Front Stage—Back Stage looks at the relationship between William Riker and Deanna Troi after Deanna has a miscarriage. Canon is intermixed with the author's own account of how characters and events have evolved. This story is rated K+ for its adult conversation and references to sexual situations. Paramount, CBS Television and Simon and Schuster own the characters of Star Trek: The Next Generation and Star Trek: Titan. No copyright infringement was intended with this work. :)
Front Stage—Back Stage: William Thomas Riker
She's been in the shower for over an hour now. The bathroom door is slightly ajar and I can hear the water beating down on the tiles of the floor. It is like uninterrupted rain, telling me that she isn't showering. I know what she's doing: she's in the corner crying. I shut off the computer monitor and give the command to encrypt and to save my work on the PADD's. Standing up, I take off my favorite blue satin bathrobe and lay it on our bed next to my wife's. It has the Troi family crest on the top pocket and was given as wedding presents to us by Deanna's best friend Channa.
I stroll naked to the bathroom and open the door. The bathroom is 14 square meters—a luxury allowed us as Admiral and Captain. An ensign has the same amount of space, but must share it with a bunkmate. I thank my stars I'm not one of them anymore. The steam rises toward the ventilating system. I adjust my eyes to the half dimmed lights to find my Imzadi beneath the showerheads. Her arms are wound tightly around her legs while her head rests on her knees. She is too deep in her grief to acknowledge me, as I slip into the bathroom, taking shampoo and soap from the replicator cabinet before I enter the shower.
My Admiral is the pet name I call my wife; for at home she is in command. Call me old fashioned and chauvinistic, but it is what works for us. Since I order her around at work all day, the least I can do is respect her wishes within our quarters. At home, My Admiral has the power. And she isn't afraid to take command. She arranges both our social and personal time, makes all vital appointments, and keeps our quarters ship shape. The few remaining relatives whom I have she's contacted and invited them on board, opening the lines of communication that my father never had with our family.
Being a Daughter of the Fifth House, she understands savings and credits. Our investment portfolio never looked better even though with our Star Fleet pensions were covered for life. Plus, she invests my poker winnings. I can't get up from the table before she's plucked up my gold pressed latinum!!! A lesser man would complain, but I can't. I still have enough to gamble away. She keeps me from making social blunders and acts as my personal secretary.
Although I am the captain of the Titan, there isn't a thing that I don't tell her from top-secret communiqués from Star Fleet to whom I reprimanded and put on report. Commander Vale is my Number One, but Commander Troi is on par with her. To tell you the truth, if I were eliminated, I'd want my wife to be captain and Commander Vale to stay where she is to ensure the smooth running of the ship. True, as a Betazed, she has disadvantages such as being overwhelmed by emotions or showing them too openly; however, as a leader and organizer, My Admiral is quiet fire—a person whom many under estimate, but is able to stand and deliver the goods in a tough bind.
For my part, I cook the meals and look after repairs in our quarters. My favorite duty of all is keeping her sexually gratified, which is a pleasant chore of its own. I'm not bragging, but I make her extremely happy. Picard never had it so good. I can't complain: I like our arrangement and wouldn't change a bit.
Duty aside, the most important aspect of being a husband is being there when the chips are down. Right now, it's raining on my part of heaven and it's killing me. One thing my father couldn't believe is that I remember when my mother died and how unhappy she was. This is one of the reasons why we didn't get along: he refused to admit that he screwed up when it came to his family. Well, I won't have to learn that lesson twice, because I lived it as a child. So here I am attending the most important duty: being a proper husband to my wife.
A yelp leaves my lips as I sit in the stream of water. With this sound, her ebony eyes suddenly open and take my sky blue irises into account. She has forgotten the time, looking about somewhat confused. She can't acknowledge me empathically, because her own emotions are all she can deal with. In turn, I'm glad she can't read me for all I am emitting is anger and frustration. Two emotions that I usually try to keep in check while on duty. Considering today's circumstances, I have little desire to control my emotions. With limited training of my empathic abilities, I really don't know how to keep my motions totally under control to protect the woman I love.
Holding out my arms, My Admiral accepts my invitation and settles into them. The water pounds us and we breath in unison. She calms somewhat and relaxes, but this is not for long. For some unexplained reason, an almost indiscernible cry escapes my lips and tears flow down my cheeks. We both howl like children in unison. I bury my face in her hair for a few minutes, letting the sobs rack my body. I feel her hand take hold of my ponytail. It's the only movement she can make, because I am holding her so tightly.
She likes my ponytail, which is streaked with gray. My Imzadi tells me my new hairdo makes me look sexy. I celebrated my 50th birthday by failing to go to the barber for over a year. There never seemed to be time. My hair just grew longer and longer to the appreciation of my wife, who clutches it like a talisman. This simple action also hurts a bit bringing me back to my senses. As quickly as my weeping started, it stops. For some reason, I feel calmer and more able to deal with things now.
She looks at me closely, but doesn't say a word. I think she is somewhat surprised that we are sitting together in the shower sharing our grief. In the past, when we were both sad, days would go by without either of us saying a word. With the exception of today, where my Imzadi was speechless with grief, we've learned to communicate with each other our emotions. Getting here hasn't been easy, because we both weren't used to sharing our deepest emotions with anyone. Now, we have each other to lean on and it feels great.
Lathering the shampoo, I wash her hair, which I love. She wears it straight now, but when she washes it, the curls come right back! Despite a good perm, some things just can't be hidden all the time, so I pile her soapy curls on top of her head. Taking the sponge, I wash her back, move to her arms and then her chest.
Her breasts are sensitive and her nipples stand erect—not from sexual excitement, but from the simple gesture that I make of washing them. Her deep cherry nipples are extended with half dollar size areolas against her ivory skin. The right nipple is slightly higher than her left—a fluke of nature that she didn't have surgically corrected, because it is a sign of being blessed by the Goddess of Enlightenment on Betazed. Moving the sponge in circular patterns and using my right hand, I check their firmness to ensure they are not engorged and the skin is not hot or inflamed. Satisfied that all is well, I move to her stomach then her legs, which are her best feature.
Had My Admiral been a dancer, her arm to leg ratio would have been perfect for ballet. Although her legs are not overly muscular, her muscle tone is superb. Her feet with its regulation nail varnish are large for such a petit woman if one can say that about a size 39-shoe size and a 160 cm frame. I move from her legs and slowly bring the sponge up to her vagina. She is hesitant, but opens her legs and allows me to wash her. I see there is blood on the tiles and the sponge has absorbs some of it. I reach for the showerhead and rinse my Imzadi off. When I come to her vagina, I allow the water to run until it is clear.
"I'm still bleeding," she hiccups with her voice sounding shaky.
