Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek TNG or any of its original characters.
A/N: Thank you Thank you for your patience. I re-wrote this too many times to count, but I finally got it to a point where I (maybe more importantly, Tikva) was happy. I hope you will feel the same way. I almost gave up! When the next one will be done, that's anyone's guess. This one almost drove me crazy!
Chapter 20
Will's eyes opened again at the sound of her voice. He didn't know how to react. Had she thought he was asleep? Would she have said it if she had known he was still awake lying tangled with her? He lay perfectly still, full of uncertainty. It wasn't long before Deanna's body was heavier against him. If she wasn't asleep, she was close.
I love you, Imzadi, he responded to her hoping there was still some portion of the link that would let her subconscious hear his words and feel their sincerity.
Will glanced around the darkness of the room. The chair where he had slept just a short while before lay empty and disheveled. There was still a light on in the front room, but he didn't want to break the silence of her quarters to tell the computer to turn it off. It was so quiet, and had been for so long, with only an occasional word spoken vocally between them. Now there was only the soft gentle intake of Deanna's breaths, though he wouldn't dare to call it a snore. He could hear the low hum of the warp engines and the slight vibration that told him that the ship was running smoothly.
The pillow under his head smelled like Deanna's shampoo, as did the hair that lay trailing across his bare chest. It smelled like flowers and vanilla. He ran his hand along her spine, letting his fingertips take in the smooth warm skin as she lay against him. He looked again towards Deanna's front room where the light illuminated her door. Outside that door lay their whole world, their real life.
What had happened inside seemed to be like a piece of magic. But he knew it was fragile. They had let their emotions take control of them and it had created something beautiful and wonderful. But they had been in almost this same place before, standing on the edge of a life together until their real lives, duty and obligation had torn them apart.
What would happen to them in the glare of the morning light?
Could he call it therapy and walk away?
Could she?
Will tucked her tighter in his arms, knowing that this moment was as fragile as anything he had ever held.
"I love you," he said, this time out loud, to the woman wrapped in his arms. He fought against the desire to sleep, wanting to stay in that moment as long as possible, but eventually sleep claimed him and they slept calmly in one another's arms until morning came.
….
Will slowly awoke from his deep slumber. He heard noises around him, but couldn't distinguish what they were in his half awake state. He stretched every muscle from his neck to his toes before reaching out for Deanna and opening his eyes, but the bed was empty.
"Deanna?" Will called groggily sitting up in the bed.
He heard more rustling before Deanna emerged from her closet. Her hair was wet and she was wrapped in the same robe that they had left in a heap on the floor the night before.
"Hi," she said lightly. "I was just cleaning up a few things."
Will thought back to what her closet had looked like the night before and he couldn't help but smile.
"I didn't know what time your shift started this morning, so I took a shower already so I wouldn't be in your way," she told him as she walked towards the bed and sat on the edge at his feet.
"What time is it?" he asked.
"06:45."
Will laid back down on the pillow. "I don't have to be on the bridge until eight."
"Oh, good," Deanna said a bit awkwardly. She smoothed her robe over her knees nervously.
"Why are you up so early?" he asked, rolling onto his side to look at her.
Deanna only shrugged. She seemed too quiet, almost shy.
He reached out and covered her hand on her knee with his own. "Are you okay?" he asked.
Deanna tried to smile back at him, but she was so conflicted. She had felt so much from him in the night, but it didn't change the overall arrangement, that this wouldn't change their relationship...did it?
"Maybe we should have made some rules for the morning after," she said quietly.
"Are you afraid?" he asked her.
Deanna shook her head no.
"Are you sorry you did it?"
"No! No, I'm not sorry," she said looking back at him, wishing she could make him understand. "I just don't know what to do now."
"Awkward," Will sighed and Deanna nodded. Will looked back at her and smiled. "I don't feel awkward, Dea," he told her, holding her hand firmly. "And I'm not sorry."
Deanna smiled back at him and leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Okay," she said, hoping that she wasn't blushing. "Are you hungry? Can I get you some breakfast?"
Will rolled back onto his back and stretched again. "Famished, but I can get it," he told her, sitting up. He suddenly realized that he was naked under the sheet that was draped over him. He glanced over to where his pants were draped over the chair where he had been sleeping the night before. Definitely out of reach, he thought, and then he looked back to where Deanna stood next to the bed.
She almost laughed. "Not awkward, huh?" she asked mockingly as she walked over and tossed him his clothes.
Will only smiled sheepishly. "Thank you," he said.
Deanna shook her head at him. "I'm getting breakfast," she told him as she headed out of the room. "I'm starved."
Will felt ridiculous for suddenly being so self-conscious. On the other hand, he could hear Deanna laughing in the other room, and he loved the sound of it. He quickly slipped on his pants and came out into the front room to join her. She had put fruit on the table as well as two glasses of orange juice and some toast and coffee.
"Do you want some eggs or something?" she asked glancing back over her shoulder.
Will had the unexpected instinct to walk up behind her and wrap his arms around her, and kiss her neck, but he still couldn't tell where they stood. Where were they in this relationship?
"No, this is good," he said sitting at the table and digging into the food in front of him.
Deanna stood by the replicator and watched him eating for a while, before Will noticed and turned in his chair to face her. He put his piece of toast down. "What?" he asked, noticing the smile on her face.
Deanna shook her head. "Nothing," she said stepping back towards the table to join him. As she brushed past his chair, he reached out for her hand and held it tightly.
"What is it?" he asked curiously. Her coy smile was contagious and spread across his face as well.
"I like you being here," Deanna finally said quietly, her eyes on the floor.
Emotion welled up inside him, and he had to try to recapture some of the feelings from the night before. He pulled her closer to him, until she didn't have much choice but to sit on his lap. Black eyes met blue and he leaned toward her until his forehead was resting against hers, and he smiled.
