, and
the fact that she fooled me is what continues to drive me crazy.
That, and the images that stay burned on my brain. Images of my
Deanna, naked in throes of ecstasy with that....that bastard. His
hands running over her bare back, beneath her round bottom, as though
she belonged to him. She was mine, damn it!! Mine!!
I feel so sick to my stomach that I haven't eaten in days. My head
throbs brightly with constant pain and the rage is building to the
breaking point. I could kill him, easily. No problem. But if I did
that, she would hate me forever.
Ah, hell...why should I care? It's over and there's nothing that can
bring us back together. Not now-not ever. Damn her to hell!
I look at the moon again, seeing not the craters and valleys that dot
the surface, but instead the image of her smiling at me. She is
everywhere I look, she is everything I feel, she will never stop
tormenting me. My eyes fall to the ledge and the soft grass beyond
and the tears come again. They fall like rain down my cheeks,
soaking my sleeves, soaking the railing. I no longer care.
I am a Riker and we do not cry, or so my father used to say. But my
father never loved a woman like Deanna Troi. He never was crushed
the way I've been crushed. My mother was faithful, sweet, enduring
in her love for him-it never wavered. He has no idea of what I'm
going through and he would never be able to cope with this sort of
betrayal. "See Dad? I'm crying. Does that make you happy? Do you
think I'm a wuss--less of a man--no longer a Riker? Well to hell
with you, you old bastard." I gulped, feeling my throat pulse up and
down, half-choking on my words, and then I screamed; a tortured,
vibrating yell that probably woke up my neighbors. Well, to hell
with them too.
I cried until I was dry, dead and empty as a husk, worn to the bone
with pain. I've decided to leave Starfleet. I will stay here on Earth
in my condo, far away from people who know me and who know Deanna. I
will find a job, something menial perhaps, something where I can work
off the endless rage and sorrow. I will not see anyone I know, I
will not have to look at the familiar faces filled with knowing
regret. I can still hear their voices, " We are so sorry, Will. We
didn't know..." Of course they didn't know. Deanna wasn't the sort
of woman to broadcast the fact that she was cheating on her husband.
I think even Beverly was surprised.
But that's all over. I've left them all behind and with any luck at
all, I will never see them again. And Deanna will begin a new life
with her lover. After all, it was him all along wasn't it? It was
him that she loved, not me. God, I was an idiot not to see it.
Deanna loves Tom, and she always has.
And so, I am here, awaiting my divorce papers, crying my heart out,
and wondering where she is tonight. When I left she was carrying a
child. I don't know if it was his or mine. To be honest, the DNA
scans would never be conclusive, and so I decided to let her keep
it. They can raise it together. Even if the baby was mine, he would
have found a way to take it too--he's already taken everything else
that I love.
The wind is now whirling, whipping through my hair and the sleeves of
my uniform with brutal force. I smell the scent of of a coming
storm, and sure enough, in moments I am pelted with droplets of
freezing water. The weather mixes with my own emotions, soaking me
through to the skin, soaking me through to my very soul.
My life as I have known it is over. I do not know where to go from
here. All that I know is that I will be going there without Deanna,
and for me that is worse than anything--somehow I will have to move
through the rest of my life without the woman I love. Somehow I will
have to carve her out of my heart and toss her away. And somehow, I
will have to accept that my wife, my precious Imzadi, is sleeping
with my brother.
"I hate you," I whisper, knowing more certainly than I have ever
known anything that this is not true. I love her, I still love her,
can you believe that? I don't like admitting it, but there it is.
How do I go on? How do I get over this? How do I forget the first
and only woman I have ever loved? The moon has no answers, and
neither do I, and so I guess I'll spend the rest of the night doing
what I've been doing for the past few weeks. I'll go inside, turn on
some jazz, pour myself a huge tumbler of Romulan ale, and drink until
I can think of something other than her. I'll pass out, sleep until
noon, and then get up again, only to spend tomorrow night out on the
balcony, staring at the stars and wondering where she is.
It's never going to end. This is my destiny, thanks to Deanna and
Tom, and I know now that nothing will ever be the same again. My
life is over-they have taken it. I think that I would kill myself if
it weren't for the fact that Bev would surely come find my body and
kick my dead ass.
I think of her now and then and try to hang on. She is a good friend,
and even though I don't want to see her right now, who knows? Maybe
one day I'll feel differently. I know she cares about me and will
probably check in with me the next time the ship comes back home. Of
course there is Jean Luc---I respect him too much to end my life,
knowing how he feels about me. Yes, I will hang on for his sake as
Until I am ready to face them, until I am ready to accept their
friendship, I will stay here alone, nursing my wounds. And I will
remember a time when Deanna Troi-Riker was my wife, my friend, my
partner, and my lover. I will grieve and I will hate, but eventually
I will forgive. I will have to--she is my Imzadi and we are
connected for all of our lives.
" I love you Deanna," I whisper, feeling it fill my soul and
overwhelm me with its intensity. And through my pain and loss I
imagine that I hear her voice in my mind saying, "I love you too
Will. I always will. I'm sorry...."