A/N: WIWJ-Your review made me so happy! Glad I put it out there, then. :-) There will be more moments like that, I promise!

Zara08-Hahaha she sure does! I love the idea of her being the mild-mannered one, but also the one who's REALLY in charge lol.

Carmen followed Riker and Troi into the village tavern, which looked much more warm and inviting than she had expected. Paintings hung on red and brown walls. Plants filled every corner, overflowing their pots with velvety vines. Murmured conversations drifted from a patio out back, where patrons had gathered to enjoy the coming of evening.

Riker led them to a long and glossy bar and mumbled a few words to the man standing behind the counter. The stools had been padded with brown leather, and like the tables behind them, the wood was adorned with intricate flourishes. Though Carmen tried to appreciate the craftsmanship, she felt like her empathic senses were under assault. Her foot fumbled as she tried to climb into her stool.

"Whoa there," Riker said, catching her arm. "Are you alright?"

"It's...it's too loud in here."

Riker glanced around, confused. It seemed fairly quiet to him.

Troi came around to the young woman's other side, sweeping her raven-dark hair back. "It's the drink. Alcohol has a way of intensifying emotions."

"I never had this problem before. And I've been to plenty of bars," she insisted, ignoring Riker's disapproving scowl.

"You buried your abilities back then. It's probably why you were drawn to places like this, come to think of it," Troi said.

"What do you mean?"

"See, you can never truly bury that sort of thing-it's in your blood. You told me once that you drank in order to forget. But I think you were drinking to remember."

Carmen's gaze drifted into the distance as she carefully considered the counselor's words. In her mind, she saw a dark room and the silhouette of a young man above her. She could still feel his rough, loveless kisses on her lips. His drunken hands wandering across her body. You're right. I would have done anything to feel again.

Meanwhile, the bartender returned with a plate of hot bread and various jams. Then he filled a wooden mug with ale and set that down as well. Troi watched her daughter softly. "Was that Farrow you were thinking about?"

"Who?" Riker asked through a mouthful of bread.

"No one." Carmen's answer came unduly quick.

But Troi's smile brimmed with compassion. "It's alright to talk about it. We all have our regrets, you know."

"Who's Farrow?" Riker asked again, still confused.

Carmen blew out a deep breath. "Just...some guy I met at a bar once. He had ditched his crew, ditched the war. He tried to convince me to stay, too, but…" Her lips curled into a hollow, mirthless smile. "I had these silly notions of duty and honor. We were all doomed anyways, he argued. Might as well live in the moment."

Riker scoffed. "Don't tell me you fell for that old line."

"Weeeell..." She grinned sheepishly. "It didn't sound so bad after a few drinks."

"You know what a young man told me once?" Troi said, reaching for the bread and jam. "He said the moon was jealous of me, and that even the stars looked different to him after laying eyes on my beauty."

"What is that nonsense?"

Riker puffed his chest out indignantly. "It's poetry! The language of romance."

After glancing between him and the counselor several times, Carmen burst out laughing. "It was you, wasn't it?"

"Sure was! And it worked, too."

Troi rolled her eyes at him. "At least for awhile."

As Carmen's laughter trickled off, a smile lingered behind on her face. "So why did you guys break up? You never told me what happened."

"We didn't break up. Not exactly," Troi replied. "See, he was supposed to meet me on Risa six weeks after shipping out with the Potemkin. But he never showed."

"I stayed behind for a promotion," he explained. Then he nudged the young woman's shoulder with his. "I guess I had these silly notions about duty and honor, too."

Her smile softened. "Well I'm glad you came to your senses."

"My mother is relieved as well," Troi said. "She tried to warn me about Will back then. Tried to tell me he was one of those career-driven young officers. And she's almost always right about people."

"I wonder what she thinks about Sheppard," Carmen mused aloud, her eyes sparkling at mention of the young man.

"Hey, tell me-" Riker leaned his elbows over the edge of the counter. "What was his pickup line?"

"I think he said sorry."

His brows drew together, puzzled. "Sorry for what?"

"For kissing me."

"For-for-!"

Troi laughed at Riker's angry sputtering. "I think that's pretty sweet, actually."

"Yeah well," the commander retorted. "I think that's pretty brazen. Especially for someone whose future promotions have to go through me."