"I like being here, with you, too," he told her. Her smile widened as she watched him.
"I should let you eat," Deanna said, pulling herself up to leave his lap, but Will held her firmly in place.
His own smile spread across his face as his hand let go of her wrist and slid behind her neck into her hair instead. He approached her lips slowly, giving her plenty of time to back away if she wanted to, but she kept her eyes locked firmly with his, a soft smile on her face.
When their lips met, it was light and tentative, exploring the other with caution. Deanna sighed when Will pulled away from her and that sound was what he had wanted to hear. He pulled her back into the chair with him as he covered her mouth again, kissing her firmly and passionately, as his tongue explored the curve of her lip. She parted her lips and returned the gesture and the fire between them was sparked again. Her hands caressed his back and shoulders as his mouth moved on to nibbling on her earlobe and neck.
"I thought you were hungry," she said trying not to giggle at the way his beard tickled her neck.
"I am," he whispered in her ear before nibbling on her earlobe,
Deanna sighed and let out a small giggle, brushing her hand along his beard and cheek.
"Will," she pleaded.
"Deanna," he moaned back to her, hoping that she wouldn't make him stop. He loved what he was doing and he didn't want to stop, ever. This was what he wanted. He wanted her, forever, just like this.
"Mhhh, Will…" she called out to him again as he kissed down her neck, pulling her robe out of his way as he trailed kisses over her shoulder and began licking and sucking on her collar bone.
Will pulled away and met her eyes expectantly. He waited to give her the opportunity for her to speak, but instead he only heard the tremble in her breathing. He thought briefly about throwing everything to the floor and making love to her right there on the table, but then he knew age had gotten the best of him. He had gotten practical somewhere along the line and the mess, not to mention the hard glass surface just didn't seem worth it. But he couldn't stop himself from playing a bit. With one movement he shifted Deanna off his lap and placed her on the edge of the table in front of him. He heard the clatter of his plate that she had sat on the edge of as it rattled back into place. The move surprised her, but she didn't seem frightened. She ran her hands along his bare shoulders and then down his chest.
There was a hint of doubt in her eyes, and he wondered if it mirrored his own. This would change things. There was no way to write this off as some form of therapy, not after last night. This was the line, the line between lovers and friends, and there was no going back. They stared into each other's eyes for a moment that seemed to stretch on as they decided their future.
"Imzadi," Deanna finally said softly, but before he could answer her she covered his mouth with hers in a searing powerful kiss.
Even before their lips parted, Will hands frantically flew to the front wrap of her robe and pulled them apart until his hands could roam over the smooth full skin of her breasts, his thumb grazing across her nipple, making her moan.
Deanna finally broke away, her head falling back as she tried to catch her breath. He pulled her body to him and closed his mouth over her breast and tantalized and teased at her flesh until she was trembling.
Then with no warning she pushed his shoulders away from her.
"Imzadi," he spoke quietly, hoping that he had not pushed her too far.
Deanna slid off her place on the table and stepped away from him as he watched her helplessly. She turned towards her bedroom and took several steps away from him. He didn't know what to do, or what he had done to make her so abruptly change her mind.
Then just as abruptly he watched as the robe she wore slid off her shoulders and fell down her back and to the floor, revealing her bare body. She looked back over her shoulder at him and smiled.
"Try to avoid the door jamb this time, would you?" she said teasingly and then continued on into her room.
Will almost sighed with relief and laughed all in one. Then he was on his feet. "Very funny," he told her as he followed her path.
Deanna laughed mercilessly until she felt his hands close over her hips from behind. For the first time that morning she felt the fear creep in. She tried not to stiffen too much against him. She didn't want his protection or his pity. She wanted to have fun.
But she found it was easy to relax into his touch as he brushed his thumb against the birthmark above her right hip.
"Don't ever remove it, okay?" he asked.
"Why?" she asked, looking over her shoulder at him.
"Because I like it there."
"You like a lot of things," she said wiggling her eyebrows.
Will playfully pushed her onto the bed and she squealed. It wasn't anything like the night before. It wasn't slow or loving. It was light hearted, even a bit rougher than Will would have ever anticipated. They were laughing and teasing one another with words and touch, like the familiar lovers that they once were, and when it was over they lay next to each other flat on their backs on the bed, panting and gasping for air.
As their breathing slowly returned to normal, Deanna called out to him. "Will?"
"Mhh, Dea,"
"Will," she said more earnestly. "It's 07:54."
"Damn," he said, and he was up and heading into the bathroom. "I'm gonna be late," she heard him call.
Deanna lay on the bed alone for another minute. She heard the shower turn on and could feel Will's churning emotions emanating from the room. There was a jumble of emotions that she chose to ignore, knowing and being familiar with the feel of his thoughts, but there was one emotion that she couldn't ignore or justify. It was remorse and it made that nagging in Deanna's stomach scream out.
She quietly got up and dressed in her uniform, ran a brush through her hair and pulled it away from her face. She quickly put on her make up wondering what they would say to each other when he got out of the shower. They had crossed the line and she didn't know how she had let it happen, why he had let it happen if he didn't want it to. Because he wanted to have sex, you idiot. He warned you, he told you how he felt about it, and you wanted him to do it anyway. Maybe it would be easier if she were already gone when he got out. She could sense that he was frustrated with himself. Maybe he didn't really know what to say to her either.
"Counselor Troi, report to Sickbay," Beverly Crusher's voice cut through the room.
Deanna scrambled to find her COM badge. "On my way," she said quickly, grateful for the excuse to run away. She peaked her head into the bathroom. "Will," she called.
"I'm late, I know," he called to her as he turned off the shower.
"That was Beverly. She needs me in Sickbay. I have to go."
Will peaked his head out, rubbing his hair with a towel, and looked at her uncertainly. "Deanna," he said seriously.
