Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek TNG or any of its original characters

A/N: I am taking a fluffy break from my heavier story and that is exactly what this is...fluff...with no real point other than hopefully being mildly entertaining. I hope you enjoy it. It lightened my mood a bit. Next chapter next week maybe.

Unfinished Business:

-Between Generations and First Contact-

Will rolled over in his bed. For some reason, no matter how many nights he slept there, it just wasn't the same. It didn't feel like home. Finally he came to lie flat on his back and found he was almost comfortable. He sighed heavily and closed his eyes, hoping that sleep would come quickly. But it never got the chance.

"Torres to Commander Riker. Sir, you are needed on the Bridge."

Will almost groaned. He was always needed on the Bridge. "On my way," he called before rolling out of bed and pulling his uniform back on. He stalked down the corridor thinking of all the good night's rest he had gotten while serving on the Enterprise, how much he had taken for granted that he was surrounded by the best and the brightest.

"Torres to Commander Riker, Sir, we have been locked out of helm control, Sir."

Will stepped into the turbo lift. "Main Bridge," he called before tapping his comm. badge. "Torres, who is at the helm?"

"Ensign Castor, Sir."

"Ensign, what is our relative attitude reading?"

There was a pause before a flustered sounding young woman answered. "-.02564." There was another pause before she added. "Sir."

He was beginning to hate the word 'Sir'.

"And what would happen if a negative attitude control was accepted by the computer?" he tried to make his voice sound more patient than he was feeling as the turbo lift continued to take him to the Bridge.

The young woman sounded utterly defeated. "The ship would go into a roll, Sir."

"That's right," he said as the turbo lift doors opened and he stepped onto the bridge. "So why don't you try adjusting the attitude attitude and try it again, okay?"

Ensign Castor nodded, her eyes wide with fear or embarrassment. She ought to feel both, he thought to himself. Crusher flew better his first time out of the gate, and the Enterprise was three times the size. Maybe he was just running on a short fuse lately. Maybe he needed an attitude adjustment. Maybe he needed one night's worth of sleep without the Gamma shift calling him to the Bridge.

"Helm control is back on line, Sir," the ensign called.

Will Riker turned to the lieutenant who was in command of Gamma shift. "Is that all you needed Torres?"

"Actually, no, Sir. We are also having some trouble with the impulse drives. The diagnostic showed them to be operating within normal parameters but Delta shift reported sluggish responses, especially the port engine…,Sir."

"What percent of engine efficiency are we looking at?" Riker asked.

The young man looked around at his fellow members of Gamma shift, as if he was confused. "Normal parameters," he said with a small shrug.

"Normal?" Will asked feeling more than a little frustrated. "What would normal parameters be on a Darren class impulse engine, Lieutenant?"

"I…" Torres looked around helplessly at his comrades. "I don't know, Sir."

"Well next time, before you wake me up, I'd like you to know that."

"Aye, Sir," Torres said as he scrambled to find the information. "The port engine is functioning at 64% and starboard is at 69%," he said continuing to read from the console by the command chair.

"And 'normal parameters'?" Will asked again.

"64-98%, Sir."

"So the question is…why are our impulse engines operating at 'normal', yet sub-par condition?"

"It could be the phase coils," Torres offered.

"Or the matrix differentials could need recalibrating," the lieutenant at ops offered.

Will looked back to Torres. "Sounds like you have a little project tonight, Lieutenant," he said trying to sound moderately pleasant. "Good night." Will turned and headed back to the turbo lift.

"Actually Sir, there was one more thing…" Torres called.

Will turned around and almost glared at the young man.

"But it can probably wait until the morning," he said densely.

Will nodded slightly, not hiding his irritation well as he stepped back into the lift.

"Commander," a young woman called after him before the doors could close. "Do you have a moment?"

Riker sighed. Lieutenant Lilly Armstrong had the bounce of an exuberant twelve year old, and she didn't look much older. "Counselor," he greeted her. "It's 01:30… why not," he conceded.

She smiled at him, hopping into the lift. Will called for the lift to return him to his quarters on deck thirteen. Then he looked back to the bouncing young woman in front of him.

"Lieutenant, what are you doing on duty?"

"Oh, Gamma shift has been calling you so often lately, I thought if I made myself available that we may be able to find a moment to talk."

"Because if we did that during the day…that would just be boring," he murmured.

"You tend to be so busy during normal hours…" she told him. "Or perhaps you are just avoiding me."

Will did his best to chuckle, trying to show the absurdity of the accusation, but the truth was, running into the ships counselor certainly wasn't a priority for him. He continued to glance around the lift for something to distract him.

"Commander, Sir. With all due respect, it has been noted that you have been a bit… short," she said hesitantly, "lately, perhaps more fatigued. I thought perhaps talking about it may…"

Will shook his head. "I think a good night's sleep might be a better course of treatment," he told her, hoping his voice didn't sound as patronizing as he felt. The lift doors opened and Will Riker stepped out, the Columbia's ships counselor at his heels.

