I had only a vague idea of what I wanted to accomplish when I started writing this and struggled for months until eventually Lwaxana Troi burst in, shoved me aside, and said, "don't worry, dear, I'll handle this." And so … this happened.

Season 2, directly after "Manhunt." References many other episodes.

The Sound of Silence

Will runs his fingers purposefully over the shuttle controls without actually hitting any icons. He glances at a screen that shows him literally nothing before he stares out at the blackness of space. His passenger is still staring at him evenly, so he makes a big show of furrowing his brow and glancing at another screen. He hums mild disapproval and turns to check something else. He fixes his gaze out in front of the shuttle again and stares so hard at the stars in the distance that he begins to go cross-eyed.

His passenger shifts in the seat beside his, the expensive fabric of her dress rustling noisily. She leans her elbow on the armrest to perch her chin on her palm. Will makes the mistake of glancing at her for a split-second. Her black eyes are boring into his very soul and he turns away too quickly under the pretense of checking a display on the far wall. He begins whistling an inane tune and she sighs gustily.

"Oh, enough, William! You haven't said more than four words to me since we left Pacifica. Your mind is shut up tighter than Fort Knox." Lwaxana shifts in her seat again. "Not that I was prying," she adds politely.

"Fort Knox?"

Lwaxana waves a dismissive hand in the air. "Ian's ancient west stories. Someone was always trying to steal some useless currency from this place. What is wrong with you?"

"Nothing."

"Yes, of course. You've been the model Starfleet officer. You even carried my luggage aboard."

"Wouldn't you be more comfortable in the back of the shuttle? You can take a rest."

"I don't need a rest! Stop treating me like an invalid. The Phase is a normal physiological condition for Betazoid females." She sighs again. "Oh, stop wincing. I know your little mind was simply aflutter when Deanna first told you about it all those years ago."

Will quickly scoops up errant memories of the steamy Jalara Jungle that broke free while his defenses were down and stuffs them back inside their containers. She frowns at him from under a furrowed brow. "I thought so. Anyway, you let that ship sail when you didn't show up on Risa." She feels something crumble in him and she studies him for a moment, takes a mental note and decides to circle back to this later. "Besides, Mr. Homn is back there and he snores abominably." Lwaxana pouts spectacularly and arranges her gown around her in the small shuttle seat. "If this is so uncomfortable for you, you could have sent one of your junior officers for me."

"I wouldn't hear of it. And neither would you, I imagine. You've been granted full ambassadorial status and shall be treated as such. In fact," he pauses for dramatic effect, "I volunteered to come get you."

Will shoots her a look that half expects her to praise him for this selfless act. The other half expects a snappy retort about how she isn't impressed. Always the enigma, she does neither. Instead, she pats his arm gently and turns away. "You sweet boy."

She's quiet for a long time and when Will finally chances a glance at her, her eyes are closed and her hands are folded demurely in her lap. She senses him start to pity her and so she turns to him and he whips his head away, slamming the mental door on his emotions shut so hard that he cringes.

"So." He clears his throat awkwardly. "Did you find any worthy suitors at the conference?"

Lwaxana snorts a laugh. "No."

"No wealthy older gentlemen looking for a sophisticated Ambassador to wine and dine them?" She glares at him. "Sorry, younger gentlemen. Any diplomatic missions?" Will waggles his eyebrows comically and she turns away, a small frown playing across her face. "Any interstellar relations?"

"No," she whispers so softly that he skids to a halt.

"What happened?"

Hours earlier on the bridge of the U.S.S. Enterprise, an emergency communiqué from Pacifica forced its way to the top of the Captain's priority messages, the conference leader appearing on the view screen in a state of utter desperation. Behind him, various delegates from different planets were engaged in animated conversations that verged on physical altercations. PADDs littered the conference table, forgotten – or thrown, apparently – in the heat of the moment.

"You have to come get her!"

Behind him, Captain Picard heard Counselor Troi heave a sigh that could push the ship into warp drive. He turned around to find most of his bridge crew gaping at the chaos on screen. Deanna's head was in her hands, but Will was making only a half-hearted effort to hold in his laughter. A new voice pulled the Captain's focus back to the screen.

"Jean-Luc! Thank goodness!" Lwaxana Troi shoved the conference leader unceremoniously out of the way. "You'd think they'd be grateful that I stopped the Antedians from blowing them all to smithereens, but nooooo. Apparently, it was –."

Once the transmission was muted, Will burst out laughing as Captain Picard turned to his crew. Behind him, the digital Lwaxana loomed silently, sailing blithely along in her story, gesturing wildly, wings of purple taffeta waving behind her. "Unfortunately, we're too close to our next rendezvous to turn back now. I cannot postpone our meeting any further for this."