"I have to go, and you're late," she reminded him.
"Don't you think we should talk?" he asked tentatively. "About this?"
Deanna nodded half-heartedly. "We will."
"When?"
"I don't know. I have to go," she said distractedly
"Tonight?" he asked as she turned to walk away.
"Sure," she said lifelessly. "I have to go." She left Will Riker standing in her bathroom drying off and headed out of her quarters, her own conflicting emotions filling her mind.
…
Deanna walked into Sickbay and found Beverly Crusher waiting for her outside the door of a private room.
"Good morning Beverly. What can I do for you?" Deanna asked assuming that she had been paged to assist in some sort of crisis.
"Well you could show up on schedule. You bailed out on me this morning," Beverly told her rather tersely, but Deanna only looked back at her confused.
"When you had your menstrual cycle, we said we would follow up in one month. We made an appointment for this morning at 07:45…" Beverly tried to jog her memory.
Deanna let her happy façade fade away. She was swarming with emotions about everything that had just happened and most of all how Will had felt in the end. She had completely forgotten that she had made an appointment with Beverly, and it was the last thing she wanted to do right now.
"I'm sorry, Beverly. I forgot. But I'm fine. You don't have to worry about me anymore."
Beverly reached out and rested her hand on Deanna's elbow. " Deanna, I should check for residual scar tissue. If it's there, I could remove it easily. But if it grows…well, it could be very painful. It will only take a minute." Beverly was trying to reassure her, but Deanna just wanted to leave. She knew her friend well enough to know that she would not approve of what she had done.
"There's no scar tissue. Nothing hurts."
Beverly sighed. "Well it's not something that you'd feel on a daily basis. Just let me do a quick exam, come on."
"Maybe we could reschedule," Deanna suggested. The last thing she wanted her friend to see on an exam was that she had been sexually active recently…very recently.
But Beverly ignored her and dragged her by the elbow into the room, directing her to sit on the bed so she could begin her scans with the tircorder. Deanna was nervous and felt awkward, unsure of what would show on a scan. She shifted uncomfortably on the table, unable to look her friend in the eye as she did her work.
"Hmm," Beverly finally grunted and she scrunched up her face. "Deanna, I think I'd better do a vaginal exam."
Deanna leapt off the bed. If Beverly did a vaginal exam there would be no hiding what she had done.
"No, Beverly. Don't bother. I'm fine."
"Deanna," Beverly sounded shocked. "There's something on this scan. Let's take a look at it."
"I'm fine."
"Counselor-"
Deanna pulled away from Beverly's outstretched arm. "NO!" she almost shouted. Then she lowered her voice. "I'm fine, Beverly. I promise."
"Why are you acting this way?" Beverly asked her, highly concerned.
"Beverly, please…"
"I could give you an order."
"It's my life and my body. It's my choice." Deanna looked around for the best way to exit the room. "I have patients," she lied. "I have to go."
…
Commander Riker stepped onto the bridge exactly fourteen minutes behind schedule and his captain rose to meet him.
"Do you have a head wound, Number One?" the captain asked gruffly.
"Sir, I apologize. I was…delayed. It won't happen again."
The captain looked at him with his best questioning expression. "That too," he said intrigued.
"I'm sorry?" Will asked his captain.
Captain Picard pointed at his own forehead and then at the forehead of his first officer. "Your head," he said slowly. "Are you alright?"
Will raised his hand to his forehead and lightly touched where his head had slammed into Deanna's door jamb. He tried to pull his hair down over what obviously was a fairly good-sized bruise. The captain continued to watch him, puzzled.
"Ah…Sports injury?" Will offered with a slight shrug of his shoulders.
Captain Picard gave a halfhearted nod as he stifled a chuckle.
"Captain, we have the coordinates for the Torsian trade outpost," Data interjected. And with that, they turned back to the work ahead of them.
Will tried throughout the day to maintain his focus, but there were those lulls in activity where his mind wandered. He didn't like the way they had left things. It seemed too ambiguous and he got the feeling that something was wrong. It was the look on Deanna's face, the way she hadn't kept eye contact, the lack of any sort of a smile.
Something was wrong and he didn't know what it was or when it had happened. Maybe he should have held her more after that morning's activities. He knew that it was still a challenge for her to relax and surrender that much control. As pleasurable as he was sure it was, it had seemed to have left her unsettled, vulnerable, and he had left her. He'd gotten up and jumped in the shower without a reassuring word or touch. He shook his head with disappointment in himself. He should have known better. He should have thought about it. But it had been so unexpected, the way that they had come back together that morning. What did it mean? What did it all mean?
It was supposed to be therapy. It was supposed to leave their friendship unchanged. He had wondered if that would be possible, and now in the morning light, he knew it wasn't. Something had happened, and it had changed everything. That first time, that awkward, erratic, first time filled with tears and uncertainty - that had been therapy. He knew it beyond a shadow of a doubt.
But that next time…in the middle of the night, he was less sure of. There definitely seemed to be things that she was trying to prove, to herself, to him. But there had been something more, something deeply emotional, even spiritual between them. There were no more secrets. They loved each other. And they knew the other felt the same way. It was a feeling of being complete that he couldn't quite articulate.
But this morning, to call that therapy would have been a stretch. It was…hot and fun. It wasn't cautious like it had been. It was spontaneous; playful…it was sex like lovers had. There was a sense of comforting familiarity between them that let them enjoy one another like that.
So what now? Was it really possible that they could start from here? Could they start from where they had been this morning at breakfast? Or had something happened this morning that he didn't know about? He wished he could have talked to her, could have slipped away from the bridge for a moment to find her and get a sense of her mood.
