By Felicia Ferguson
Disclaimer: See previous posts.
Author's Note: Almost there….hope ya'll have enjoyed the ride as much as I have. :-D
Now
4/5
Water gushed through the dispenser warming Troi's cold fingers. Closing her eyes, she leaned down and splashed her face. The warmth slid down her cheeks washing away the last traces of the tears that had escaped against her will.
She had to maintain control. There was no time for her give in to the desire of tears. There were many reasons; the first being that the crew needed a source of strength at the moment and, as ranking officer, she was looked upon to provide it. But probably the most important was if she did relent, did allow herself the luxury of crying, she wasn't certain she would ever stop.
Deanna toweled off her face and hands and stared at the reflection in the mirror. Haunted eyes gazed levelly back at her. Dark circles had begun to accent the deep pools. Must be the lack of sleep. It wasn't that she hadn't tried. She had. The action merely had met with disastrous results. A few minutes after she closed her eyes, he would come to her. He would whisper of his love, of their promised future, would compel her to remember and relive every happy moment that they had spent together.
And for a recent widow, it was a nightmare.
But she was so tired. Physically, emotionally, tired. Deanna closed her eyes against the image who stared back at her in the mirror. Closed her eyes against reality, if only for a moment.
Warm hands wrapped around her shoulders, warm breath stole across her cheek. His scent filled the air surrounding her. Imzadi, you need to take better care of yourself.
Deanna jerked, her eyes blinking open. He was not standing behind her. The bath smelled of French vanilla -- the scent wafted from an old fashioned plate of potpourri on the counter. It was a dream. She picked up the towel and scrubbed her face once more. Of course it was. Bourne from exhaustion and grief. He wasn't really there. He couldn't be. He was...gone. After all, she couldn't feel their bond anymore and if the bond was broken, then he was...gone. That was how it worked with Imzadis.
"Gods, Mother, was this how you felt after you lost Daddy?" she asked the vacant room. "Did you still feel him even though you knew he wasn't there?" She had read about phantom limb pains, how a victim would still feel a leg or an arm after it had been cut off. Maybe that was happening to her. She had lived so long with their bond and now that it was gone she was having flashes of sensation.
But what if the flashes spoke the truth? It made absolutely no sense; logic, compounded by the death of their Imzadi bond, spoke to that, but what if he was still there...in some form...and she just wasn't able to recognize it for what it was?
If he were Vulcan she would call it his katra. But he was human, completely, thoroughly, loveably human. It wasn't possible.
However, there was someone who might help her find some answers.
***
"Commander T'Noth, I apologize for bothering you at such a late hour," Deanna stated as she walked through the open doors to the Vulcan's quarters.
The lieutenant commander inclined her head, her hands poised before her in a gesture of deference. "There is no need for apologies, Commander. My meditations were complete for the evening."
Deanna surveyed the darkened room. T'Noth and the crimson robes she wore seemed to absorb what little illumination the lone candle provided. "I've come to ask you a personal favor. Please don't feel obligated to fulfill it."
T'Noth indicated the counselor should sit on one of the pillows that lay on the floor. "What is it that you wish of me?"
Troi took in a deep breath, preparing herself to tell a highly illogical tale to the most logical of individuals. "I hear Will. Or rather I heard him. In my mind, just now. I can't feel him, but he spoke to me." Deanna paused and pursed her lips. "You are the only other telepath on board and I need to know what's going on."
The Vulcan considered the Betazoid's request for a moment. "If I may, I must ask you some personal questions." She waited for Troi's nod, then continued, "I understand that you and Captain Riker had what is known as an 'Imzadi bond' among your people. What is the true extent of that?"
"It means 'Beloved' and is best described as 'the first.' Not necessarily the first sexual experience." Deanna could feel a blush heat her cheeks and was grateful for the darkness. Although the Betazoids were an open society, it was somewhat awkward explaining one of their integral ideals to an outsider. "It is the first person to touch your soul."
"And this bond results in telepathy?"
"Yes, but its more than that. I don't know how to describe it. My people, for all our research on the brain and psionic powers, haven't looked closely at the Imzadi bond. It's too sacred to most people to tarnish with technicalities. We take its existence on faith because not everyone experiences it."
The Vulcan nodded in understanding. "Then we begin."
