Author's Note: Thank you for your ongoing support with this series! We are fast approaching Measure of a Man which will be one of the pivotal moments in the series.

Long chapter warning!

I really wanted this to be one chapter. It's just way too long. So….it's three.

I want to say to my readers in the States – I am so sorry and troubled by the recent overturning of Roe v. Wade. It was never my intention to drop The Appendix in and around the time of that decision. I fully understand how triggering such a chapter can be. It was uploaded prior to the announcement and after much internal wrestling I decided to keep it up. It was already posted, and this fic has been my lifeline for over a year.

While there are heavy moments, I live for the fluff and fun. It's keeping me going right now and I hope that it gives you all a little sense of escapism as well.

This chapter starts a bit raw, but we're going to have some fun here as Haven marks the return of Lwaxana!

Chapter-specific C/W: This chapter addresses pregnancy, death, and a brief mention of the death of children.

While chunks of this chapter are going to feature heavily on Deanna & Will Riker's relationship, there's also considerable attention given to exploring the friendships between Data & Tasha and Will & Deanna as well as the mother-daughter relationship between Lwaxana and Deanna.

I wanted to give both Lwaxana and the Millers a better shake than they got in the episode. Lwaxana is such perceptive woman, I don't see her pushing Deanna into anything.

Thanks for sticking with this story!

-X-

Last but not least, I want to plug out for two projects I've been working on:

First: The Star Trek Summer Trekbuster Challenger is now open! This is a fun "challenge" open to any creators for both fics & fanart! Readers and creators are welcome to participate.

It's completely free and runs July & August.

Please note this is just for funsies. There is no actual prize beyond glory to you and your creation.

Full details at

Second: I write a lot – averaging around 100,000 words per month. I get quite a number of DMs asking about my writing style, habits, etc. so I wanted to share.

So I've relaunched my blog & . The *vast* majority of content there is completely free and that's how I intended to keep it.

Don't worry – I'm not going to be plugging this every chapter.

It's all tips for creators on harnessing your motivation, setting yourself apart, and examining different writing styles. There are prompts, ideas, and tools designed to help creators!

If this is something that interests you (or you want to support my work) please consider checking it out – it includes the Master List WIP Tracker tool that I credit with making all the difference in my productivity (available for patrons) and monthly zoom calls for a writing club.

Captain's log. Stardate 41294.5. Our destination is the class M Beta Cassius planet known simply as Haven. It is a word so renowned for its peaceful beauty that some believe it to have mystical healing powers. We will rest and relax, all too briefly, I fear.

Such a beautiful world. Legends say it has been known to mend souls and heal broken hearts. While my Second Officer has reminded me that such theories are not supported by fact, I am inclined to believe there is something special about this place. After all, legends like that are the spice of the universe – because they have a way of sometimes coming true.

The Enterprise was less than eighteen hours away from arriving at the pleasure planet Haven. The ship was abuzz with excitement for the chance at rest and relaxation among Haven's famed amenities.

Data and Tasha technically didn't have another counselling session that week, but Deanna had recommended one and the couple had agreed.

The recent appendix incident had brought feelings to the surface. They did not want those feelings to fester or hang over them during their trip.

"Tasha, I can sense that the topic of marriage has you on edge. Would you be comfortable talking about why?" Deanna asked.

"Sure," Tasha responded.

The room fell silent as Data and Deanna waited for Tasha to elaborate.

"Um…well, I'm not really sure how to explain," Tasha trailed off. "It's hard to define."

Tasha was struggling to find a way to describe her feelings without leaving Data and Deanna with the wrong impression.

"I sense you feel embarrassed. Could we focus on that?" Deanna asked.

She didn't mean to put Tasha on the spot, but it was the strongest feeling Deanna could read in Tasha. Most importantly, it needed to be addressed.

Tasha took a breath and made eye contact with Data.

"It's not you," she assured him.

She needed Data to understand that. She wasn't embarrassed about Data or about their relationship.

"I just-" Tasha trailed off.

She sighed and looked down at her lap as she began to pick at her fingernails.

"There are aspects of Turkana that are hard to talk about," Tasha admitted. "I just don't want you to think I'm some kind of backwards idiot."

"Tasha, I find the culture of your birth fascinating," Data said.

With anyone else, Tasha would have thought this was just a line. Data was sincere.

"I'm not saying believe in some kind of wrathful deity," Tasha began. "And it's entirely possible that because of the circumstances of my upbringing that I'm predisposed to understand why my people believe it."

The old Turkanan religion made it easier to accept the conditions of the planet.

"I guess I'm afraid of marriage because it isn't just not practiced. It's forbidden," Tasha confessed.

Data cocked his head to the side, curious for more information.

"But you were engaged," Data thought aloud.

It wasn't his intention to challenge Tasha – he was merely curious.

"And I never should have said yes," Tasha said softly.

"Tasha?" Deanna prompted.

Tasha shrugged and shook her head.

"You feel like his death was your fault," Deanna observed.

It had been a long time since Tasha had spoken so openly about the death of her former fiancé, Alfie. In the aftermath of his death, Tasha had learned to cope with the pain – largely by keeping that part of herself locked away from the world.

She had made Data aware of Alfie after they'd been together for a while. Eventually (with Data's encouragement) Tasha had felt comfortable enough to open up to Deanna.

But today's conversation had resurfaced some feelings that had long festered in Tasha.

It wasn't the carefully crafted responses Tasha had developed to deal with questions.

No. This, this felt raw.

"Alfie's death was not your fault," Deanna assured her.

"I know that," Tasha responded.

Tasha flopped back against the back of the sofa.

"It's not something I can explain," Tasha said.

Before Deanna could suggest an exercise, Data stepped in.

"You have shared before that your people feel every action has a cost. It is reasonable to assume that such a belief would influence your outlook on decision making," Data suggested.

Tasha opened her mouth to protest.

"I do not think such a belief is foolish," Data said, anticipating where her mind was headed.

Deanna couldn't help but smile.

Data may not have possessed her empathic skills – but he knew Tasha well enough to understand where her mind was, how her thought process worked, and what she needed to hear.

It was a testament to just how close Data and Tasha had become – and how well Data understood the human equation.

It was at times like this that Deanna felt Data had a better understanding than most humans did. His natural curiosity and accepting nature made him far less judgmental than many humanoids.

Data could find meaning in emptiness and beauty in everything.

"I'm worried that something will happen to you too," Tasha confessed as she lifted her head to meet Data's eyes.

Deanna had sensed this in Tasha before. It had been especially prevalent after their experience on Angel One.

"These are feelings of guilt," Deanna realised aloud.

"Your feelings of guilt are misplaced," Data commented.

Only Tasha didn't feel that way – and Deanna could tell.

Tasha's remarks from a previous, individual session echoed in Deanna's mind.

You have no idea what I did to get out of there. Terrible things.

"There's a phrase on Turkana. Cosgais sgonnael a buaid," Tasha said.

Data's limited knowledge of the Turkana language allowed him to identify the words being used. However, he lacked the information necessary to put them into context.

"Pleasure or victory," Data said slowly as he tried to decipher the meaning.

He turned toward Tasha.

"Spirit. And a word I do not recognise," Data said.

"Loosely translated it means that any success or achievement, victory, pleasure, happiness – it all comes at a cost, and you must pay with a piece of your soul," Tasha explained. "You lose something, a piece of yourself, in the process."

Tasha had felt that way ever since she had left Turkana. It sat just under the surface of her psyche. She was constantly waiting for the bottom to fall out in any situation, preparing for the worst.

It was what had driven her interest in Starfleet Security. Tasha felt she owed something for her escape from Turkana. It was an act of service, payment for being so lucky and penance for her sins.

"I just feel like every time I get comfortable or feel like I'm moving toward success, the universe reminds me who I am and where I came from," Tasha confessed.

When she was young, Tasha had been lucky enough to find work as a courier on Turkana. It was a rare job that offered protection (to a degree), freedom of movement, and some limited power on a world in which many people in poverty had no power.

She had begun to formulate plans to escape. And then the cave had happened. It hadn't been the first time Tasha was assaulted nor had it been the last – but it had certainly been the worst.

And Tasha had always lived with a lingering sense of guilt that the assault was her fault, that it was the universe's way of reminding her to mind herself.

A year later, Tasha had finally escaped Turkana – or so she thought. After dramatically staging her own death, Tasha had managed to sneak out by paying an exorbitant amount of money to a team of smugglers.

She thought she had been on her way to the safety and security of a job at a reclaimation station. Rather, she had been on her way to hell. As it turned out, Tasha had been worth more in trade than she had paid her so-called saviours. Tasha had found herself sold right back to a man she had previously fled– a cruel reminder that life on Turkana was never easy.

As a first year Academy cadet, Tasha had thought she'd finally made it when she had caught the eye of then-Lieutenant Christopher Hobson. He was older, an officer, and had seemed so sophisticated. Their whirlwind romance had been defined by a glaring power imbalance and manipulation.

When Tasha had finally ended things, she was miserable. Hobson had abused his position in an attempt to ruin her – and very nearly had.

Even though Tasha understood this was not her fault, a part of her couldn't shake the feeling that she was responsible.

She felt that the universe had sent her a message. She could escape Turkana, but she could never leave behind who she was – a scrappy little nobody that didn't deserve the kind of lifestyle men like Christopher Hobson offered.