He missed her. The smell of her, the sight of her, he thought as he stared at her empty chair on the other side of the captain. He missed everything about her. He missed having her on the bridge with him; how he could tell a joke, knowing she was the only one who would really get it. He missed the scrunchy face she made when she sensed an unusual emotion from someone around her, and how he would try to get her to tell him who it had come from by the slight jerk of his head in the direction of one of the colleagues, how she would furrow her eyebrows in disapproval and shake her head slightly. Then he would try another officer, and she would get more exasperated.
It was like a game they played, a game only they knew, and he loved it. He loved watching her get more and more exasperated with him, until she would slyly try to kick him when no one was looking. He missed spending the days with her, in any capacity and he wondered what she would say if he told her he wanted to wake up with her every morning like he had that morning and eat breakfast with her, to fall asleep with her in his arms. Would she let him in, or would she push him away? And was she really ready for all of this, with all she had been through?
By the time the staff meeting was scheduled to begin, all he could think about was his shift being over and tracking her down. He knew they needed to talk out a lot of things. But first, he had to get through this meeting, and he needed to focus.
The senior staff wandered into the observation lounge, slowly making their way to their chairs, the captain in the lead. The aft door opened and Dr. Crusher and Commander Laforge joined the group.
Everyone was milling around, until Dr. Crusher called out.
"Commander Riker, what happened to your head?" She walked towards him and began to examine the bruise on his forehead in spite of his protests and attempts to wiggle away.
He doubted that the doctor would buy the sports injury line he had used earlier. He was fairly certain the captain hadn't either.
"Why didn't you come into Sickbay and have someone take a look at this? We could have at least controlled the swelling," she told him tersely. She looked over the injury again. "What did you do?" she asked again.
Will sighed heavily. "I walked into a wall," he mumbled, hoping the others wouldn't hear. But the room quickly fell silent.
"You did what?" she asked.
"I- walked- into – a – wall!" Will said exasperated and giving up on maintaining his pride. He heard the doctor stifle a chuckle.
"Did the wall jump out at you from nowhere?" Geordi asked, and Will could hear the smile in his voice.
He cast him a sardonic look, until the doctor quickly turned his head away from the others to continue her examination.
"Perhaps the wall was cloaked in some way," Worf offered, but Will could even detect the sarcasm in the Klingon's tone. He finally pulled away from the doctor's grasp and scowled at Worf, who vainly tried to hide his grin.
With a heavy sigh he turned back to the captain, as if to plead for mercy. The captain was fighting against his own mirth, but he granted his first officer's request.
"Let's begin, shall we?" he said taking his seat and the rest of the group followed suit. The briefing was intense and full of details that they all needed to know to get them through the mission ahead of them.
"I do not like this," Worf finally concluded as the briefing neared its end. "It feels like a trap."
"It may well be, Lieutenant," the captain responded. "But if it is, we will walk into it with our eyes wide open. The Torsian's have long been an ally and I'm not about to change their side in the history books without a good effort."
"And if it is a trap?" Worf asked.
Commander Riker turned to the security chief and spoke. "Then we'll need to make sure we're ready to fight our way out of it," he told him, and the two exchanged a knowing nod.
"In six hours we will slow to impulse," the captain ordered.
"Sir, if we drop out of warp, it will take us an additional three days, 7 hours, 14 minutes to reach the Torsain system," Data informed him.
"Yes, Mr. Data. I am well aware of the additional time. However I believe that it will be worth it if our approach is not viewed as hostile or threatening."
He looked around for the general approval of the group of people who surrounded him. "That will be all," he told them and the officers began to disperse. Will's first thought was that he could finally track down Deanna and get rid of the gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach.
But before he could even stand from his chair, the captain spoke again. "Doctor, Number One… could I have a word please?"
Doctor Crusher turned back from where she stood near the door, and nodded before rejoining the men at the table, across from Commander Riker. The three waited for the room to empty before Captain Picard spoke again.
"Before Lieutenant Soto left, she recommended that I seek both your advise as to when and how to reinstate Counselor Troi to full duty."
Will felt his anxiety rise, especially when he saw a scowl cross the doctor's face.
"And as I consider more about this upcoming mission, I realize more and more the value of having a counselor on the bridge when we make contact." Captain Picard looked back and forth between the two officers sitting with him at the table. "Any opinions? Input?"
"I think that…"
"Well, in my opinion…" the two of them began at the same time, and then they both stopped. Finally, Will gestured for Beverly to continue.
"Captain, I know that we all want Deanna to return to work, but I don't think she's ready. I wish Lieutenant Soto hadn't left. I'm still very concerned about her."
"Would you care to articulate your concerns?" the captain asked.
Beverly shrugged her shoulders. "Well, for starters, she had an appointment with me in Sickbay this morning and to say that her behavior was erratic might be an understatement."
"Why was she in Sickbay? Is she alright?" Will asked before he could stop himself.
Beverly looked over at him and took a moment to register his concern. "It was just a follow up appointment," she told him before turning back to the captain.
"Erratic?" the captain repeated.
"I have to disagree, Sir," Will offered. "I think she's been making excellent progress."
Beverly huffed from her chair.
Will looked back at her. "You disagree?"
"Well, I certainly don't think she's all better," Beverly replied.
"I didn't say that she was all better. I said she was making progress."
"Progress isn't enough to say that she should go back to bridge duty. You of all people know how stressful that can be."
"I'm not saying it won't be stressful. What I am saying is that she deserves the opportunity…" but Beverly interrupted him.
"I know, I know. Don't pull the rug out from under her now. Well, maybe she needs the rug tussled a little bit. You can't always just hope she'll pull though it, just because occasionally she does."
"She has been pulling through it," Will said defensively. "She's working to conquer her fears…What do you want from her?"
"Maybe I just want you to acknowledge that she has fears that she is struggling with," Beverly told him tersely.
The captain stepped in to interrupt their sparring. "Are there problems that need to be addressed?" he asked them both.