"Yes, I see. Dr. Ree said it would bleed for a few days. It's frightening for Betaziods who don't usually bleed after birth, but normal because your human side wants a say in this matter as well. Have you been taking your vitamin supplements?" I ask concern about her iron deficiency. My wife doesn't answer—just nods her head affirmatively. It is the longest conversation we have had since returning from sickbay this afternoon. I quickly wash and shampoo and turn the shower off.
Three months, two weeks, five days and six hours of happiness—Data would have added minutes and seconds—vanish for unexplainable reasons. After going through the pain and invasiveness of artificial insemination, our son decides not to make an appearance. I help my Imzadi to her feet and hit the dry jets. Once we are dry, I sit down on the settee and help her quickly slip on a pair of disposable medical panties that Dr. Ree left on the counter.
I embrace her and put my head against her stomach, taking in her scent while my hands rest on her back and bum. The panties, although replicated, feel of soft-combed cotton with a scent of Jaharan rain forest. The pregnancy filled my wife out slightly, making her breast, hips, and waist rounder and somewhat wider. I like this and would be lying if I said skinny women turn me on.
There was a time when my wife was too thin for my taste, the result of a bout of anorexia nervosa brought on by the violation of Shizon and his viceroy. I was shocked to learn that it wasn't a first occurrence: her father's death, our failed wedding plans 28 years ago, the violation by Alcur and the crashing of the Enterprise D made the disease recurrent. But My Admiral is a true fighter. She's able to recognize the disease, which is genetically determined1, and keep it under control. In fact, it was one of the reasons she went into psychology. My Imzadi is nervous and crosses her arms first against her chest, then embraces me, not knowing what to expect.
I know it's foolish, but we regulate everything with sex. We argue. Afterwards we have sex. The problem is somehow resolved. It's quirky, but it works for us. It's also very Betazoid. Deanna calls it L'frah hin or achieving harmony through our sexual unity. However, now is not the right time. Her empathic powers switched off, my wife is unsure of what I want. I concentrate and speak to her over our telepathic link.
"I just wanted to take your scent in. You're so delicious. Take as much time as you need to recover. When you're ready, you lead the way; I'll have no problems following," I send rather proud of myself for a long message.
"I'm so sorry."
"Sorry for what? That I got infected by a thorn on Surata IV, which reduced my sperm count to nil? That while we were at a diplomatic function on Romulus, you took a phaser hit, saving my life but leaving you with one ovary? We can't do anything about what fate has dealt us."
"I should have—"
"Deanna, I'm not going to let you do this to yourself. We got up, we had breakfast and we went to work. You didn't overstrain yourself—"
"I went to mak'bah class and—"
"That wasn't the cause. You didn't over exert yourself or do any throwing techniques. You sat on a mat, stretched and meditated."
"I can't do anything right!"
"Yes, you did. You made me happier than I've ever been in my life these last three months." This answer seems to appease my Imzadi for she can't reply, but hugs me back.
Without saying a word, she attends to my beard. Lately, I haven't really been picky about my appearance. Miles O'Brian, who saw me a few months back at Outpost 253, called it the married with kids look: oily hair, haggard eyes from getting little or no sleep, stained-stinky day old uniform, and the 25 kilos of speck around the stomach that says the wife's been cooking. Now, there's a thought! My Admiral at the stove preparing a meal! I cook; she cleans. That's our division of labor after she nearly destroyed our kitchen preparing spaghetti.
But it's neither my cooking nor my Imzadi's failed attempt at trying to please me that has helped me put on weight. The hormone treatments for my sterility really took its toll. My massive weight gain is the ugly side effect. I almost put a stop to it, but I didn't. I looked at our lives as only lonely children with over bearing parents and realized that I wanted something different for my own family. I've waited so long to start a family and hope to do things right, which ain't easy.
I've had to let go of my ego. Most males take pride in getting their wives pregnant. It's the ancient tradition of what makes a male a proper male. Or the tradition of taking a woman's virginity that is the ultimate achievement—funny how Deanna knocked me down a peg or two on that one. Therefore, having a family is not about my ego or me. It is about our family and our happiness. It's about love and patience, because most couples wouldn't suffer through what we have to get a child.
Now in this whole process, I've shed a few tears, because that is how inadequate I've felt as a man and as a husband. Talk about performance pressure. Not being able to give up a decent sperm sample. Dr. Ree waiting outside our quarters until we are finished making love to examine us. The high-resolution pictures of us in the act that show everything. Admiral and Captian on the examination table legs sprawled out like the Christmas goose for inspection. It has been humiliating, but we were rewarded at the end: we conceived our son along with fertilizing three other eggs.
And my Imzadi? Deanna's been pretty good about it all. She hasn't said a negative word or placed blame about my sterility. In fact she blames herself although she's not at fault. And my weight gain, she has just left me alone about that, too. However, I know she is wheeling and dealing in that beautiful head of hers. She can't help it for she's a counselor. Either she'll get Dr. Ree to pull me up on my weight or Counselor Huilan when I go in for evaluation. If those two have no effect, she'll enlist my Number One, Vale, who's already made a few remarks. I plan on heading her off. I'll take her swimming tomorrow and swim a 1000 meters if it kills me.
I really should do some calisthenics, but I'm too bushed. Right now, I just want to sit back and enjoy my Imzadi shaving me. Since the Baku Affair, it's been her favorite tra li han or humbling of herself to me. She trims me up better than Mr. Mott. Plus, throws in a hair cut for good measure without extra charge. Now, I like my beard full, but she has taken the liberty to pare it down, because she is ticklish when I give her cunnilingus. She welds our old fashioned straight razor—a wedding gift from Geordi who appreciated a good shave—like a professional and is finished within five minutes. Damn, she's good—no cuts and no bleeding. Mott eat your heart out!
My Admiral is eyeing me at her vanity table before she starts to comb her hair. Her hair is past her waist and starting to hang straight again. I'm hoping she still finds me sexy with my gut, because I'm starting to look like Santa Claus! Despite her puffy eyes and red nose, she gives me her best smile and turns around. She loves me! There is a God! She is so special to me. I love her so much and couldn't think of doing anything to harm our relationship. My Imzadi is the main reason why I finally took captaincy. When she proposed to me, I realized if I were going to marry her and do right by her, I couldn't continue to put myself in harms way as Number One.
I loved my job under Picard, but she was more important. I had to give her a home of her own. Titan is our new home. With the exception of the Romulan attack, which I try very hard not to think about too much because I almost lost her, I've been out of harms way. Do I miss leading the away team? I'd be lying if I said no. But I've gained so much more and eventually we'll get our family underway.
With a lazy smile plastered on my face, I'm drifting off to sleep. My Admiral finishes with her hair and comes over and kisses me awake. She blushes bright red, because she knows what I have on my mind. God, she's lovely. I'd take her now if it weren't for all the pain and sorrow we had today. Then I think twice about it. She'd kill me and I'd die a happy man with a guilty conscience, knowing my Imzadi was in the brig for killing her horny disrespect SOB of a husband.