At least, not without paying the price.

So Tasha had poured herself into her work and earned a position with Starfleet Covert Operations or "Grey Ops" as they were dubbed. Her background and skill set, her predisposition to stay cool in a crisis – Tasha felt it had all been building to that.

At nineteen, Tasha had felt this is what her life had been building to. She could do the job. She didn't mind being a lone wolf. Grey Ops meant no family, no friends. Tasha couldn't get attached to anyone.

And that didn't bother her one bit.

It was easier to be unattached, aloof.

She was serving the Federation. Keeping the peace and protecting the values she had signed on to defend. Tasha justified the grisly tasks of her assignments by reminding herself this was all done in the name of the Federation.

But then things had shifted in the Border Wars and Tasha had found herself reassigned – and struggling to adapt.

After years of therapy and loneliness, Tasha had met Alfie. He was compassionate and patient. He didn't mind the quirks that came from her trauma. He never pressured her or made her feel she wasn't enough.

In fact, Tasha's relationship with Alfie was the first time in her life that she could remember feeling truly happy. She was comfortable with herself. Their life aboard the Crazy Horse was stable.

"I recall that for once I felt safe enough to make plans for tomorrow," Tasha confessed. "I was coming out of years of covert missions and assignments from the Border Wars. I felt like I could really plan for things like normal couples do."

Tasha paused and took a shaky breath.

"And then the universe stepped in to remind me that I couldn't have those things," Tasha said. "I don't deserve them."

She sniffled.

"Alfie had to pay the price of that," Tasha concluded.

She reached over and took hold of Data's hand.

"And I don't want that to happen to you," Tasha said.

Data could see just how shaken she was at the thought of something happening to him.

"My construction makes me immune to most dangers faced by humanoid officers," Data said simply.

The corner of his mouth curved upward ever so slightly.

"Was that a joke?" Tasha asked.

"Was it funny?" Data inquired.

In spite of the tears, Tasha chuckled.

Deanna breathed a sigh of relief as the tension in the room began to melt away.

Data had known precisely how to respond.

"I appreciate your concern, but I am not afraid," Data said. "And I have never known you to be afraid."

Fear.

It was such a constant in Tasha's life. It was why she sought out extreme sport experiences. It was her way of coping with the notion that life was short and full of loss.

A way to take control of her fear and channel it into a situation where Tasha got to decide when, where, and how it would occur.

"Tasha, the guilt you feel is a common reaction to the kind of trauma you've experienced. But you bear no responsibility for that," Deanna assured her.

"I get what you're saying. But you don't understand," Tasha said.

It was difficult for anyone that had grown up outside of Turkana's guilt-ridden culture to fully comprehend just how much of their life was based on the notion of such conscience particularly among those in the northern part where the old religion was still practiced in secret and where Tasha had been raised.

Whether real or imagined, Tasha had carried such guilt since childhood.

"You don't understand," Tasha repeated as she shook her head. "The things I've done."

Data slipped two fingers under her chin and forced her to meet his eyes.

"I do not care what you have done," he said. "My feelings for you remain unchanged."

"Maybe we could schedule an appointment on this subject. I think that it would be important to have some outside perspective," Deanna advised. "You're looking back with the bias of hindsight. Tasha, knowing you and the type of person that you are, I cannot imagine that you would ever cause intentional harm to someone or something."

While Data was keen to explore this further, Tasha was reluctant.

"I can't," Tasha said.

Her posture stiffened and Deanna could sense Tasha's anxiety was growing strong.

"I really can't. Even if I wanted to," Tasha said quickly.

It was partially true.

Starfleet Security regulations prevented her from discussing portions of her service record. Even Captain Picard lacked the clearance necessary to access certain mission files from her time in covert operations.

And Tasha wasn't sure she would ever be able to bear the other deeper, darker parts of her soul to anyone.

Deanna was concerned that pressing the issue would only drive Tasha to close in on herself. They had already made remarkable progress, so she decided to move in a different direction.

"Thank you for sharing what you have with us," Deanna said. "I think that we better understand why this is so important and we've made tremendous progress here."

She shifted in her seat and turned to Data.

"I'd like to shift and talk a little bit about why marriage or commitment is so important to you, Data," Deanna said.

Data suddenly found himself in the hotseat.

After Tasha's raw emotional confession, Data had no desire to make her feel worse.

Deanna could sense his hesitation.

Tasha could too.

"Please," Tasha said, encouraging him to be open and honest – even if it hurt.

It took Data less than two seconds to calculate the best course of action. On one hand, he was concerned that honesty would add to Tasha's misplaced guilt. However, Data was concerned that holding back would only damage their relationship in the long run.

There were many reasons why Data felt that making a commitment to one another was important. On the low end of the priority scale, Data found it to be an important part of the human experience.

Whether through marriage, ceremony, or other forms of commitment, humans bonded with one another in every culture.

Data longed to share in that experience with another person.

Specifically, he wanted to share that bond with Tasha.

But there was another more pressing, practical reason why Data wanted some kind of formally recognised commitment.

"In essence, I believe such a commitment is essential to securing my rights," Data explained.

He had spent extensive time researching the subject. Even before his time together with Tasha, Data had explored a number of ways in which to secure his rights as a sentient being.

"The Federation recognises over one thousand forms of marriage, bonding, union, or civil commitment among member planets, trade allies, and even enemies," Data went on. "There is also a form that can be submitted to request recognition with other cultures – including Turkana."

It had been more than a hundred and twenty years since anyone had requested such a recognition from Turkana, but there had been little change in the process in that time.

"The legal standing upon which my rights as a sentient being rest are, as you would say, shaky," Data continued. "There is no guarantee that the Federation will continue to recognise those rights."

This was a constant fear – ever present in every aspect of Data's life.

The thought that his status could someday change without warning was part of why he had struggled to assert himself at times. One wrong move and his actions could be misinterpreted as aggressive. One false step and he could find himself accused of being dangerous.

It was part of why his time on the Enterprise was so wonderful. Captain Picard trusted Data. He had friends that knew and trusted him.

Not only were they his friends, but they were also senior officers in positions of power.

The Enterprise had given Data a sense of security that he had never before experienced.

Years of personal development coupled with this safety had given Data the courage to move forward in his relationship with Tasha. It also gave him the strength to actively pursue his dreams in an open, fervent manner that he hadn't had the chance to previously.

"If you were to be legally recognised as my spouse then you would have the ability to advocate on my behalf in ways you currently cannot," Data said.

But Data wasn't just thinking of himself.

"If we are to start a family, I want to be certain that we both have parental rights recognised by the Federation," Data shared. "Whether we adopt, procreate biologically, or construct an artificial lifeform – it is essential that we both share those rights."

Tasha was so proud of Data that she couldn't help but grin.

"If we were to adopt or have a biological child, I am currently not guaranteed custody or parental rights for that child. Should something happen to you, I will need such a guarantee in order to continue care for our child," Data said.

He paused and cocked his head to the side in preparation to share something deeply personal. Others might not fully comprehend the significance, but Data knew Tasha and Deanna would.

"And if we were to construct an artificial lifeform, such a child will need you to advocate for them," Data said softly.

For years he had considered creating an android offspring. But his own experience with Starfleet had left him worried about the consequences of such an action.

Data feared his child could be seen as nothing more than a tool or experiment. Starfleet could order Data to comply with testing or experimentation. Starflight could reassign him to a cybernetics division for such a purpose.

Or worse, they could seize his child and force them into service either as an officer or as a civilian. Like his own time spent being treated as property, Data feared such an outcome.

While he dreamed of existing with others like him, Data wanted any synthetic offspring to have some semblance of an upbringing.

In essence, Data wanted to give a child the experience he never got. He recognised that any artificially constructed child would develop and learn at a different rate than a humanoid child. However, there were so many things he could teach such a child.

There would still be first steps and first words.

And Data longed to celebrate those developmental milestones as a parent would with a biological child rather than evaluate them as a researcher observing a project.

"They would need you to guide them. To raise them. To teach them to play Parrises Squares," Data added with a small smile.

For a moment, neither Data nor Tasha said anything as they held one another's gaze.

Deanna kept silent too. She wanted to give them a chance to share that moment together before it passed.

It never ceased to amaze Deanna how couples could often share a silent conversation with nothing more than a subtle expression.

"We are almost out of time," Deanna said.

"Right," Tasha said.

"Thank you, Counsellor," Data replied without breaking eye contact with Tasha.

As Deanna cleared her throat, they turned back toward her.

"Same time next week?" she asked.

On their way out the door, Deanna caught them both.

"I know how committed you are to being together. Whether marriage is the end goal or not, there's plenty of time to figure things out. No one needs to rush into a wedding," Deanna assured them with a broad smile.

"Wait up," Riker called out after Tasha.

She was on her way down the corridor heading for the transporter room.

"Do you know what this is about?" Riker asked.

"I haven't the foggiest idea," Tasha shrugged.

The Enterprise had arrived at Haven less than an hour earlier. It was nearly 17:00 hours and both Riker and Tasha had been off duty when they'd gotten the page requesting their presence in the Transporter room.

The Enterprise hadn't even yet completed docking protocols, so it was unlikely anyone was beaming aboard. Given the popularity and pristine nature of their world, Haven had strict docking procedures that the ship was required to adhere to.

