Along with some very thoughtful critiques, I received several requests to continue Wil's and Deanna's story. I've added conversation, but the story is still written in the first person. Enjoy and please post your comments—both good and bad!


Wil, this may be a false alarm, but I feel hostility at 9, 12, 2 and 5 o'clock. Nothing at 6 o'clock!

Acknowledged! Draw your weapon and fall back to the rear on my mark!

"Riker to Titan! We've got a possible hostile situation on our hands. Be prepared to bean us up immediately upon reaching the Romulan beam out platform!"

"Aye, Captain!"

"Admiral Janeway, Capt. Picard, Commander Worf and Lt. Jackson assume security pattern Gamma Iota. Commander Vale, you're with me. Commander Troi and Lt. Keru bring up the rear! Phasers on stun! 125 meters to our destination! Step lively! Let's go!"

Phasers are drawn and the group begins a quickstep to the beam out platform upon hearing their orders. With their hosts 250 meters behind them on the lawn of the Romulan Senate's garden, the first shot is fired five meters before their goal.

Deanna sits back in her chair and howls, as the security vid plays out the attack. One-by-one members of the away team fall to the ground. In slow motion, she sees how she comes between an assailant and Wil, how she takes the shot meant for her husband and how she is blown five meters into the air by the disrupter, landing on Wil. Forced to watch the vid, Deanna's only choice is to sit and view what she doesn't want to see. With a contorted face, Deanna wails at Tuvoc, as she sees her left hand go up to touch the transporter pad.

"Deanna! You're dreaming! Wake-up, Imzadi!" I shout. My Admiral assumes the fetal position and cowers on her side of the bed. Cries escape her lips until she realizes that she is safe in her room with me by her side.

"1/8 lights!" I call as I slide over to my wife's side of the bed. Deanna's cries stop as suddenly as they started. Bewildered, I look at my Imzadi, who appears to still be sleeping if it wasn't for her eyes that remain open and stare off in the darkness. What I see shocks me to my core. I've only seen it a few times in the odd colleague. Deanna looks like she had seen a ghost. If Worf were here, he would say she made the trip to Stovekor and back. At that instant, I know Deanna's recovery is not about going to a therapist to talk about personal issues, but dealing with the experience that she had while looking death in the eye—an experience that she is having difficulty in articulating.

When I wed Deanna, I married a Betazoid and a Star Fleet officer. Star Fleet with its own rules and regulations of how to do things can be considered a culture of its own. It is the culture of Star Fleet that helps us to unify ourselves as a family unit. In our house, most issues are solved not based on the human or Betazoid standard, but on the rules and regulation of the Fleet or finding a happy medium that pleases us both.

Yet, there are times that an issue must be resolved using a person's established beliefs, which at times may have no logic at all or may be part of a religious opinion in opposition of current thinking or Fleet regulations. Looking at my wife, I feel in my gut that this is the issue. Something has happened to my Imzadi, which rationality cannot explain.

"Deanna? You awake?"

"Yes," comes an almost inaudible answer.

"Did you get hit by the phaser again?"

"Uhmm hmmm." This answer is followed by a few sniffles. I reach over and put my wife on my chest, positioning her the way she landed on me during the attack. Then I open the sky viewer above our bed. We can see the stars race by. After we make love, one of our favorite pastimes is to look at the stars from this position in our bed until we fall asleep or make love again. We are silent—each person deep in thought. I idly play with My Admiral's hair.

Finally, I speak. "In Betazed culture is there a form of heaven and hell?"

"Yes."

"Can you explain it to me?"

"It's really complicated. It'd take some time."

"I'll take the Cliff Notes version."

"The what?"

"Short form."

"Wil, there is no 'short form' in religion," my wife sits up and looks at me bewildered, while she wipes her nose with her hand, then she tugs at her SCC to pull it up even though it hasn't slipped out of place. I rub her back.

"I can tell you the short form of a dozen earth religions."

"Really?"

"Yes, want to hear it?"

"I'm listening."

"If you believe in the Creator and follow the rules, you go to heaven. If you don't believe in the Creator, you go hell. For those in between, there is purgatory or a second chance at life."

"That is really overly simplified, Wil."

"Maybe so, but I've got one foot in the door to heaven. I just need my wings and the key to the pearly gates to get in. With the exception of missing you, I'm not even too concerned about being called home early," Wil smiles at his wife.

"Why is that?"

"Like I said, because I believe." I give her my best smile like a Cheshire cat.