Plus, Miles O'Brian gave me the lecture: don't even think about having sex for a good two months if I want my browning points in the future. Thank you Miles O'Brian for parting that bit of wisdom on me. It'll save my life and keep the tongues from wagging on the Titan. I'll take a look at that hollow program Miles gave me. It's called Quark's Production and is rumored to have made even Picard happy. Better yet, I know my Imzadi has a little hollow stash she keeps hidden away and looks at while I'm not on ship. That should tie me over until she's ready.
We walk naked to our bed and she lies down. Her hair is splayed out to dry on the pillows. My Imzadi looks at the ceiling and takes deep gulping breaths, as I rub an anti-lactation cream over her breasts, which are still tender and have the occasional discharge. Then I wrap a SSC (surgical support cloth) around her breast. It's looks like a tube top, but is absorbent and offers support without irritating her skin. I was shocked to find out that some of the women even used SSC instead of bras, so good is the support. When this is finished, I message a moisturizer all over her body, paying special attention to her stomach, because she has the gene for stretch marks2 as well as receiving a skin graft after being hit by a Romulan disrupter. Furthermore, a message helps her body function better as she only has one kidney. I notice that she's scratching herself somewhat and make a mental note to tell Dr. Ree. Because of her mixed heritage, her body rejected the first skin graph and a second rejection could be a possibility.
Try as I may, That Day sneaks up on me in the most unexpected moments like now when Deanna is scratching herself or last week when an ensign was shot accidentally during weapons training. I'd be lying to myself if I said that I don't feel guilty about her taking a hit for me. I close my eyes, as I continue to message my wife, hoping she doesn't notice the pained expression on my face or feel my emotions.
The memory of my Admiral taking a disrupter blast that was meant for me flashes in my mind once again. Deanna was the first to comprehend we were walking into an ambush. She gave me the best warning she could and I barked out orders to the Titan. When the firing started, I noticed our attackers were missing their mark. My Star Fleet training kicked in and I overtook Admiral Janeway because I realized that hostages might be taken. When Vale and Janeway went down, I saw they had been stunned. Then a blast hit me in the leg, making a 20-centimeter hole. This is when I understood I was the target. So did My Admiral. She positioned herself between an oncoming assailant and me. The Romulan went down, but a second blast from another fighter and a different direction hit her. The blast was so strong it knocked Deanna off her feet and sent her flying into the air against me.
I can still feel the ricochet of the disrupter blast on my chest before My Admiral's body penned me on my back to the ground. The landing made a horrible thunk as Deanna fell spread eagle across my chest. Her phaser involuntarily went off close to my face, singeing my hair and eyebrows. I honestly thought I had died and was about to meet my maker. I thanked God for this life. But before I was through, the horrifying sight of my wife, lying across my chest, with her internal organs burnt and coming out her left side brought me back to reality. As I couldn't move for the pain, I simply put my hand on my Imzadi's gapping wound in an attempt to stop the hemorrhaging.
Along with the smell of burnt flesh, the one thing I vividly remember was how quiet it suddenly was. It scared me that I couldn't hear voices in the background or that no one came immediately to our rescue. I called for the Titan to beam us out. The last thing My Admiral did was to move her left hand a few centimeters away from my head. The tingle of the transporter beam caught us. I learned later that had she not have done this; she and I most probably would have died from our injuries.
My wife—my savior! Talk about standing and delivering the goods. Deanna fought like a lioness, protecting her family from harm. Although I haven't told her in words, I'm so proud of her. Had I not seen it with my own eyes, I would have never believed that she was capable of such bravery and the ultimate selfless sacrifice. She deserves better than me.
I know I shouldn't feel guilty about her recovery, but I do. I wasn't there when she woke up from the anesthesia because I was still in surgery. Dr. Ree was. He had to give her the bad news. He held her when she cried like a baby for an hour. He sat the night through with her. By the time I came around, the only thing I could offer was my profound thanks to my spouse, an officer who performed one of the most unselfish acts of service that I've ever seen. I'm so grateful for her saving my life along with Picard, Janeway and the crew; I'm grateful that she understands the commands of duty. She's never held a grudge against me regarding the ambush or said that she has regretted her actions. Even in the inquiry she said she'd do it again if she had to.
We've lived through the nightmare that everyone warned us about: what would you do when you have to send your spouse off to die or put her in the line of fire? Answer: do your duty publicly and cry on each other's shoulders privately. That's what we do—in the shower or in our bed. It's become our routine. Our quarters are our safe haven away from the crew. We work out our problems here. Sometimes, we've even had to use each other's office. Our home on the Titan is our sanity and shelter from the storm outside.
That Day as I call it, is one I can't run away from. Deanna can't watch the vids of it—they give her nightmares that were worse than when the Enterprise D crashed. Once was enough for her. I've watched it enough to know that the Romulans were asleep on the job. Talk about derelict of duty. Dad always said, "Never hire a hyena to protect any game. She'll eat it and take the rest home to her pups." So true!
A 125-meter walk to a beam out platform in a secured zone turned ugly, because the Romulans failed to take the proper precautions. They allowed an ultra-conservative group named the Tail Reial'Riiatt, one of a dozen state security organizations that policed the Tail Shiar, to participate in the talks without first doing a background check on them to see if they were in line with the current politics. They weren't. The Tail Reial'Riiatt employed their sleepers within the established government. The result: they were able to ambush us with limited resistance from the Romulan delegates. It was Captain Saavik who saw the attack for what it was and came to the rescue the Federation party. After Deanna stunned the alpha dog and saved me. The rest of the group attempted to scatter, but didn't get far thanks to Saavik's quick thinking.
Now, I've heard of Section 31, who supposedly looks after the best interest of the Federation. The Tail Reial'Riiatt are in a league of their own, making the Tail Shiar look like pussycats. Plus, they answer the question, "Who watches the watcher?" Deanna hates them with a passion. I don't blame her. My Imzadi had a beautiful spirit until that accident. Now, she questions the goodness in people and has a hate for the Romulans that is so cruel I fear she might act on those feelings. This is something, which I've never seen previously in her as a person. At times, I wish Worf were here, because he could help My Admiral to walk the path of atonement. After all if two fighting Klingon hearts did it and lived happily ever after, so can two opposing people.
Good ol' Worf, now that is someone I haven't thought about for some time now. Funny how the future that Q shared with Picard never was entirely fulfilled. Worf was an ambassador for the Klingon Homeworld, but now he's back on the Entrerprise E with Picard. Unlike Q's prediction, we never fought over Deanna. I gave Worf my blessing to date Deanna. Unfortunately, their relationship ran the usual courtship pattern before ending.
