Leaning out her window, Ro sighed. The hasperat snack and the pleasant evening of study that followed had whetted her appetite for an activity with Riker that was far more intimate. She'd promised herself she wouldn't pressure him, in case all he felt for her was gratitude at his release from the Lazon prison, but she was getting frustrated. Ro wanted more, but while she suspected that Riker was as attracted to her as she was to him, neither of them seemed willing or able to make the next move.
Ro stepped away from her window. She started to prepare for bed by untying her sash, then she stopped. She was being ridiculous. When Tom Paris had been playing the pig on Malagra, she'd called him on his behavior. She'd taken a risk, and everything had changed for the better. It was time to stop being a coward and go to Riker. The worst that could happen was that he'd say she was mistaken, he didn't want her. It wouldn't be the first time that had happened to someone. If it did, she'd just use the experience in her counseling. OK. You can do this, Ro Laren.
She started for her door, but stopped. This is a night for climbing out windows, she thought sardonically. Stepping back to the window, Ro opened the shutters all the way and hopped onto the sill. Swinging her legs around, she landed with a soft thud outside. Taking her shutters firmly in hand, Ro shut them and resolutely stepped out onto the path, briskly trotting towards the Brother House.
When she arrived in front of the building, Ro looked at Riker's window. It was dark, the shutters tightly closed. He was either asleep or not there. Did she have the guts to climb into his window and land on top of him in his bed? Offer herself to him when he was unconscious? A half-smile appeared on her lips. By the Prophets! That would be as shameless as if she had taken him when he was sedated on the Bird of Prey! That isn't the way to honor the Prophets!
Ro walked back up the path toward the Sister House, stopping when she came even with a jaranda bush. The jaranda bush would conceal her from the eyes of others. Stepping behind it, she stood for several minutes, hoping to see some sign that Riker had come awake. Finally, she gave up, thinking, Just another night of frustration, I guess.
Sighing, Ro vacated her vantage point, intending to return to her room. As she stepped onto the path, however, she was immediately shocked by a collision with a figure who was quietly walking back to the Brother House, his head down, deep in thought. Ro stumbled into the man's chest. Thomas Riker's chest. "Oh, I'm sorry. I should have been looking where I was going," she said breathlessly.
"I'm sorry, too, I should have been watching out myself. But it's all right, Vedek Parys. No harm done. And, I assure you, I never mind when a beautiful woman walks into my arms, even if she isn't sure how she got there."
Ro looked askance at him. A vintage Riker line if she ever heard one. She'd heard plenty of them while on the Enterprise. "What brings you out so late at night, Riker?" she asked, falling into step beside him as he strolled down the main path towards his room. Even this late at night, the way was illuminated by small globes every five meters or so.
"Might ask the same thing of you, Ro."
Yes, you might, she thought, since I was hanging around the Brother House so shamelessly. "I had trouble sleeping." It was the truth, of course, but she was not about to let him know the reason for her sleeplessness was that her mind was too filled with thoughts of the body of Thomas Riker for her to relax. "And you?"
"I had trouble sleeping, too. There's a little too much activity going on next door."
"Ah, Tabor has the room next to yours, doesn't he?" At his nod, Ro smiled. "He and Krisya will be announcing their joining any day now. Then you'll be able to get some rest, Riker. They'll move to the Family House then."
"Not a moment too soon. They're making so much noise 'honoring the Prophets' that I needed to take a walk," he laughed. Silently, he added, to cool myself down, but that isn't likely to happen now that you're here, Ro.
"Does it bother you that much to be around two people making love? I wouldn't think you'd have any compunctions about that. At least, from my experience with Rikers." Her voice was stiff, disapproving.
He was on dangerous ground now, but he felt compelled to answer her. "Not at all. It's just . . . well, things are different here, somehow."
"You mean, because Krisya and Tabor are both vedeks?"