"I'm so sorry, Captain," Deanna muttered from behind her hands.

"What meeting, sir?" Will asked. "I don't remember you briefing us on a new mission."

"It's, uh, with the … President of the …" Picard coughed and straightened his uniform. "We will contact the government on Betazed to send someone for the Ambassador."

"Someone can take a shuttle for her, sir. We're still close enough."

Picard shot Will a look and he grinned back.

"Sir," Data said as he turned around in his chair, "I would like to volunteer to retrieve Mrs. Troi from Pacifica. I am eager to continue our conversation from dinner. I have many more anecdotes she may enjoy."

Picard frowned. "Uh, no, Data, I need you at this meeting."

"What meeting, sir?"

"That's enough, Number One."

Behind him on the screen, the conference leader was trying to regain control of the communication, but Lwaxana put a hand to the side of his head and pushed him gently out of view, never missing a word in what was an apparently incredibly fascinating tale.

"What about Lieutenant Worf?" Wesley suggested, grinning over his shoulder at the security chief. He had never seen a Klingon look frightened before. Worf shook his head tightly before turning his back on the room, busying himself with the console behind him.

"I'll go get her." Will was on his feet before Picard could make another excuse. Deanna emerged from behind her hands and Will grinned at her.

"Will –."

"I want to."

Picard finally sighed. "Very well, Number One." He positioned himself in front of the view screen again and clasped his hands tightly behind his back, bracing himself for the verbal onslaught.

In the shuttle, Will's concern crashes over her so powerfully that Lwaxana is actually rendered speechless for a moment.

"What happened?"

Lwaxana is frowning down at her skirt. After a moment, she looks up at him almost accusatorially. "Why did you volunteer to come get me?"

"You're changing the subject."

"Answer my question and I'll answer yours."

"I don't have to. You can pull the answer from my head whenever you want."

"Well, now that wouldn't be very polite."

"Lwaxana Troi, you have never been one to stand on ceremony."

"I do have manners, William!" Lwaxana huffs and when Will glances at her, her mouth is pressed in a tense line. "Besides," she grumbles, "your mental shields are surprisingly strong. For a human."

He smirks proudly. "I had a good teacher."

"Indeed," she mutters, then allows herself a smile. "After all, she had me to contend with."

"You are a force," he says, but there's fondness there and it makes her frown.

"You know I don't usually do this, but … I am sorry for embarrassing you."

Will shrugs. "Like you said, it's a normal physiological condition that –."

"Oh, don't flatter yourself, Commander. I didn't actually mean it like that." She cackles suddenly, punctuating the stuffy air in the shuttlecraft. "Can you imagine? No, darling, you're a bit amateurish for me. After all, you're no Jean-Luc Picard." Will is sputtering incoherently and she takes a second to enjoy the indignant offense rising from him. "I was merely gathering information. You know," she says meaningfully and he stops to peer at her, "for a moment, I thought you were all going to witness a matricide right there on your bridge."

A slow grin spreads across Lwaxana's face, dimples sinking into her cheeks, but he doesn't seem to get the hint. He looks at her curiously and she raises her eyebrows, leaning over the armrest toward him. His confusion rolls off him in heavy waves and she wishes she could just shove her thoughts in through his ears. "Honestly, William, you couldn't catch my drift if it were the size of a Horta."

"What?"

She collapses into her seat with a grunt of annoyance. "Didn't she teach you anything? I thought you could communicate with Deanna telepathically?"

"We decided it would be unprofessional to –."

"Or it could save your lives one day. You're not special, but it's not common. I couldn't even teach Ian to project clearly."

"It's unfair to the rest of our crew if –."

She slaps her hands down on her armrests, turning toward him. "How long is this going to go on?"

"We should be back at the Enterprise in a few hours."

"No!" she yells so loudly that Will isn't sure he didn't hear it in his head as well. Suddenly she's on her feet and looming over him in the small shuttle cockpit. "You know exactly what I mean!"

"Mrs. Troi, please sit down."

"How long are you two going to dance around each other?"

"We're very good friends and –."

"Don't give me that line. I don't fall for it when Deanna says it and I will not accept it from you." She practically spits the last word at him, but he doesn't have time to be insulted.

"While we're serving on the same ship, we –."

"Oh, shut up!"

"We have a professional working relationship!"

"Is that what the children are calling it these days?"

Will fixes her with an even look. "Ambassador, please."

