Title Parterre, Season four,Chapter Four: "The Loss"
Author Psycha (psycha underscore fairy at yahoo dot co dot uk)
Rating Kplus(PG)
Codes C/T

ExtraNote: I just wanted to drop a big Thank You, to all those who've taken the time to review. The encouraging words are much appreciated and it's satisfying to know people are enjoying this story so far :) I'm intentionally trying to tie the chapters in with Canon for as long as possible and I'm glad to hear that it's (somewhat) succeeded.

Chapter Four b: "The Loss"

Standing just outside the counselor's quarters Beverly tried to find her poise, fighting the dread she felt at having to spend the evening with Troi in a secluded space. She took a deep breath and reached out for the enunciator, then jumped when the doors slid open.

Deanna appeared in the frame, looking… Crusher swallowed, taking in the sight of her friend. The other woman's hair had been released of its bonds, flowing freely down her shoulders and it was still a little damp. "Come on in." Troi invited, looking different than the doctor was used to, but no less beautiful in spite off the lack of make-up. "Make yourself comfortable, I just need to change into something a little more appropriate."

Numbly she nodded and watched her friend disappear in the bedroom, the short robe she was wearing distracting her vision from her surroundings, to the hem of the white material, the backs of Deanna's knees and thighs exposed to her view.

Beverly shook her head and settled down in one of the chairs, breathing slow and controlled in an effort to stop her heart from raging. Why did the sight of her friend have that kind of effect? A statue on her left caught her attention and she stood up to inspect it closer. Carefully she picked the piece of art up and turned it sideways, looking for a familiar shape or pattern but finding none.

"Sorry," Deanna apologized from behind her, "I lost track of time in the shower."

At loss for words Beverly could only stare. Troi wasn't fully dressed yet, the soft green dress she had chosen hung loosely around her frame, showing tantalizing glimpses of the body hidden underneath. She almost regretted it when the other woman fastened the seals, fitting the dress tighter against her body and limiting the exposure of skin to a slit that ran high up her thigh.

"No problem," she assured, then held up the statue in her hand. "Is this new? I've never seen it before."

"Mother sent it." The counselor answered as she settled down on the couch, tucking her legs underneath her.

"It's beautiful, what is it?"

"It's a…a reminder, that I should settle down, have a couple of grandkids, grow a garden, learn to run a household and hire a valet."

Carefully she put the statue back in it's place. "So why display it so prominently?" The gentle laughter made her smile and she was feeling more at ease.

"If you take away Mother's intentions, it's a beautiful artifact. It's very old, coming from a time when Betazoid society was just beginning to define itself. The symbols stand for individuality within one-ness." Absently Crusher noted how cutely Troi wrinkled her nose when she was trying to translate something and having trouble with it. It wasn't often that she was truly confronted with the different culture Deanna grew up in, and when it did come up, they rarely discussed it for more than a few minutes.

"I see." She lied, not really seeing at all. Except maybe for the way the green dress clung to Deanna's figure. "Is it really so different?" She wondered aloud, "Betazoid versus Human I mean."

Deanna thought about it, giving Beverly plenty of time to let her mind wander. She didn't know much about Betazoid culture, it wasn't covered much in the xenobiology courses since the general consensus was that it took a telepath to understand a telepathic society. All she knew about the culture was what little Deanna or her mother, Lwaxana, had shared. Like nude weddings. How many of those had Deanna attended?

Startled by the images her mind came up with she jumped to her feet. "I'm getting something to drink" She announced loudly. "Do you want anything?"

"No, I'm fine."

"You should drink something, it'll help against the headaches."

"Whatever you say Doctor." Troi mocked. Beverly could feel the black eyes following her and was surprised when she found herself putting an extra bounce in her steps.

She ordered tea and a glass of water for Deanna and brought the beverages to the table. Her friend smiled her thanks and picked up the glass, sipping slowly. "I never thought it would be so different." She answered to the question Crusher had forgotten already. "Maybe that's why I handled the situation so poorly. I never thought I'd be so lost as a human."