"I guess so." Her chilly attitude made him want to explain himself. "Don't get me wrong. I know that your faith permits it. Many faiths on Earth have permitted a married clergy. It's just the whole concept of monastic life on Terra is so different, that way, at least. Sex is one of the things sacrificed when a life is dedicated to God at the monasteries of my world."
"Did you ever think that may be why there are so few monasteries left on Earth?"
Laughing again, he admitted that she had a point.
"You know," Ro commented, "I find it amazing that anyone would feel that God would appreciate such a sacrifice. It's one thing to be moderate in all things, as our faith teaches us. We're supposed to concentrate on all aspects of our life, the physical as well as the spiritual, to achieve balance in our existence. Hedonistic people lose sight of what's truly important in life, and not just the teachings of the Prophets. Getting lost in any vice - whether it be gluttony, greed, overweening pride, or exploitative sexual practices - that's wrong because it takes from others. Ignores the feelings of self-worth of another. It even may endanger the physical lives of other people. With greed and gluttony, hoarding might mean that there isn't enough of necessary commodities to go around for all that need them to stay alive. That is sin, Thomas, not two people sharing the act of love to express their true feelings for one another."
"I get your point, but let me play devil's advocate for a moment. Sex is a powerful force for good or for evil. When I care for a woman, frankly, I have trouble not thinking about her. My mind is always full of visions of her body. On duty, I could suppress it enough to function, but at other times . . . well, Ro, let me just say that meditation would be pretty hard for me to do without my mind wandering to . . . to . . . baser things." As soon as the words slipped from his mouth, he knew he had made a tremendous blunder, but it was too late to call them back now.
"Ah. 'Baser things.' Like fucking, for instance."
He choked audibly before an absurdly tiny, "Well, yes," escaped from his lips.
They walked several steps further. With every pounding step, Ro telegraphed that she was getting closer and closer to a major outburst of temper. When she finally stopped and whirled around to face him, Riker could see, by the meager light of the glowing globes by the path, that she was consciously reining in her anger. When she spoke, it was in a deceptively calm, controlled voice, "Maybe the reason your people think of sex as 'base' is because of the words you use to describe it. According to Federation Standard - and I'm talking about the everyday words, now, not the official, medical ones - and correct me if I'm wrong - the male sticks his cock into the female's cunt so that they can fuck until they're blind, and he comes to a climax. If the woman is lucky, the man will pay enough attention to her clit so that she can come to a climax, too. What are all of those 'kuh' sounds in there for, anyway? Just saying them now I spit all over you! Is it possible for your people to have made it sound any uglier?"
"Put that way, no; I guess it would be hard to make it sound uglier. But those are just good old Anglo-Saxon words that have hung on all these centuries because people feel comfortable saying them. Plain speaking, that's all. Are you trying to tell me you've never used any of them yourself, when you were in Starfleet?"
"Of course not. You know I did - and sometimes I still use them, or those like them, such as prick, for one. Another good 'kuh' sound in that one. But I use them as obscenities. That's what they're perfect for - cursing."
"Maybe they do make good curses, but what's so important about how they sound? Is it so much better to say that a man places his 'Tower of Joy' into a woman's 'Wellspring of the Prophets' so that they can 'Honor the Prophets'? I can list you dozens of euphemisms from all kinds of Earth cultures that say the same thing."
"You're missing my point, Riker," she sighed. "The Bajoran terms aren't really 'euphemisms.' They indicate an entirely different mindset about what it means for a man to join with a woman, for two people to mate. Did you know that the concepts of both prostitution and rape were unknown on Bajor until the age of spaceflight, when we learned of them from the other races we encountered? The old writings are full of references about how shocked my people were. How could someone 'sell' or 'rob' a bodily function? Can a person 'sell' defecation? 'Steal' eating? 'Rob' breath?"
"You can sell food or a place to defecate. And a pretty face can rob me of my breath, I assure you." He flashed his most devastating smile, desperate to change the subject, even if it meant she would attack him for trying to flirt with her when she was upset with him.