"Don't make fun of religion, Wil. The Creator doesn't have to let you into heaven."

"And why is that?" I sit up in bed to meet her gaze.

"Because. . ." my wife becomes inaudible

"Because what?" I ask. From the starlight, I can tell she is really struggling with her inner emotions. I pull her closer to me and cover her.

"Because. . . because you might think you are ready to go to heaven, doesn't mean you've met all the criteria."

"No, it stands black and white. I believe. I get in. The Creator can't turn me down."

"It's not that easy!" My Imzadi is really crying.

"Why isn't it that easy?" To this question, my wife gives no answer. She has lost her voice once again, and we have silence between us.

I lie back on the pillows and look at her. I wait a few minutes so that My Admiral can compose herself before asking my next question. Taking her face in my hands, I ask, "Imzadi, why are you having such a hard time dealing with this one incident? It's been over a year?" My hands wonder from her face to her shoulders, embracing my wife.

"They took something from me, and I'll never get it back," answered Deanna with vengeance in her voice while she jerks away from me. She goes to her end of the bed and pulls her knees to her chest.

"True, but they didn't take everything."

"I don't care. I hate them!"

"Can't you forgive them? Just this once!"

"I don't know how, nor do I want too."

"Just forgive them and let it go. That's what all religions say after you've been wronged" I place my hands on her shoulders.

"Why should I? Did the Romulans care what happened to us? Are the responsible parties in jail? Was there an inquisition? Why haven't they sent word that all who were involved were captured?" Deanna is almost yelling and her chest is heaving.

"Deanna, it's eating you up and starting to effect how you do your job! If it keeps up any longer, I'll have to relieve you of duty." With these words, my wife turns her back to me and is speechless. I don't know if my threat is ignored or is taken in earnest.

I continue, "Isn't your religion about forgiveness? Isn't that one of the pillars of your beliefs and what one of the Holy Rings of Betazoid stands for? They tell you what to do when things are bad!" I try desperately to find a solution to a problem, which I don't fully comprehend.

"It's not that simple."

"Then make me understand. What did I miss? What don't you have in this life that you can't go on?" I go to her and we both sit on the edge of the bed.

"My father's gone and I haven't seen him for over a year."

"Imzadi, you're father has been dead for over 40 years!" With these words, I know that I have made a mistake. My Admiral gets out of bed and sits by the main view window in our bedroom. She places her head against the window and simply cries. Suddenly, I realize my wife is having a religious crisis, which is something I am ill equipped to deal with.

I wasn't raised religiously as a child. My parents and later my father never took me to any religious service. We celebrated Christmas, but without really knowing the background story. When I asked if there was a God, my father kept it simply for me: be a good person and go to heaven. Later, at the Academy, I participated in the Intergalactic Religions Course, which outlined the most practiced religions of the Federation. That was my religious upbringing. My wife is correct: I really can't quantify everything down to a few rules, because my understanding of the rules is very rudimentary. For the love of Job, I hate seeing her cry like that. I'm in way over my head on this one and must somehow dig a hole to get out. I get out my handkerchief from my bathrobe pocket, cross the room and offer it to my wife, who takes it.

I change my tactic, because one thing I have learned from all my years in Star Fleet is to respect the religious beliefs of everyone, regardless if I believe in them or not. Therefore, I accept the fact that my Imzadi hasn't seen her father for a while. I believe in what she believes for the moment. "When was the last time you saw your father?"

"On the day I was shot. He said he would lead me to Betaha, but while we were on our way, he suddenly stopped. The next thing I remember is that he stood over us and told you to place your hand on my wound to stop the bleeding, which you did it. He asked me who you were and I said my commanding officer. Then I remembered I was talking to my father and not an officer. I told him you were my husband. Tahii replied that was nice. He kissed me on the forehead and told me to be brave. Before he left, he said to raise my hand so I could reach the transporter pad. Later, I woke up in sickbay. I haven't seen him since."

"Tahii?"

"It means beloved father in Betazed."

"I see. How often does he come by?"

"Whenever I'm really sad. When I lost our baby, I thought he'd come by to visit me, but he didn't. He's usually right there whenever something happens. I go in the shower and he's right there. Or he comes to my office."

"He's been protecting you hasn't he?"

"Yes, always."

"Have you lost your faith in him? That he can't protect you anymore?"

"I don't know. Maybe he's upset at me for being so angry with the Romulans. That's why he probably stopped my journey to Betaha. Maybe I have angered his spirit."

"Betaha? Oh, yes. Heaven. I have a question for you?"