They would need to complete a full decontamination before they could beam down. Even then, guests were limited to only certain areas. Most of Haven was composed of protected wildlife preserves.

Data and Tasha were going to have to undergo additional clearance down on the surface before they would be permitted to camp in the forest – a spot Data had managed to finagle only given his rank as an exobiologist and previous research on the surface.

It is 'stretching the truth' as you would say. Data had confessed.

Tasha didn't mind a bit. If a little white lie got them into the park, then she was more than game to help him maintain it.

Riker and Tasha stepped into the transporter room to find Miles at the controls.

"Chief?" Riker asked.

"There's an object of some kind beaming in from Haven. No call signal. Yet," Miles shared.

Tasha peeked over the console edge to read the dimensions and energy signature.

"I have no idea," Tasha said aloud.

"Surface station security approval is coming in now," Miles advised.

Tasha turned to Riker. They were both aware of how strict Haven was. If this mysterious object had made it through their rigid protocols, then it was likely safe.

"But it's strange this isn't addressed to anyone," Riker commented.

"With your permission, sir. I say let's bring it in," Tasha said.

Riker nodded and Miles activated the controls to accept the beam in.

A silver box with a face on the front appeared on the transporter pad.

"Odd," Riker said as he approached the pad.

He only made it a step before the doors to the transporter room slid open.

Deanna entered and looked around.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"Did you page Counsellor Troi too?" Tasha asked Miles.

Tasha recognised that Deanna had a way of sensing things that could be important to ship's security. Before they proceeded, she wanted to know if Deanna had come of her own accord or because she had been paged.

Miles shook his head.

"I just felt drawn here. Like you may need me," Deanna said.

Tasha frowned and glanced at the box. She took a few steps forward and pulled out her tricorder to get a scan.

Riker stepped back, suddenly feeling leery.

Before Tasha could get too close, the face on the front of the box sprang to life.

"I hold a message for Deanna Troi. Lwaxana Troi and the honourable Miller family will soon arrive!" the animated face announced. "The momentous day is close at hand. Rejoice!"

"No, no," Deanna said as she felt her chest grow tight.

"Imzadi?" Riker asked.

Tasha startled as the box burst open, spilling gems and jewels all over the transporter pad.

Tasha scanned over them with her tricorder in confusion. She had never seen so many diamonds, pearls, sapphires, gold coins, and chains in one place.

"What is all this?" Tasha asked.

"They're bonding gifts," Deanna said darkly.

Her gaze was fixated on the transporter pad as her eyes began to water.

"What you would call wedding presents," Deanna said.

Her voice was stiff, and Will could tell something was wrong. Riker didn't want to ask the question – but he needed to know.

"Who's getting married?" he asked.

"I am," Deanna answered.

"Deanna?" Tasha tried again.

"Honey? We brought wine," Beverly said, hoping to tempt her out of her quarters.

Ever since the unusual incident in the transporter room, Deanna had shut herself away in her quarters. There had been an awkward conversation in the Captain's Ready Room followed by an aggravated Will Riker leaving the Bridge in a huff.

Deanna had left a few moments later looking like she was operating on autopilot.

So Beverly had cancelled her play rehearsal and Tasha had called off dinner with Data.

"Please," Tasha tried again with a soft knock.

The door slid open, and Deanna waved them both inside.

"I don't want to talk about it," Deanna announced.

"Ok, well we could play a round of cards or make some truly awful fudge," Beverly suggested.

"That sounds grand," Deanna agreed.

She stepped over to the shelf to grab them some glasses while Tasha shuffled the cards.

"I was certain this would never happen," Deanna said as she rummaged for her wine glasses. "The years I'd spent on this mission, my career in Starfleet."

Beverly and Tasha exchanged a glance.

It seemed Deanna did want to talk about it – even if she wasn't ready to admit that to herself.

"Genetic bonding is an outdated Betazoid tradition. But Steven Miller was my father's closest friend. He was the ambassador to Betazed for years. His son Wyatt and I got along well as children. Thick as thieves," Deanna shared.

She returned to the table with three glasses. Beverly set about pouring the drinks.

"He was always drawing. So artistic and soft spoken," Deanna said. "They were so supportive when my father died. But then we lost touch after they were reassigned."

She dropped her head onto the table and groaned.

"Ughhh! If he's been waiting all these years," Deanna trailed off and muttered something indecipherable.

"Oh honey, I'm sure it will be alright," Beverly assured her.

"He can't honestly expect you to drop everything," Tasha said as she put her hand on Deanna's arm.

"It's not him I'm worried about," Deanna confessed.

The next morning, Deanna was standing in the transporter room with Captain Picard, Commander Riker, Data, and Tasha.

Miles activated the transporter and three humans appeared on the pad – a rather portly man, his impeccably dressed wife, and a young man with feathery blonde hair.

"I'm Jean-Luc Picard, Captain of the Enterprise. Welcome aboard," Picard said.

"Quite some starship you have here, Captain," Steven Miller said as he stepped down.

The two men shook hands.

"I've been looking forward to this visit," a warm voice said.

Victoria Miller immediately recognised Deanna.

"It has been so many years, my dear," she said as she gave Deanna's hand a squeeze. "Lovely as ever."

"You probably don't remember us," Steven said as he kissed her cheek.

"How could I forget you," Deanna smiled.

Her smile was genuine and not forced. She truly did have many fond memories of the Millers from her childhood. She had spent more than enough afternoons running through the garden with Wyatt.

"I'm Wyatt," Wyatt said as he stepped forward.

He held out his arm with a white rose. There was a handwritten note wrapped around the stem.

As soon as Deanna accepted the gift, the rose shifted colour to a deep, rich blue.

"It's a chameleon rose. It changes colour with the mood of its owner," Wyatt shared.

"It's wonderful," Deanna replied.

Commander Riker cleared his throat.

"Oh! Of course, please allow me to introduce some of my senior officers. This is Commander William Riker, my First Officer," Jean-Luc said.

Riker nodded to the Millers and shook Wyatt's hand a little harder than intended.

"My Second Officer Lieutenant Commander Data, Security Chief Natasha Yar, and our Transporter Chief Miles O'Brien," Picard explained.

The rest of the crew nodded politely to the Millers.

Tasha was required to be present whenever dignitaries came aboard, and Data had been tasked with escorting the Millers on tour. Normally such a duty would fall to the First Officer. However, Data suspected the personal nature of Deanna and Will Riker's relationship played into the Captain reassigning such a task.

"When is my mother arriving?" Deanna inquired.

"Your mother is still down on the planet, Deanna," Wyatt explained.

He suddenly looked uncomfortable.

"Er, is there a place for my parents to rest, Captain?" Wyatt asked.

"Oh! We're not tired," Steven assured him.

Victoria chuckled.

"Come now, Steven. You know full well Lwaxana Troi isn't about to beam on board until we leave. It wouldn't do for protocol," Victoria reminded him.

Betazoid custom demanded the dignitaries arrive separately so as to preserve the importance of each individual delegation.

"Lieutenant Commander Data will show you all to guest quarters that we've prepared for your arrival," Picard said as he indicated to the door.

"Right this way," Data said as he escorted the Millers out of the transporter room.

"I'll join you later," Deanna nodded to them as they left.

As soon as they were clear, Miles received a notification that there were two more persons waiting to beam aboard from the surface.

"Right on cue," Picard mused.

A moment later, Lwaxana Troi and her valet, Mr Homm, appeared.

"Where is everyone?" Lwaxana snapped.

She was turned around and staring at the wall.

Captain Picard cleared his throat.

"Oh I hate that!" Lwaxana remarked as she spun around.

She paused and smiled at Deanna.

"Hello, mother," Deanna said.

Don't say it. Think it! Use your mind. Not your mouth. Lwaxana communicated telepathically.

"Hello, mother," Deanna repeated.

The irritation in her voice was obvious to all.

"Jean-Luc!" Lwaxana said as she made to step off the pad.

The Captain begrudgingly stepped forward and offered her his hand to assist.

"Good to know your feelings haven't changed," Lwaxana winked.

Jean-Luc stepped back and straightened his uniform.

"Welcome aboard and to you, Mr Homm," Picard nodded, hoping to put some distance between himself and Mrs Troi.

But Lwaxana was already on to her next target.

"William, you look dashing in that dress uniform. I'm sorry, this must all be terribly awkward for you," Lwaxana said.

Mother! Deanna snapped telepathically.

"Oh it's getting there," Riker replied.

But Lwaxana didn't wait for a response. She moved down the line.

"And Tasha. Did you figure things out yet?" Lwaxana asked as she gave her hand a squeeze.

Tasha blinked in confusion. She didn't understand the question.

"Erm, it's nice to see you again," Tasha replied.

"Don't be shy. I simply must know. Are you still with the android or did you finally take a bite of those big, juicy Klingon muscles?" Lwaxana asked, adding a growl for effect.

"That is enough," Deanna barked.

Her mother was already embarrassing enough – she didn't need to torment her friends.

Commander Riker choked back a laugh, covering it with a cough.

Even Captain Picard smirked.

"Well then, since I've been reprimanded, I assume I'm being sent to bed without supper?" Lwaxana quipped. "Fine! Captain, you may carry my luggage."

