If he sat down to list the best sounds in the universe, Coltraine would end up in a dead heat with Deanna's laughter, Will Riker mused as he scratched the back of his head and grinned. His warm brown hair fell lazily over his forehead as he tilted his head back and watched Deanna keep laughing. Her eyes sparkled in the blue light from the windows of Ten Forward.

With the Enterprise ensconced in spacedock, the blue lights from the interior of the Starbase Eighty-four outside the windows of Ten Forward stained everything blue. Duties were light and mostly concerned with the ongoing refit of ship's systems. That afternoon, Will had personally overseen the replacement of the main phaser array. His task had been pleasantly dull. He'd been grateful for the simplicity of paperwork after the mess the last mission had been. It was a relief to be clean, wearing his own uniform, not being shot at or watching Deanna bleed to death. Listening to her laugh now, while Geordi explained Data's latest run in with an irascible Doctor Crusher, was heavenly in comparison.

"And then," Geordi continued as he leaned closer to Deanna over his ale. "Data looks at her and asks if the baby bothers her while she's intimate with the captain but he doesn't just ask it that way. He asks if the knowledge of the presence of the baby bothers her and he's barely halfway through the question before she explodes at him."

"The Crusher explosion is becoming a common natural phenomenon on the Enterprise," Will mused, feeling Deanna's eyes on him. Looking back at her, he saw nothing but good humor in her eyes. Relaxing back in his chair, he lifted his glass and watched Geordi continue his story.

The chief engineer had a unique perspective on most of Data's antics. He and Data were the closest and Geordi's excellent sense of humor made him easy going and prone to laughter. Geordi was always good company and Will was glad he'd joined them. A small part of his heart was disappointed he didn't have Deanna to himself and since her mother had left them, that part had been gaining in intensity.

"You have no idea," Geordi replied with a shake of his head. Looking around as if he needed to make sure Doctor Crusher wasn't lurking somewhere in a dark corner of the room, he dropped his tone to a whisper. Still chuckling, Deanna leaned in closer and grabbed Will's hand. Startled but deeply pleased with the gesture, Will let his head touch hers as they listened. "If he'd been Vulcan, he would have cringed. If he'd been human, he would have melted on the spot. She got so ticked off with all his questions,I thought the novelty for him would have worn off by now, but eventually she suggested if he was so concerned about what it was like to be pregnant, he should build himself a female body and try it out."

Deanna buried her face in his shoulder, rocking back and forth with laughter. She turned her eyes to Geordi. "And Data?"

Geordi released his ale and pointed toward holodeck two. "He's been in holodeck two for the last three hours," he continued. "I know he was in the medical files and I just keep picturing him--" He stopped and mimed pregnancy in front of his own stomach with his hands. "I thought about going to check on him, but I think I'd be intruding," he finished before he became unable to speak.

With Deanna's head on his shoulder it was almost impossible to think of anything else. Will laughed with his friends but his mind was solidly fixed on Deanna Troi and the sweet-smelling touch of her hair against his neck. Her hand was still holding his right, so he drank the last of his synthale with his left and raised his hand for another. Deanna and Geordi were both nearly in tears as they nodded and accepted another drink.

"He would," Deanna agreed with Geordi as she wiped her eyes with her hand. "Oh he would, wouldn't he?" she asked rhetorically before she lifted her head from his shoulder. "Who knew Data had such a liking for babies?"

"You should have seen the look on her face," Geordi sighed, shaking his head. "We don't need that new phaser array, we can just find a way to piss her off and melt our enemies."

"Makes you wonder how the captain does it," Deanna asked wickedly. Her dark eyes flashed and she and Geordi both shook their heads.

"Maybe he just doesn't say anything," Geordi guessed. His expression twisted and he broke out into a beaming smile. "Or he ducks a lot."

Deanna's eyes glowed with amusement. "Maybe he reads poetry."

That thought set both of them off into fits of laughter again and Will fingered his drink thoughtfully. Deanna's fingers were warm without his own and, when she held still, their hands were resting on his lap. He was starting to realize he was more than amused by the captain's situation. That seed of jealousy he'd been ignoring had taken root and it seemed the soil was fertile. Beverly's emotional swings were amusing, but there was a poignancy to it as well. She might be the new terror of sickbay, but she was having a child with the captain. No matter how much it was charging the gossip mill, they were happy.

He'd always thought he was happy and he had been for quite some time. Being contented was like a worn in pair of boots, for a while they fit perfectly, then, without warning, he'd put them on to find a hole in the toe and have his comfort evaporate as he broke in a new pair. Will had grown restless and, as much as an old pair of boots, his life needed to be changed. The last time he'd felt this uneasy in his skin, he'd been contemplating taking the Drake instead of the Enterprise.