"What?"

"Are you sure that you aren't upset with the Goddess, because she decided not to take you?"

"No."

"Do you remember the Nexus?"

"Yes."

"Do you try to forget it? Or do you think about?"

"My whole family was there, including older sister, father and grandparents. I think about it from time to time. It makes me really happy, but I know I can't go back."

"And Betaha? Were you afraid to go there with your father?"

"No, I was really calm, but at the same time I was upset with the Romulans."

"Did you break a rule?"

"I'm not sure."

"Why not?"

"Because I was angry at that moment and not my whole life. That is what should have counted—my whole life. I never thought the Goddesses would have been that petty."

"Is that why you're angry at the Romulans?"

"Yes, they kept me from Betaha. Now my father doesn't visit me. Plus, they have made it next to impossible for me to conceive and carry a child. Now, I'm full of hate and anger. I wasn't like this before the accident." Realizing that my wife spoke the truth, we are quiet for some time.

"Admiral Troi, permission to speak freely."

"So long as you don't make a jack ass out of yourself," shot back my wife with irritation in her voice.

With that comment, I really had to hold back a snicker, because a) the wife rarely uses a course word and b) she probably knows what I'm about to say. True, I could hit her below the belt and say something like, "This is an example of when shitty things happen to good people. Some people have it in spades while you've only been touched a little. It's called a trail and you're failing miserably. So stop feeling sorry for yourself, because worse can happen." But I don't; this isn't about feeling sorry for her self. It's about her religious beliefs; it's about finding contentment with what she has experienced. I change tactics once again.

I go and sit next to my wife. Her hair is clinging to her face and the window is smudged from her tears. I pull the hair out of Deanna's face and place it behind her ear. Then I rub my nose against hers.

"What does that mean?"

"Unlike you who have a sound religious upbringing, it's all that I have left of my people's traditions."

"Which people?"

"On my mother's side of the family, I'm a descendent of the Athabascom Indigenous People of Tanacross, Alaska. We call ourselves the Daendeh. That's why my hair is so bushy. I get my eyes from my father's side of the family. They migrated from Germany to the United States during the Alaskan gold rush, so von Reicher became Riker. In the beginning, the Indigenous and immigrant populations had very little to do with each other, but a few centuries later, we are a mixed bag of treats. One's origins really doesn't matter. Yet, there are certain traditions that still remain. The nose greeting was done to say hello when a husband came home from the hunt. Mothers would rub their children's noses as a form of maternal contact. Children would also greet each other and their siblings with a nose rub."

"That's very logical. Plus, with all the fur, a hug would be near impossible."

"Yes, that is very true." I realize I have her attention. She's not crying anymore to my relief. I continue, "When I was a toddler, my mother took me on the Great Trek. Do you know what that is?"

"Yes, your cousin wrote me about it. After World War III on earth, many major cities were destroyed. Fairbanks had a gas pipeline and was bombed. Not many people were left alive. It was decided to make the trek to Barrowville, where there was little pollution from fallout. There's a reenactment of the Great Trek every 25 years by the descendents"

"Barrow. It's in the Artic Circle. Now, mind you most people at that time were city dwellers and technology was advanced. Only a few elders knew about hunting and trapping. My Nanna got lost in a storm and couldn't find her way back."

"What's a Nanna?"

"My grandmother."

"Oh a latahii. What did she do?"

"Well, the elders had given her a totem. It was a caribou. In a dream, her totem told her where to find the herd. Nanna followed this advice. After a few days, she caught up with the group again. Thanks to her totem."

"Did she loose her totem?"

"Yes, she did. Nanna went to the elders and asked why. The shaman responded that she had found her way and that her totem was free to wander the steps."

"Did her totem come back later?"

"I read her diaries and Nanna never mentioned seeing it again although she believed in it greatly." Deanna takes this time to think about what I have said.

"Why would father leave me at a time like this? I need him so." A big tear splashes down her left check and falls on her breast.

"There is your mother's religion and your father's religion. Look to them and maybe you will find the answer. What did your father believe?"

My Imzadi's eyes grow wide and her forehead wrinkles up. "It's complicated."

"Cliff Notes, please."

My wife looks about as if someone would get her for telling a secret. "Mother had a difficult time accepting some of the things father believed in. He only told me a little."

"Where's he from?"