"Oh, I would uh, hate to rob Mr Homm of his duties," Jean-Luc said as he put up his hands in a sign of surrender.

Lwaxana looked slightly let down by this answer.

Miles stepped in to save the day. He had a soft spot for mothers.

"I'd be honoured, Mrs Troi," Miles said.

Bless you Miles. Picard thought. Always willing to throw yourself on the metaphorical grenade.

Miles stooped down to pick up the luggage and hissed. It was far heavier than expected.

Bracing himself for the weight, Miles made a second attempt.

"This way," he puffed as he carried it out of the room.

Deanna nodded to the group and left to follow them.

As soon as the door was closed, Tasha heard a chortle from Captain Picard.

"Don't say it," Tasha said as she put a finger.

Riker growled, imitating Lwaxana's previous behaviour.

"Lieutenant, you must admit that if someone didn't know better they could easily get the impression that you and Mr Worf were-" Picard trailed off.

"Were what?" Tasha demanded.

"Well, more than friends," Picard answered honestly.

"You know if someone didn't know better they might put stock in Lwaxana Troi's telepathic read on your thoughts," Tasha countered.

Jean-Luc looked as if he had been slapped.

"Sir," Tasha added quickly, suddenly remembering her place.

Will Riker watched for a few tense seconds as neither of them spoke.

Jean-Luc's face suddenly broke out into a rare laugh and Tasha soon followed.

Riker shook his head and excused himself.

He would never fully understand the dynamic of their friendship.

In any case, he wasn't much in the mood for laughter.

Down in her quarters, Lwaxana was bustling about as she hung up her garments.

"Of course, the thoughts of Wyatt's father toward me were almost vulgar, but he really doesn't have your Captain's imagination," Lwaxana said.

She pulled out a red dress and brushed it off before tossing the garment to Mr Homm.

He nodded and hung it up in the closet.

Deanna flopped down on the sofa and closed her eyes in frustration as Lwaxana prattled on about what Mrs Miller was wearing and how she needed to ensure they weren't clashing at the engagement dinner.

"Mother?" Deanna said.

"You know how good I look in purple, but Victoria thinks it's her best colour," Lwaxana went on. "I guarantee she's going to wear that lavender piece. It's got to be fifteen years old by now and she's going to look completely washed out."

"Mother?" Deanna tried again, hoping to catch her attention.

"We had dinner the other night and I find it truly shocking how much they've changed in the years since your father and I knew them," Lwaxana continued.

It seemed she was completely oblivious to Deanna.

In truth, she wasn't sure she wanted to have the conversation Deanna was itching for.

Lwaxana held up a long, ornately bejewelled gold gown. She cocked her head from side to side. Then she sighed and stuffed it back into her luggage.

"Well it's probably because I've grown beyond them," Lwaxana concluded.

She was a woman constantly in flux – new diets, new fads, whatever the latest metaphysical spiritual path or spa treatment that was trending.

That was how Lwaxana lived.

It wasn't because she was vain. Rather, she had zest for life and drive to try any and everything.

Mother! Deanna finally snapped mentally.

Lwaxana paused and glanced back at her daughter. To Deanna's disgust, she was smirking.

"So, you're not totally out of practice," Lwaxana remarked.

The rest of the senior staff were over on the Bridge as part of their regular duty. Despite their arrival in orbit, it would be another forty-eight hours before they could beam down to begin leave.

"Message coming in from Haven, Captain," Data advised.

"On screen," Picard ordered.

Tasha tapped the viewscreen to transmit visually.

Valeda, the elected leader of Haven, appeared.

"I am Valeda, First Ectorine of Haven. Welcome," she said.

"A pleasure to finally meet you. I'm Captain Jean-Luc Picard," the Captain responded.

"Your presence honours us. Once our docking protocols are satisfactory, the bounty of our world is at your disposal," she responded.

Her expression shifted and it was evident there was another topic she was eager to bring up.

"In fact, your arrival is quite fortuitous," Valeda said.

"In what way?" Picard inquired.

"There is an incoming vessel that has bypassed our starspace, violating our law. It has refused all attempts at communication," Valeda explained.

"Do you believe it to be hostile?" Picard asked.

"Failure to communicate is inherently hostile," Valeda responded. "We have no defences. We are pacifists. Our treaty with the Federation stipulates your obligation to protect us."

The mood on the Bridge shifted.

They were there for rest and relaxation. No one was prepared to launch into a possible hostile situation. Such an announcement triggered an immediate shift.

"Let's hope it doesn't become a defensive situation," Picard said. "Please transmit the coordinates. We will investigate this matter and report back in a few hours."

As soon as the communication was cut, the crew sprung into action.

"Data, I want an analysis of all known unfriendlies in the area. Scan Starfleet satellite data for any suspicious activity in the last two weeks," Picard ordered.

"Aye, sir," Data nodded.

Jean-Luc shifted, leaning toward the right as he rested his arm on the chair.

"Number One, I want you down in Engineering. Brief Lieutenant La Forge and confirm we're on track in case we need to Warp into a combat situation," Picard said.

He ordered Wesley to set a course for the coordinates Haven had provided to the mystery ship and engage at impulse speed. They would creep up until they knew what they were dealing with.

"Lieutenant Yar, once you've briefed your Security team and handed out assignments, I want you back here in case things get ugly," Picard ordered. "Mr Worf, take stock of our tactical position. Let's ensure our phaser banks are ready and the torpedo bays are prepared."

"Yes, sir," Worf said before departing.

Captain Picard settled back into seat.

"Let's hope some weary traveller just fell asleep at the helm," Picard said.

Down his guest quarters, Wyatt was pacing back and forth, chewing on his thumbnail. He hadn't sat down since they had arrived.

"Please, sit down," his mother encouraged. "You've met her now. I don't know why you're so nervous. She's a lovely gal."

"You don't understand," Wyatt said quietly.

"Oh, it's just pre-wedding jitters," Steve said as he ordered a cup of coffee from the replicator. "I had them too. All young folks do."

"Why don't you come have a nice cup of coffee?" Victoria suggested. "Mr Data will be back later to take us on a tour of the ship."

Wyatt paused and ran a shaky hand back through his hair.

How could I be so stupid? He thought.

For years Wyatt had experienced vivid, telepathic dreams.

Ever since he could remember, he had seen her – first as a child, throughout adolescence, and into his coming of age. They had grown up together, sharing both images and feelings.

Wyatt had always presumed this woman was Deanna. They had been so young when they had parted ways.

Six weeks earlier, they had grown ever more present. The images of a woman he had seen since childhood had penetrated every part of his mind. She had communicated that she was coming for him.

When word that the Enterprise was coming to Haven had been announced, Wyatt assumed it was official.

He assumed she was Deanna.

Wyatt felt like he knew her intimately. At the same time, he realised there were many ways in which they didn't know one another.

So he had written a long, heartfelt note expressing his deepest feelings. He had shared how he thought of her often, how she haunted his dreams, and how he felt they were connected on a spiritual level.

Wyatt had also shared how eager he was to get to know her in new ways.

I never should have written that note! Wyatt lamented.

"I need some air," Wyatt announced.

"I wasn't what he was expecting," Deanna said.

"Well, that's only to be expected. It's been twenty years since you've last laid eyes on one another," Lwaxana said.

"No, not in that way," Deanna commented.

It was difficult to explain.

From the moment Wyatt had handed her the rose and note, Deanna had sensed hesitation, confusion, and a hint of disappointment.

It was as if he did not want to give her the note, but that he felt socially obligated to. There was no easy way to avoid it.

"I am sure he finds you enchanting. How could he not?" Lwaxana asked.

"I don't know. Humans often say one thing but think another," Deanna said.

She frowned as she tried to recall exactly what she had sensed.

"Yes, they do, don't they? Poor dears. Our style of complete honesty frightens them," Lwaxana said as she laid out various hairbrushes on the vanity.

"On that subject, mother. Sometimes there is a thing as too much honesty," Deanna cautioned.

Lwaxana waved her off.

"If only they said what they think instead of hiding it. An entire shipload of such inconsistency could drive one insane," Lwaxana said.

She stopped unpacking and turned around to give her daughter a hard look.

If Deanna wasn't going to say it, then Lwaxana knew it was time to stop beating around the bush.

"Darling, I'm terribly sorry about what happened here. Wyatt Miller tracked me down and reminded me of the vows you made. He said he's been waiting for you and knew you were coming," Lwaxana explained.

Deanna did not respond verbally. She set the rose down on the coffee table. She picked up her feet and sat back as she unravelled the note.

"Those vows aren't something I expect you to believe in. Obviously, we'll need to have a talk and sort things out. Let him down gently, he's a sweet man. And I sense that, though unusual, he has remarkable depths in him," Lwaxana went on.

Deanna was still fixated on the note.

"In any case, I thought this might give Will Riker a little nudge in the right direction. Remind him that you're a hot commodity that won't be on the market forever," Lwaxana said.

Her last statement was entirely untrue.

She wasn't attempting to push Will Riker or her daughter into anything.

However, she could tell Deanna was only partially paying attention. Whatever was in that note was causing her great distress.

Lwaxana was simply trying to get a rise out of Deanna, and she knew mentioning Riker was the best way to do it.

"We'll sit down with the Millers and get this all settled. I'm sure they'll be relieved. I don't think they were expecting this. They'll understand we need to call it all off," Lwaxana said.