"I appreciate that, Sir. But I am feeling that you seem to be reluctant to the idea…" Will tried to tune out her continued talking as he continued down the corridor. "So I spoke to Counselor Troi…"

That got his attention. Will Riker slowly turned to give Lieutenant Armstrong his full attention. "Who?" he asked her.

"Deanna Troi. She was the ships counselor aboard the Enterprise."

Will tried not to chuckle as he shook his head slightly. "I know who she is, Lieutenant," he corrected. "Why were you talking to her?"

"Well, you seem so reluctant… I thought she might have some words of wisdom if she had been at all successful in helping you open up to her."

Will thought for a moment about some of the methods Deanna had used to make him feel comfortable and he smiled. He couldn't see any of them being applicable here. "And out of sheer curiosity, what did she tell you?"

Lilly Armstrong almost sighed. "Actually, " she said, her face scrunching slightly. "her response was rather cryptic."

Will couldn't help but smile. "Try me, " he told her, suddenly feeling in much lighter spirits.

"She said to be patient with you, and to not allow you, under any circumstances, to play poker with the junior officers."

Will put his head down and stifled his laughter. "Did she?" he asked chuckling.

Oh, she's gonna get it for that, he thought.

"What does that mean, Sir?"

"It means Deanna Troi has too much time on her hands," he said, shaking his head lightly as he continued on his way.

"It seemed to me that she might be concerned that you may have some issues, perhaps with gambling…"

Will rolled his eyes and turned back around to face his over eager officer. "All that means is that I am a better poker player than she is and she was having a bit of fun razzing an old friend. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have an appointment with my pillow. Good night, Lieutenant." Will spun back around and disappeared inside his quarters. He was half laughing, half frustrated as hell.

Fist thing in the morning he'd be sure to send Deanna a little thank you note for her little comments. Though, if he thought about it, this little bit of hazing came off much better than the little joke she and Beverly Crusher had played a few months back.

Deanna had stayed on at Star Fleet Medical with Beverly Crusher for the first month or so after the crash. It must have been a load of fun for the two of them to have each other, while the rest of their friends were scattered across the quadrant. But those two could be trouble as he quickly learned when he was paged to the Andes Sickbay two days out of space dock.

When he arrived, the doctor had informed him that he had received a message from Star Fleet Medical that he was overdue for his annual physical and that it was to be a complete physical. Will had just started back at the starry-eyed kid in front of him. Will was sure he hadn't been that young when he had graduated from the academy.

"How long have you been a doctor?" he asked, not knowing how to ask in a way that seemed any less rude.

"Oh, I passed all my boards," he told him.

Will was not encouraged. "So you just graduated from medical school?"

"Yes, Sir. Last week, and I'm excited to serve."

Will sighed. "Who did you say sent that message?" he asked.

"It was from the office of…" he looked back through the records. "Commander Deanna Troi, psychiatric department, Star Fleet Medical."

Will closed his eyes and shook his head. This was a joke. "You know, Doctor. I think I'm fine for now."

"Sir…it was an order," he pleaded. "Please don't make this difficult."

This reeked of Beverly Crusher, he thought as he submitted to the examination. And it was COMPLETE. He had no idea doctors still stuck their fingers where this kid stuck his. What a day it had been and when he got back to his infinitesimally small quarters on the insignificant ship to which he had been assigned as her ranking officer, he had sent a raging note to Deanna telling her that that had been officially NOT FUNNY!

Her answer had come the next morning and it hadn't been more than 15 words.

That's what happens to the man who crashes the flagship of the Federation!

Xox, Dea

He knew she was teasing. He could hear the laughter in her words. But he wondered if there wasn't an admiral in some office thinking the same thing.

It had been almost six months. Six months and two ships under his command. Each had crews made up almost entirely of officers who a week before had been cadets. It wasn't that they never had a greenie on the Enterprise, but it was rare, and typically they were the best in their field. These kids were graduating 84th in their class of 100.

Maybe you are being too hard on them, Will thought as he flopped back down on his bed in his quarters on the Columbia. They were bigger than what he had had on the Andes, but they were nothing impressive. Who would have thought that he'd envy the days of working with Reg BarkleyHe had been the weak link on the finest ship in the Federation. But these kids made Reg look spit and polished.

Loosen up, Will. You don't have to take everything so seriously, he could almost hear Deanna in his head, trying to make him laugh with her. He did need to find a way to unwind. Or maybe just sleep through the night without his inexperienced crew trying to destroy his ship every time he left the Bridge.

Six months… had it really already been that long? The missions he was leading were necessary, but not what he would call exciting. The work was tedious, and he wasn't used to feeling that way about being in space.

Will rolled over and began to search for that illusive comfortable position. Maybe he would try to get in touch with Deanna and they could actually talk, instead of what they had settled for most of the last few months, hurriedly sent notes, short and sweet. She'd make him feel better. If he could only get the crew to leave him alone long enough to make the call.