"From the town of New Murinduko, the Central Province in the Highlands of Kenya in the United Federation of African States. Father went to school in New Mindi, Kenya and later to the Academy in Old Johannesburg, South Africa. He's the descendant of rice farmers who immigrated to Kenya from Romania before WWIII. They married with the locals. I think his people are the Kamba, but he doesn't look like one, because of all the intermarriage."

"What did he tell you that your mother is so riled up about?"

"Everything has a life: people, animals, and even the houses where we live. We should respect all life. That spirits walk with us and guide us. That we should respect the spirit world and show it reverence. . ." her voice trails off.

"Anything else?"

"I don't remember much. He died when I was so young. I didn't dare ask mother to talk about it. I did write my cousins on Earth about it, but they just laughed and said those were old silly ways and that no one thought like that anymore."

"Deanna, do you think they are silly?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because my father walks with me. He is part of who I am—part of our shared cultural identity."

"Can Betazoid religion explain his presence?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"I'm mentally ill, but I'm not."

"You've kept this from your mother?"

"Yes."

"WOW! What a hat trick! You must be very disciplined to pull that off."

"Thank you for not thinking I'm mentally disturbed?" There is silence for a while. My wife is trembling, so I embrace her tightly.

"Well my Nanna seeing that caribou made a believer out of me. So now, you have a problem, because you've got two opposing religions and one missing father."

"That is a fair explanation of matters."

"Your Betazoid side says to forgive and get into heaven, while your Kamba side is the warrior who wants to avenge you."

"Yes, so my father can visit with me again."

"At issue here is how do you forgive, how do you avenge and how do you find your totem again? You want inner peace and a good night's sleep without feeling tortured all the time?"

"You do understand!"

"I may not understand all the rules, but the concepts are universal." With that I lead my Imzadi back to our bed. I rearrange her on top of me—spread eagle so she can look at the view.

"Can I say something?"

"Yes."

"Maybe the answer is standing right in front of your nose."

"What do you mean?"

"You said your father came to us and told us what to do in order to save the crew and ourselves."

"Yes."

"Then you told your father who I was."

"Yes."

"Maybe your father realized that you had someone to love and look after you. He went because he knew not only that I could take care of you, but also you could take care of me. Why else would you throw yourself between my assailant and me."

"But why didn't he come yesterday?"

"Because he knew that although you and I are both sad, it wasn't the same as being lost in the Arctic. We've got three more chances at happiness and if that fails, we can always adopt. There are plenty of kids in this universe who would appreciate a good home."

"You wouldn't mind adopting?"

"No. Plus, I'm tired of looking like Santa Claus and I hate seeing you unhappy." My Admiral takes this in and minutes pass by.

"I'm still angry."

"Our greatest fears occurred while on duty. Stop letting this fear haunt you. You've lived through it. Plus, it's in the past now. You've been stunned by phasers, but never hurt seriously. Now, this is a reality. Think of it like this. When the Enterprise D went down, you cried like a baby at the helm. Data held you in your place, so you could pilot. Five years later, Jean-Luc ordered you to plow into the Schimitar and you didn't bat an eye. No tears, just an officer doing her duty. Were you angry at the Captain or me for doing our jobs and placing you in danger?"

"No."

"Are you angry at yourself for taking the shot meant for me?"

"No."

"How should you view the attack?"

"It was a foolish attempt by the politically disenfranchised to change the course of their planet's history. We had the unfortunate luck of being caught in the middle while doing our jobs."

"Excellent! Now follow the rules of the Betazoid tradition and forgive. You'll get into heaven quicker that way."

"What about my Tahii?"

"What will you do if he comes back? Give him a piece of your mind like your mother would? Your totem deserves better than that."

"I'd tell him that I love and miss him. I asked him to please visit me more often."

"Great! Rule number two: respect the spirit world, Imzadi. So what if he doesn't come back."

"I'll cry in the shower."

"Why are you in this position, Deanna Troi?"

"I surmise that you want me to face up to everything."

"That is very true. What else?"

"I don't know."

I smile at her, "Show me how you saved us all." My Imzadi looks up to the sky viewer that shows our reflection and lifts her left hand above her head, touching the headboard of the bed like it was the transporter platform.

My face is inches from hers. I rub my nose against hers. "Save yourself Deanna Troi like you did your crewmates. You did it once; you can do it again. It's within you to do so. You've more than a nose rub and a spotty religious dictate to help you out. Don't be afraid to use the tools that are at your disposal." She takes this in without replying. After some time, her eyes begin to flutter. I place My Admiral on her side of the bed and cover her up.

"Imzadi?"

"Yes?"

"I'll try to forgive the Romulans, but it won't happened overnight."