"No," Deanna without taking her eyes off the note. "We can't do that."

It didn't take long for the Enterprise to identify the vessel.

"On the viewer, Captain. Sub-warp speed, bearing two three five point seven," Data advised.

"My, my," Picard said in astonishment as he rose from his seat.

Everyone was in awe.

"Lieutenant, can you confirm that is the trouble I believe it is?" Picard asked.

"If you mean a Tarelllian vessel, sir, it is," Tasha responded.

The size and speed were consistent with Tarellian ships – though it was the first one Tasha had ever seen in person. Such a vessel was rare, thought to be long gone. However, their signature design was unmistakable.

"I thought the Tarellians were all dead?" Riker asked.

"It was believed they were extinct," Picard replied.

"Our current observation would render the assumption inaccurate," Data said from the Operations Console.

Captain Picard paged Doctor Crusher.

"Urgent, Beverly," Picard advised.

He sat back down in his chair and tugged on his uniform as he composed his thoughts.

"That ship must not be permitted to enter orbit," Picard declared.

"Sir, I have weapons locked onto the ship. On your order," Tasha advised.

"No!" Picard said. "I want to be sure there is no one aboard before proceeding."

Data scanned his sensors for any possible life signs. However, it was difficult to interpret the readings.

"Sir, I am detecting what could be life signs. However, the vessel is badly damaged," Data advised.

"Maybe they're all dead. If not, they're certainly dying," Riker remarked.

"The ship could have been brought in on an automatic course," Worf suggested.

Tarellia had once been an M-class world similar to Earth. But the people of Tarellia had been inhabited by two rival land masses. After decades of war, one group unleashed a deadly biological weapon on the other.

In the end, the victors fell victim to their weapon. They became infected with a terrible plague. The highly infectious nature and brutal death rate of the virus had left most worlds to cut ties with the Tarellians.

A ship carrying allegedly uninfected survivors had nearly wiped out Starbase 60.

But with their planet poisoned, the Tarellians had nowhere to turn.

With no way to cure the virus or stop the spread of the disease, the Tarellians became a threat. Rogue Tarellian ships tried to avoid other civilised worlds only to be hunted down and destroyed.

It was believed that the last Tarellian vessel had been destroyed eight years earlier by the Alcyones.

Despite being thought long-gone, the specs of the Tarellian vessels were well-known to every Starfleet cadet as a warning.

"Sir, I hate to remind you of our treaty obligation, but we have a duty to ensure that ship does not reach Haven," Tasha warned.

Jean-Luc knew she was right.

However, he was reluctant to simply destroy the vessel. But the lack of communication was a problem. Worst of all, they couldn't simply beam a team over to investigate.

Even in their EV suits, they weren't safe.

"We have twenty-one hours before that ship reaches Haven. Perhaps their communication array is simply damaged. Keep trying," Picard ordered.

Jean-Luc ordered Tasha to transmit an update via subspace back to Haven. He surmised they would be none too pleased. However, he recognised their duty to protect life included Tarellian life.

"Data, get down to Engineering and brainstorm with Geordi. I want some way to stop that ship that doesn't involve blowing them out of the sky," Picard commanded.

Jean-Luc desperately wanted to call on the skills of his resident empathic counsellor. However, he knew that she was grappling with a rather important matter.

Jean-Luc couldn't be sure, but he got the impression Deanna felt trapped in the circumstances of an ancient Betazoid custom. He only hoped that she would find a way to proceed that made her happy.

"Of course we will," Lwaxana said.

"No, I can't," Deanna said.

There was pain in her voice.

"Yes, you can. Deanna, I feel how much this upsets you," Lwaxana shared.

The rose on the table had gone from vibrant blue to a dark shade of midnight.

"Wyatt saw that rose too. I'm sure he feels the same way," Lwaxana said. "I know this is awkward, but let's sit down with the Millers and sort it all out."

Deanna shook her head.

"He's been waiting for this," Deanna explained.

The note had been such an exposed, raw look into his soul. It was lovely – only Deanna wasn't sure it was for her.

She felt partially guilty in reading just how deep Wyatt's feelings ran.

He adored her. He thought of her often. He was ready to drop anything and everything to be with her. According to the note, Wyatt had sensed her arrival and had already put in notice at his job that he would be leaving to join Deanna on the starship.

Deanna didn't share those feelings.

However, she could tell this was incredibly important to Wyatt.

"It will crush him," Deanna said. "I can't live with that on my conscience."

Feeling the need to clear her head, Deanna headed out for a walk around the ship.

She hadn't gone far when she ran into the last person she was hoping to see.

Wyatt Miller was leaning against the wall, staring out at Haven.

"You miss it already," Deanna commented.

"It's been my home for the last twelve years," Wyatt shared.

Deanna could sense that Wyatt was feeling uncomfortable, and she wanted to try and set him at ease. Based on his note, she recognised that had put a considerable effort into today.

Deanna also suspected that Wyatt was aware she didn't quite share the same feelings and was feeling let down.

"Your note was lovely," Deanna said. "You're quite a poet."

No turning back now. Wyatt thought.

If she had read the note – and loved it – there was no way he could tell her the truth.

Fearing that she expected their wedding to proceed, Wyatt felt obligated to continue.

"I'm glad," Wyatt responded with a smile.

Maybe we can learn to love each other? Wyatt thought.

After all, they had been good friends in their youth. Deanna seemed nice enough and Wyatt had felt a calling to come aboard this ship.

"Why don't we take a walk around the ship and you can tell me more about yourself?" Deanna suggested.

"Because it's not that simple, mother!" Deanna shouted.

She didn't like to raise her voice, but Deanna was having trouble getting through to her stubborn mother.

"I thought you of all people would be happy," Deanna fumed.

"I haven't gotten to 'happy' yet, Little One. I'm still on 'shocked'," Lwaxana replied.

After a long walk and chinwag with Wyatt, the two had agreed to proceed with the marriage. Unbeknownst to either partner, they both felt they were honouring an obligation to meet the other's expectations.

Lwaxana was horribly confused.

"But I can sense that-" she began to say.

"Enough telepathy!" Deanna ordered. "I'm tense enough as it is. I don't need your hot take on this situation."

Lwaxana's expression softened.

She stepped over and took hold of Deanna's hands.

"Is this what you really want?" Lwaxana asked.

Deanna hesitated.

"Little One?" Lwaxana pressed.

The use of such a loathed nickname was enough to enrage Deanna once more.

"Maybe you should have thought about what I would have wanted before you committed me to a genetic bonding ritual as a child!" Deanna replied in a heated tone.

"That was a long time ago. I'll support you in breaking this if that's-" Lwaxana attempted to assure her.

"It's awfully convenient for you to lend such support now," Deanna hissed.

Deanna stepped back.

"I have to go. I have a wedding to plan," Deanna said before turning on her heel.

Lwaxana watched her daughter go, her heart breaking at the pain and uncertainty that radiated off of her.

There were times Deanna could be too human and this was certainly one of them. She was hiding something, and such a notion did not bode well for nuptials.

"Well, if you won't end this engagement it looks like I'll have to save the day," Lwaxana mused.

Deanna thought she had been walking in no particular direction. However, she found her feet had carried her to Tasha's door.

Maybe some good can come of this yet? Deanna reasoned.

Deanna hit the chime and Tasha appeared a moment later on the other side of the door.

She was red in the face and drenched in sweat. It was clear Deanna had caught her in the middle of an intense workout.

"I thought Beverly said you weren't cleared to workout for another three days?" Deanna asked.

"Why do you think I'm hiding out here and not on the holodeck?" Tasha panted.

She glanced quickly up and down the corridor before pulling Deanna inside.

"She's got eyes everywhere," Tasha said as she reached for the canteen on her table.

Tasha took a long swig of cool water and then wiped her mouth with the back of her arm.

"Alyssa finked on me for jogging yesterday," Tasha shared.

Deanna laughed and shook her head.

"How are you doing with, well, you know...this whole surprise proposal thing?" Tasha asked.

"Wedding," Deanna said, correcting her.

Tasha's brow wrinkled.

"Wedding?" Tasha asked.

"Wedding," Deanna answered.

Tasha motioned for Deanna to take a seat.

"No offense, but you don't look the part of blushing bride," Tasha observed.

"I don't much feel it either," Deanna shared.

Deanna didn't spill everything to Tasha. However, she did provide a bit of context to her feelings.

"Wyatt is someone that I think I could learn to love," Deanna explained. "He's handsome and intelligent. There's a gentle nature about him that I find appealing."

As an artist and a healer, the two had much in common.

"But?" Tasha prompted.

Deanna sat back and fiddled with her hands in her lap.

"But I don't know," Deanna confessed with a shrug. "This is all so sudden and unexpected."

"What do you want to do?" Tasha asked.

"I just want it all to be done," Deanna said.

This was partially true.

In fact, Deanna never wanted any of this to happen. She longed to turn the clock back twenty-four hours and never visit Haven.

If she couldn't have that, she wanted more time to sort through her feelings.

But Wyatt had already left his career. He was expecting to come aboard the Enterprise. In fact, he had even submitted an application as a civilian medic in hopes of continuing his work in some capacity.

While it would take another few weeks for Starfleet to process his request, it was likely that it would be accepted.