Carmen laughed in good stride. She looked up at the faces of Riker and Troi, basking in their company. For a few minutes, she had forgotten about the assault on her senses. She had even forgotten about the mission. But as the hour grew later and later, the young woman's sense of duty and honor returned. She reached for the wooden mug.

"Don't even think about it," Riker warned, pushing it out of the way.

"But-"

"We just talked about this! You and alcohol don't mix."

"One drink? Please? Come on, one drink won't hurt-" She reached for it again.

"Carmen Riker."

She groaned, crossing her arms atop the counter. "Well let's get on with things then. Where should we start?"

The commander lowered his voice, shifting to a more business-like demeanor. "We need to strike up as many conversations as we can. Find out who was here last night." He picked up the mug and held it to his lips as he scanned the room. Then he paused, his eyes landing on a familiar face. "Hey, isn't that-"

"Mr. Will!"

Carmen turned in her seat to see a young man about her age making their way towards them. She recognized Tarron, the eldest of the Perler brothers. He had his mother's red hair and his father's long chin, though he was taller and leaner than them both. Carmen vaguely remembered something about him working long hours in town to help make ends meet.

"Tarron, good to see you!" Troi greeted. "We missed you at dinner last night."

"Yeah, I'm real sorry about that. I usually miss dinners at home, with work and all. Hello, Carmen."

"Hey." She returned the greeting without any of the enthusiasm.

"Is it true, about Elion's partner? He's gone missing?"

Riker nodded. "It is, unfortunately."

"He came around, asking for volunteers to go searching. But that emblem on his uniform...well, it's hard to ask for favors while wearing that thing."

Troi tilted her head. "Why's that?"

"Kitadara's always sending out people to boss us around. They think we can't handle our own affairs."

"So if he came in here, think he'd get much service?" Riker asked.

Tarron laughed wryly. "Not good service, anyway. But who knows. In a place like this, there's always a few souls willing to lend their company. Take Old Camus over there." He nodded towards a man at the end of the bar who looked older than dirt. "Friendly guy. Kind of...eccentric. I don't know if it's from too much sun or drink or what. But he's harmless, really."

"Camus, huh…" Riker's eyes locked on to the old man.

"Well, I'm supposed to meet some friends of mine for Paupers and Princes. Sorry again for missing dinner."

"Hey Tarron," Troi said as the young man started to leave. "Carmen's been wanting to learn how to play that. Would you mind if she tagged along?"

Carmen froze. What? What are you doing?

"Oh, you've never played before?" he asked. "It's my favorite card game. I'd be happy to teach you."

"Oh. Great." No. Not great.

We need to strike up as many conversations as we can, Troi reminded her. We'll talk to Camus; you go talk to Tarron's friends, find out if any of them were here last night.

How can I concentrate on a card game right now?

Just try your best to remember what we've worked on. And what we're here for.

Reluctantly, Carmen climbed down from her stool and followed the young man to the back of the tavern. They passed under an archway and found themselves on a stone patio awash in purple evening light. Torches flickered from tall, wooden posts. A few dart boards had been set up, as well as a handful of round tables for drinking or card games. One group of men was rowdier than the rest. They chanted a strange word over and over again while three of their companions chugged their drinks.

"Hey-" Carmen tugged on Tarron's arm. "What are they doing over there?"

"Over there? Oh, they're just playing Glugg."

"Glugg?"

"Yeah, it's a stupid game. A drinking game."

Despite his dismissive attitude, her interest piqued. "What kind of drinking game?"

"One person spins a coin, and the others have to finish their pints before the coin falls. Whoever doesn't finish has to top off their drink and go again."

"Huh…" One of the players slammed an empty glass on the table triumphantly. His friends whooped in drunken glee, but the victory was short-lived. He hiccuped once and then crumpled to the floor, passed out cold.

Carmen eyed his empty glass on the table. It had been so long since she felt the soothing numbness of a drink. Her mind clamored for relief, for something to help drown out the barrage of emotions from the other patrons. One drink, that's all. Just one round. How hard could it be-it's just a pint, for crying out loud. Maybe it'll even help them warm up to me. Get them talking.

"Wait-where are you going?" Tarron said as she made her way towards the raucous group of men.

"Be right back," she called over her shoulder.