"Brahim, Imzadi."

"Imzadi?"

"Yah,"

"You'd really release me of duty?"

"Hell, yes!" At my answer, my wife looks most embarrassed.

"I have—"

"—a duty to the ship!" we say in unison. A few minutes pass.

"Imzadi?"

"Yes?"

"Who's Santa Claus?"

"Cliff Notes or long version?"

With this my wife laughs and curls up to go to sleep. It's 02:00 when Deanna's eyes flutter shut for the third time.


I pull the comforter over myself and turn on my side to watch my wife. I smile at myself as she slumbers. My Admiral surprises me often. I never really took her for an extremely religious person like her mother, who insisted that Betazoid material ceremony be followed to the letter of law. Our wedding lasted three days, because religious and cultural traditions had to be observed. Deanna took this all in stride, while I was just baffled and happy to get through most of the ceremonies without a major mistake.

And her ancestors on her father's side are Kamba warriors. Geordi is also from the African Federation and has often told me of the War of Independence fought by the African Federation to free the continent from European and Asian dominance. One of the fiercest groups was the Kenyans. Suffice it to say that the continent reclaimed its heritage after War War III. No wonder my Imzadi has fight in her! It's hidden in her genes. I wonder if my mother-in-law knew of this when she married Ian Andrew.

Ian Andrew is a ghost. All I can say is, "Yikes!" I think I'd be terrified if something like that happened to me. Had my mother appeared, hell, I don't know what I would have done. I wouldn't be acting normal about it that is certain. It's funny. I've never really dreamt about my mother nor do I have any memories of us being together. Was I really in diapers like my father said? I could have sworn that I was at least four or five when she died. I remember how she cried all the time; how dad was never there. Or did I just make all these things up because I wanted a mother so bad as a child, because my father wasn't there for me? And my Imzadi? I'm not saying that Deanna is making her father up—just that she might have also wanted to have a father. I guess a ghost dad is good to have, sort of like an imaginary friend to talk to.

I smile at myself as I remember My Admiral's question. "Who's Santa Claus?" she asks me. Well, he's this person who loves children. He's this imaginary friend of parents who brings little children gifts at Christmas. Most parents use him as a discipline tool while yelling, "Be good or else Santa won't come!" As kids get older, either other kids tell them there is no Santa Claus or they find out the truth by observation. When the truth is found out, talk about tears! It's like parents break a cardinal rule and lie to their kids. But parents do it so their children can be happy, for the short span of their childhoods.

Being happy. I guess that is why my parents didn't raise me religiously. They thought less was more. But is that right? Have I missed something? Deanna has her religious traditions. She seams perfectly content until now. If it hadn't been for the Intergalactic Religions Course, I would have never known why we celebrated Christmas. It was fascinating to find out that Jesus is recognized and is celebrated in dozens of different religions. In some religions he died young at 33 years old while in other religions he reached the grand age of 120—very old considering there was no Starfleet Medical. I should hope to live so long. But some how, despite this tragedy, I know I can find my happiness again. Thank the Creator for small miracles. As for my Imzadi, she will find her own path. I'm sure of it. She believes so much.

I turn over to watch my wife sleep and absently play with a stray hair on the pillow. My Admiral looks more content, as I sit up to watch her. Why can't I sleep right now? Man, I hate insomnia, because I look so haggard the next day. Plus, Counselor Troi can see right through me. I want to bring her over to my side, but she hates to be cold and I hate to be too hot. Plus, she just got to sleep.

I slip out the bed and put my uniform on. I know I'm off duty, but what the hell! It's the only thing I know how to do when I'm under stress—work some more. I guess this is where men and women are different. Men have a dozen different ways to put things out of their minds and not think about a topic. Women think. Take getting hit by a phaser. Most men take it in their stride. Women are a bit different. They think about it and understand fully what it means. I guess that is why women security officers have a better record of survival when it comes to getting phaser tagged. They think.

It is this thinking that Deanna is doing. Now, I love my wife and take her experiences very serious, but I wish she could be a man right now and put her experience aside and not think. Nice and neat in a little box. Deal with it say in two years! I laugh at myself, because my wife's office is full of such people! I kiss my Imzadi on the forehead, watch her smile—I have to give her a kiss good-bye no sneaking out, don't ask me how she stays sleeping—and slip out into the corridor.

