Commander Riker refused to open his eyes. Another day had crept by. They were now only three days from the Starbase. Both Data and Wesley had insisted that they were close to a breakthrough for days, but unable to quantify what "close" really meant. A difficult decision was coming soon, and Riker didn't want to be the one to make it. He buried his face deeper into the comforting smells of pillows and sheets.

"Imzadi." The word was murmured very close to his ear, and he could feel it pressing into his mind, summoning him back into the world. "I know you're awake, Will. There's no use pretending."

Riker opened his eyes reluctantly, and only because he knew that the first sight he would see was Deanna sitting on the edge of the bed, dark curls tumbling wildly over her shoulders with a life of their own. "It's 0630 already. I would recommend getting dressed if you're going to make it to the morning meeting. I will leave you behind." It's true, she would.

He groaned in protest and tackled her waist, pulling her back into bed with him. "What if we called in sick? Spent the day here, catching up on sleep, reading… and other things."

Deanna giggled as Riker attempted to burrow into the pleats of her nightdress. She pushed him away, rolling him onto his back and sitting on top of him. "Will. I have been very patient with you, letting you sleep in my quarters twice these past couple of weeks. But... avoiding what's happening isn't going to change anything."

"Yeah…" Riker sighed, tugged a stray curl and watched it spring back into place. "You know I know."

Deanna smiled and gently ran a finger along his jaw. "Sometimes I need to say it out loud before you're convinced, though." She dropped down onto the bed next to him and the two of them stared at the ceiling for a moment. "But I am glad you've stayed. I needed it too."

He collected her fingertips in his large palm and gave them a squeeze. "I know."

William Riker had known Jean-Luc Picard for a number of years, but he had not seen him quite like this in a long time. Sure, there had been events that had understandably shaken him, like capture and torture, but this kind of situation was different: irrational. Captain Picard was not an irrational man.

The meeting passed with stiff reports and stilted exchanges, as though everyone in the room had been replaced by Data. It was agonizing. The anxiety in the ship was heightening as they grew closer to the Starbase. By the end of his shift, Riker knew there was only one person he could really talk to. Moreover, he really needed a drink.

Riker never needed to seek out Guinan; she had a way of just appearing when she was needed. He had barely settled on a soft chair by the observation windows in Ten Forward when he heard the sound of thick glass settling on the table before him. A rustle of fabric later, he was face to face with the beetle-eyed bartender.

"Rough day, huh, Commander?"

Riker reached for his drink in response. "What have we got here?"

Guinan settled into the chair opposite Riker. "Sometimes you just need a good old fashioned."

He smirked and took a sip. "You always know, Guinan."

The two of them looked out at the passing stars; this was something the crew had been doing a lot of lately, as though hoping their gaze would slow the ship's course.

"You've known the Captain for quite some time now, Guinan."

"I have."

"You must know what's on my mind."

She nodded slowly. The two locked gazes. She smiled, folding her hands on her lap. "Jean-Luc and I have never spoken of it out loud, no. But after living a number of centuries, you begin to move beyond the need for direct speech."

"It doesn't take centuries—just a very close friend."

Guinan seemed a little bit charmed by this sentiment. Her lips quirked slightly and she leaned back in her seat. "Perhaps."

"I know they've known each other for a long time."

"He's known her longer than he's known me, actually. She's maybe the only one on this ship who could say that. But I'd venture to say that I know him a bit better."

Riker chuckled. "How come?"

"Beverly doesn't see the parts of Jean-Luc she doesn't want to see—the parts that frighten her. The parts of him that he's laying bare now that her eyes are closed. You've noticed, haven't you?"

Riker was uncomfortable with the blunt acknowledgment of the elephant in the starship. He had always noticed—was in fact, secretly rooting for—this strange something that had always been between the Captain and the Doctor. He saw the way they drifted towards each other in any room they occupied, leaned close when they talked as though they were exchanging secrets. He and Beverly would meet in the turbolift at late hours, neither needing to ask where the other had been. Sometimes, even in the most mundane conversations, Jean-Luc and Beverly's eyes would meet and Riker could feel himself, along with everyone else in the room, melt into obscurity outside the sharp intensity of their gaze. "She's… very important to him."

"He loves her. You barely have to be sentient to see it."

"It's strange to hear the words spoken. For some reason I didn't want to say it out loud."

"Neither do they. They cradle the words inside them like they're made of glass, afraid they'll break somewhere on the way to their lips."

Riker traced the rim of his glass with his fingertip. "What's going to happen when we land?"

He heard Guinan sigh but didn't look up. "Well. Either Jean-Luc is going to have to make a very difficult decision, or you are. It's bothering you, I can tell. I've been watching the burden become heavier on your shoulders every day."

Riker rubbed his eyes. "It certainly is a burden. She's my friend. They're both my friends. I don't want to have to be the one to do this to either of them."