Geordi stood, still beaming, and started to bid them goodnight. "I'm afraid this is it for me," he said. "I've got to get started early. Warp cores don't install themselves. We're getting started pretty early tomorrow."

"Good night," Deanna bid him.

"Sleep well," Will offered. "Make sure you put it in right side up."

Chuckling as he left them, Geordi headed down the few steps towards the double doors.

"Well," Will began as he felt Deanna's arm wrap around his. "I don't have to be up that early."

Meeting his gaze warmly, Deanna seemed surprised. "Neither do I," she replied lightly. "I could use some quiet. Walk with me in the arboretum?"

Finishing his drink as he stood, Will left his seat and offered his arm again. "You're not going start giggling in the middle of the night-blooming orchids?"

Deanna's smirk was almost as much fun as her laughter. "I will try not to embarrass you in front of any of the vegetation."

"If I kill an ensign, you have to keep me from being sent to the stockade," Beverly began before the door to their, formerly his, quarters even had time to hiss shut. Her right hand pressed against her lower back and her left steadied her balance by clinging to the edge of his desk. "Ensign Regar's not taking her migraine medication on the correct schedule and if she comes in complaining about it one more time--"

Setting down his book, an old, paperbound version of "The Merchant of Venice", dear to him because of the wonderful strength and intelligence of Portia, Jean-Luc started to get up from his chair. Watching her take a deep breath and straighten, he realized he couldn't yet place all of her body language. If she was in pain, her unfounded rage was keeping it from him. He worried frequently for her physical well-being. Watching her become so dizzy on the Mendel had been difficult for him and Jean-Luc still felt the protective need to keep his gaze on her when she was in the room. Perhaps it was just a period of adjustment for both of them, Beverly hadn't had the first three months of her pregnancy to adapt to the changes in her body, and he hadn't had the time to integrate his new role into his life.

"Of course," Beverly's tirade continued, "she thinks something's wrong with the medication. Alyssa tries to tell her that Leyporasine functions on a time delay and the timing of when she takes it is very important. Regar thinks she needs to talk to one of the doctors and monopolizes Selar when I need her to work on the microcellular regeneration programming of the medical equipment in lab two for the victims of the Umaarian central processing disaster."

Sighing as she released the desk and started towards the center of the room, Beverly dropped her lab coat down off of one shoulder and started yanking viciously on the other sleeve. "Selar started forty-five minutes late," she continued without taking time to even see if he was listening. "Then I had to pull her off again because Lieutenant Martin's piton failed to engage properly on holodeck four and since he was teaching lead-climbing to Ensign sh'Negari and Sergeant Berriman, all three of them suffer multiple compound fractures and compression injuries because they've fallen from the Cliffs of Heaven on Cendry Two. One of them, none of the three will admit to doing it and I'm thinking of sending Worf their way, thought turning up the gravity might make it more challenging. Doctor Hill's already into the thirteenth hour of her shift but I need her to stay because sh'Negari's right tibia is in pieces and I can't fix that and Berriman's dislocated clavicle at the same time."

Tearing the lab coat off over her right wrist, she dropped it on the back of the sofa near the window. The starlines zipped mutely by as Beverly shook her head in disgust. "We're still dealing with half of stellar cartography being exposed to Cardassian diphtheria at that damn wormhole conference on Deep Space Nine three days ago. That disease is so old we don't even have vaccines for it on board anymore, the treatment protocol calls for Eurythnomitic antibiotics that take hours to build molecularly and tie up the medical replicator. Of course it's not the fault of the Bajorans their planet was invaded and their medical science is at least a century behind what it used to be, but those patients are taking up the entire quarantine wing."

Pulling her hair back from her shoulders and starting to knot it up, she gave up and loosed it again as she paced in front of his desk. Making an angry line between the replicator and the doorway to the bedroom, her feet never stopped moving. "Did I tell you Deep Space Nine's CMO keeps calling me on subspace to check in?" she asked infuriated. "His name is Bashir, he looks like he's twenty-two, could have been one of my students while I was at Starfleet medical, and he wants to know how we're handling the situation."

