My first attempt at Imzadi, or TNG in general. I'll post it anyhow.
Disclaimer: All characters and situations based upon Star Trek, owned by Paramount and other entities. No copyright infringement intended.
*
The surface of the planet, indeed, all the horizon, was blackened, scarred, torn apart, life thrown asunder and hastily pieced together again. The bodies, oh, the bodies. It was any number of planets from the past, any number of rotten away missions...and yet, it was different. For one of the bodies, one of the regretful casualties...was Will Riker. Kneeling in the soft red dirt, Deanna Troi gently lifted the shiny com badge, ludicrously unharmed despite the sheerly horrific state of its owner and the death he had suffered. Fingering it, she jumped when the channel opened and Beverly Crusher's voice broke through, high and reedy with false hope. "Will? Will, is that you?"
Deanna sat back on her heels, peering down through the haze of smoke and tears at her husband. "No." It came out a husky whisper. "I found the body. Requesting permission to transport the remains of the Commander home via shuttlecraft myself."
Silence, then Picard intercepted, eloquent tones soft and remorseful. "Granted. Bring him home, Counselor."
*
"You haven't eaten in days. Not even chocolate." Slipping into a chair, Beverly stared around Ten-Forward, finally bringing her gaze back to the patient at hand.
No answer. Deanna lifted a glass of wine to her lips, not noticing the pungent taste or apparently not caring.
"Deanna." The doctors tones indicated genuine exasperation.
The counselor finally blinked, setting the glass down and straightening. "I'm leaving tomorrow. The captain and I have settled the resignation of my commission."
"You're going home, then." Beverly debated between more frustration and relief.
"No." A flat one word answer.
"Good god, Deanna, you aren't going to challenge poor Worf to a fight for the sake of working off excess anger, are you?" Beverly indicated the bloodwine set off to the side, only half teasing.
Still no smile, but a faint nod. "Of course not."
"Well, thats a start. In your current mood, I'm not sure I trust Worf with your bat'leth parrying techniques." Crusher leaned back, studying her longtime friend quizzically. "Just where are you going, then?"
"Somewhere." Wistful eyes scanned the stars outside as a trembling hand gripped the glass all the tighter. "Somewhere where the universe is as untamed and hellish as I feel right now. Somewhere where Starfleet and protocal and damnable waste can't take a life. Its all meaningless here, Beverly. We're the civilized savages. Its time little Deanna Troi saw and experienced the life of a savage savage, unrestricted by Starfleet and custom and well-meaning but suffocating friends... for the first time in...my entire worthwhile existance...I am alone. Both within and without myself. On that planet, when I found him..his blood was shifting through the sands, pouring...red everywhere. I held a clump of it after he died and felt...dead within...but alive. Furious. Changed. Worf terms it the Rage...the birth of a warriers soul. Its an exhilerating moment." Then, amused. "You must think I'm crazy."
"No." Beverly stood, pressing a mothers hand on her shoulder, blue eyes knowing and sad. "I think you're finally growing up, Deanna Troi. I just have to wonder...who counsels the counselor?"
Disclaimer: All characters and situations based upon Star Trek, owned by Paramount and other entities. No copyright infringement intended.
*
The surface of the planet, indeed, all the horizon, was blackened, scarred, torn apart, life thrown asunder and hastily pieced together again. The bodies, oh, the bodies. It was any number of planets from the past, any number of rotten away missions...and yet, it was different. For one of the bodies, one of the regretful casualties...was Will Riker. Kneeling in the soft red dirt, Deanna Troi gently lifted the shiny com badge, ludicrously unharmed despite the sheerly horrific state of its owner and the death he had suffered. Fingering it, she jumped when the channel opened and Beverly Crusher's voice broke through, high and reedy with false hope. "Will? Will, is that you?"
Deanna sat back on her heels, peering down through the haze of smoke and tears at her husband. "No." It came out a husky whisper. "I found the body. Requesting permission to transport the remains of the Commander home via shuttlecraft myself."
Silence, then Picard intercepted, eloquent tones soft and remorseful. "Granted. Bring him home, Counselor."
*
"You haven't eaten in days. Not even chocolate." Slipping into a chair, Beverly stared around Ten-Forward, finally bringing her gaze back to the patient at hand.
No answer. Deanna lifted a glass of wine to her lips, not noticing the pungent taste or apparently not caring.
"Deanna." The doctors tones indicated genuine exasperation.
The counselor finally blinked, setting the glass down and straightening. "I'm leaving tomorrow. The captain and I have settled the resignation of my commission."
"You're going home, then." Beverly debated between more frustration and relief.
"No." A flat one word answer.
"Good god, Deanna, you aren't going to challenge poor Worf to a fight for the sake of working off excess anger, are you?" Beverly indicated the bloodwine set off to the side, only half teasing.
Still no smile, but a faint nod. "Of course not."
"Well, thats a start. In your current mood, I'm not sure I trust Worf with your bat'leth parrying techniques." Crusher leaned back, studying her longtime friend quizzically. "Just where are you going, then?"
"Somewhere." Wistful eyes scanned the stars outside as a trembling hand gripped the glass all the tighter. "Somewhere where the universe is as untamed and hellish as I feel right now. Somewhere where Starfleet and protocal and damnable waste can't take a life. Its all meaningless here, Beverly. We're the civilized savages. Its time little Deanna Troi saw and experienced the life of a savage savage, unrestricted by Starfleet and custom and well-meaning but suffocating friends... for the first time in...my entire worthwhile existance...I am alone. Both within and without myself. On that planet, when I found him..his blood was shifting through the sands, pouring...red everywhere. I held a clump of it after he died and felt...dead within...but alive. Furious. Changed. Worf terms it the Rage...the birth of a warriers soul. Its an exhilerating moment." Then, amused. "You must think I'm crazy."
"No." Beverly stood, pressing a mothers hand on her shoulder, blue eyes knowing and sad. "I think you're finally growing up, Deanna Troi. I just have to wonder...who counsels the counselor?"