"But you know you'll do the right thing when the time comes."

"That's the problem."

They were silent a moment. Riker downed the rest of his drink and then gazed disappointedly into his glass.

"Synthehol not doing it tonight?"

Riker shook his head.

"Maybe I could spare a few glasses of my personal collection—just for tonight."

Riker wasn't sure how late it was. He swayed slightly as the turbolift lurched into motion. Whatever Guinan had brought out was very effective in diminishing his sobriety, but less effective on his worries. Before he could stop himself, he was in sick bay, the door to the quarantine room sliding open before him.

As soon as he walked in he noticed shuffling in the corner.

"Wesley, don't bother trying to hide. Captain Picard may be too wrapped up in his own thoughts to notice, but everyone else knows you're here all night."

Wesley froze, positioned to make a dive, clutching the journal and an armful of notes. He slowly sat back down.

Riker waved his hand, motioning him to carry on with whatever he was working on. Wesley didn't need pressing to resume his work. He plugged his music implants back into his ears and hunched over the desk again.

Riker sat down on the stool by Beverly's bedside and let out a weary sigh. "Good evening Beverly. I'm sorry I haven't come to visit you as often in the past few days." He patted her hand gently. "It's become harder and harder to see you like this. You've always been so willful and headstrong. Quiet Beverly just doesn't seem right. I never told you how much you're like an older sister I never had. Secretly, I love the way you tease me; you have quite a way with it, sometimes even worse than Deanna. You're may be the only person who can give me a run for my money in poker—and I don't say that to just anyone. Sometimes I can catch you, though. You do this thing where your lip and your eyebrow twitch at the same time," he laughed. "Dead giveaway. Beverly I know you're going to be okay. You're so brilliant that you made sure of it yourself. I was talking to Data today and he says it's all there in your notes. You really figured it out. But… time is a funny thing, the way it fills up a whole galaxy one minute, and slips through the cracks when you're not paying attention. The way our own time interacts with others', dissolving into each other and then separating again without warning."

Riker wasn't sure how much sense he was making, but the suppressed words were bubbling up as a byproduct of the stress and alcohol combining in the pit of his stomach. "I know it's an unspoken rule that we never talk about this… but we all know that your time is all wrapped up in Jean-Luc's in these complicated ways. The way you dance around each other honestly makes me dizzy most of the time. And it's not just Jean-Luc. Deanna would really feel your absence, too. Her mind is so tense when she thinks about it… like it's trembling. Geordi and Worf think of all the times you've saved them and are agonized by their helplessness. And I… I don't want to leave you behind. You will recover, I know you will. But by then, we may be lightyears away, and sometimes I'm afraid that if we let you step off the Enterprise, you'll never return. It happened once already. The selfish reason is obvious—I don't want to lose a friend to the vastness of space, not to mention the best Chief Medical Officer a starship could ask for. But there's also a part of me that understands that given the slightest opportunity, you and Jean-Luc will miss your window, and I don't want to be the one who left the door open."

Riker paused, lowering his voice even though nobody could hear him. "I know I shouldn't say this but I'm worried that Jean-Luc won't be able to make the call. He knows what needs to be done, but he won't be able to bring himself to do it. I know that at that moment, he will depend on me to do it for him. I have these horrible nightmares of pulling him away from your unresponsive body. He's always completely straight-faced and unemotional, but he just won't let go of your hand and I have to pry off his fingers one by one. He's going to be dignified about it when the time comes, because he's always so dignified, to the point where it's damn annoying, actually… but…"

Riker knew that the Captain would never admit how much it hurt him. He would shut himself up in his quarters and hide behind books and they would all have to pretend they didn't see his heart breaking into a bunch of little pieces, kicked around the bridge and crushed under their heels.

Riker felt delicate fingers squeeze his shoulders. He let go of Beverly's hand and leaned back, closing his eyes as he felt the back of his head sink into the soft chest behind him.

"I thought you might be here." Deanna's voice was barely over a whisper. She let her hands travel across his shoulders and wrap around his neck as she rested her chin on his forehead. "Come on. You're going to need some water if you're going to be ready for command tomorrow morning. Don't say any more senseless things to Beverly—she's unsettled, I can feel it. I'm beginning to think she can actually understand us, Will. I only heard the last bit of what you were saying, but your words made her feel very troubled… sorrowful even."

They both watched her in silence for a moment, as though expecting some sort of physical reaction. Riker shook his head. "I'm sorry, Beverly. I've just been unloading stupid things on you. Of course it would make you feel worse…" Riker felt ashamed of himself now, doubly so if Beverly could actually understand him.

Deanna gave him a squeeze before straightening. "Let's go, Will. I'll make one last exception tonight."

The two of them gave Beverly quick kisses on her cheek and bid her goodnight before spending another night pressed together in Deanna's quarters, watching the time pass through the dark.