Wyatt was a gifted physician and prominent researcher at the Haven Medical Institute. His skills were in high demand, and he would be a great asset to Beverly's team.

Even if Deanna were to reject his proposal, Wyatt would still be coming aboard.

And then there were his feelings to consider.

Wyatt had done everything he could to assure Deanna just how deep his affection for her ran. He had gone to great lengths to learn about her and had shared the sense of a telepathic calling that he'd experienced for years.

He was willing to drop everything for her and Deanna wasn't sure she could say no to that.

Beyond that, a part of Deanna felt that marrying Wyatt would please her father. He was long dead, but she thought it would have made him happy and thus Deanna wished to proceed.

"Okay. Well, I'm here. Whatever you need," Tasha said as she gave her friend's hand a reassuring squeeze.

"That's why I'm here," Deanna admitted. "I need your help."

"Anything," Tasha replied.

"I'd like you to be my buna sora," Deanna said.

Tasha cocked her head to the side, failing to comprehend the foreign term.

"It's sort of like the human custom of a maid of honour," Deanna explained. "I'd like you to stand up with me at my wedding. Normally such a position would be filled by a sister. But as I have none-"

Deanna trailed off.

Betazoid families typically had three or four daughters. As a matriarchal society, Betazoid women were the norm and baby girls were abundant.

However, Deanna had always been an only child.

She surmised that part of it had to do with her father's early death. Had he not died so young, Deanna imagined that she would have had a plethora of younger sisters.

"Say no more. Of course I'll do it. You'll just have to help me and tell me what I need to do," Tasha answered.

Deanna breathed a sigh of relief.

That was one less thing to worry about.

"There will be some duties on the day of the ceremony. And I'll need your help planning the wedding," Deanna said.

Tasha laughed.

"You do remember I'm the one that doesn't believe in weddings, right?" Tasha quipped.

Oh I know. Deanna thought.

Not only was Tasha her best friend (aside from Will Riker), but she was also hoping that including Tasha in the planning would help her overcome some of that fear.

While Deanna had considered asking Will to stand up with her, she felt such an ask was too awkward. He was hurt by the news of this bonding vow and Wyatt's arrival.

Deanna was dreading the thought of having to break the news to him.

Will Riker had been in a sour mood since the unexpected news of Deanna's engagement. Adding insult to injury was the fact that they had hardly spoken.

There had been a single, brief exchange of words in Captain Picard's Ready Room.

His anxiety was nearly through the hull.

To make matters worse, he felt like he didn't have anyone to talk to.

He couldn't very well march over to see the ship's counsellor.

And Will wasn't sure anyone else on board would quite understand the unique nature of his relationship with Deanna.

So Will had gone straight to his quarters after his shift. He'd cancelled his date with Lieutenant Rawlins. He didn't feel much like going out.

Will ignored his door when it chimed.

A soft knock followed.

As soon as the door opened, Deanna could see he'd been brooding.

"I'm kind of busy, Deanna," Will said.

"I am no longer Imzadi to you?" she asked.

Will stepped aside to allow her entrance into his quarters.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Riker demanded.

Deanna shrugged.

"It was so long ago. I was a child. We lost contact a few years after my father died when they were reassigned. I never imagined, not in my wildest dreams, that he would show up out of the blue like this," Deanna said.

Will nodded and sighed.

He wasn't happy – but he could understand her reasoning.

Most importantly, Will just wanted things to get back to normal. Keen to move forward, he grabbed them both a signature hot chocolate from the replicator.

"So, did you send that feathery-haired twat packing yet?" Riker asked.

Deanna frowned.

"I'm sorry," Riker said as he put his hand up. "I'm sure he's a nice guy. This whole thing just has me a bit rattled."

Ever since reuniting on the Enterprise, Will and Deanna had come to a certain arrangement. They were friends first and foremost and lovers second.

They considered themselves to be in a committed non-monogamous relationship. Both were free to see other people and have other partners. But they were open about it with one another.

Riker was furious that Deanna had never mentioned Wyatt. Because from what he had gathered, it sounded like Wyatt had been receiving telepathic affection from Deanna for some time.

"Will, we have to talk," Deanna said as she took a seat.

Will froze and eyed Deanna carefully.

"More than anything you want to be a starship captain. True?" Deanna asked.

She wasn't sure if she was trying to convince him or herself.

"That's not all I want," Riker replied.

He blinked as realisation hit him.

"What are you saying?" Riker asked.

"I know you care. But, well, it's complicated," Deanna said.

She paused and took a shaky breath.

"It didn't seem that complicated yesterday!" Riker fumed.

He got up from the table and began to pace around the room, running his hand back through his hair in an effort to regain some composure.

"It didn't seem that complicated when you came to me after Farpoint and proposed this arrangement!" Riker went on. "In fact, things seemed to be working quite well."

He shook his hands and arms out and then sighed.

"I'm sorry. This whole thing is still bizarre. I'm sorry, Imzadi," he repeated.

Deanna could sense that Will was truly bothered by this. A part of him wanted her to be happy. He recognised she was a beautiful person with so much to share with the universe.

He didn't feel that he had any right or claim to her affections.

But it hurt to know that she had shared something special with Wyatt and hidden it from him. Will felt excluded.

"I know you are feeling betrayed. And those feelings are valid," Deanna began.

Deanna knew what she had to do. It was going to hurt him, but she needed to get it done and over with so they could begin to heal. It would do no good for her to dance around the matter.

"Will, I've accepted Wyatt's proposal," Deanna shared.

Will looked dumbstruck.

For a few seconds he blinked rapidly, turning his attention from Deanna to the wall and back again.

"Does he know about us? Is he okay with this?" Riker asked.

His voice was heated, but Deanna could sense he was trying to mask his uncertainty.

What Riker was really asking was if he would still be a part of the 'us' or if he was about to be replaced.

"I've shared that you and I were in a relationship. A relationship I must now end," Deanna said.

The words stung as soon as they left her mouth. She felt as if some outside force was speaking for her, controlling her every move.

Will Riker's anger was instantly dialled up from a constant, brooding five to an eleven.

He shook his head in disbelief.

"Can you really look me in the eye and say you want this?" Riker questioned.

He was infuriated that Deanna would sacrifice who she was for anyone.

"I don't care if someone else makes you happy. But I don't want to see you give up who you are because of some stupid ritual," Riker confessed.

His shoulders slumped. He took Deanna's hand and brought it close to his lips.

"You are far too lovely to allow yourself to be trapped in tradition," Will said before kissing the back of her hand.

"Come dance at my wedding, Will," Deanna requested.

"I am no longer Imzadi to you?" he asked in response, flipping her question back on him. "You taught me that word means my beloved."

Deanna bit her lip.

"You know the human heart isn't too small to permit that feeling now," Riker said.

Deanna wanted to break down and cry. But she was worried that in doing so, she would lose the courage to do what she felt was right.

Her Betazoid abilities had always been a bit of a mystery to her. As a half-Betazoid, half-human, Deanna had difficulty in controlling her powers at times.

She didn't share her mother's finely tuned telepathy.

Deanna felt guilty in knowing that she must have somehow transmitted her feelings for Will to Wyatt – and had apparently been doing so for years.

It only made sense that Wyatt had been head over heels in love with her.

"Are you happy?" Riker asked her directly.

He needed to know. Because the alarm bells were sounding in his brain that all of this felt wrong.

"Are we still friends?" Deanna inquired.

"Always," Riker assured her.

Deanna smiled and turned to leave, but Riker caught her hand.

"You haven't answered my question," Riker reminded her. "Are you happy?"

"I'm getting married," Deanna responded, dodging it for a second time.

She smiled at Will, but it was evident to both of them that it was fake.

"Deanna, say the words and I'll drop it. But if you can't even admit it to yourself then I think you need to reconsider this marriage," Riker warned.

Deanna angrily pulled away.

"You are jealous!" she snapped.

"Yes, I am!" Riker huffed. "Not so much as a warning. No word. But I'm trying to be supportive. And when I ask you if you're happy it's not because I'm thinking of myself!"

Deanna scoffed.

"Of course not. You're thinking of which door would always be open for you. Well your safety net is moving on," Deanna shouted.

"I don't need you! I could have any man, woman, or androgynous J'naii on this ship!" Riker hollered after her. "I always felt there was something a little too aristocratic about your Betazoid heritage!"

Deanna stopped in the corridor.

She was about to turn around to address that comment before she recalled the words of her mother.

He's not worth your time, honey.

At 20:00 hours, Riker stepped into Ten Forward. After composing himself, he felt that a stroll around the ship would do him good.

On instinct, his feet brought him to Ten Forward.

It was an unusually slow night and there were few patrons.

However, Riker suspected most of the crew were preparing for their trip to Haven and were busy packing or securing last-minute time in the labs before they beamed down.

To his surprise, Guinan and Data were in the middle of the room talking. Occasionally, they would point to one of the tables. Otherwise, they seemed fixated on Data's PADD.

"Whatcha doing?" Riker said as he approached the pair.

"We are making preparations for the engagement party of Counsellor Troi and Wyatt Miller," Data explained.

He held up the PADD to show Riker the schematics.

"Excuse me," Guinan said as she stepped away to take care of a patron at the bar.

