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I've thought about bringing Worf back, but since that would only result in a much longer story I decided not to. As much as I liked writing this I was quite happy to see it end actually ;)

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Chapt. 30

Just outside of Sickbay Will Riker leaned against the wall, shaking his head at the precarious situation he'd gotten himself into.

Deanna was livid, and with good reason.

He knew perfectly well his avoidance hurt her, hell it hurt him as well. And he didn't even know why he felt he needed to ignore her so completely. True he didn't want to push her into something she wasn't ready for, but now he was doing pretty much everything possible to push her away from him. It was just that he was...scared. As much as he hated to admit that, it was the truth. He was scared; not for loving her but for loosing her.

He could remember all too well how she'd looked when Data brought her back from the science station; her pale face smeared with ash, her uniform torn and her legs, god her legs...he shuddered involuntarily, unable to bring himself to remember. And then there were Beverly's words; did Deana really still hope for Worf to return? And if she did, how could she give herself completely to him? How could she love him as Imzadi if she remained waiting for Worf?

Would they ever be together? He began to doubt it more and more.

Inside his quarters he flopped down on his couch and allowed his thoughts free reign, shutting himself off from the world around him and sinking into the past; their past.

She hadn't changed much from the headstrong young woman he had met all those years ago. More independent and wiser, yes, but she could still be unimaginably stubborn when she wanted to and he doubt she'd lost any of her passion. In the matters of appearance she'd only become more exquisite and more desirable.

He had changed considerably --or so he thought-- love meant something to him now, it had ever since he'd met her even though he had allowed himself to forget that sometimes. He liked to believe he wasn't as cocky as he used to be, or as single minded. He was more 'seasoned', or so Deanna had told him. Personally he thought he still looked good, with beard and without, and the bi-daily work-out sure paid off.

All things considered, they would make a perfect couple. Right?

With his thoughts still lingering in the past, Will stepped into the bathroom and stripped down. Seconds later his body was enveloped by soft streams of hot water, steam building up all around him.

He allowed himself to remember how her supple body felt against him, the satiny feel of her skin as it rubbed against his, the fluttering touches of her fingers and the heat of her. He allowed himself to remember how it felt to have his soul intertwined with his, how he could think of nothing but her; the love induced high that brought him to higher grounds each and every time.

He remembered the wonder of feeling her heart beat against his chest, or hands, or lips. Her melodious voice as it sang through his head and her eyes.

Always those onyx depths beckoning him, ordering him, loving him.

He remembered how content he felt when he could bury his hands in masses of black curls and allow himself to drown in her eyes. Lost, yet found.

Having left the shower he dried himself and slipped into boxers and a robe, choosing one of a rough material as not to be reminded of her touch. He was obsessed, and willing to admit it without hesitation. He was completely, head over heels obsessed by, possessed by and in love with...

"Deanna"