In fact, I know that my Imzadi still loves Worf. There is nothing I can do about it and frankly I don't want to. Why? Because when her Phase hits full force, I know I may not be up to the challenge, considering my problems with sterility that may lead to impotency later in my life. I'd rather her find happiness with Worf, a person whom I both admire as an officer and a friend, then roam about the galaxy unhappy like her mother going from one reckless relationship to the other. I haven't told her this yet, but when the time comes I will, because I hold her happiness in such high regard.
I feel how she relaxes under my hands and the occasional hiccup that causes her body to shake. From time to time, a tear rolls down her cheek from blood shot eyes. I stop and embrace her for a few minutes, showering her with gentle kisses to her face.
I like taking care of my wife. It's the least I can do, since I can't carry a child. Plus, she's always saving my ass from some stupid social blunder or fielding overbearing passengers or dignitaries from me. She's got the PADD's with the updates and the inside information. My Admiral does both our homework and more. Without her, I'm a disaster waiting to happen. Therefore, when I've got the time, I pay attention to her needs, because there are so many times when I don't even say thank you for the many courtesies that she does for me.
When I finish the message, I pat My Admiral on her bum, which is flat as a pancake and which simply refused to fill out during her pregnancy unlike her breasts and stomach. She moves over to allow me into our bed. I pull the covers up over us and put my Imzadi onto my chest. She automatically twines her legs around my waste and settles comfortably on my chest, her favorite resting spot.
"Lights out," I call. We are quiet for a while. From time-to-time, I hear my beloved sniffle. I kiss her forhead and say in my most serious voice, "My Admiral, just do me one favor. Don't tell the crew I was in the bathroom bawling like a baby. I have to maintain my appearance as ship's captain. Can't have the crew thinking I'm a crybaby!" A nervous giggle escapes her lips and then a laugh to my relief. The image of me as a crybaby is rather comical. She knows when I am being sarcastic. We will overcome this together. Tomorrow, we'll call her mother and tell her the unfortunate news. In a few months, we'll make another visit to Dr. Ree. I hope it will be a girl next time around.
My Admiral jumps in my arms and I know she is having another nightmare. I embrace her tighter and send her a happy thought. It does the job. When I notice that my Imzadi is asleep, I place her on her side of the bed and turn on the climate control. She likes it hot. I like it cold. Tomorrow, I'll make her chocolate pancakes with smiley faces for breakfast. For me, it'll be fruit and toast. Lying back on my pillow, I allow a few more tears to escape my eyes. Thank God Dr. Ree gave us medical leave. I'm so bushed from our loss that I need it.
Front Stage—Back Stage: Deanna Troi
My Captain is brooding over his work. His PADDs and computer take a finger pounding. This is where he's been for the last two hours since we have returned from sickbay. I stare absently out at the stars while lying on the bed. We are charting yet another unknown star system deep in Romulan space, as part of the peace treaty between the Federation, who want to know what's actually out there and the Romulan Empire, who don't really care unless there is something in it for them.
The Romulans and Remans. I hate them. They took away my babies. It was bad enough that Shizan and his Reman Viceroy had telepathically raped me. In an assasination attempt on Wil's life, the Romulans had to stick the knife in deeper by hitting me with a disrupter that distroyed my left ovary completely.
The final act of diplomacy was a celebration banquet held after the signing of the armistance and economic agreement between the Federation and Romulan Empire as allies and The Klingon Empire and the Remens, as detenté partners. As I was one of the chief negiotiators of the agreement with My Captain--my pet name for Wil in our quarters, we were joined by Admiral Janeway and Captain Picard. Everything had gone well at the banquet. After the festivities and with only minimal security to show good faith, we started to walk toward the beam out coordinates in the Romulan Senate's garden, leaving our hosts behind.
My empathic abilities told me something was wrong immediately when we came outside. I cautioned Wil telepathically. From the expression on my face, Worf took my queue. We drew our weapons and stepped up the pace. My Captain ordered immediate beam out upon reaching the coordinates. As we continued to walk, Wil, who was shadowed by Vale, took over the lead from Janeway and her personal guard. Worf shielded Picard. Since I was the weakest link, Lt. Keru and I fell back bringing up the rear. Disrupter blast came from all sides. With no place to hide, we huddled on the ground as fire was exchanged. Janeway was down immediately and was followed by Vale and Keru.
My last conscious thought was to protect My Captain—not as a wife—but as a Starfleet officer. I hadn't even thought about my personal safety when I took out a Romulan heading straight for Wil, who had been wounded in the leg. A shot meant for him hit me in my left side. The force of the blast jettisoned me into my commanding officer and sent us sprawling on the ground. Before I passed out, I remember the smell of burnt uniform and skin. I thought it odd that I was the last one down, being that I was not as well trained in defense.
I woke in Sickbay to Dr. Ree. His cool claws holding my hand and saddened eyes proclaimed my loss. The disrupters were set on stun; only the shot for Wil, who had acted as Diplomatic Mediator for the Federation, was set to kill. Luckily, I was hit at an odd angle. This is what saved us both. According to the Tal Shiar, the responsible parties were a group of loyalist, who were supportive of the old regime.
Wil handled the whole situation in front of the crew exceptionally well. He praised everyone for his or her bravery. Admiral Janeway handed out medals to all involved while the Romulans apologized profusely. Privately, Wil and I first suffered in silence. But we soon realized that silence wasn't the answer. When Wil began seeing Hiunan regularly and I started seeing Tuvak, who not only assisted me with my personal problems, but has also helped me with my telepathic and empathic abilities, we were better able to begin a dialogue as a couple. We have learned to work on our issues together. This is especially true for Wil who has had problems in the past dealing with his personal problems.
I've also learned to be more forth coming and have stopped putting on my counselor persona in our quarters. If one thing I've learned in the last two years since we have been married is that I must stop attempting to be perfect. Our lives aren't about perfection, but harmony within the ship we call home. After a year of counseling, we finally made a decision that we wanted a family and turned to Dr. Ree for fertility treatments. It was he who found that Wil's sperm count was low.
Despite what the Romulans did to me, I still feel guilty and stupid right now. I feel guilty because I most probably over exerted myself fulfilling my duties—not wanting to give My Captain an excuse to coddle me in front of the crew. I feel guilty because I exercised the morning of the miscarriage. By the Goddess I'm so vain for not fancying getting fat during pregnancy. I feel stupid because I can't do a simple thing like have a child while on many worlds most women excel in spades at producing children, putting their worlds in jeopardy of over population.
Aside from feelings of guilt and stupidity, I'm paralyzed with regret and grief over the loss of this child. I regret that I didn't have children earlier like mother requested. My grieving hurts so much that I can't speak and don't, leaving a dearth between my husband and me. I thought I had all the time in the world. I'm reminded of the conversation I had with Captain Picard about him being the last of his line. Picard said, "There will be no more Picards," as he finitely closed the family photo album. Then I felt sorry for Picard, but smug in my own thoughts that things would be different for me. With the exception of my baby brother, I may be the last daughter of the Fifth House. I no longer feel smug or that I have all the time in the world to have children.