Lt. Keru passes me on my way to the bridge and acknowledges me. No sooner is he around the corner, and then I hear, "Keru to Bridge! Captain Riker is on his way!" I must speak privately with Keru when I want to go on walk about. Part of knowing what is actually going on aboard ship is being able to make a surprise appearance. Funny, I haven't spoken privately to Keru since his lover passed away. Now, there is the exception to the rule. Keru mourned Hawk's death for ages. No putting things in the box there. Maybe I could learn a few things from him.

I step on the bridge to find Tuvok on duty.

"Good evening captain. Logic would dictate that I give you a status report, but as you are on sick leave, I must decline."

"Can I at least go to my ready room?"

"As you wish, it is your ready room, Captain." Tuvok informs me with a raise of an eyebrow.

"I'll just go and look at the view. As you were." I slip into my office and sit at my desk. It is piled high with PADDs. I sort and delegate. The door chimes; Lt. Keru comes in.

"I'm off duty. Lt. Tuvok is the commanding officer." Keru doesn't say a word, just slips a half dozen PADDs with the day's reports on my desk. I read the top one quickly, relieved that everything is running efficiently in my absence. I give him a stack of PADDs and he turns silently to leave.

"Lt. Keru!"

"Yes, Sir?"

"Thank you!" Three hours later I slip out of my ready room, giving Tuvok the finished PADDs.

"Captain, I surmise the view was pleasing?" inquires Tuvok.

"Very much so!"

"The logical thing to do now would be to go home and rest after such an enjoyable recreational period. Naturally, my report will say that I did not see you this morning."

"That is falsifying records, Tuvok." I smile broadly with a glint in my eye while heading for the door.

Before I have a chance to leave, Tuvok replies, "Actually, I thought it was a good joke." The crew chuckles, as I wave good-bye to Tuvok.

Once home, I slip out of my uniform and get into bed. I kiss my girl, who smiles in her sleep. When I reach that dreamy state before falling asleep, I see Ian Andrew. He salutes me. As he turns to leave, his daughter Kestra is standing next to my Nanna, who speaks, "Don't you have something to tell your brother-in-law, child?" She blows on a muktok flower. The seeds take flight on the cool evening air and scatter like the stars while a warm melody plays.

She says to me, "Your daughter will fall from the heavens." The muktok seedlings form the stars and the sky. From the horizon, a Kamba warrior with a spear in his left hand and a small calf on his right arm runs after the caribou, which race by as I fall asleep. My last thoughts are I can't forget what I just saw and heard; I must tell my Imzadi of such an important message. She'd be able to interpret them better than I.


Will's snoring wakes me up. He really has to get his anodes checked again. Although he only snores when he is extremely tired, the condition could be dangerous especially when on an away mission. Poor Imzadi, he's so tired right now both physically and emotionally. I hope I won't wake him. Nonetheless, it's time to turn my flapjack. As much as I love my husband, his side of the bed is cold at 17C°. Sighing, I leave the warmth and scoot over to him and press my body against him to stay warm. My presence makes him turn and the snoring stops.

Upon making contact with Wil, tears well up in my eyes when I think of loosing our baby. I feel how my Imzadi automatically pulls me into his embrace. We lie together like spoons. My chest and abdomen ache as a constant reminder. I hyperventilate, but stop the oncoming attack, not wanting to wake Wil. I try not to think of our loss and begin to concentrate on our last conversation. Stealing the covers from my husband to keep warm, I look at My Captain, who's sleeping soundly. His crumbled uniform is on the chair by his bed, telling me that he has been up and about the ship. Why does this man choose to work when he is feeling miserable? I can't figure that one out. What a silly girl, I am! Yes, I can. It is his coping mechanism. He works; I meditate.

Right now, we are emotional wrecks, especially me. Since the hormone treatments, which took their toll on both of us and the loss of our child, my emotional pendulum has been swinging back and forth. If the truth were told, I can barely put up with myself. If my grandfather were here he'd call me a weeping, pouting, petulant child, who really needs a good smack on the bum in accordance with ancient traditional Betazed pedagogy.

If Wil takes me off duty, it will be justified. I'm that impossible to work with now. It's a good thing that Dr. Ree grounded us for three days. I'd have taken a fortnight if given it. Poor Wil must put up with the likes of me and endure as best he can. Plus, he has to listen to me chatter on about Betazoid tradition and my father.