"Those aren't the same thing, and you know it. None of those have anything to do with exploiting a person's body. To pervert the most profound body function of all, the generative act - my people could barely believe it."
Ro paused in her diatribe, which, despite its intensity, had been delivered at the volume of a whisper. Nevertheless, Riker could not have felt worse if she had been screaming at him. Catching a second wind, she went on, "Riker, did you know that until the Occupation, prostitution was unheard of outside of the spaceport areas? Rape was an extremely rare crime anywhere on Bajor - until the Cardassians came and established it as an institution. They almost turned rape into an art form. Rape the landscape of its resources, the men of their self-respect, and the women of their joy in joining in the act of creation. Can you understand? Even if a couple is old or sterile, when they perform the act of love together they commemorate the very act which created their own lives, and those of everyone they know. Sex is life itself, Thomas. It's the one way that ordinary people like ourselves can be one with the Prophets. Because, sometimes when we 'honor the Prophets,' we are blessed by their greatest gift. We create a new life, a new soul, to share our lives with and to raise to honor all creation."
As she peered into his face, Riker was at first too stunned by her fervent outpouring to know how to respond. He stood there, unable to think of anything to say. Then he considered all she had said to him with such emotion, finally comprehending what she had been trying to convey. The simple joy Krisya and Tabor found in each other was no different from what others felt, even though they had dedicated their lives to their gods. Perhaps it was even more precious to them than to others, since the vedeks gave so much of themselves in their life work, expecting little in the way of material gain in return. Riker couldn't help feeling ashamed that he'd been whining about his disturbed sleep to Ro. God knows, I've probably kept more than a few people awake when I was at the Academy, and with Deanna when we were together. What I really am is jealous!
No wonder he wandered the paths of the Gardens at night rather than retire to his bed. His narrow, cold, empty bed. With the joy of the young lovers all so apparent next door, he could not ignore that he desperately wanted what Krisya and Tabor had. Someone else who cared whether he lived or died, someone to love him.
Casting around in his mind for something to say, he finally managed to pull out, "I'm pretty dense, I guess. When you told me that first day we met in the prison that vedeks had sexual lives and 'commemorated the creation,' I didn't understand that you meant it so literally. It never occurred to me before that you could consider making love to be a sacred act, but now I see. How obvious it is. It's the way new lives are created."
Despite the darkness, Riker could see her face light up with that rare, genuine smile he loved. She never smiled enough, in his opinion; but with the weight of her work, perhaps that was no surprise. Then another thought crossed his mind, and a bitter smile curved his lips. "The usual way new lives are created, that is. There aren't a lot of people created in transporter accidents, thank the Prophets."
Shock crossed her features as he laughed too heartily, bitterly pushing away the stabbing pain that flared up within him. A sympathetic expression came upon her lovely face. He found himself clutching onto her, looking deeply into her eyes, as if trying to find something there to ease his mind.
"Don't think that, Thomas. You were created in the usual way, from the loving of your parents. Identical twins are always the result of one being splitting into two. You just did your splitting a little later than most. Transporter technicians aren't likely to replace the Blessing from the Prophets anytime soon."
"It's okay, Ro. It's just something I've thought about a lot, the last couple of years. Dr. Crusher - I'm sure you knew her better than I did - she said there wasn't any real difference between us. We were both the 'true' William Thomas Riker. But that was a lie. Biologically, maybe it's true, there's no difference genetically, but he was the one who's accomplished so much. All kinds of commendations. First Starfleet officer to serve on a Klingon vessel. The man who beat back the Borg. That's his career. It could have been mine, but it isn't. I'm not him and never will be, no matter how hard I try. That's what was so hard to accept. On the Gandhi, they expected me to be him. The raw materials were there, but not the experience that shapes a man into what he ends up becoming. In those eight years, I'd fallen behind in the technology, and in leadership skills, too, from being alone so long. No matter what anyone says, I'm the imitation. I'm not - whole."