Deanna had experienced several types of telepathy in her years in Starfleet, but never had she undergone a Vulcan mind meld. She felt T'Noth's cool finger tips press against her face, heard the Vulcan's whispered, "My mind to your mind. My thoughts to your thoughts." Then the universe disappeared, and there was darkness as far as she could see. Calm serenity wrapped around her, pregnant, expectant, but nonetheless soothing, comforting. She felt its safety, recognized T'Noth's clear emotionless logic as its base.
Then in a flash of light, emotion ripped through her. Sadness, guilt, anger, fear. A jumbled collection of images followed. If T'Noth was overwhelmed by the rush of emotions, she did not show it. Her face remained relaxed, patient, waiting for the flood to ease. It was understandable that such a ferocity would exist within the counselor. Not only did she have her own emotions to deal with, since she was Betazoid and an empath, she was subject to those of the rest of the crew as well.
The vision subsided and T'Noth began her search for William Riker.
She was barely holding on to her grief and the sadness was almost overwhelming. Any Vulcan with less mental training would have been caught up in the buffeting emotions. T'Noth maintained her unrelenting grip on her own emotions and took a mental step backward, away from Troi. Having reacquired her bearings, T'Noth proceeded deeper into Deanna's psyche.
Only the drive to track down the Romulan responsible kept the counselor moving forward. The knowledge that the crew depended on her did little to bolster her resolve. Rather, it accentuated the pain that surrounded her. T'Noth passed the surface emotions, categorizing them as expected and healthy for a tragically appointed captain and new widow.
Something glowed in Troi's distant mind. Gold and silver with black scarring, it lay alone in its own void of thought and feeling. Intrigued by the sight, T'Noth moved closer. Certain this was the Imzadi bond Troi spoke of, the Vulcan dug deeper into the counselor's mind, her entire focus on the diminished glow.
Without warning, T'Noth jerked. Something screamed, GO AWAY, into her mind. Startled by the sensation, the Vulcan tried to slip passed the invisible defense. GO NO FURTHER! A searing flash ripped through T'Noth, breaking the meld and physically setting her back on her heels.
"Commander, were you able to find out anything?" Deanna asked, ignoring the curious throbbing in the back of her head.
T'Noth shook her head, her confusion etched into her brow. "No, Counselor, I was not. I was prevented from proceeding."
"Prevented? What do you mean?"
"When I reached a certain depth in your mind, I triggered a defense mechanism within your conscious. It was as if my presence threatened you in some way."
Shock slipped over Deanna's face as recognition dawned. "Oh, gods. T'Noth, you must promise not to share this with anyone."
***
Cargo Bay 3 had been converted to a temporary morgue due to the high number of casualties. It was there that T'Noth found Drs. Harper and Crusher.
"Commander, is something wrong?" Crusher asked, laying aside a tricorder.
"I must speak with you and Dr. Harper, alone."
Intrigued by the cryptic request both doctors followed the Vulcan to one corner of the cargo bay. The security chief glanced up at the ceiling and ordered, "Computer, initiate privacy shield."
A shimmering blue force field surrounded them a second later. Their privacy secured, T'Noth began. "I made an oath and under normal circumstances would honor my word. However, as the chief of security, I am duty bound to report any threat to the ship or its crew. This would normally be discussed with the captain of the vessel, but as the matter involves the current commander, I must turn to you. Commander Troi is mentally unwell."
Seeing the slight surprised expression of both doctors, T'Noth further explained her meeting with Troi and the results of the mind meld. She ended the summary stating, "I believe I was seeing her Imzadi bond with Captain Riker when I was forced to end the mind meld."
Beverly absorbed the information without comment, her mind drifting back several years to the Cairn delegation. "It is possible that Deanna's meta-conscious mind has blocked her bond with Will to protect her from the psychic trauma of losing him. Her mother, Lwaxana experienced this and nearly died."
"Do you think Deanna's life is threatened by this block?" Harper asked, his concern growing. In the short time they had served together, Michael had developed a genuine fondness for the counselor.
Crusher shook her head. "At least not at this time. Lwaxana's block had been in place for years before it began to negatively impact her psionic skills and affect her daily life." She turned her attention to the security chief. "And you were unable to break through it?"
"That is correct. Perhaps it is the type of melding I must utilize to approach her telepathically."
"That could well be a factor," Beverly agreed. "With her mother's, a third party, a member of the Cairn delegation in fact, had to initiate the bond between Deanna and Lwaxana. And without a third telepath on board either ship, it seems we will have to rely on Deanna herself to work through whatever trauma her meta-conscious mind is blocking.