Oh, Tahii, I miss you so. I've never told anyone about father visiting me. Not even Tuvok, who councils me. I've kept my secret buried from prying minds of Betazoids for so long that I have never really thought about the negative effect it would have on me. But really, whom would I tell? Who would believe me that my father comes for a visit when I am depressed? The subject makes most Betazoids uncomfortable or it makes them behave like my mother, who accused me of trying to raise the dead when I asked her if such things were possible. I'm not mentally ill; I'm gifted with visions. Is that such a wrong thing to be when one is blessed with such a wonderful talent?

I am so happy that at least Wil believes me when it comes to these visions. Sometimes, I wish I were more like him: pragmatic, emotions in check and extremely brave. I could go so much farther and be so much more if it weren't for my Betazoid emotions getting in the way. Yet, I do cherish my empathy, which makes me unique as a person. I also value my many accomplishments. I just wished my empathy didn't race out of control at times or wish I were fully human to get around it like my father. Oh, my Tahii! Where are you, my beloved? You've helped me so over the years.

When Ian died, my father appeared right by my bed and stayed the night with me. Then there is the destruction of the Enterprise D. When Tahii appeared, he gave me a tour of his ship, the USS New Indianapolis 1916 C. He explained to me how happy he was with his life. Tahii was lieutenant commander and second in command under Captain Micheala Prince when he passed away. The Indianapolis was on a diplomatic mission to Pan' Tang 6 when it was caught in the cross fire of the two opposing fractions. Tahii had bridge duty and was struck down after a Pan Tangen torpedo breached the hull. He died instantly.

Slipping out of bed, I go to my wardrobe and open the door. An intricately carved wooden hope chest, made of coffee tree wood stands before me. My father, as a teenage, made it for his mother in woodworking class. Captain Prince gave it to me when she returned Tahii's body to Betazed. I push on its handle and a footstool unfolds while the chest opens. I take out the holograph of the Indianapolis and sit down. The 40-year-old holograph, which was a gift from my father, flickers. It has broken several times over the years, but Geordi fixed it. Later, he taught me how to make the repairs. He was surprised that I had such a toy and pulled out his entire collection to show me. He didn't have the Indianapolis and was a bit put out when I wouldn't sell it to him. When his mother was declared MIA, I lent it to him for a while. He understood the symbolism of it.

Although I have a holograph of my father's ship, I never looked at the schematics or visited when I was a young girl, because the ship was posted far from Betazed. To be honest, I didn't really have an interest in space ships as a young child. It wasn't until I took my command test that I actually thought about ship design. When father came to me after the D crashed and showed me his ship, I made sketches of it. Later, I called up Fleet records to check their accuracy. My memory was spot on.

Not only did Tahii give me a tour of his ship, but also told me how he died. He knew I had a fear of dying while on duty in the same ghastly way that he had died. He didn't want me to be afraid of death or doubt that I could fulfill my duties while under fire. After that I wasn't afraid of dying anymore, because I knew that someone close to me understood the career choices I have made and why I have taken chances. This experience even bounded me stronger with my father.

Despite knowing what my father tried to show me, I am afraid and full of self-doubt. I can't seem to get past That Day. I'm so afraid it will happen again. That Wil and I won't come out so lucky. I'm not afraid of the journey to Betaha. It's just. . .it's just that I don't think I have the strength to recover again. I'm tired and I don't know why I'm so tired. I'm like Worf: we both wish for a quick and painless warrior's death—just don't let us suffer, because we can't take it. I hate how being an invalid makes me feel weak and useless. Just look at me when I lost my empathy! Talk about crybaby and all around bitch! Tahii was so lucky! He died a warrior's death.

Now, Tahii is gone and I am left to ponder the reason why. The pain of my father's loss hurts so much that I feel that I am being pressed against the wall during the implosion of the Enterprise E while under fire by the Shimitar. Yet, right now I must accept the reality that my father has completed his journey to Betaha. He's put his affairs in order, so that he can move on. I should be happy for him, not selfish by wanting him to stay with me here. Wil was right. I should respect the spirit world. I should forgive and move on like Tahii.

Placing the holograph back into the chest, I find the prized digital pictures of my family that Mr. Homm sent me. After the Battle of Betazed and the Troi family mansion was ransacked by the Jem Hadar and Cardassians, Mr. Homm found the pictures among some of my father's belongings, which had been stored in our family's disaster sheltor. Kestra has her hands full holding onto me while my parents look down on us in adulation. Clicking the forward button on the frame, the picture changes to my mother holding me as an infant. The script proudly says that Kestra made the picture on my Mahaii celebration or welcoming ceremony. Tears flow again. It's just mother and I now.