"No," Will answered.
"Yes," Beverly said almost simultaneously. She almost glared at the first officer. "What, and I bet she didn't have a problem eating either."
"We've been through this already!" Will asked, his defenses fully in force.
"Worf said she threw up!" Beverly shouted back at him.
"What?" Will asked again, confused. "When?"
"That night after the poker game…you all had dinner in Ten forward. Worf said he went to check on her after she left the table and when she came out of the restroom, she looked like she had just vomited."
"When did he tell you that?" he asked accusingly.
"The next morning. He was concerned about her. And quite frankly, he didn't know if you could be objective about it."
"Objective? He didn't think I could be objective?" Now he was just bordering on angry.
There was a long pause between the three of them, before Beverly spoke again. "Do you think you're objective about this, Will?"
The captain was also looking at him expectantly and Will tried not to look flustered. "She hit a rough spot, but she talked through it," he told them calmly. "Don't you see her doing better about it?"
"That's not my point," Beverly cried.
"Then what is your point? You want her to be perfect, to not have any fears? That's not practical."
"I'm not saying..."
"She deserves the opportunity to try," Will said firmly.
"I'm not saying that she doesn't. All I'm saying is to use some caution. She's out there all alone now, no therapist to talk things through with. I think there might be better ways to introduce her back to full duty than right into a touchy, if not outright volatile situation!" Beverly shouted at him.
"She has me!" Will hollered back at her before he realized what he had said. "She has all of us," he said more reserved.
"But is that enough?" the captain asked calmly.
Beverly didn't answer. She was staring at Commander Riker, her forehead creased in deep thought as she studied him. Will looked away, uncomfortable under her gaze.
"Doctor, I appreciate your opinion," the captain told her. "But I do agree with Commander Riker. Lieutenant Soto seemed to think that she had made a breakthrough and that she was, in fact, addressing her fears."
"I think now is as good a time as any, Sir." Will told him, turning to look at Captain Picard, rather than to make eye contact with the doctor studying him so thoroughly. He continued, "The potential complications are a known that she can prepare for, whereas at other times the risks are the unknown. I think she could be an asset when we enter Torsian space."
The captain sat silently for a moment considering the opinions from his officers. Beverly was still glaring at his first officer, her eyebrows furrowed, slightly shaking her head. It seemed like a light had gone off in her head, that she suddenly understood something he did not. "Is there anything else, Doctor?" he asked her.
She didn't meet his gaze, but kept her eyes locked steadily on the commander across from her. "What she needs is stability…consistency. A fling right now to test the waters, it would break her," she said firmly.
Will's eyes flew back to meet her's, the shock evident on his face. She continued to look at him with cold determination. It was clear that she knew. He didn't know how, but she knew. Maybe she had just figured it out. Will quickly looked back to his captain to see if he had understood her words as clearly, but found a confused look on his face as he looked at his chief medical officer.
"I think we all understand that she is looking for consistency, Doctor," Captain Picard said shortly.
Beverly arched an eyebrow at Will as if to make sure that he had understood her meaning.
"Are you saying that you do not believe that the bridge can give her that consistency? It is certainly not my intention to test her." Captain Picard concluded.
"I'm saying we all need to be careful," Beverly said without looking away from the first officer.
Will sighed and finally looked down at his hands where they rested on the table. He didn't need the lecture to make him feel guilty. He was already kicking himself. And sitting there with the captain watching him was excruciating. He couldn't even defend himself.
The captain gave a quick nod before turning to his first officer. "Number One, please review the shield and weapons configurations with Lieutenant Worf, before you leave the bridge. I'll need some time to think about this issue further."
"Aye, Sir." Will responded before rising from his chair and heading off towards the bridge. He gave one last look back at the door, back to where the doctor remained in her seat, back to where he could have left to find Deanna, but his duty wasn't done for the day, so he turned back and did as his captain requested.
….
The captain watched as Beverly Crusher made no attempt to move, watching as the first officer left the room. "Is there something else, Doctor?"
She stayed quiet, as if some sort of internal debate was taking place in her mind.
"Doctor?"
"Jean Luc," she began, as if requesting the right to speak freely.
"Beverly?"
"I think he means well. Well, I hope he means well."
"I have no reason to doubt his opinion, even if it differs from yours," he cautioned her. He watched as her facial expression darkened again. "Do you?" he asked cautiously.
Again Beverly paused and looked around the room. "Let's just say I also question his objectivity," she answered.
Jean Luc Picard stood from his chair and offered his hand to his friend to help her from her chair. "They are very close," he told her, but Beverly shook her head. "Are you telling me that you question his judgment?"
"About this? Maybe," she admitted slowly.
"That is a harsh statement," he said, honestly surprised with how far she was taking this. "Would you care to explain?"
"No," she said, shaking her head. "Not without talking to Deanna."
"Doctor," he said sternly, forcing the conversation back to a more formal level. "If something happened that I need to know about…"
Beverly considered how much she knew, and how much was a guess. But the look on Will's face had spoken volumes. "It may be nothing," she told him.
"Or,"
Beverly shrugged slightly. "Has he said anything to you?" she asked. "About them?"
"Them?" The captain asked, a puzzled look playing on his features. "No. Why? Is there a them?" he asked. His mind was replaying a conversation from years before, and then suddenly the way his first officer had acted the day before when leaving the bridge came back to his mind.
"I don't know," Beverly answered him. "I don't know that he knows. Maybe that's what frightens me. But with the way Deanna reacted this morning…I'm willing to bet that there's something happening there that we are not party to."
"And I take it that you think this would be detrimental to Deanna's well being."