And Mother. What do I tell her? She looked forward to becoming a grandmother. I feel that I'm letting my House down. Now, I understand why mother was so fearful all those years. I'm not the least bit angry with her for goading me into having a family. One thing that I have learned from the last few months is there are no guarantees in life. What we want and what we receive as part of our fate are two different things. Fate is fickle.
Along with feeling bad about Mother, I feel that I let My Captain down after all he has done to make our dream of a family come true. He underwent fertility treatment, which was humiliating to his ego and pride. The least I could do to make it worthwhile is to carry his child for ten months without incident. I'm so useless at times.
Oh, my poor dear husband, to be settled with the likes of me. Wil is so loving and giving. He has come a long way since we first met almost thirty years ago. Then he was so impatient, wanting to arrive at his goals without being deterred or actually understanding the processes that are needed to be successful. It was basically get the job done. Now, it is different. He's more seasoned and less impatient with the world. He understands the various processes that are needed to get from one point to point. He even has learned to better understand my culture and what I need to be fulfilled. He sees me not as something that needs to be conquered, but as a person who is his companion and equal. He treats me with the highest regard and respect and I do the same for him.
My husband allows me to sail the course at home. Despite having a career, I married a Star Fleet captain and it entails certain duties and responsibilities. I have control at home, because My Captain simply doesn't have the time to deal with all the minor details such as a social life or birthdays. I pride myself in keeping his home life as stress free as possible. Sometimes it tires me out and I feel that I'm stretching myself too thin, but I wouldn't have it any other way as Admiral Troi-Riker. Call me old fashioned, but I pride myself in being his wife and attending to his household and personal needs.
Right now, I've just finished our retirement portfolios and was surprised to find that although my Captain wasn't broke, he had gambled away a major portion of his income over the last 20 years playing poker. I was literally stunned, because I didn't realize he took his hobby so seriously or so recklessly for that matter. Plus, on the Enterprise, Wil never played for credits, just the odd dinner or chips. On the other hand, Will was surprised that I had anorexia.
Because of this, we agreed to keep checks on each other. As a Daughter of the Fifth House, I can't have my husband in a financial mess, so now I keep an eye on what goes out and what comes in. At his last tournament he won 25,000 bars of gold pressed latinum—I went weak in the knees after learning this, as it was a small fortune. He got to keep 10,000, because he needs 5 grand to register and 5 grand to play in the next tournament. I took and invested the balance much to Gaandis dismay. That overweight Feringi thought Wil would just put his winnings on the table and go for broke. Good thing I appeared with phaser in pocket and Titan in the sky! For Wil's part, he makes sure I eat properly and prepares me a good meal whenever we are together. My weight hasn't fluctuated, so I'm happy.
My empathic powers are switched off and I can't read my husband. To tell you the truth at times like these, I like having an overload of my own emotions, because then I can just deal with myself and not have to worry about keeping my shields up or interpreting others. When we came home from Sickbay, I lowered my shields to take an account of my Imzadi. His feelings were so full of sadness, raw rage and disappointment that the repercussions from it made me stumble over my own feet. I hadn't expected him to be so emotional over our loss. He put me to bed immediately, thinking I was still to weak to be up and about. And here I still lay wrapped in my favorite blue robe.
I want to cry, but don't wish to disturb My Captain. He's just as lost and confused as I am. We both looked at Dr. Ree with disbelieving eyes when he told us there was no clear reason why I miscarried. Everything was perfect: the embryo was a healthy male in the end of the thirteenth week with no deformities. He lay nestled in the center of my womb—just where he should be. I'd dieted, exercised and took my vitamin supplements according to the regime Dr. Ree set. My blood work and urine analysis were fine with no illness or virus. Wil had been giving a clean bill of health too, so it wasn't possible for him to pass on anything to me.
Yet, this child chose not to be born. At 13:00 while going to meet Commander Vale for crew assessment, I began hemorrhaging in the turbo lift and felt immediately my son's life slip away. Beamed to sickbay by Dr. Ree, the only thing he could do was clean me up and give me a hypo.
Dr. Ree was very understanding and stated that many times couples were pregnant, but lost their child unknowingly. He told me that I was special. Being a Betazoid, I will always empathically feel a life inside me. This makes a miscarriage even more difficult to bear. Despite my gift, a loss like ours was normal and part of the life cycle. Just because a child is conceived does not mean it will be born Ree had explained while he ordered three days medical leave for My Captain and me. Sometimes couples forget that in their joy of being pregnant.
What wasn't normal was that we are not only genetically semi-incompatible (talk about terminology according to the law of odds), but we are practically sterile. Although getting pregnant during the phase is a good possibility and every third Betazoid woman chooses to have a child at this time including my mother, I really didn't want to wait another 25 years to fill our empty nest.
I turn my attention back to my Imzadi, who just flicked his ponytail over his shoulder. I love men with long hair and find it very sexy. One of the things that turned me on about Worf was his long mane of hair. My beloved looks stunningly handsome and very sexy, turning many eyes on ship. But when they saw us today, there was only compassion in their eyes when we left Sickbay. Although the crew and compliment meant well, I hate being felt sorry for and prefer to settle my personal affairs out of the public's eye. Therefore, I get up, take off my robe and go into the bathroom without a word.
Our bathroom is large and well equipped when compared to what the rest of the crew has. Most quarters are the size of our bathroom with two ensigns or newlyweds sharing it. When I was a young ensign, I made lieutenant early and only had to share my quarters for less than a year. I turn on the shower. After examining my disposable medical panties, I throw it away. I'm still bleeding and it makes me uncomfortable.
Although I'm only half-human, my Betazoid side didn't protect me from not having a menstrual cycle. Unlike Betazoids who don't have a cycle, but release an egg every month, I only have my period for a few days in the year. If I were full Betazoid and gave birth, everything would be nice and neat and hardly any blood. But I am not and must accept the situation as it is. Still, I don't know how my sisters on Earth survive decades of being on their periods. It's a terrible nuisance. But I am also envious: human women are fertile once a month while I only have a few opportunities each year thanks to my mixed heritage.
I sit on the wall under the shower controls and begin to cry. My baby is gone and I can't have him back. I hate the Romulans with such a furry. Maybe one day I will forgive them, but today is not the day. I feel cold despite the climbing temperature in the shower. I notice the blood running between my legs and howl even louder. I'm helpless against this situation. For some strange reason, I want my mother and father. My mother would make it better somehow and offer up one of her wild ideas to cheer me up. As for my father, I think about him often and speak to him as if he were here. His presence always made me feel better, but today somehow he seems further away then usual. I've lost our special union, making me feel even more lost and alone.