Bending her back in a slow arc backwards, Beverly rolled her shoulders from side to side before her right hand landed firmly on her neck. Long fingers dug into the muscles there as she turned to him. "He's always smiling," she complained, glaring past him as if the art on the wall behind his head offended her. "He seems to have guessed over subspace that I'm pregnant and he keeps reminding me not to come into contact with any of the Eurythnomitic compounds, as if I don't know that. It's possible my pregnancy made it into the gossip between the Enterprise and Deep Space Nine. I just don't see any reason why he should care or why he doesn't just come out and remind me to be careful because I'm pregnant. As if I'd forget! So on top of everything else, this wunderkind doctor, who looks barely older than Wesley, just continues to insinuate that he knows without actually saying anything of the kind. Like he's trying to goad me into mentioning it first."

Taking great care not to smile, stare at her or move too quickly, Jean-Luc removed his empty tea cup from the table and made his way slowly to the replicator as she paced to the other side of the room.

While she hovered between the desk and the sofa, she continued to run through her day. "Then Starbase Twelve calls on subspace," she explained and glared at her lab coat as it fell from the sofa and landed in a heap at her feet. Squatting down to pick it up instead of bending her back, Beverly balanced and glared at the coat. Without missing a moment, she continues. "They want to know if we're ready with the analysis of the lasting effects the water table contamination has had on the renal systems of the colonists from Libron Eight. Doctor Park Hyun-Woo asked us to have it done by Stardate 47238.2, which is still two days away, but now out of the blue, she wants it today by seventeen hundred."

Laughing harshly, Beverly tossed her infuriating lab coat onto the sofa seat instead of the back. Following behind her, now that he'd let the replicator reclaim his cup, Jean-Luc took her lab coat and folded it neatly in his lap. Sitting on the sofa as he tried to remain out of her way, he continued mutely watching her.

"Of course, it's completely impossible!" she snapped angrily and turned back to him. Her left hand flew to her hip and her right started pulling her hair back behind her head. In the last few minutes, it seemed she'd decided to tie her hair back after all. Jean-Luc allowed himself a moment to enjoy the contrast of the red-gold against her blue uniform. "I try to explain that to her but she gets increasingly unreasonable as the conversation moves on."

Now pacing the shortest route in the room, between the desk and the window while she spoke, Beverly still hadn't made eye contact with him. "Jean-Luc, it's like hitting my head on the wall when I speak with that woman. No matter what I say, she thinks we work miracles over here and have absolutely nothing else to do. Maybe no one goes rock climbing or catches archaic viruses on Starbase Twelve. She still has three times the staff I do and five interns! She has more than enough hands to run her own analysis but she seems to believe the data will somehow be compromised because she's getting the initial readings through subspace."

Throwing up her hands, Beverly tried to stick them back in her pockets, but her lab coat was gone and she had to fidget with them in front of her stomach instead. "As if we weren't going to send our results through subspace anyway! As if every order, every bit of data we get from Starfleet Command doesn't travel through subspace. If it were so unreliable we'd be at war with the Klingons and the Romulans simultaneously and trading for spare parts on the Ferengi black market because Starfleet can't manage a supply chain." Taking a deep breath, she folded her arms over her chest and finally brought her gaze to his.

Watching her pace was easier from his position on the sofa. Covering the discarded lab coat, his hands rested in his lap. When she didn't launch into a new tirade immediately, Jean-Luc set the lab coat aside on the coffee table and folded his hands into a pyramid on his legs. Keeping his tone even, Jean-Luc looked up at her with the most neutral expression he could manage.

"How would you feel about something Italian for a late dinner?" he suggested. "I was just reading about the streets of Venice and I think it's put me in the mood."

Will could still see the walls beyond the trees, but when he closed his eyes, all he could smell was pine and flowers.

"There's something on your mind," Deanna confronted him. Holding one of the delicate orchids in her hand, she smiled over it at him. "I could have picked that with my mind closed."

"Guess I'm not that subtle," Will replied with a shrug. Bending down next to her, he sniffed the orchid in her hand and shared the softness of the petals with her. "When you woke up in sickbay, after the captain was down rearranging your insides, you told me you remembered us being there. You heard us talking."

"I heard the two of you talking as background noise during a fairly bizarre dream," Deanna reminded him. She release the orchid and stood up straight, arms crossed over her chest as if she could still feel the phaser burn. "I was taking art lessons."

Will's mind brought back simpler times and he beamed at her as he straightened. "Big goopy paint swirls?" he asked dryly.

"Something like that," she replied, smile returning as her arms relaxed. "When I saw the captain in my dream, he was more interested in the cubist form. Kept insisting that straight lines were the answer to the question of the swirls. It was a very odd dream."

Her completely befuddled expression fading into a smile made what him smile. That feeling made what he was trying to say seem lighter. "We talked about love," he started. "It took us both awhile. I have to admit I never imagined having that conversation with him, he's Captain Picard, and he opened up."