"If it's just some momentary…" Beverly struggled to find an appropriate word, but the captain raised his hand for her to stop. He didn't need further clarification. He was well aware of the way that his first officer chose to live his personal life, and the message of warning his chief medical officer was trying to convey. "I know that you don't want to be involved with the personal lives of your crew, Jean Luc, but you can't just always turn a blind eye."
"Thank you, Doctor," he said, realizing, he sounded terser than he had intended.
"What are you going to do?" she asked him.
"About Counselor Troi?" he clarified, and she nodded. "I still don't know that I disagree with him," he told her, but he also realized that he needed to understand his first officer's motivations.
The two of them stood in the room for a while longer in silence. "Well, I should go," Beverly finally told him awkwardly.
"Yes. Thank you, Doctor," he told her, though part of him was lost in his own thoughts.
With a small nod, Beverly turned and headed for the door. She looked discouraged, or worried. Concerned, he finally decided. "Beverly," he called out to her and she turned to face him again.
"Thank you," he told her. He was grateful for her insight, though he didn't care for what she had told him. But she was not one for idle gossip. What she had done, she had done out of genuine concern. She smiled weakly at him and nodded again before heading out the door.
….
Will stood with Worf at one of the Bridge's science stations going over shield configurations when the captain burst back into the room. He looked sternly around the Bridge before he spoke. "Number one," he called and with a jerk of his head indicated that he was to follow him.
Will fell into step behind his Captain as they headed for his ready room. With every step his stomach sank. He had already decided that if he asked, he would not lie to his captain, but he was really hoping not to have the conversation at all, or at least not yet. He wanted to talk to Deanna. He needed to talk to Deanna, and yet with every passing moment he seemed to be loosing some of that connection that he had felt from her.
"Sit down, Number One," the captain said firmly as he continued around the edge of his desk.
Will obediently obliged, with only one look back at the door that was now closing him off from the public safety of the bridge. The captain took his seat behind his desk and stared at him. Will knew that he wanted to look stern, but he knew him well enough to see his discomfort and he wondered whichof them wanted to be doing this less.
"I would like you to tell me your motivations for wanting Counselor Troi back on the Bridge."
Will raised his eyebrows, involuntarily. That hadn't been the question that he had been expecting. "Sir?" he asked.
"I want to know whose best interests you are thinking of?"
Will floundered for an answer. "Yours, I suppose. The crew's…her's. May I ask why you are asking?"
"I need to know it's not yours," the captain said simply. "I need to know that you believe that."
Will thought for a moment of how he had been wishing that she were on the Bridge earlier that afternoon, how it made him happy, how he liked having her near by, and it made him pause and consider the captain's question. "Have I done something to make you question my intentions, Sir?"
The captain leaned back in his chair and looked back at him skeptically. "I think that is a question I need you to answer for me," he told him.
Will sat silently staring at his mentor, hurt by what he had implied.
Captain Picard broke the silence. "Are you dating her?" he asked almost hopefully. "Or is this just…"
Beverly ratted me out, he thought, wondering why she couldn't for once mind her own business.
"I don't know," Will said quietly, looking down at his hands as they rested on his knees.
"You don't know?" the captain repeated, genuinely surprised and frustrated by his answer.
"I need to talk to her."
"Isn't that something that you would typically do at some point before this?" Captain Picard asked frustrated.
"I…it's complicated." He heard the captain almost groan in frustration. "Sir," Will tried again, straightening up in his chair.
"What are you doing, Will?What could you possibly have been thinking? You! You know better than anyone on this ship, what she has been through. Why? And for god's sake, why now?"
"It's not like that," Will said discouraged, his eyes back on his knees.
"Oh?"
"Sir, she needed a friend. She needed to conquer the fear."
"But,"
Will shrugged. "But I don't know what, but something…happened, changed."
The captain huffed and he tugged on his uniform tunic as he rose from his chair and began pacing behind his desk. "Commander, do you remember a conversation that you and I had almost eight years ago when you first told me of your previous relationship with our ship's counselor?"
Will nodded solemnly. "Yes Sir. I do."
"And do you remember what you promised me?"
Will cleared his throat. "I told you that my relationship with Deanna was over, and that if that were to ever change, I would let you know."
"I have no desire to dig through the personal lives of my crew," Captain Picard began.
"I know that, Sir. It was never about that."
"You are my first officer, and she is my most trusted advisor. You sit on either side of me on the bridge, and if there is something going on that has even the potential of affecting the way that this ship functions…"
"I understand, Sir."
The captain sighed and sat back in his chair. "So what now, Number One?"
"I don't know, Sir. We haven't had the time to figure that out." The two of them fell into silence for a moment as they both avoided each other's eyes. "I love her," Will finally admitted.
"I know. I've known that for a long time, I suppose," Captain Picard confessed. After another long pause the captain began to reminisce. "You know, it took you almost three weeks to come to me and tell me about you and Deanna."
Will finally looked up to find a surprisingly amused look on his commanding officer's face.
"You know I already knew, right?"
"You knew? You let me stand there, fumbling for words when you already knew?"
The captain nodded, a slight grin crossing his face as he remembered the scene.
"Well you sure didn't make it any easier on me."
"Why should I have?" Captain Picard asked, defensively.
"How did you know?"
"Deanna told me."
Will's eyes opened wide with surprise. "She did? When?"
"While we were in orbit above Farpoint Station."
Will almost laughed. "So you had known the whole time."
The captain nodded. "Well, for the better part of three weeks at least."
"And what did she tell you?" Will asked, almost afraid of the answer.
The captain sighed again, thinking back. "She told me that you two had had an affair, that it was over and that it wouldn't affect either of your work. I remember I asked her if she was certain of that, and she said she was, that you had both made your choices."
"Yeah," Will said with a sad nod.
"And now?" the captain asked. "What choices will you make now?" he asked honestly.
The two men locked for a moment in a stare before Will nodded and stood. "I will keep the promise I made to you Sir. And when I have an answer to your questions, you'll be the first to know. Well, maybe the third," he said with a shrug.