My stomach itches and I scratch absently while looking for stretch marks that don't exist. When Dr. Ree informed me of my genetic propensity for stretch marks, he asked me if I wanted a prescription against it. On his planet, a sagging stomach was a badge of honor! The image of a female version of Dr. Ree with her stomach on the ground made me giggle—okay snicker. I am vain and can't see myself attending a traditional Betazoid wedding with stretch marks—think of the talk!
My breasts, which are tender and enlarged, are the worst betrayers of all. Losing my child was almost like giving birth. It triggered the lactation process and I had to take an anti-lactation hypo. Despite this, there is still some excretion and my chest has grown at least one-cup size. Dr. Ree said this should go away in a few days and gave me an anti-lactation cream. I weep while I place pressure on my breasts to relieve them. When I'm done, I put my arms around my legs and place my head on my knees. There is no end to my bawling while the water bounces off the tiles and drains into the recycling unit. I hope the sound is loud enough to hide my howls of grief.
I'm entirely zoned into my world that I don't hear my Imzadi come into the shower until the hot water hits him and he meows like a Betazoid kitten in duress. Opening my eyes, I find that he is sitting on the floor looking at me with outstretched arms. I slide over to ease into his arms. I was afraid that he wouldn't come and remain at his desk all night brooding. He did that when the Romulan disrupter hit me. I called Dr. Ree to give him a sedative; I was that afraid of his response.
I try to calm myself for him, but our emotions resonant off each other when we are this close together. Our bond has developed immensely since our marriage. Tuvak, who counsels me, and I have been giving Wil mental discipline lessons. My Captain has become more adept at receiving and sending me short messages and identifying when I am within close proximity of him. But I've learned from my husband as well. Wil is able to project onto me his calm and discipline, which he uses in times of danger. These skills that he has I have turn to my advantage. Had I not had this training from him, I might have not survived the Romulan ambush.
I drop my blocks, so that we can be together as one. While feeling his grief and anger, I succumbed to his emotions. Sitting on the floor with my Beloved huddled over me, we weep in unison, letting out our rage and frustration. I'm both shocked and in aw of My Captain. I've never seen him cry before. His grip on me is so tight that I can only take hold of his wet ponytail for comfort and glance up at him. Somehow, the pain ceases to be so great and Wil is able to gain control of him self after a few minutes. I'm not as overcome now that my Imzadi's emotions aren't overwhelming me. My weeping becomes less and is accented by the occasional hiccup and sniffle, which has replaced my tears and crying.
My husband begins washing my hair, which curls when it gets wet. Wil loves this. My secret is Mr. Mott the hairdresser on the Enterprise D and later E. In fact, he was waiting for me to make the change, stating that although he found my clothing and hairstyle very appealing and non-threatening toward my clients, it didn't do much for my professional demeanor, making me look more seductive than productive! Mr. Mott—Got to love him! He gave me his secret formula when I left for the Titan and videos me to see if it is up to his standards.
Wil is really pampering me. He's now washing my back. I love this for my Imzadi has the most skilled hands that I've ever known a man to have. When we are making love, his hands know exactly where to be at the right time, bringing me additional pleasure. His messages are not painful and can release me quickly from my tension. When I come from mak'bar practice, My Captain firm application of deep message techniques gets the kinks out of my body. If he is too tired to do his husbandly duty, which has come to past several times, his hands work better than any sex toy I have in my night stand.
I continue enjoying my Imzadi bathing me. When he comes to my legs, I am a bit hesitant. With my mind still reeling from our emotions, I say something stupid: I'm still bleeding. Talk about stating the obvious. Wil knows how I feel about my menstrual cycle and how inadequate it makes me feel. Despite the discomfort and embarrassment that I feel, my Imzadi continues ever so gently. I let go of my ego and open my legs, allowing my husband access to my vagina, which bleeds like an open wound. Tears and hiccups accompany him washing me. My husband will never be able to share my pain, but this simple act of kindness is the best way that he can demonstrate the principle of Bah rin or understanding that Betazoids cherish. For this I love him more. When it is over, he rinses me off and attends to his own needs. I'm in such a weakened state from grieving that I rest against the shower and watch him thinking of us.
We argue often, but we never go to bed angry. It's against the Betazoid principle of L'frah hin or harmony. If Wil were Betazoid, we could do a mind meld to achieve this harmony, but he isn't. Neither is he advanced enough with his mental discipline to make it possible. Making love is how we achieve L'frah hin. During love making, we, as Imzadi, have several minutes when are minds are one and we can share each other thoughts and ideas explicitly. When this is done, the issue can be resolved and a resolution is usually found before we go to sleep or the next day.
Although I look forward to the day when Wil and I can do a mind meld, I won't look forward to loosing our lovemaking session, because I need them not only to complete our emotional union, but also to fulfill my sexual yearnings. There is a saying on Betazed, "To fulfill one's sexual needs, is to fulfill one's life wishes." A happy sexual life is paramount to a happy life: a philosophy I agree with 100 percent.
My Captain shuts off the showers and helps me to my feet. A towel isn't necessary because we have dry jets, which are a Betzoid invention of my maternal aunt that uses an energizer beam to dry the body. A push of a button and we step out of the shower dry with the exception of our hair. Sitting on the settee, he helps me slip into a pair of disposable medical panties. I really like these briefs for they have a cooling gel in the lining that makes me feel clean while being absorbent and sterile. Then he holds me tightly with his head buried in my stomach.
Not having control over my empathy, I'm lost as to what to do. Could Wil have picked up on my thoughts of our making love? Didn't he understand that now wasn't the proper time? Could my hormones be so out of sink that I allowed a Freudian slip? I want to flee until my Imzadi speaks to me in Betazoid using our link. He tone sooths me. He tells me that within the last three months I've made him the happiest man in the universe. I'm left speechless and hug him. I promise myself to try not to feel so guilty and inadequate over what has happened. This is when I wish I were Wil. He feels bad about me taking a hit for him, but he has somehow figured out how to not feel guilty about it. What he does feel bad about is not being there for me when I woke up in recovery. Or perhaps he has just replaced one form of felling guilty with another?
Wil talks to me in Betazeed, my own language. He tells me that I made him happy for three months, two weeks, five days, six hours, 27 minutes and 6 seconds. Data would have been proud of me for knowing the exact time. From the very minute of implantation, I had worn a pregnancy alert band, which monitored the bodily functions of our child and me. Dr. Ree wanted me to be monitored at all times; now I understand his concern.
We are quiet while I brush My Captain's hair. He's showing slight signs of baldness with his gray, but he isn't vain like I am and dyes it. He also has a bit of a gut. Captain Picard would be shock to see that his Number One let himself go to a whopping 30 kilos over Starfleet regulations, weighing in at 110!!! Yet, I know why it's come to this. One of the side effects of the therapy to increase his sperm count had been weight gain—a topic that is very sensitive, so I only broach the subject when it is a must. At least he looked fantastic at our wedding on Betazoid. As for now, I have a little bit more to cuddle and get to be on top when we make love—something that we both enjoy.