"Tasha has recruited me to help with her duties," Data said in a low voice. "Though I believe her true motivation is an effort to put me off of the idea of marriage."

There was an incredible amount of work to be done and not much time to do it in.

Expediting their marriage would help Wyatt's chances in securing the civilian medic job. It would also make him eligible for housing aboard the Enterprise with Deanna rather than the arduous process for civilian personnel.

Additionally, Wyatt was hoping they could get married before departing from Haven so that his friends and parents could be present.

"Sir, may I ask a question? As a friend?" Data inquired.

He could tell from Riker's reaction that this news was unpleasant. Furthermore, Data recognised this sudden marriage was likely a shock given the close personal relationship between Deanna and Will.

"Yeah, I'm happy for her. Ok?" Riker replied defensively.

"May we exchange confidences over an alcoholic beverage?" Data suggested.

Riker couldn't help but chuckle.

"Share a drink?" he clarified. "Yeah. Yeah, that actually sounds like a good idea."

Up in Deanna's quarters, Tasha and Beverly were trying to help her pick out a hairpiece for the big day. Deanna had so many intricately jewelled hair accessories, it was hard to choose a favourite.

Lwaxana was present too – and equally as flabbergasted as Will Riker had been.

She had been hoping that the news of Deanna's impending marriage would have spurred Will Riker to make a proposal of his own.

Unfortunately, it seemed he had been keen to express his support – right before things ended in a fight.

Human men. Lwaxana huffed internally.

Lwaxana was now on plan B.

"This is fun," she said as she set down a fresh tray of drinks on Deanna's table.

"Oh I really shouldn't," Beverly said, waving off the shot Lwaxana offered her.

Technically, they were all off duty tomorrow. But there was so much to attend to with Deanna's wedding that they couldn't very well be hungover in the morning.

"You know if you were to push the wedding back then we could do a proper hen party," Lwaxana suggested. "Maybe a quick trip to Risa and back again. I'm sure Wyatt would want to do something with his friends too."

"We can always go to Risa, mother," Deanna responded. "Right now the priority is in ensuring Wyatt can come aboard as a civilian medic."

She turned to Beverly.

"Has there been any word yet?" Deanna asked eagerly.

Beverly shook her head.

"Not yet," she answered honestly.

Jobs aboard the Enterprise were a hot commodity. It was the type of assignment that only came up once in a lifetime. Starfleet personnel had a difficult time securing positions aboard the flagship and civilian slots were even harder to come by.

"This one is beautiful," Tasha said as admired Deanna's latest piece.

She was holding a mirror up while Deanna tried on various pieces.

"It really brings out your eyes," Beverly added.

The door chimed.

"Come in!" Deanna called out.

Reg Barclay stepped inside. He came one metre in but went no further.

"Come in, Mr Barclay!" Lwaxana said, waving him over to the group.

She patted the seat next to her on the sofa.

"Sit down, sit down," she encouraged.

During their shared experience with Q's spontaneous murder mystery, Lwaxana had grown fond of the shy Engineer. She'd taken quite a shine to him.

Though Deanna didn't exactly understand their strange relationship, she couldn't deny it was healthy for Reg to interact with others.

She suspected Reg felt drawn to Lwaxana because he missed his own mother. For Lwaxana's part, it was evident Reg was the perfect son she had never had – he listened to her advice, followed instructions, and was always keen to give her his time.

Lwaxana could pick up on Deanna's feelings of confusion at Reg's presence.

"I invited Mr Barclay to stop by so we could discuss the details of the ceremony," Lwaxana explained.

"Oh, you want to help, Reg? That's very sweet," Deanna said.

She removed a large silver tiara and set it back down on the table. After making a quick adjustment to her hair, Deanna replaced it with a jade and tourmaline comb.

"Mr Barclay will be filling the role of buna frate," Lwaxana announced.

"What?" Deanna asked as she whipped around to look at her mother.

Reg blanched.

"You didn't do anything wrong, Reg," Deanna assured him quickly. "Does Wyatt know about this?"

A buna frate was, in essence, the best man of a Betazoid wedding. It was someone that stood up with the groom as both a friend and witness.

"I d-d-don't want to imp-p-pose," Reg stammered.

"Of course you're not, my dear," Lwaxana said as she pat the back of his hand. "Wyatt's best friend is off on some survey mission and can't be present. He asked me to find someone that was dear to our family to fill in."

Reg was nearly ready to faint.

Lwaxana had only asked if he could help with the wedding – she hadn't mentioned he'd be subbing as the best man.

"Oh don't you worry. You'll do great!" Lwaxana assured him.

She threw her arm around Reg and gave him a side squeeze.

"All you have to do is carry the rings to the ceremony, stand up with Wyatt, give the first toast-" Lwaxana described as he walked him through the duties.

"T-t-toast?" Reg panicked.

I'm going to be toast. Reg thought with alarm.

Public speaking terrified him. The very idea was enough to make his palms sweat.

"I know you'll be fantastic," Lwaxana said. "And Tasha will be right there with you."

Tasha leaned out from behind the mirror and offered Reg a reassuring smile.

"Ooo, I like that one," Tasha said as she spied Deanna's latest piece.

It was silver with onyx and black diamonds. Whenever Deanna moved, it sparkled in the light.

"Say, what are you wearing anyways? Could we see it with your dress?" Tasha asked.

Lwaxana chuckled politely.

"My dear, this is a traditional Betazoid wedding," Lwaxana said.

Tasha shook her head with a small shrug.

"I don't uh, I don't follow," Tasha admitted.

"What she wears is irrelevant. The headpiece is not worn until after the bride and groom have removed their clothing," Lwaxana informed the room.

An uncomfortable look passed between Reg and Tasha.

"The bride and groom go naked?" Tasha asked, hoping she had misheard Lwaxana.

"Everyone does," Lwaxana replied as if it were completely normal.

Tasha cringed.

"Oh don't worry, dear. No one is going to be shocked at those tattoos," Lwaxana assured her.

She was being obnoxious on purpose, hoping to drive home to Deanna how uncomfortable this wedding was for everyone.

During her last trip on the Enterprise, Tasha had shared with Lwaxana that she didn't enjoy comments or questions about the scars on her body.

Tasha imagined the horror of having to stand naked in front of her colleagues and wanted to vomit.

"Oh come now, I'm sure no one will ask about them," Lwaxana said aloud, reading Tasha's mind.

"I'm sorry," Deanna said.

She closed her eyes and groaned.

"I didn't even think. It's just the way we do things on Betazoid. I never considered how it might make you uncomfortable," Deanna said.

She removed the jewellery and took the mirror from Tasha.

"Tasha, I never meant to put you in this position," Deanna said as she took hold of her hands.

"I'm sorry, I just don't know about, well," Tasha trailed off.

There were plenty of reasons why Tasha was cautious about what amount of skin she showed and when. She'd spent far too many years not having a choice in that matter that she relished in the ability to make that decision now for herself.

Tasha felt conflicted. Obviously, she wanted to be there to support Deanna. However, she wasn't sure if she was comfortable doing so in the buff.

"If you don't want to do this, I understand," Deanna assured her.

Tasha's mouth went dry.

"Um, can I get back to you?" Tasha squeaked.

"I mean, how would you feel if Tasha suddenly dipped off and wanted to marry some random guy from her past?" Riker asked.

"I believe that is highly unlikely," Data replied.

Riker frowned.

"Data," Riker said.

"I apologise, sir," Data responded.

Data cocked his head to the side as he adjusted from literal to hypothetical thinking.

"I believe that your feelings of betrayal and sadness are justified. You share a close, personal relationship," Data said. "And she is very dear to you."

Riker nodded glumly.

"And because she is very dear to you, I believe you should honour her request," Data said.

Riker's brow furrowed.

"Dance at her wedding," Data clarified.

Riker took a long drink from his pint and slammed the glass back down on the table. He turned his attention out the window to the bright blue planet below.

"The problem is that I can't, Data," Riker confessed. "I want to, and I can't. I love her. And this all seems so wrong."

"If you truly love her, then you will do whatever you must to ensure her happiness – even if that happiness is with someone else," Data advised.

Riker closed his eyes.

He knew Data was right.

But it hurt.

And it was going to hurt for a long time.

"Data, what if Tasha asked you to help her marry someone else? Huh? What would you do?" Riker demanded.

"I would mourn the fact that she loved another. Then I would compose myself and do everything in my power to make her day special," Data advised.

Riker leaned forward, hunched over the table.

He picked up his glass and swirled the contents. For a moment he said nothing, watching the dark ale swirl just like the clouds down on Haven.

"Give me the PADD," Riker said as he extended his hand.

"Sir?" Data asked.

Riker wiggled his hand, beckoning Data to hand it over.

"I was stationed on Betazoid for a few years early on in my career. And I've been to a few Betazoid weddings in my day," Riker explained. "We should move the flower arrangements like this so that there's adequate room for the Gong of Gratitude."

He touched the screen and quickly rearranged the layout of the space.

"And I've got some ideas about the food," Riker said.

Outside of Ten Forward, Wyatt paused at the door as he watched Guinan, Data, and Commander Riker setting things up for the party tomorrow.

"But I don't like my grey trousers," Steven protested.

"That's why I packed your black ones," Victoria responded.

"I'd like to wear the red," Steven said.