"Third would be acceptable, as long as the two before me are you and Deanna." The captain stood and reached for Will's arm. "Number One," he called. "I care too much about her to take this lightly."
"So do I, Sir," Will said and with a nod, he headed out the door
….
Deanna sat in her office long after her last patient had gone, looking around at the decorations she had placed around the room. She had done her best to stay focused on the five patients she had seen that day, but occasionally her mind had wandered. Of all the voices in her head from the crewmembers that surrounded her, it was the first officer's thoughts that were the loudest, crying out over the din.
He had been on the bridge most of the day. She could always tell. He was more on guard there, more than anywhere else on the ship. Knowing exactly where he was came as a bit of a relief. She couldn't have kept her focus at all if she thought he might come barging in at any moment. But almost imperceptibly, she had kept a running barometer on his mood.
About an hour before, she was glad that she was no longer working because she'd felt a sharp shift in his emotions. What he was feeling now was purely guilt and confusion. Those had been part of the blend all day, but something had happened to bring them to the forefront. She sat in her office, impatiently waiting on her couch. She knew he would come, and she wanted to choose the location. It was easier here in her office. This was the place where it was easiest for her to concentrate on others, or on the facts in front of her rather than her own emotions. This room was the safe place to have this conversation, because she could already hear his argument in her head.
It's just bad timing,
It is always bad timing with us. We are victims of perpetually bad timing.
Yes, I love you, but I can't give you what you need. She could hear it now, and it made her want to cry.
How could she have done this? How could she have let this happen? She knew better. She knew better than to loose control again and fall into the emotion of it. She couldn't let him reject her again. She couldn't let him hurt her like that. She had to protect herself, distance herself. She couldn't let him get that close. Why had she ever let down her defenses like that? It all would have been okay if she had just done what she was supposed to do, to take part physically and leave emotion at the door. Or better yet, not have asked him at all.
She stood back up and began to pace the room, wringing her hands in one another. It was only a matter of time until he came to find her, to tell her that this was a bad idea. She knew what she had to do to protect herself. She had to beat him to it. Maybe I should find him, she thought, but before she could make a choice the chime rang on the door and she knew it was her turn to put some distance between them once again.
Deanna walked as far from the door as she could before she called for him to come in. Her hands were calm at her sides. She tried to give no indication of her inner turmoil.
"Will," she called, as if she had been surprised in some way. "Come in." The words leaving her mouth sounded oddly like a death sentence.
Will Riker walked into the room as if it were also a trap of some kind, slowly studying her, trying to predict her behavior. "I'm sorry I didn't get to talk to you earlier. I was on the Bridge all day," he told her.
"I know," she said simply, not moving from her position near the corner.
Will looked up and nodded. "Right," he said, realizing that she had been keeping mental watch on him.
He slowly eased himself onto her sofa, uninvited, and waited for her to speak. But Deanna just continued to glance around the room calmly.
"Deanna," he began. "About last night…or this morning, I guess…"
"Which one?" she asked evenly. "Last night? Or this morning?"
Will pursed his lips and blew out the sigh that he held deep in his chest. She clearly was not going to make this easy. "Both I suppose. I'm sorry about how I left. I didn't mean…"
"I left," she corrected him. "I left before you."
He hadn't actually realized that. Somehow it seemed like he had been the one to do the leaving. "True, but…"
Finally Deanna left her corner retreat and stepped towards him. "I really should be thanking you," she said with as much confidence as she could drag to the surface. "I know that this was hard for you, and you stayed the night when you really didn't have to. You are a great friend and I'll always be grateful for that."
She was smiling, but her words hung in the air like a bad odor. It took a long moment for Will to absorb the message that they carried into his psyche. Finally his face scowled. "Deanna, you can't seriously be saying…"
But Deanna stood perfectly still. "I'm saying thank you," she told him. "We talked about this before hand. We had clear expectations. And I'm grateful for what you did for me. I believe it was effective therapy, and that when I am faced with the situation again, I think I will handle it much better. This was a success, Will." She waited for him to respond, but he sat there looking back at her utterly confused. "Why aren't you happy? I thought you wanted me to conquer my fears?"
"I did," Will answered her. "Deanna, that's…I…" He scooted forward on her couch towards her. He thought about reaching out for her hand, but the stern look that lingered on her face made him rethink that. "Deanna, are you honestly telling me that…that was it?…therapy?"
Deanna tried her best not to falter, even as she felt her heart start to break. "What else would it be? I told you I wasn't asking anything from you. I wouldn't change that now."
Will kept looking more and more confused. How could she be standing there telling him this? Was this how she really felt? "I…" he fumbled. "What was that this morning then? That was therapy for you?"
"Why?" Deanna asked. "Did I do something to indicate otherwise?"
Will felt his frustration growing. "Damn it, Deanna. Drop the clinical act, please!" He hollered, standing to join her. He hadn't wanted to, but he was clearly the first to get emotional. "That wasn't therapy. You know it. I know it." Deanna shook her head and turned and began to walk away from him. "You said you loved me," he called out to her.
She froze.
"You told me you loved me. You said it out loud, but you didn't have to. I could feel it…here," he said pointing to his heart. "And here," he said pointing to his head.
Deanna spun around. There was just the slightest shine to her eyes, but her voice was firm. It was easier this way. It was better to stop it here and now than risk everything. "Of course I love you, Imzadi. You know that. It's certainly not the first time I've told you that. But there are many forms of love."
"No," Will said shaking his head. "No. That is not what you meant, and I know it. It wasn't a 'thanks, I love you'. Why are you doing this, Dea? Why are you pushing me away?"
"Will, I'm sorry if I gave you the impression…" but Will cut her off. He took her hand and held it tight, even when she tried to tug it away.
