The St Valentine's Day Massacre
1.
"Will," Deanna said, elongating my name the way she did when she wanted some sort of "special" treatment from me. She took my elbow. "You're free now, aren't you?"
I sighed. Technically I was, free. But after almost three months of sick leave, every spare moment I had was trying to get things done that either should have been done and hadn't been, or were part of my re-education – new personnel, new jobs, new missions, new projects. "Yes," I said. "For you, always," and I grinned at her.
"How would you like to watch me eat a chocolate sundae?" she asked, and she was smiling her "evil" smile, the one that meant she'd an idea and the person to implement her ideas was, unfortunately, almost always me.
"One," I said, seriously, "chocolate sundae, and only because I love you."
"I've never doubted that for a moment," she replied, and I just rolled my eyes.
Ten-Forward was busy in a low-key way. It was shift change, from alpha to beta, and small groups of three or four crew members were wandering in. Mac was on duty today, as well as Guinan, and she nodded at me as we walked past, over to my traditional table, the one Guinan always kept open for me.
Mac appeared within a minute. "A chocolate sundae for the lady," I said. "Do you want a beverage, Deanna?"
"No, thank you, Will," she answered.
"I'll just have a cup of coffee," I said. "Make sure it's decaf."
"Yes, sir," Mac said. "I know, sir. Three creams."
It was now three months into recovery, and I'd successfully weaned myself off of caffeine, even though I still loved the taste and the smell of coffee, because, when you have a severe anxiety disorder, caffeine is not the drug for you, even if it's in just a cup of coffee. I'd learned that the hard way, when my doctor – a leading psychiatrist from Betazed – had explained the effect of caffeine on my already stressed-out neurochemistry, and how it had contributed to the hallucinations I'd had during the worst of my illness.
"You're having a good day," Deanna remarked as we waited for our order. "And you've added a few more kilos, I see. You're looking much better, Will."
"Thanks," I said. I'd lost almost thirty kilos in the worst of my illness, as my body had attempted to shut down and I'd lost the ability to feel hunger and then, to digest any food at all. "I am having a good day," I said. Acknowledging the good in my life was part of my treatment plan. "Is this some sort of a check up?" I asked. Deanna, along with my specialists Joao da Costa and Stoch who'd been trained by Dr McBride, was my therapist now.
"No, of course not, Will," she answered. "Thank you," she said to Mac. "I would never work with you here, Will. You know that."
I did know that. I sipped my coffee. "So you're just being nice to me," I said, "which means, my dear friend, there's something you want, and I'm likely to say no."
Deanna choked on her ice cream and I shook my head.
"Honestly," I said. "How many years have we known each other? Imzadi?"
She coloured a bit, which always, in my humble opinion, made her look more lovely. "Deanna," I said.
She wiped her mouth and then she smiled. "I don't want anything, Will, I
promise you," she said.
"But?" I asked.
"Well, it's Valentine's Day next week," she said. "And there's the Valentine's Day Ball."
"Yes?" I said. "I thought you were going with Worf?"
"I am going with Worf, if you'd let me finish, William," she said.
"Oh, so I'm William now, am I? You must want something truly major." She scowled at me, and I said, "All right. I'll shut up."
"Beverly and I – " she began.
I rolled my eyes. "I think I'm going to leave now," I said, laughing. "If this is something you've concocted with Beverly, I think I'll just hide, and maybe it will go away."
"Hiding is no longer part of your treatment plan, William," she said seriously, and I nearly spit my coffee out. "Can you cooperate with me, please?"
She was perilously close to whining, and I hate whining. "Go ahead," I agreed. "I am resigned to this."
"Beverly and I would like to know what your plans are," she said.
"My plans for what?" I asked.
"Will," she said impatiently. "For Valentine's Day and the Valentine's Day Ball."
"Oh," I said, and I could feel my face flushing. It was a major burden for me, to have such pale skin. Another thing I could blame my father for, I thought.
"This is a new situation for both of you," she continued. "You usually bring some cute lieutenant, and the captain comes for half an hour to boost morale –" she actually made a face " – and then runs away as quickly as he can." She paused, waiting for me to say something, I guess, but I was waiting for the deck to open up and swallow me. "So. Beverly and I were a little concerned that the pair of you were just going to pretend there was no such thing as Valentine's Day, but, Will, as your friend –" she took my hand "—and your therapist, I don't think ignoring this holiday is going to be helpful for either one of you."
"Uh huh," I said. What else was I going to say?
"You may want to order another cup of coffee," Deanna said wryly.
"You mean you're going to actually make me think about this?" I asked in disbelief. "Here, in Ten Forward?"
"Have you gotten Jean-Luc a gift for next week?" she asked. "And don't manufacture a crisis which needs attending, please."
"A gift?" I echoed.
"Will. It's traditional for two people romantically involved to give each other gifts on St Valentine's Day. And you already know this, because I distinctly remember receiving bouquets of flowers and chocolates from you." She smiled.
"I am not giving Jean-Luc Picard flowers or chocolates for Valentine's Day," I said in a low voice. "Not in my lifetime. Not in this universe."
She rolled her eyes. "We assumed that," she said, "although it would be amusing to see his reaction."
"And then he'd send me to the brig for insubordination," I said. "No thank you. That's not a reaction I'd care to see."
"He would not," Deanna argued.
"Oh, yes, he would," I said. "I see a side of him you don't."
"Oooh, do tell," she said, and I started to rise. "Oh, Will, I'm joking. Sit down and order another coffee. Or better yet, have a bite of ice cream."
"I hate ice cream," I said, "especially chocolate ice cream," but I sat back down.
"You need to get him something," she said, after a minute, licking her spoon. "What would he like?"
"A week exploring dusty ruins somewhere," I said, thoughtfully, "but he won't take leave so soon after everything that happened."
"You could get Reg to help you design a special holodeck program for him," she suggested.
"Then I'd be obligated to join him," I said. "And he'd make me ride a horse."
"You can program a horse that you won't fall off of," she said.
"You can stop being so mean to me," I answered.
"Will," she said. "You need to think about this seriously. Beverly is going to talk to Jean-Luc about this. And both of you are going to attend the ball. Together. In your evening dress. As a couple. Now that would boost morale." She grinned.
"You want me to dance with Jean-Luc in front of the ship?" I was horrified.
"You are both good dancers," she replied. "Why not?"
I contemplated her with growing anxiety. "I have an anxiety disorder," I said, "and currently you are not helping me at all. You said Beverly is going to talk to Jean-Luc about giving me a Valentine's gift and going to the ball?"
"Mmm-hhmmm."
"Oh my God," I said. "I think I'll spend tonight in my quarters."
"William," she said, "hiding is definitely not part of your treatment plan. You can always bounce ideas off of me." She stood up. "Thank you, for the sundae."
I watched her walk away. I sat, looking at my half-filled cup of coffee. I felt someone walk up behind me and Guinan said, "Are you two bickering again?"
"No," I said. "She wanted to know what I was getting Jean-Luc for Valentine's Day. And Beverly is apparently asking Jean-Luc what he is getting me."
"I have some Aldebaran whiskey under the bar," Guinan said, after a moment, "if you'd like a drop in your coffee."
"That," I answered, "I think, is the only way I'm going to get through this next week."