Plus, he misses the action of being part of the away team although he'd never admit it. This kept him fit in the past. Now, he is reduced to micro managing. We seriously have to talk about this personality quirk. Better yet, I am going to inform Counselor Huilan, who can broach the issue. Plus my partner in crime is Dr. Ree, who will issue orders for him to get in shape. Of course, Wil knows this himself. It is not to say that he doesn't enjoy being captain, rather he has to get used to his new role as captain and what is expected of him.
The Titan is now our new home. I'm glad Wil took his promotion. Personally, I had gotten board while on the Enterprise E and had run out of things to do once I qualified as helmsperson, completed my PhD and made commander. If Wil had turned down the Titan and had he turned down my marriage proposal, I was prepared to follow Beverly to Star Fleet command after over 25 years in space.
I had been studying for my certificate in intergalactic diplomacy through the long distance education branch of the Diplomatic Core. Upon completion of my studies, I could have taught at the Academy or taken a new assignment as ambassador. Luck would have it that Wil needed a diplomatic officer and offered me the position. I'm rather proud that I achieved the rank of Federation Ambassador without Mother's help. While the Titan was doing its last shakedown, I was at the academy taking my final exams, graduating with honors. So here we are on our new ship with our new lives and new challenges.
My Imzadi's hair is almost finished. I add a conditioner to his hair and trim the ends. If Mr. Mott saw me, he'd have my hide. Then I reach for the old fashioned straight razor on the counter to trim his beard and to shave his neck. My job as Admiral Troi is to ensure that his beard stays within regulation. Secretly, I love shaving it off, because when he is giving me cunnilingus, it tickles and I start to laugh. It's not funny to me, but he gets a thrill out of me laughing. I tolerate it and have disciplined myself down to a few giggles when my husband isn't tormenting me to distraction.
The beard finished I comb my own hair while my Imzadi watches me lazily. I can see that he is tired just like I am and sits back on the settee, watching me at my vanity table. His eyes flutter often and he doesn't hold his posture. I really have to cut my hair as it is down to my bum, having grown over 20 centimeters during my pregnancy. I turn to him and smile; he smiles back and admires my backside. He really should be doing his push-up and set-ups, but I'm not going to insist tonight. I'm too tired for a struggle and he doesn't need another low blow to his ego.
Getting up from my table, I have to kiss him wake so we can go bed. I blush like a schoolgirl when I feel Wil's emotions. My husband, Goddess love him, has sex on the brain! Cheeky, bastard! It's not me giving off the wrong signal. Poor man, he's so in love with me, but he's making a good show of hiding it—ever the gentleman. Unfortunately, the well is dry tonight! But I keep this too myself, as not to embarrass My Captain further. I'm going to have to find that hollow program that Beverly pinched from Captain Picard. What was it called Quarks & Co? I've used it a few times in Wil's absence and it's just the thing for him until I get better in about four weeks time.
We get up and go into our bedroom, where I lay down on the bed. Wil is immediately beside me with my anti-lactation cream and moisturizer. He sets to work on my breast. Again I begin to gulp for air and cry. I can't seem to help myself, because I feel that my body is just one open wound, breasts included. My Captain spoils me with butterfly kisses to my face. The gestures somewhat calms me down, so that he can begin giving me a lymphoid drainage message.
My body is swollen from the miscarriage, as I have only one kidney—thanks to the Romulans. I also lost an ovary. Therefore, my remaining kidney must work overtime to cleanse my body. Dr. Ree took a graft of my kidney that is being used to grow a new one. It should be ready in a few months. Actually, it would have been transplanted shortly before the baby was due in order for me to better process the toxins produced in my body. The message helps my bodily fluids drain properly.
Wil comes to my left side of my stomach and I flinch. I open my eyes to notice my husband's pained expression. A wave of guilt washes over me, as I feel my husband's sadness. Because I'm not a telepath, I can't tell if it is because of the loss of our child or the phaser blast. I take my hand and outline the back of his jaw. He relaxes somewhat and continues to message my stomach.
Because my body rejected the first skin graphs, the skin is still sensitive in certain areas, despite it being over a year since the ambush. Not only did I lose my left ovaries—Betazoid females have two pairs, I lost two ribs, and a part of my stomach and a section of small intestines. The Romulan disrupter literally blew everything to bits. Dr. Ree rebuilt me with the help of modern medicine. With the exception of my ovaries, I look normal inside. It feels normal, too. Thank the Goddess above for such great medical miracles. Therefore, I can enjoy the messages of my husband.
Yet, I still can't help thinking back on the day of the attack from time to time. That Day, as Wil calls it, is something I just want to put out of my mind. I'm so full of hate that I'm only allowed to go on away mission when I'm absolutely needed, because I haven't properly processed That Day and have anxiety about getting shot. Suffice it to say, I'm on drugs when I do go out and that as my Imzadi says, "Ain't good."
Although I viewed security video of the incident, I could only do it once for Tuvac, who acts as my therapist. I couldn't take seeing my colleagues and I get shot repeatedly. I haven't even read the official report and don't want to know about the half truths that were invented by the Romulans while we were sitting ducks, getting fired on by their people. Tuvac believes I'll come around after some time has passed, but I feel like Worf now. I'll recover when the responsible parties burn in hell or rot in prison. Why? Because that one incident took something precious away from me: my ability to give life, which is so scared to me.
The incident also left me more emotionally scared than anything that I've been through. The Enterprise D going down was a crisis for me, because I blamed myself and couldn't sleep for days. When Captain Picard immediately got the E, it helped to heal me of that wound and showed me there were second chances. My anorexia that is reoccurring is genetically linked. I can deal with it through mental exercises and keeping my personal grief in check. Wil helps out and makes sure that I eat well, too. But That Day I can't seem to get past.
And I remember everything like it was yesterday. Our hand held phasers were almost useless against the Romulan disrupters. Being the last one to fall, it was very obvious they were going after Janeway and Wil. It was the shear luck that when I got hit, I fell against Wil. We both landed near the beam out platform. Wil tells me we were too far for transport, but I somehow moved my right hand above my head, touching the transport platform and giving the transporter technician a lock to beam us out. Had not this had happened, I would have died a slow painful death from my injuries. Wil luckily only suffered second-degree burns on his chest while the rest of the team was simply stunned. Strangely enough, I can't remember moving my hand only the quiet of a cease-fire and the smell of my burnt flesh and uniform.
I'm getting sleepy with such a lovely message and am sad that it is ending. Wil gets into bed and puts me on his chest. He smells so good and is so cuddly thanks to the extra fat. I'd be lying if I said that I like my men 100% muscle—like Worf. Muscle is good, but not comforting at a time like this. My Imzadi makes me feel loved, comforted and protected with this body he has now. He's done everything so right this evening. He knows what it means to be a husband. For this I love him. He is my strength and my rock.