"It's like that, isn't it?" Lwaxana steps toward him as he turns away, trying to concentrate on the vastness of space out in front of the shuttle. She leans over him, gripping the side of his chair with perfectly manicured strength. "This is a … beneficial friendship for you, isn't it?" He says nothing and she smirks. "When did it start, Will? The polywater intoxication?"

"No."

"She infected you, didn't she?"

"I carried her to sickbay. Please sit down."

Lwaxana leans over until she's level with him. His blue eyes flicker, looking everywhere but at her. "How did you like your Q powers?"

Will takes a steadying breath. "She wasn't on the ship for that."

"You were very happy she didn't marry Wyatt," she murmurs and he flinches. "Your jealousy was all over the ship. Green and foggy, hovering around you while you leaned moodily in doorways and lingering in the halls after you were gone. But you can have all the alien dalliances you want and she'll always be right next door, won't she?"

"That's not fair."

"I heard your father came to visit. Parents always bring up all kinds of horrible emotional torment. Of course you needed her. But you were going to leave her again, weren't you? For a job. Did you say goodbye? Was she sad?" Her voice rises dangerously and a red flush creeps up his neck from under his uniform. "What's going to happen after I go home to Betazed? I'm sure my visit has damaged her in some way, but don't worry, you're here to make it all better!" She grabs a fistful of his sleeve and twists it toward her. "She felt Tasha die. She felt that thing torturing you! What happened after the funeral, Will?" She lets go and pushes him away from her. "What happened to her grief? Your guilt?"

"Stop hitting me!"

"What about little Ian?" Lwaxana growls, dropping back down to his level again. She's right in his face, black eyes fierce. "What about my grandson? Did you comfort her after her son died?"

"That's enough!" he roars and leaps to his feet. Lwaxana holds her ground, they're toe-to-toe, and she glares up at him. "I am not a –!"

He freezes.

His eyes widen and Lwaxana's face splits into a magnificent grin. "Ah, so you do remember."

Will blinks at her dumbly, the echo of her insult still rattling in his head. "Did you just –?"

"No, dear, you just. It's true that I am the most powerful telepath and empath on Betazed," she says coyly over her shoulder as she returns to her seat and spreads her gown out across her knees. "But don't sell yourself short."

Will is still standing in the small space between their seats. "Am I going to be able to read your mind now?"

"Only when I allow you to. Which will not be often," she adds sternly.

His fury breaks like a fever and rises off him in steamy waves, confusion settling in its wake. "So, you're not really angry?"

"Of course I am, but not about this. You're adults, do as you please." She peers at him sidelong. "But if you hurt her again I will have you taken care of. I know a lot of people, William. Now sit down and pay attention before we crash into something. I will not meet the four deities in this shuttle with you."

"You baited me."

"Of course, dear."

"Why?"

"To remind you of what you have and what you're capable of. Now, why did you volunteer to come get me?" He doesn't move, his emotions tumbling over each other and spilling out into the air between them, and she sighs, fanning her hand vaguely at the front of the shuttle. "Eyes on the road, please, William."

"What happened at the conference?"

A long moment of silence stretches out between them. "Sit down, Commander."

Will grumbles as he reluctantly folds himself back into the small shuttle seat and returns his attention to the screens before him. She leans back in her seat to watch him work, methodically and confidently, propping his foot up on the nearest surface. He checks the auto-pilot and eventually his mind relaxes and his thoughts wander and she pries, just a little, because she can't help but peek once in a while. He idly ponders a mysterious next meeting Captain Picard mentioned. Reviews last week's poker game, which he lost. A maintenance list for Geordi. Personnel reports. What he wants for dinner. Idle notes of a jazz piece he's working on.

All manner of unrelated minutiae floats in and out of his mind so easily, but there, unnoticed underneath everything, weaving through his thoughts like an omnipresent white noise, is her daughter. Sitting beside him at the poker game, teasing him for losing. When she'd like to collaborate on the personnel reports. If she'll have dinner with him. Her constant request that he play the one song he can't quite master.

Lwaxana gently retreats from his mind and smiles warmly. "You used to remind me so much of Ian. You still do, I suppose."

She feels pride bloom in him, but when he looks at her, he's frowning. "That must be difficult. I'm sorry."

"Hmm. It was at first. It was kind of nice having him around, though."

"But you were so mean to me."

Lwaxana laughs. "And you kept coming back for more. Deanna got so mad at me. Maybe I was testing you."

"Maybe you were trying to get rid of me."

"Maybe I was. Maybe I was trying to spare her what I felt when Ian died."

"Believe me, I don't want that either."

Lwaxana laughs wryly. "Oh, you have no idea."

