Read the Room
by bleeze brew
Summary: In the wake of tragedy, Captain Freeman gets some well-needed advice from a career First Officer.
Genre: Drama, T
Characters: Captain Freeman, Will Riker.
AN: Debated posting this for a while, eventually figured "why not." The worst anyone can do is hate it, ha!
If you do hate it, please be kind enough to leave a review explaining why.
Fair warning, this fic assumes that a bunch of people died in the season one finale, and it mattered. If you're not interested in that you probably don't want to read this.
Captain Carol Freeman was struggling to keep her eyes open. She'd hidden it from her daughter, but being tossed around and beaten bloody took a toll that extended beyond the dermal regeneration. Then there was losing Shaxs, handling the refit, talking to Beckett…by the time she reached the mess hall, it felt like she hadn't slept in a week. She assumed a satisfied pose, just trying to keep from swaying for a short time, just long enough that she could make a break for it and collapse quietly in an unused corner of her ship. She had to make an appearance. She had to reassure the crew that she was alright. And she was! But she was only human, and it was a serious struggle for her to keep her eyes open and her mood appropriately content. She'd lost so many more people than Shaxs when the Pakleds started to tear apart her ship, not to mention the Solvang. Good God, she'd boasted about showing up Captain Dayton when she was already dead—!
"Carol!" Captain William T. Riker called with a blinding grin, grabbing her around the waist and spinning her in tight bear hug.
She stared at him in shock, snapped out of her thoughts completely to instead wonder what the hell was going on?
He set her down, still with his hands on her shoulders and that gregarious smile. "I guess those Cali-class ships can hold their own longer than people say."
She smiled, only a little irked by the implied insult. She was sure he didn't mean it that way. Mostly sure. But even if she technically had seniority, he was Will Riker, the man who had defeated the Borg and served as Captain Picard's "Number One" for fifteen years on the Enterprise. There was rank, and then there was legendary status. "Thank you for the assist, Captain," she replied politely.
"No need to be so formal," Riker chided, offering her a drink with great panache. "You know, I was her mentor," he added to Deanna Troi beside them.
Carol eyed him, utterly confused. Their relationship at the Academy had consisted of her turning him down once. That was it. But she shouldn't contradict "Will Riker" too strongly. "Uh, yeah. Well I remember it differently," she replied, somewhat embarrassed.
He laughed, throwing an arm around her and pulling her tight to his side before she could protest, dragging her towards a table. "You were sort of my cha'DIch! We used to get in so much trouble."
"'We?'" she asked, sardonic. She remembered that much about him. In her distraction, she nearly stumbled, and held back a grimace. The last thing she needed was to collapse against Riker in front of everyone, including his wife.
He laughed again, seemingly not noticing her near misstep. At the same time, his arm shifted slightly in a way that took on part—no, more of her weight. She was speechless. Was he doing this to come to her rescue? Again? How had he known how close to slipping she was? More importantly, who else had noticed? "Remember that time in Organic Chemistry?" he asked. "We were unstoppable! Oh and the superintendent? That Vulcan definitely had it out for us."
He guided her into the booth, sitting across from her. His beaming grin faded to something a little more reasonable. "Don't push yourself so hard, Captain," he advised quietly. "Appearing before the crew to offer reassurance backfires spectacularly when you collapse while doing so."
She stared at him, shocked. "How did you…? Oh, Commander Troi, of course," she realized, disgruntled at the invasion of privacy.
He shook his head slightly. "No. Picard can be just as proud as you're being now. I have practice recognizing the signs." He tapped their glasses together with a gentle smile. "Comes from being an XO for over a decade."
She glanced around the room from the corner of her eye, hoping that no one else had caught that quiet discussion. "Don't worry," he assured her easily. "Everyone politely averted their gaze when I started making a fool of myself."
"You didn't have to do that," she muttered, sipping her drink.
He shrugged. "It was fun. I miss acting in plays; I don't often have the time anymore."
She glanced out the window beside them, struggling briefly with her emotions. "Have you always been this conscientious? If I'd known, I actually might have dated you back then."
He chuckled lightly. "No, you can forget that. That's something else I learned from being a First Officer."
She smiled at him warmly. "You were ten times the XO I was, then," she admitted ruefully. "I never learned my captain's moods that well. I didn't think it was possible."
He waved that off. "I have a lot of practice." He reached out then, setting a hand on hers. It was warmer than she'd expected. "I'm sorry I didn't get there in time."
"Yes, you did," she said, confused.
He shook his head soberly. "No, I didn't. If I had, you'd have a full crew compliment, and the Solvang would be intact."
Her shoulders slumped. "That's not your fault," she said quietly.
"I don't care," he replied. "And apparently, neither do you. Because any life lost is one too many."
She looked up at him, and her breath caught just a little. Her own bone-deep weariness was reflected in his eyes. Sometimes, given his loud personality and how easily he held his own at formal functions, it was hard to remember that Riker had seen Wolf 359 up close and personal. That the images she had seen with such horror as a lieutenant commander on a distant science station had been collected by his ship within days of his captain being assimilated by the Collective, his best efforts to stop the cube failing miserably.
Right now, it was all too easy to see.
"That comes at least partly from Deanna," he admitted, drawing her back to the present. "Tell me, do you want to try again, or shall I make you an exit?"
She considered trying to satisfy her pride, but given how shaken she still felt, she should accept his offer. "Alright then," he said before she could respond, practically reading her mind again. It was uncanny, and began to justify that legendary status. "When I cue you, politely but firmly explain that you have work you need to be doing and walk out. I can handle the rest. You're steady on your feet now?" he checked.
"Yes, I should be fine." Maybe not, but she could muscle through.
He nodded once, then grinned wildly again, raising his voice. "Hey, Carol, do you remember the time we had that threesome with—?"
She twitched, gritting her teeth. Her anger made her movements sharp. He was having a little too much fun with this. "If you'll excuse me, Captain, I'm sorry, but I have some work to finish."
"Aw, Carol, come on. Don't—"
The door closed behind her, blocking out the rest of his words. She stormed all the way to her quarters, trying to figure out a way to destroy that rumour before it got anywhere. Maybe he didn't care about his reputation, but she...
She hadn't had to fight off a single stumble on the way here, given her anger. And even if anyone did gossip about it, who would care or believe them? Half the fleet had reportedly slept with Riker by now if you went by the gossip, which was patently absurd.
She sat down heavily, trying to decide if she wanted to thank him for the help or throttle him for his methods. It had definitely been clever, she'd give him that. Come to think of it, had that been why he'd obliquely insulted the Cerritos? To make her angry, and give her a boost of energy and focus?
Yeah, she was definitely going to throttle him. No one insulted her ship.
AN: Essentially, this came from Riker being extra and calling Freeman his cha'DIch, which begged the statement "Geeze, read the room." And then my conspiracy theorist side decided that Riker was totally playing that up.
Also, in case you haven't figured it out yet, I happen to have like a bajillion Will Riker head canons and require very little excuse to play with them. Sorry not sorry.
I'm writing a whole series for some of them that I'm calling the "Above Board" series, TNG focused. It's progressing well but isn't done yet. I hope to get the key parts handled by Christmas, which means you should expect them by Christmas—of 2023. :)