My Captain makes me want to be a better person. There are only three other men who have ever had this much influence on me: my father, Captain Picard and Worf. My father loved me unconditionally. He really didn't care if I were telepathic or empathic. What he cared about was instilling in me a sense of purpose, self-value and self-esteem. No matter what I did, he supported me and loved me. He respected me as a person. He never discounted the child's world that I lived in. He was so angry that Mother had gotten rid of my Betazoid kitten without even asking me what I wanted. My parents came to blows about that one. It is the only fight that I can remember my parents having.
I guess my father is the reason why I waited so long to loose my virginity. When I was growing up on Betazed, all my friends had their first sexual experience by their eighteenth birthdays. Putting aside my nagging mother, who insisted I should have a child early and a few poor choices in men such as Devanali Ral, I really want to value my sexual experiences. Because most Betazoids grow up in a sexually free society, they didn't understand my human approach to my sexuality. Wil was one of the first men who actually took the time to be with me and learn about who I was, as a person. True, he had sex on the brain, which lead to a quick, but regrettable, rump with Windy Roper and had a lot to learn about what a relationship actually was, but he made the effort to respect me—like my father. Plus, he didn't allow me to get away with airs and unlike my father he can say "no" to me.
Then there is Captain Picard, who taught me about being mentally strong. When I came to the Enterprise, I was really just an immature child, who allowed her emotions to run amuck under the guise of being part Betazoid. Jean-Luc—I may call him this now in private—taught me through his deeds how to be strong. Strength is the ability to accept one's weaknesses and work within their limitations. Jean-Luc was tortured by the Cardassians and surgically altered and assimilated by the Borg—two experiences that would have broken most men. But we worked together and he showed me how he circumnavigated the minefield he was handedby addressing his strengths and weaknesses.
I've learned under his tutelage about my weaknesses and strengths. My strengths are the abilities to fulfill my duties, to accept challenges and take on new roles. The results were my promotions to commander and finally chief diplomatic officer. My weaknesses are my physical stature and my Betazoid heritage that is not understood by all societies. Jean-Luc had the patience that I needed to wait and allow me to grow in not only my emotional maturity, but also my mental abilities.
And then there is Worf, whom I still love. He taught me how to fight despite my small physical form for what I wanted. Going to his mak' bar class gave me the physical discipline to help me conquer my past fears while looking toward the future. Fighting is not so much about who is stronger rather who has the mental discipline to complete the battle with honor. Worf hates to loose, but what our relationship taught me was how not to cede when one believes that one has been defeated. Both physical and mental strength can be found where there is none to be seen.
When we broke up, we parted company for two reasons. First, Worf realized that I still love Wil; therefore, he was unwilling to share me with my Imzadi. Although Klingons may have multiple lovers, it is simpler not to have such relationships at the same time. Furthermore, such an arrangement favors the male instead of the female, who is expected to tolerate her mate's promiscuity but remain faithful.
Betazoids see multiple lovers pragmatically. A pre-phasing or phasing woman has a biological mandate that at times necessitates the need for multiple lovers. In ancient times, it was not uncommon for an established, mature woman to have two husbands. Today, this practice has been replaced by multiple lovers. Although this practice is accepted by many Betazoids, it is not the cultural norm of some species. I did not expect Worf to cede my wishes and knew that we would eventually break up.
Second, Worf had a religious calling that could not compete with any relationship at that time. I witnessed this first hand when the Kah'Les, who had been genetically cloned, appeared on the Enterprise D. Before Worf knew the truth, he was willing to follow his faith—without question. That is how deeply he believes. When we dated, we understood each other, because of Worf's religion, which has many similarities to Betazed religion. We both valued meditation; mental discipline and adherence to a code of conduct set down by our respective cultures.
When Worf told me of his desire to go on a pilgrimage to the Klingon Home World, I understood the depth of his devotion and could not hold him back even though I realized it would mean the end of our , I still love Worf and hold him dear in my heart. We had obtained something that Wil and I may never have: the Can'kti fom or sharing of spirituality, which is the understanding of the moral and ethic codes of our cultures at the spiritual levels. When Bah rin is reached by a couple in Can'kti fom, a pilgrimage is taken. Unfortunately, we are not of the same religion and we have had to take two different paths. Therefore, I lost my lover to his culture's religious mandates more than his inability to deal with my cultural edicts of love.
From these men I have learned my lessons. From these men I have learned to draw my strength from my inner being. Yet, despite the mentors in my life and having good self-esteem as a Daughter of the Fifth House, I falter at times and find it difficult to deal with what has thrown me, despite being a capable individual.
I often ask myself how should I deal with the Romulans, who stuck a knife in my back. Right now, I'm not coping very well. I can't find the strength and don't want to. There is too much anger inside of me for forgiveness. Until that anger resides, I can't make amends. Frankly, I don't want to. But to go on with my life, I must somehow find a way to forgive if I don't want this to eat me alive. I wish Worf were here. He'd know, which Book of Kah'les to read to me, and which mak'bar exercise to practice to get my life back into balance.
My Captain orders lights out. Before I nod off entirely, he orders me to keep silent about what happened in the shower between us, as if I would ever divulge what goes on between us. It's not as if Beverly were here and we could exchange top-secret girl talk. He says this in his most serious tone that it makes me giggle then laugh. The picture of scuttlebutt going round on the Titan is too much. Wil chuckles. Then he squeezes me tightly and places his hand on my bum, his favorite resting place.
Today, I hadn't the courage to call mother and tell her the news. She'll be so disappointed. When she found out I was pregnant, she immediately sent me a huge trunk of Fifth House antique baby clothes. It arrived last month, but I didn't have time to unpack it. It can wait until next time. As Dr. Ree still has three fertilized eggs from Wil and me, we can try again in a few months. I hope the next time it is a girl, but Dr. Ree won't say until it's born—a Pahkwa-thanth tradition. What is the Earth saying, "Never count your eggs before they're hatched." Very true!
My vision blurs and I'm almost out, but have a bad memory resurface that wakes me suddenly. I'm sitting at the helm of the Enterprise D. Data wraps his arms around me and holds me in position at the helm while I desperately try to helm a ship that is descending upon Veridian IV. I'm crying like a baby. But this time, it is different: I know we will land and be safe. Having felt me jump, Wil embraces me tightly. He sends me a beautiful image of us in the Jalaran tropical forest, enjoying the sunset. What a wonderful man he is to send such an endearing memory. I love him so. Right now he is my rock. At other times, I am his. I know Wil will wait until I am fully asleep before laying me on my side of the bed. In my second attempt to fall asleep, I don't fight the process nor do I allow tragic thoughts to enter my mind, because of the pleasant image Wil sent. I need this rest and am glad Dr. Ree gave us three days off. It will give us much needed time together. Tomorrow, I'll get Wil to make me chocolate pancakes after breakfast we can go swimming. . . .Zzzzzzzzzz