Beverly wanted to go over and hug the empath, the sad expression on Deanna's face tugging at her heart. Instead she drank her tea. "I don't think I would've handled it any better if I'd lost my hearing or sight." She hoped it would console Troi a little.

"It's more than that," she met Deanna's gaze, questioning silently. "Betazoids evolved from an amphibian species called Cyndrii Beteas. They used a very primitive form of telepathy to hunt in groups and to maintain their hierarchy. Over time we refined and redirected our skills but one of the most primitive functions is still active. For lack of a better description."

With more effort than she though warranted, Beverly kept her gaze on Troi's face, instead of letting it wander over the other woman's body. "I think I got it," she said slowly, "your telepathy evolved with your species."

"Yes," Deanna confirmed, her lilting accent singing in Crusher's ears. "On the most basic level my empathy is a mix of hearing, sight and telepathy. I don't sense thoughts, but emotions and they are imprinted in my mind as a kind of map." The empathy sighed with frustration. "I don't know how to explain it."

"It's okay. We can talk about something else."

"No, I want to tell you. It's important." Surprised Beverly looked at her, the urgency she heard in the words making her a little nervous. Why was it important for her to understand? "It's like…like standing in a holodeck with only black around you. And for each being that emits emotions there's a light. Some lights are far away, others close by. Some are very intense and others are barely visible. With each shift of emotions the lights change color."

"Like being outside among the stars."

"Yes. When I lost my empathic senses the holodeck became void. I lost my sense of direction, of knowing my place. I couldn't feel other people anymore, like they had been ripped from me and replaced by cheap holo-images. I could hear, sea and touch you, but my mind couldn't verify that you were real."

Beverly wasn't sure how to reply to her friend's heartfelt attempt to explain how her empathy worked. She realize that it must be like trying to explain to a person who had been blind all his life what it was like to see.

"I know it's something that you can't really understand." Deanna spoke up again, her voice non-judgmental and carrying just a hint of amusement. "It's just that humans are such a dual species. There are so many times when you say one thing, but feel and do another. With my empathic skills I can verify that what you say is what you mean, without it I'm lost."

Suddenly Crusher wondered what it was that Troi sensed from her. The way the counselor's eyes watched her seemed to suggest that the woman was well aware of the thoughts that were dancing through her mind. "I'm sure you would've been fine after a period of adjustment." It was a lousy attempt to cover up the alert she felt, but she got away with it.

"I think I'm getting hungry. Is it okay if we eat now?"

"Uh, sure." Her eyes dropped to Deanna's rear. 'Damn it Beverly,' she chided herself. Purposefully she focused her attention on a painting on the wall and was surprised by its composition. "Is that Ferengi-art?"

Deanna laughed. "Yes, it's beautiful, isn't it?" In spite of herself Crusher agreed. "I keep it around to remind myself that everything has a beautiful side."

That was what she loved about Deanna, Beverly thought as she watched her friend scroll through the menu's in the database. She was always accepting and non-judgmental. It was one of Troi's strengths and what made her such a successful counselor. Even after a personal crisis, such as the one of the past few days her friend seemed to have little trouble swallowing her pride and apologize. She wondered how much of that was Deanna's natural way, and how it was the result of her work. Or maybe even of the culture she grew up in.

"What can I get you?" The voice shook her out of her thoughts.

"Anything's fine." She shrugged, then in the spur of the moment requested something typical to Betazed. Deanna looked at her quizzically. "What? Don't think I can handle it?"

The empath chuckled. "You just surprised me." The raven-haired woman turned and spoke in a alien language to the computer. Beverly knew she was just ordering food, but the sounds and tone variations made her feel as if she was listening to something far more intimate.