Heading for the night-blooming flowers, Deanna's dark eyes widened in surprise as she fell in step with him. "Really?" she asked. "Shame I missed it."

"Can you imagine it, Deanna?" He wondered as they rounded a corner through the larger trees towards the more delicate, night-blooming plans that grew in their shade. "One day you're alone, beamed down on shore leave, the next you're living with a someone and having a child with her."

Deanna closed her eyes and bathed in the scent of the flowers. Without looking at him, she seemed to knew exactly what he was thinking. "It's a unique situation," she reminded him. "Beverly may have acted impulsively, even irrationally, but she had years of emotional intimacy to fall back on with the captain. Some couples walk a fine line between love and friendship. They might flirt with that line. It may even become muddled but, as we're both aware, a line remains there."

Remembering how many times they'd reminded each other how important it was that they remain friends while serving together, Will couldn't help retreating to the safety of a scientific explanation. "Immovable objects remain so?" he asked.

Deanna made a soft sound in the back of her throat, her smile suggested it was the preamble to a chuckle, and she nodded. "Will," she sighed gently. "A baby is a strong outside force."

"That's not all of it, is it?" he continued. Dropping to the ledge around the Andorian summer jonquils, Will rested his arms on his knees. "I watch the two of them holding hands after briefings in the observation lounge, I listen to the gossip on this ship and I feel like I'm waiting for the other shoe."

Deanna slid down next to him and her hand found a place on his knee. "Perhaps you shouldn't over think it. Our choices take us on a journey and I'm sure you'll agree that journey has been worthwhile. We've experienced things few people can even say they understand and I feel no regret from you."

Cupping her cheek, Will felt her touch drift across his mind. Deanna's mental touch was akin to the scent of her perfume finding him from the other side of a room. The spicy, floral scent of her, though faint, overrode all the flowers of the arboretum. Taking a deep breath, he reminded himself that the smell of her was a trick. His mind was trying to explain what he felt in a method his human brain could understand. Instead of breathing deeper, he let his mind fall open, pictured it clear and relaxed into the perception of her smell.

"Can a man realize he wants something else without discounting what he has?" he wondered.

Deanna's hand went to his hair and brushed it back. "Adding goals is part of the maturing process," she replied. "I thought you might join us there someday."

His self-deprecating smile was one step above a grimace. "The caveman crawls out into the light," he replied. Releasing her cheek, he fidgeted with his hands in his lap. "It's a big world out here," he mused. "Might need a guide." The small hand that took his was friendly and for some reason he felt his heart sink like a rock into his stomach.

"Will," Deanna began.

He didn't need her abilities to sense her hesitation. Her polite refusal hung in the air between them like a cool fog blanketing the scent of the flowers. "What is it?" he asked softly.

"What I sense from you now is confused and conflicted," Deanna explained. The hesitation was still there, quiet and cool behind her eyes. "You've decided to drastically change the direction of your life and though you are committed to that, you aren't ready to take the next step. What you're contemplating, the changes you'd like to make, and are not the work of a few days."

Deanna was usually right about matters of his mind and he'd grown accustomed to accepting her ideas without argument. This time he felt disarmed, almost uncomfortable, with her evaluation.

"I'm just jealous?" he asked as his fidgeting hand moved to his beard. "The captain gets something I can't have and I immediately start looking for a way to get it?"

Leaning back as she watched him, Deanna pulled her arms back. "That's a crude explanation of a very complicated situation," she reminded him.

Bending a knee, Will pulled it up towards his chest and rested his chin on it. "I'm a caveman remember," he retorted lightly. "Crude is what we do best."

Leaving the ledge, Deanna lay down in the soft grass and stared up at the simulated stars. "Stop doing that," she said.

"What?"

Sighing instead of answering, Deanna waited as if she thought he could answer for himself. "Selling yourself short," she explained finally. "I can feel what you want. You could just--"

Crossing to sit next to her on the grass, he closed his eyes and imagined sitting with her in another place. "All right," he interrupted sharply. "I want you. I want us. I liked pretending to be your husband. I liked calling you my wife."

She dug her fingers into the grass and her eyes stayed on the illusion of stars on the ceiling, far away from his face. "That was a game," she reminded him.

"Let's play another," he suggested.

"Will-"

He lowered himself onto the grass at her side. "I'm serious," he insisted. "Let's play another game, you and I, holodeck one, tomorrow evening. I'll send the dress to your quarters."

Her eyes widened but it was far from answering no. "Dress?"

Chuckling as he pictured her in the costume he was imagining, Will nodded. "Oh yes. I think I remember your size."