"You'll clash with the Captain," Victoria said, dismissing the idea. "Speaking of which, we still need to ask him to officiate. Wyatt?"

But Wyatt ignored his mother. He was lost in thought as he watched the preparations for his wedding literally go up before his eyes.

It all felt so wrong.

All day there had been a growing sense of trepidation. Wyatt couldn't shake the feeling that this wedding was happening too fast.

At the same time, the telepathic bond that he had shared since childhood was growing stronger. The woman in his dreams was calling to him that he was about to meet his destiny.

There was something he was supposed to do. Something important.

"Wyatt," Victoria prompted.

Wyatt snapped his attention back to the present.

"Come along," Victoria said as she pulled her son down the corridor.

Shortly before midnight, they decided to call it a night. Ten Forward had been rearranged to accommodate the engagement party.

Riker's suggestions on the decorations and food had proven useful. Guinan had been more than happy to incorporate them into the menu for the event.

Will had even gone so far as the replicate and build specialised flower arrangements that were representative of the five houses of Betazed – including a special large one for the House of Troi.

"You've really outdone yourself," Guinan said as she stepped up next to Riker.

He was just putting the final touches on one of the centrepieces.

"There," he said as he stepped back to survey his work.

"She knows how much you love her," Guinan assured him, giving his arm a squeeze.

When Data reached his quarters, he was surprised to find Tasha wasn't up working on stuff for the wedding.

Stepping into the bedroom, he did a double-take.

"Tasha?" he asked.

She was standing stark naked in front of the floor-length mirror along the well, inspecting her own body with the precision of an engineer combing through a circuit panel.

"Are you injured?" Data inquired.

"No," Tasha replied.

She frowned as she traced over the fresh scar on her lower abdomen. It was still red and slightly puffy from her appendectomy.

Tasha sighed and turned to the side as she studied her appearance.

"May I ask what it is you are doing?" Data inquired.

"Nothing," Tasha responded.

She grabbed her old Starfleet Academy Parrises Squares team tee from the bed and pulled it down over her head.

"Were you trying something on for the wedding?" Data asked.

He scanned the bed and the floor but did not spy a garment.

"In a manner of speaking," Tasha said as she slipped into her sleep shorts.

Data scanned the room again but saw nothing.

"What is it? May I see?" Data asked.

Tasha tugged off shirt and quickly stripped down.

Data waited patiently on the edge of the bed.

"What is it?" he asked after a moment.

Tasha held her hands out and motioned at herself.

"Oh," Data said in surprise.

He cocked his head to the side and eyed her up and down once more.

"Oh," he realised aloud.

Data accessed his internal informational storage banks for all available details of Betazoid wedding custom. According to tradition, everyone went naked. This included the happy couple, their wedding party, the officiant, and their guests.

At the very end of the reception, everyone was clothed in a special wrap chosen by the couple. It was said to symbolise stripping away one's past self, embracing renewal, and then 'wrapping' oneself in love.

Data found it endearing. Though he could sense why Tasha was hesitant.

"You are nervous," he observed.

"A bit," Tasha confessed.

"You have no reason to be nervous. You are most enchanting," Data said as he kissed her bare shoulder.

"That's not why I'm nervous," Tasha insisted.

She wasn't concerned about looking good.

"I could honestly care less about appearance," Tasha said. "I just don't like everyone seeing this."

She gestured to the scars that marred her body. They were mostly predominant on her arms and back.

"People gossip. And they formulate theories," Tasha explained. "Every time they look at me, they're only going to see the scars."

Tasha had been down that road before.

"They won't see a Security Chief or a fellow officer," Tasha went on. "They'll see a victim."

They would ask her how or when it happened. Or worse, they'd tell her she was 'brave.' It made Tasha shudder.

When she had first been rescued, a journalist for Federation news had reached out and asked Tasha to share her story.

Tasha had promptly told him to get stuffed.

While she had no qualms about sharing limited details of youth when she felt it was appropriate, Tasha didn't want to advertise it.

She loathed questions about her scars. Whenever they were on display, it only seemed to invite such inquiries.

"Then I will be required to go nude as well," Data said, temporarily drawing Tasha out of her mental spiral.

His mind began to race.

Did such a custom extend to footwear?

What level of body hair was appropriate for such a function?

Data's eyes went wide with fear.

"My waste port will be visible," he realised with alarm.

Aside from Tasha, his previous sexual partners, and Bruce Maddox's team – no one else had ever seen such a thing.

Located on the inside of his thigh, the waste port functioned almost like an antique petrol tank. A small panel opened to the side and Data had a retractable hose that he could use to dump materials that couldn't be processed by his system as waste.

"My lint trap!" Data panicked as he reached back to touch his lower back.

Just above his backside, there was a small panel.

Barely visible to the human eye, it could be opened to reveal a collection filter for dust particles. Data's system was capable of filtering most of that out before entering his body. However, every month or so he had to clean the filter in what Tasha had fondly dubbed his 'lint trap.'

"It would seem not selecting clothes is so much more complex," Data remarked.

"As you all know, extended use of the tractor beam is a drain on ship's power," Geordi said. "But we think we've got a solution."

Though technically off for the day, the senior officers had been called in for a briefing on the situation with the incoming Tarellian freighter.

Through some digging, Worf had managed to find the frequency on which Tarellian communications had operated. After some minor adjustments, the Enterprise had begun transmitting on that frequency.

Thus far there had been no response – fuelling their suspicions that everyone aboard had likely already perished.

But even if all the Tarellians aboard were long dead, the ship itself presented a danger. The Tarellian plague could live on in the atmospheric systems. Given Tarellian technology, it was unlikely a ship that size would burn up in the atmosphere.

It would crash somewhere on Haven and quickly infect the surrounding people and wildlife.

Due to the risk, it was not possible to beam a team aboard to stop or reroute it.

Geordi clicked his PADD to shift the viewscreen to the next image in the presentation.

"We anticipate most of the crew can begin beaming down to Haven in approximately twenty hours," Geordi said.

"The Terellian vessel is due to arrive in fourteen hours," Data said. "We believe the long-term power drain can be mitigated by shutting down decks nine through fifteen and seventeen through thirty-six."

Geordi indicated to the plan onscreen.

"We'll move everyone impacted to the other levels and then disable all systems on those decks," Geordi explained. "It means some of the primary labs will be down during that time."

"The Enterprise can then two the Tarellian ship to a safe distance," Data said.

"And then what?" Picard asked.

It was a perfectly solid plan – save for the fact there was no part two.

An uneasy look passed between Data and Geordi.

"Uh, we were hoping the Tarellians would make contact during that time," Geordi said.

"If there are any people aboard left alive," Data added.

Jean-Luc sat back in his chair and sighed. He scanned the ceiling as he weighed his options.

"I don't like this plan," he admitted.

The team could sense his discomfort. None of them were eager to endorse such a proposal. They wouldn't be able to keep the freighter locked in a tractor beam indefinitely.

Even with the power conservation measures, they had three, maybe four days tops before they would have to release or destroy the ship.

The idea of slaughtering the last of the Tarellians was unsettling. It went against everything in their values.

"Sir, at the very least this plan buys us time," Riker noted.

"The Tarellian vessel will be in range of the tractor beam in thirteen hours and forty-one minutes," Data advised. "Should you wish to think on your decision."

Jean-Luc nodded absentmindedly.

There would be time to think on this matter – in the meantime, Jean-Luc had to worry about the pre-joining engagement party for Deanna Troi and Wyatt Miller.

At 13:00 hours, Deanna stopped into Ten Forward to meet Wyatt and her mother. They were due to chat with Guinan to finalise the arrangements for their ceremony the day after tomorrow.

It was so surreal that all of this was happening in less than forty-eight hours.

When Deanna arrived, she found the place empty save for Will Riker who was carefully hauling a large orchid centrepiece across the room.

Unsure of what to say, Deanna opted for humour.

"I didn't know you took up a second career," she teased.

Riker set down the arrangement on a large table and turned, beaming with pride.

"What do you think?" he asked.

Deanna surveyed the room and then smirked.

"They're lovely. Only you've got the Third house of Isat next to the First House of Plaeni. They would never permit such a close presence to one another in a social setting," Deanna mused.

Riker looked worried that he had committed some massive faux pas.

"I'm pulling your leg," Deanna assured him.

"Oh," Riker replied with a nervous nod.

The very last thing he wanted to do was screw this up for Deanna.

"A hundred and thirty years ago the Isat family and Plaeni's had a falling out over a land boundary. Now they like to argue whenever they get the chance," Deanna explained. "The bigger the social gathering, the better the audience."

Riker made a beeline for the table that had the flower arrangement symbolising the House of Plaeni. Before he took three steps, Deanna stopped him.

"Will, they're not going to be here," she said.

One advantage of her rushed nuptials was avoiding having to invite the Betazoid aristocracy.

"Well, small miracles I suppose," Riker said.

Small miracles, indeed. Deanna thought.

The entire room was set to honour both Betazoid tradition and Deanna – right down to the flowers and colours chosen for the event.

Many years earlier, Deanna had shared with Will that someday she wanted a glass fountain serving Samarian Sunset punch at her wedding.

And there it was, sitting on a table in the corner.

Deanna's chest felt tight. Her eyes settled on Will.

"You did all of this for me?" Deanna asked.