The plates materialized and judging by their size, Deanna's wasn't just a 'little' hungry. She got up to help her carry the dishes to the dinner table and returned to the replicator to order beverages. In the meantime she watched Deanna bend over to retrieve something from one of the small cabins against the wall. They reached the table simultaneously, she with the drinks and Troi with two candles.

Standing almost shoulder to shoulder, Beverly quickly grew uncomfortable, but the counselor was the first to move away. "The table's getting a little cluttered," she excused, "I'll put these elsewhere." Nodding, Crusher placed the glasses on the shiny table-surface and sat down, sniffing the scent from the lighted candles, recognizing the heady sandalwood immediately. "It helps me relax," Deanna explained as she sat down on the other side of the table. "I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all. What did you get me?"

"Nothing too fancy, it's all vegetarian. Mostly cooked and steamed vegetables and fruits."

"It looks delicious." It really did. The brightly colored mix looked healthy and varied.

"Don't mix the oskoid leaves with the blue berries on your right though," Troi warned, "they really don't go well together."

"Thanks for the heads up." They shared a smile and began their meal, the silver cutlery clanging musically against the porcelain plates.

They ate in silence for a long time, and on more than a few occasions Beverly found herself staring at her companion. Wondering what it would be like to truly know her, the way Will Riker did.

"Beverly?"

Her head shot up. Without a doubt Troi had sense the direction of her thoughts. "Tell me about Betazoid society," she asked before Deanna could say anything else. "Just how typical is Lwaxana?" The other woman stared at her for untold seconds, but she couldn't decipher the message that shone in those black eyes.

"More typical than she'd like to admit." Deanna said slowly after a long silence, the disapproving tone in her voice clear.

"No wonder you have such an uninhibited culture."

Troi shook her head, smiling sadly. Beverly wondered what she'd said wrong, but popped another pink piece of fruit in her mouth, enjoying the explosion of salty juice. "Mother doesn't read people's thoughts uninvited. She likes to tease based on the emotions she senses. It's no different from you noticing black hair, she doesn't have any control over it." Deanna defended. "To her, humans are incredibly uptight and secretive, even when there's no point in being either."

"I'm sorry." She wasn't sure why she was apologizing, but her companion seemed unusually defensive, black eyes glittering with annoyance. "I didn't mean to imply-"

"You did." Troi countered harshly, then relaxed. "But it's all right. Most non-telepathic humanoids are intimidated by telepaths. They feel vulnerable and a little paranoid around 'mind readers'. The truth is that very few telepaths actually read minds without permission, but they don't always have control over what they sense and hear, but they're trained to respect other people's privacy and not react to the emotions and thoughts of others."

Beverly absently chewed on an oskoid leaf while she listened to the monologue, unsure of what to say. She got the impression she hurt Deanna by her flippant remark, but the counselor showed little emotion while she finished the last pieces of food from her plate.

"When you walk into a room you notice your surroundings. The color of the walls, where the tables and chairs are located. If there are other people there you identify them. Stranger, acquaintance, friend. Male, female, alien, human etcetera. Telepaths do them same, only along with the visual information they receive mental information. The general state of mind of each person; are they worried, relaxed, happy, unnerved and the thoughts that are sometimes basically thrust into their minds. They can't not feel and hear those, it's as natural as noticing someone's hair color, or their gender."

With her eyes trained at a point just past Troi's shoulder, Beverly let the information sink in, eagerly taking in the sound of Deanna's lilting voice. She had always assumed that telepaths could just turn off their telepathy, like humans could ignore what happened around them, if they so chose. She'd known that Deanna didn't have this ability, but had ascribed that to her friend's mixed heritage. "I guess it's something that just can't be fully comprehended by someone who's not telepathic."

Deanna slumped a little and rubbed her hands against her temples. "I guess," she said dejectedly.

Something was frustrating her, Crusher realized in a flash of clarity. She almost asked what it was, but something stopped her. "How's your head?"

Troi forced a bitter smile. "Minor headache, I'm fine."