"Why are you doing this?" he asked her softly.
Deanna tried to pull her hand away from him, but he was determined to not let her go. "Please let me go," she finally whispered, tears springing to her eyes.
Will reluctantly let go of her, not wanting to frighten or hurt her. "Deanna," he whispered.
"Will, this really isn't the time. I mean for this… you and me," she gestured back and forth between them. "I'm not ready. I've been through too much…I can't just jump in…" her words echoed his thoughts.
He couldn't stop himself. Her lips were so close, and he could remember the taste of her so easily. If he could just recapture the moment…He leaned down and kissed her firmly, pulling her close to him. For a moment she didn't fight, but then she came to her senses and pulled away.
"I can't," she murmured.
"I'm not leaving until…"
"No. Will, no. I can't,"
"You're afraid," he said simply.
"Will," she pleaded.
"You're afraid, and I understand why. I know it's hard to forget how things ended before. But I'm not going to let you push me away that easily."
"You are smothering me!" Deanna finally shouted, desperately.
Will stepped backwards, shocked by her words. He stared at the tears in her eyes, and he felt them in his own. "Deanna,"
"You can't fix me," she continued her tirade. "I appreciate your help, but some things I have to do alone."
"Why?" he asked quietly.
"Because this is my problem. I don't need a knight in shining armor. You can't come rescue me on some white horse. I don't need a hero, Will. I just need you to leave me alone!"
Will was stunned speechless for a moment as he watched her lashing out at him. Of all the conversations he had practiced in his head during the day, this wasn't one of them. Part of him could feel that there was no sincerity behind her words, but they stung all the same. She was pushing him away, trying to hide from him.
"You know if you spent half the time getting well as you spent pretending you were well, you'd be back to work by now," he said before the thought had completely formed in his mind. It was angrier than he had intended it to be, and he immediately regretted it.
Her eyes were cold as she looked back at him. "I think you should go," she said, her voice barely more than a whisper.
Will reached out for her, desperate to take back what he had said. "No, Deanna…"
But Deanna took a step back and put even more space between them. "Leave," she said with more conviction.
"I'm sorry. Let me be there for you."
"I don't need your help. I don't need anyone's help."
Will rolled his eyes. "Dea," he began, but she cut him off.
"Get out," she said firmly. When he took a step closer to her, she pulled back again and raised her voice. "Get out!" she cried.
Will stood helpless, torn. Her eyes were fierce with determination. But there was something else hiding in her dark eyes, fear. He didn't know what to do. With each approach she recoiled more. How had this happened? They had been so…so…
"We were so close," he told her, his head hung in frustration.
"Life doesn't work that way. You can't change the past," she told him and then she turned away from him, towards her desk.
"You know if you push everyone away, you're going to find that you're all alone, even when you don't want to be."
"You don't understand," she told him.
Something inside him snapped. "No, I'm sure I don't. But that's the way you want it, right? Just share the pieces you want to when you want to, nothing more? Always on your terms…"
She spun back around to face him, her eyes still cold, her face dark. "I said get out."
"Fine," he said. "When you decide to let someone in, let me know."
"Maybe if you're not occupied by someone else. I'm sure there's someone in Engineering that would be more than happy to occupy your time," she said coldly.
He had started towards the door, but paused with her words. He thought about defending himself, but decided it wasn't worth the effort. He wasn't going to change her mind. He shook his head. "It didn't have to be this way," he said softly and without another word, he walked out the door.
As the doors to her office closed, Deanna sank to her knees, tears pouring down her cheeks, deep sobs coming from her chest. Was it better to hurt now rather than the hurt coming later? She wished it didn't have to be this way, but it did. She knew what he was feeling, even if he wasn't ready to admit it. He wasn't ready, didn't want this. He didn't love her, he felt responsible for her and that was something entirely different. It had all been an illusion, like a memory from long ago. "But you can't live in a memory," she said to herself as she sat on her office floor.
….
Will stormed back into the corridor, fuming. How had that happened? How had he let her ambush him like that? He should have seen it coming, should have prepared better for it.
She knew…she knew just how to get to him, to make him angry and defensive. Every word that she had said was crafted to elicit a specific emotional response, and he had delivered exactly what she had wanted. He had lost his cool, raised his voice and lashed out with words designed in equal measure to hurt her. That was, after all, exactly what she had expected. Why drag out the process by actually having a relationship when she could skip to her expected outcome from the beginning? If it had been a test, he failed it. If that was the way she really felt…well, he didn't know what to do about that.
He waited near the turbo lift and thought momentarily of going back, of telling her what he had planned to tell her. After all, what could it hurt? But her words came back to him. 'You're smothering me!' she had told him.
Was he smothering her?
Why was he always so anxious to be there, to never let her hurt alone?
Was it because he still felt guilty?
Did he want to swoop in on the white horse?
For the first time in months, maybe years he really paused to think about his motives in what he wanted from her. He was tired. He was tired of being the one waiting, hoping for an opportunity. Maybe it was her turn. If he were smothering her, then he'd give her some space. Fine, he thought as he stepped into the lift.
He didn't know where he was going so for a while he just stood there, lost in his thoughts, replaying the argument over and over in his head.
"State a destination," the computer finally prompted.
He thought about going to Ten forward, blowing off some steam…but his worst fear was that he would run into Charlotte Brown. Who knew, maybe she was mad at him, too. But maybe she wasn't and then what? No, he wouldn't risk it.
"Deck Eight," he called. It was better to just go home and lick his wounds. If Charlotte Brown was there, and was interested, it may have been a great stress reliever to not have to worry about where things stood for once, but he was damned if he would give Deanna Troi the satisfaction of being right.
You know, he thought to himself as he stood alone in the descending lift. Sometimes loving an empathic psychologist is a real pain in the ass.