She's quiet for a long time, staring out into the darkness before them. She props her cheek on her hand, leaning away from him, lost in memory, so Will practices reaching out to her with his mind only to be promptly turned away.

"Stop knocking, William, it's impolite. I'll show you. Close your eyes."

She feels a surge of apprehension, but he complies and settles back into his chair.

Sunlight pours in through giant windows. The rustle of fabric, the clicking of high heels, the snoring of the dog. He rounds a corner and seven year old Deanna is there, a mess of curls with a doll in one hand and a book in the other. Her face lights up when she sees him. "Mommy!" The little voice is far away, clouded by time. He watches from inside as Lwaxana reaches for her, perfectly manicured nails, rings glinting in the sunlight, and actually feels her bracelets rolling down his arms.

Then, an impact from light-years away. It hits him like phaser fire and he collapses. Tons on his back and he gasps. The shiny hardwood floor beneath his palms feels like dirt. No air. Just rubble and fire and Deanna screaming. Darkness. Night and silence. Crewmates gone. Tiny rivers of blood. The dog barking and dust motes floating in the sunlight. Trapped. He wheezes and clutches at the neck of the gown. No air and no lungs. Everything's broken. The scorching heat, and then the portentous cold.

The darkness ebbs away and is replaced by something far more agonizing. The room comes back into focus and Ian is gone. A primordial noise erupts from somewhere deep within Lwaxana and Deanna launches herself into her mother's lap. He feels her face against his neck, her little fingers gripping his back, and he somehow gets his arms around her.

Suddenly he feels someone else. This isn't Ian. It's a woman. A sharp pain shoots through his head and he gasps. Like an ice pick to the temple. A small firework inside. A blinding white light.

An ache blooms in his chest. It creeps down his arm as a wave of nausea overtakes him. Sweat. Dizziness. He's too old. The pain grows and amplifies, everywhere, until it stops, suddenly, like a door closing.

Rough hands on his body. A blow to the side of his head. Hard, black eyes devoid of emotion, of empathy, staring. The hands pushed against the man's chest are too delicate, too young to stand a chance. Another blow to the head. She has to be unconscious so her sister can't read her fear.

Weightlessness. Cold. He searches for air and finds none. Small, full lungs. Ian Troi swims toward him, goes blurry, disappears.

The flutter of a tiny mind. It grows, develops, intertwines and bonds until, inexplicably, one day it isn't strong enough to go on, leaving a vast emptiness in its little wake.

When Will opens his eyes, Lwaxana is watching him, her cheek resting against the back of her chair.

"She felt Tasha die?"

Lwaxana nods, rolls her head away. "I live in constant fear, Will. Fear that one day I'll be minding my own business in the dress shop or in a diplomatic meeting and then … she'll just be gone. And I'll feel it." She unconsciously lays one hand on her heart, the other finding its way to her temple. "Every excruciating moment until I'm finally alone. All of this –." She gestures expansively to herself, her life, her iridescent gown. "This noise makes the surprises less surprising. Every gift has its price, I suppose."

"I'm sorry."

Lwaxana turns on him so suddenly that he unconsciously leans back in his seat. "Would you like to feel how she felt when you abandoned her on Risa?"

She asks it so matter-of-factly that Will stops breathing. His shock shoots into the air in yellow bursts, firing from the cracks in his heart, and it settles, she's glad to see, into terrible churning embarrassment. He can't look at her. "I don't think so," he finally whispers. "I think I already know."

"It's awful," she says, rubbing the skin above her heart, trying to disperse the pain. "She wouldn't show me all of it, but I felt it. I still feel it. Every time I see this face." Lwaxana reaches across the cockpit and takes his chin in her hand, forcing him to look at her. She frowns in contemplation. "The beard helps. Matures you a bit."

Will's emotions fall into the shuttlecraft and churn like fog, freed by his inability to hide from her. Embarrassment, thick and blue and low to the floor, settles in the pit of her stomach. Regret, wispy and delicate, floats around her ears. Guilt and anger, red, like lightning. He finally finds words, but Lwaxana shakes her head to silence him.

"You're both in extraordinary danger every day. You might as well be happy while you're at it."

Will's thoughts roil, indecision sending him back and forth like a ship on the Opal Sea and eventually he shakes his head. "I won't disappoint her again."

"No. You won't." It's an observation, not an order, and he eyes her warily. "When you're Imzadi, it doesn't matter what your brain decides. I suppose as long as she insisted on joining Starfleet and coming out here, I'm glad she's not alone. Take your time, but don't waste it. Eventually she'll end up like me and neither of us wants that."