She was torn between leaving to let Deanna get some rest and staying. It had been a while since the two of them had spend off-duty time together. Somehow, over the course of the last couple of weeks, if not months, she'd gotten in the habit of avoiding her friend and now that they were sitting here, in Troi's quarters with a delicious meal between them and a lovely view of the space outside framing Deanna's figure, she realized she had missed her friend more than she'd let herself notice.

"I'm sorry." The empath suddenly spoke and she glanced up she saw a blush covering Deanna's cheeks, coloring them rosily. "I'm a little agitated."

"Don't mention it. Do you want to talk about it?" She awaited Troi's answer with a feeling of dread in her stomach. The feeling increased multifold when the eyes that were watching her turned hopeful, then sad and started showing the agitation the other woman was feeling.

"No, thank you." Deanna pursed her lips and averted her eyes. She dropped her head, sending a mass of dark curls falling forwards over her shoulders, then brought her head back up and met Crusher's gaze anew, a gentle but fake smiled displayed on her lips. There was something Deanna wanted to tell or ask her, her doctor's instinct were very clear about that, but she was relieved when Troi brought their conversation back to her native culture instead.

They chatted amicably and discussed various aspects of Betazoid culture and slowly Beverly began to feel like she was really getting to know her friend. All of her unease dissipated completely as she relaxed into the conversation. Even when they moved to the couch and sat closely together, gazing through the viewport at the stars, did it feel perfectly natural and comfortable for Deanna to squeeze her knee while she recounted Wesley's last letter and for her to touch Troi's elbow when the counselor sadly told her about why Lwaxana fluttered from one lover to another, trying to find what she'd once shared with Deanna's father.

Their voices dwindled when they both grew tired, but Beverly didn't realize how late it'd gotten until a head full of black curls came to rest against her shoulder and a soft snore cut into the silence. At first reluctantly, but then with increasing urgency Crusher shook her friend's shoulder, until Troi sat up straight, her eyes alert. "What?"

Beverly was about to ask her friend if she was still having headaches, when Deanna rubbed her fingers in slow circles around her temples. "You should get some real sleep." She said instead, and nudged Troi off the couch.

The counselor stood up and watched her as she rose as well. "Thank you for keeping me company, I was starting to feel like you were avoiding me." Slowly Beverly started to make her way to the door, her eyes never leaving Troi's.

She knew. There was no more place to hide. She shuffled backwards, unable to turn away from her friend. Deanna kept advancing, her eyes ablaze with determination. "Dea, I…" She couldn't find the words, or even the thoughts.

Deanna came closer still, until she was easily within her reach. Beverly felt herself leaning forward and this time when she felt her friend's breath flutter across her lips she didn't pull away. "You never have to hide from me." The soft spoken promise gave her the courage to close those last few inches between them. She held her breath and tentatively brushed her lips against Deanna's, marveling at the soft and erotic feel of the woman's lips against her own. Her stomach knotted itself in a tight ball of pleasure at the rush of emotions that washed over her. It was exactly as she'd imagined, and yet so much better.

She pulled back, the emotions robbing her of her breath and her mind refusing to work. Troi smiled and gentle fingers caressed the side of her face. She felt herself being pulled into another kiss and eagerly caught Deanna's mouth with her own, startling when a warm, moist tongue pushed itself against her lips. Her lips parted of their own accord, and a sigh escaped her. The hand along her cheek guided the kiss as it deepened, her tongue sneaking out to duel with Deanna's. The contact soft and slow, and oh so alluring and when she pulled away it was only out of necessity for air.

But as soon as the cold air around them replaced the scent and warmth of Deanna her mind kicked back into gear. Troi must've sensed it, because she took a step back just as Crusher did the same. Behind her the doors whooshed open. "You have a lot to think about." Deanna spoke quietly, looking almost ethereal with the soft lights of her cabin behind her and a serene expression on her face.

Beverly could only nod and turned into the corridor, her mind a clutter of uncertainties and shock.