No, I scream at myself. It's not over 40 years ago, when mother and I only had each other. It's mother, my brother Briam, Wil and I. It's not just mother and I. There is a new reality. This, I must accept. We can get through this. Looking at my husband, I wonder why it has taken me so long to come to this realization. I'm suddenly somewhat elated and want to call my mother to acknowledge this newfound point, but I don't wish to wake Wil. It wouldn't be fair to him if we didn't call together for he really cares for my mother and brother. It's not I; it's we. We will heal and we must find a way. I place the picture frame on my nightstand.

Despite this revelation, my tears have not ceased. Father hated when I cried. He'd give me anything just for me to stop. Mother hated when father gave in to my whims and pointed out that it made me impossible to discipline. Rummaging through my chest, I find my Fabergé chocolate eggs given to me by Captain Picard for my birthday last year. Of the 50 imperial eggs, 43 are left in a self-cooled box. I pick the Lillies of the Valley egg in remembrance of my father.

Not thinking, I pop the whole egg into my mouth and choke. The decoration falls off while the cream filling oozes out. I curse at myself. The ruddy thing is 10 cm high with a diameter 6 cm! It's not like I can just stuff it into my mouth in one whole piece. This makes me smile. Taking out my small hand torch, I search for the assorted decorations on the floor while stuffing the bits into my mouth. I chew slowly enjoying the rest of my egg. Resisting the urge to take another one, I return the box to my chest. I'm no longer crying and smell of chocolate with the evidence on my face and SSC. I spy another nut on the floor and pop it into my mouth.

Tonight, I've taken the first step in healing by acknowledging the reality in which Wil and I are living. I know I've depended on my father to be there for me, but my instinct tells me it is now time to move on. Yet, How can I when I am at such odds with myself. I don't know what to believe anymore or how to find my faith again. I was bought up in the Betazoid religion, but my father showed me his religion even though it was very briefly. How can my soul be at such odds? How is it that what I believe is not a comfort to me now? Why do I feel that a part of me has died, because my father is no longer here?

Part of me wants to forgive, but part of me wants revenge. I'm so angry that I want to strike out at those who are responsible for they have hindered me in the preservation of my house and securing the next generation for my family.

Wil is correct that I must find a solution among my religions. Part of me doesn't want to solve my dilemma, because that would mean contacting our high priestess and relaying the information to her. On the other hand, I want to preserve and protect the memory of my father for that is what he has done for me over the years—looked after me from the spirit world. I owe him that much that his culture and religious beliefs are handed on just like my mother's. Before I go to bed, I click to the picture of Kestra, my father and me. I place the digital picture frame on my nightstand. Now cold, I slither back into our bed on Wil's side, stealing the covers from him. My Captain lazily puts an arm around me.

I think about Tahii, who wasn't perfect. Had he asked mother about getting a Betazoid kitten she would have told him straight off that the animals had a high telepathic frequency. My kitten Vashtii, named after a favorite aunt on my father's aide, would broadcast on such a high frequency as to get on a gifted telepath's nerves. It was really an intolerable situation for mother and grandfather. Yet, I did love my father for bringing me a playmate that was ever so cute. Maybe, I'll get one on my next leave home.

My eyes begin to flutter and I fight sleep while thinking about the Romulans. It will take a lot of praying, meditating and mak' bah class before I forgive them. I know I have to let go and a year is a long time to hold a grudge. I'm going to take small steps, so peace can once again reign in our house. Forgiving the Romulans is going to be an ongoing battle, but I know I can do it even it is not now.

As for myself, I need to take responsibility for my actions, too. I'm so glad My Captain held his tongue and didn't give me a lecture about feeling sorry for myself or that others have experienced worse. This I know. If he had done so, he would be sleeping on the couch after a knock-out-drag-out fight. But he didn't. He told me a wonderful story about his grandmother, which validated my beliefs and experience. He's earned a gold star and gets to pick out something kinky for me to do on our next holiday.

Gosh, his side of the bed feels pretty good. I'm so glad our bed is what Wil calls the California king size bed. California is a large state, but why isn't it called Alaska king size bed? After all Alaska is bigger than California. My mind is wondering, because I am fatigued. I realize I'm still on the Wil's side of the bed. My skin is itchy and my vision blurs. The pain increases and I can feel a fever coming on. Something in my mind tells me to get up, go to the toilet, drink some water and eat, because I haven't done these things in a while. Prier to taking action, a chill hits me and I begin to loose consciousness. Aside from the effects of loosing our child, I think something is extremely wrong with me. Before I can wake Wil, I slip into unconsciousness.