He smirks, the storm dissipating. "That wouldn't be too bad."

Lwaxana peers at him, one side of her mouth tipping into a smile. "Don't try to charm me, Commander."

He shrugs. "It's the only thing I'm good at. So, what happened at the conference?"

She keeps her eye on him, trying to suss out his intentions, but finds only curious concern. "You don't know what it's like to walk into a room already knowing that they're dreading your arrival."

"Sure, I do. I'm everyone's boss." Will smiles comically for her benefit, but she isn't paying any attention to him.

"They think I'm unqualified." Her eyes flash indignantly. "Me! The Daughter of the Fifth House of Betazed! Who are they?"

"No one," he says, right on cue, but she barrels past him.

"They think I'm flighty. And loud – ironically. I'm a telepath! I am not LOUD!" Will winces and aims his laughter at the wall farthest from her, but she's too offended to notice. "Apparently, I take up too much space. Gods forbid a woman be in any sort of position of power. It's worked perfectly well for the Betazoids for thousands of years, thank you very much. They think I'm emotional and … inappropriate." A derisive snort escapes her. "Men."

"But The Phase is medical. You can't help that."

"Exactly! I have a condition. I should be resting, not dealing with these incompetents!"

"You know what, Lwaxana? Fuck them."

Her shock sends a sudden purple spark into the air between them, but it's replaced quickly with offense. "Absolutely not. They don't deserve it."

Will chokes on a laugh and she glares at him. "No! It's an expression!"

Lwaxana scowls as she searches the depths of her memory for one of Ian's old Academy friends, drunk, screaming a few choice words about his past professors in a San Francisco bar. A slow grins spreads across her face. "Yeah. Fuck them."

"Fuck 'em. All of 'em."

"Every single one of those patriarchal, misogynistic, backwards-thinking, alien men!"

Will throws his head back and screams at the ceiling of the shuttlecraft. "Fuck them all!"

Lwaxana cackles exuberantly. "All of them!" If Mr. Homn hasn't woken up by now he must be dead. "I am Lwaxana Troi!"

"Fuck yeah, you are!"

"Daughter of the Fifth House!"

"The best house!"

"Holder of the Sacred Chalice of Rixx!"

"That's right."

"Heir to the Holy Rings of Betazed! And …"

"So many rings," he adds helpfully, but Lwaxana has already sobered.

"And I …" Her brows knit together and she frowns. She shakes her head. Lwaxana's heart breaks a little and so does his. "I saved their lives."

Will's compassion is velvet, floating around her like a blanket. "It was your first conference as an Ambassador. You'll show them. You always do."

"Why did you volunteer to come get me?"

"You're changing the subject."

"No one ever volunteers to come get me. I've answered your question, now answer mine."

Will considers this for a moment, and then smiles smugly. "No. I'll show you. Close your eyes."

Lwaxana expertly raises a eyebrow, but humors him, settling back in her seat. He's clumsy at first, only flashes of the briefest memories and emotions get through. Snow. Mountains. Fishing. Everything gray and fuzzy. Glimpses of a lonely childhood, a distant father, an empty house.

Then, she's on Betazed, striking in the full color of precious memory, standing at her own door staring at herself, getting scowled at. Dinner with the Troi women. A lengthy interrogation. The usual charm seemingly getting nowhere, but nonetheless receiving reluctant subsequent invitations.

Tips for Starfleet personnel trying to fit in at Betazoid functions. Don't embarrass me. Stand up straight. The right clothes – or lack thereof – for a respectable gentleman. A jacket from Ian's closet. Lwaxana's favorite, saved.

She accepts weekly picnic baskets with such happiness that she doesn't hear the barbs that accompany them. She feels the love he has for her daughter fill every cell in her body, pure and bright, stronger when he shows it to her than when she was pulling it from his consciousness years ago.

A PADD filled with Starfleet nonsense before her, Deanna across the table with some psychology class work. A plate of Betazoid desserts appears between them and Lwaxana unconsciously squeezes a uniformed shoulder as she passes. A swell of affection. She doesn't remember this, but Will does, vividly, and he replays it often.

She feels his apprehension at seeing her again when she arrives from Haven. Anger that she brought the Millers with her, that she could do that to him. But happiness when she arrived on the Enterprise days ago. Amusement. Not mockery. Never dread.

She watches herself fuss over her daughter and feels Will's familiar green jealousy rising within her, a sad envy, a yearning and a fondness.

An empty house, a distant father, a mother long gone.

Lwaxana reaches across the cockpit, her vision filled with his gray Alaskan memories, his emotions filling her heart, and gently squeezes his arm.