"Maybe when it comes to your career, that's so, but I think he lost something, too, when you became two people. The Will Riker I know isn't exactly whole, either. He sacrificed his love for Deanna Troi to his career, yet when he's been offered his own command - and he's had several offers, I understand - he's always turned the big brass down. He's stayed on the Enterprise. Even Picard thought he was ready to go out on his own. I'm sure Picard is grateful to have a first officer he knows could be a captain if he wishes, but it seems that Will is missing something, too."
"Will could have a command whenever he wants. He could have Deanna back, too, I'm sure. She still hears him, I know. It's difficult to explain that Imzadi bond, but I knew, when I got back, that we didn't have it anymore. I tried, but she couldn't really hear me. Only him."
His arms had gradually slipped down to her waist by this time, and she gathered him in close to her, hugging him as she heard his voice catch. "They've lived in such close proximity for so many years, Thomas. She's attuned to him; it's easy for her to hear him; yet he chooses not to hear her. On a ship full of people, no matter how many women he brings to his bed, he's still alone. He's pushed her away, so that the last time I heard, she was with Worf, not Will Riker. And he doesn't have the 'loneliness of command' of a ship for an excuse. At least when you were alone, you didn't have any choice in the matter. You've learned about the 'loneliness of command' the hard way. To excess, one could even say!"
Riker chuckled into her hair, squeezing her gently as he answered her embrace. Riker wanted to ask something of her, but he was suddenly afraid. To be rejected now would be crushing, and after the way he'd mucked up the night's conversation, he wasn't up to taking the risk. As it happened, he didn't need to.
Leaning back so that she could meet his eyes, Ro captured his gaze despite the darkness and added, "And perhaps the Prophets have another Imzadi in mind for you, Thomas Riker. One who needs you even more than Deanna needs Will, even if this Imzadi can't touch minds with you the way Deanna could."
His eyes never wavered from hers as he began to smile. "Another counselor, do you think?" A quick, brief smile crossed her lips, and her nod was echoed by his a second later. Bringing his hands to her face, his thumbs caressing her lips and the bridge of her nose as lightly as a whisper, he replied, "Maybe she can touch my soul, instead."
Their lips met gently in a kiss that began the same way as the one they had shared in the prison, the day they met. This kiss deepened, however, until their pulses raced and the blood pounded in their temples. Their arms wrapped around each other so tightly that they threatened to press out the tiny fraction of air lingering in their lungs. Perhaps that was why both of them gasped when their mouths parted; why they stood so close, holding each other erect, both unable to speak.
Riker found words first. "So, where do we go from here?"
A smirk appeared on her face, and her voice was pitched suggestively low. "Your place, or mine?"
He laughed at that response but kept her body as close to his as possible in what was, even at this late hour, a public place. "Mine. It's time I paid back Tabor and Krisya a sleepless night or two."
Ro laughed with him, patting his bearded cheek. "Let's go wake them up, then, Thomas Riker."
After embracing and kissing again, Riker took up Ro's hand and took a step toward the Brother House before halting and saying, "Caring."
"What?" she asked, confused.
"You know, that list of 'kuh' words before - you left the most important one out. Caring for each other."
"I guess I did." Amusement could be heard in the tone of her reply.
"Sure did. Almost the most powerful one of all. Second only to love. No 'kuh' sound in that 'love' one, though."
Her voice was soft, low-pitched. "No, but it's good to hear."
His voice deepened in pitch also, rich, sultry. "Let me say them both to you. I love you, and I care for you, Ro Laren. Or Vedek Parys. Whatever you're calling yourself tonight." Their hands were clasped, her long, slender fingers tightly held in the grasp of his great paw of a hand.
"And I love you, William Thomas Riker. No matter what you choose to call yourself, you know who I mean."
Their bodies merged into one silhouette. Their heads were close, their lips brushed, but they did not stop to kiss passionately. Instead, they walked together down the path to the Brother House, Thomas Riker holding her hand and leading the way for Ro. In his small cell of a room they would have plenty of time to kiss.