"What did the bond look like?" Beverly asked her curiosity evident in her voice.
"It glowed." T'Noth replied. She paused as if searching for the correct words. "It was gold and silver, but black appeared over much of the area."
"But not all of it?" Crusher prompted. At T'Noth's negative reply, Beverly continued, "Then the bond isn't dead. If it were, logic would dictate that it would be entirely black, yet it's not."
"So If Deanna's meta-conscious is only blocking her link to Will out of the pain of losing him and yet, according to meld, the bond is still active, could it be possible that he is somehow alive?" Harper asked.
T'Noth inclined her head. "That would be an accurate hypothesis, However, Dr. Harper, you confirmed the time of death."
"I know," Harper nodded as he shot an appealing glance to Crusher, "and maybe I'm grasping at straws here, but before we declare her mentally incompetent, don't you think we should at least investigate her claim?
"I have done so, Doctor, by participating in the mind meld. However, there are other avenues that ought to be explored if we are to follow Dr. Harper's suggestion. I will pursue my investigation and report back to you."
"Thank you, Commander," Beverly said as the force field dissolved. "For everything."
"I'll re-run all the tests on Captain Riker's body while we're waiting for T'Noth. Is there anything that we should do in the meantime to help Deanna and ease the block?" Harper asked as the two doctors watched the Vulcan leave the cargo bay.
"Yes, but I'm sure she won't agree with it."
***
Hypospray in hand, Beverly stood outside the door to the Ready Room. She was in there. Beverly had been assured of that by the computer; however, the counselor was not answering the door chime. The doctor refused to glance over her shoulder at the curious faces of the bridge crew, a mix of personnel from both the Titan and the Merrimack.
"Come on, Deanna," Beverly muttered under her breath. "Open up." And as if the doctor had uttered a magic phrase, the Ready Room doors opened. She walked into the dimmed room and found the counselor sitting, legs tucked up underneath her, on the couch. Several data padds lay at odd intervals around the room. Deanna herself sat staring at one of them.
"Deanna?" Beverly prompted, her voice tinged with uncertainty.
After a moment, the counselor glanced away from the padd. "Yes, Beverly. How is the cargo bay working out?"
"It will do until we can get back to the nearest starbase." She paused and glanced around the room. "Are you alright?"
Deanna returned her question with a watery smile. "Just writing the letters. I had to do something until I heard back from Donatra and this seemed to be the best use of my time."
"The best use of your time, Commander, would be to get some rest."
Troi shook her head. "There is no one else to do it. If the captain is unavailable, the job falls to the first officer and if he or she is not available, then it falls to the counselor. Either way, I don't have much of a choice, do I?"
Beverly sank down on arm of the couch. "Then at least let me give you a psylo-synine inhibitor. It might make things a little easier."
Again the counselor shook her head. Clutching the data padd to her chest, she sat in silent contemplation.
Crusher sighed, tucked the hypospray into the pocket of her long, blue jacket and raised her hands in helplessness. "Talk to me, Deanna; I've been where you are." When Troi didn't respond, Beverly continued, "Deanna, you're exhausted. I haven't seen you do more than sip a cup of tea in the time I've been here. You're losing weight. You are not doing well."
Troi lips lifted in a wry smile. "Is that your medical opinion, Beverly?"
Before Beverly could respond, comprehension dawned. The padd the counselor held was a medical data padd. This was more than grief. Deanna was...
Deanna read the awareness in her friend's eyes. But if she said the words aloud, that would make it real. And reality, when it came to her personal life, was not something she ready to deal with just yet. "I don't have time for this right now, so don't tell me anything I don't want to know."
But she already knew. The diagnosis stared out at her from the data padd she held in her hand, yet, she had known it before her suspicions had been confirmed. After the mind meld, her thoughts had cleared and had focused in on something she hadn't allowed herself to consider. She felt him, heard his tiny heartbeat echo in her mind. Could calculate the very hour he had been created. But to dwell on his existence brought pain rather than comfort. And pain was something she had even less time for than comfort. What she needed was to feel nothing.
Beverly, reading the unspoken plea for silence in her friend's eyes, reluctantly nodded. "Alright, but please, try to get some sleep and at least something to eat on occasion."
Deanna smiled wanly in thanks and agreed to the doctor's stipulations. "When this is all over, you're the first person I'll come see."
"Fair enough."
***
...to be continued...