I was thirteen, and sat staring out the window. It was winter, and snow was falling out of the crimson sky. Night was starting to come, streaking the sky with veins of scarlet and red.
"Tasha, get away from the window!" A hand grabbed my shoulder, pulling me out of my chair. "What do you think you're doing?!"
He pushed me behind me and drew the window curtain closed, shutting out the last of the light. Turning towards me, he glared.
"What is the matter with you?!"
"I was just looking outside," I mumbled, not looking at my father.
"You were just looking outside?" he repeated. "You know that you're supposed to stay from the windows!"
"I know," I said. "I just…I wanted to see the sunset."
"Are you an idiot?!" he yelled at me. I backed up as he advanced on me. "Do you know how hard we work to keep you here?"
"I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't realize…"
"You don't realize anything, do you?!" he shouted. "That's it, I give up. I'm tired to trying to protect you." He turned and started toward the stairs.
"Dad?" I asked.
He didn't answer.
"Dad?"
I heard the door at the bottom of the stairs slam. I stood staring at the stairway, as if I was waiting for him to come back. He didn't. Slowly, I turned toward the chair that I had been sitting on. Looking at the table, I saw a
plate of food. Mom had probably just finished cooking the dinner.
Sinking down onto the chair, I poked at the food with the fork. I was hungry, but I didn't feel like eating right now. I had made Dad angry again, just like I always did. I couldn't even understand what I was doing wrong. And he had seemed really, really mad this time.
Dad was always getting angry at me. I didn't see him much, maybe once every three days. But every time I did seem him, he seemed to find something wrong, something to yell at me about.
Of course, most of the time it was my fault. I knew that I was supposed to stay away from the window and keep the curtain drawn, but it was just so hard sometimes. It was difficult not going outside, even when I knew that it was for my own safety. Sometimes I wanted to see a tree, or a sunset, so badly, just to know that it was still there, that I didn't care about the consequences. It was selfish of me, I knew, but I couldn't help it.
Picking up the fork again, I took a bite. It was one of my favorite dishes, but I didn't have much of an appetite. I hadn't been eating much recently. Not getting exercise had made me less hungry, and thinner.
I stood up, frustrated. I knew that I should be grateful to my family for keeping me safe, but at times like these I thought that it would be almost worth the consequences just to be able to leave this room. But no, I knew that this was the only place that I would be safe. I wasn't selfish enough to try to go out. I knew that it would hurt not only myself, but my family as well.
That night, I didn't sleep. I didn't know what my father had meant when he said that he was "giving up" on me. Had I done something that bad? All I'd done was look out the window. I tried so hard to do what he wanted, to be who he wanted me to be.
The next morning, I woke up to the sound of a hovercraft pulling into the driveway. Our family had never owned a hovercraft and the neighbors always walked to the house, so I didn't know who it could be. I fought the urge to look out the window. Instead, I moved to the top of the stairs and listened intensely.
A few minutes later, I heard some voices. One of them was my mother's, and the others I didn't recognize. Oh, well. I sighed. It was probably out of town relatives or something. I didn't know why I got so worked up about things.
After a few minutes, though, I heard the door at the bottom of the stairs opening.
"This way." I heard my father say. I stood up, shocked.
I backed away from the stairs. In the two years that I had lived in the loft of our house, no one other than my parents had come upstairs. Now my father was letting—no, leading—someone up here?
I bumped into the table, almost knocking over the chair. As I hurriedly steadied it, two men came up into the loft.
I had never seen either of the men before, nor anyone like them. But both of them wore the tight, starched uniforms that I knew belonged to government workers. My father stood behind them.
"Tasha Lawrence?" One of the asked.
Petrified, I managed to nod. The man turned to my father.
"You won't need to send anything with her; we furnish everything she'll need."
"Okay, I understand, Mr. Welsh."
"Bring her," Welsh said, nodding at the other man. He began to approach me. I backed away.
"Dad, what's going on?"
"I would appreciate it if we could finish this quickly," Welsh said, turning to my father. I looked between them, terrified. These men weren't supposed to be up here, they weren't supposed to know that I even existed.
"It's important that you go with them," my father said. "You'll be living with them from now on."
"What?" I asked. What did that mean? I lived here.
"Please come with us," said the unnamed man, quickly walking towards me and grabbing my arm. He started to drag me towards the stairs, with Welsh following.
"What? Where are we going?" I asked, pulling against his grasp but unable to break it. "Dad?!"
"Mr. Lawrence, this is really quite inconvenient. Isn't there anything you can do?"
"Tasha, you have to go with these men. I'm ordering you to go."
"No. Dad, you're sending me away?! You can't do that!"
"Don't make this more difficult, Tasha."
"Dad!"
Twisting around frantically, I managed to break the man's grasp. Tearing out of his hold, I raced back to my father, only to be stopped by Welsh.
Welsh grabbed me from behind, holding onto my arms and immobilizing me. As much as I pulled forward, I could break the iron grip that held me back.
"Connors, help me contain her."
The other man grabbed my other arm and, together, they half-dragged me towards the stairs.
"Dad! Dad, help me! You can't let them take me! Dad! DAD!"
"Tasha!"
I jerked up, lashing out. I wouldn't let them take me. I had to fight back. I couldn't let them take me back there.
"Aggghh!"
The scream came from somewhere above. Looking around frantically, I saw a figure standing above me. I shifted, knowing that I would need to be bigger than a cat if I had any chance in a fight. Blinking in the blinding light, I stepped forward, ready to meet any enemy. I'd rather they kill me than take me back.
Riker stood in front of me, cradling his arm and staring at me. His eyes were wide with surprise. I blinked, looking around me in confusion. Where was I?
Looking back up at Riker, I saw him looking at me with continued shock. Then I realized why he was holding his arm. Three long strips were torn from his right shirtsleeve, running from elbow to wrist. From the spaces in the torn cloth, red blood had started to slowly run.
"Will?" I asked, looking at his arm in astonishment. As I moved my gaze up to his face, he turned and headed towards the door. "Will?"
Then he was gone. I sank to the floor in bewilderment. What had just happened? What had I done?
I put my hand to my chest. My heart was pounding, and my breath coming quickly. Slowly, I put together what had just happened. It had been a nightmare, a very realistic and accurate one, but a nightmare nonetheless. Riker must have been trying to wake me out of it and I'd reacted as if he were one of the people in my dream.
I sat in the bright quarters for what seemed an eternity, lost in my thoughts. Even though I was awake, the nightmare had not left me. If anything, it had become more vivid, my conscious mind able to supply memories that my subconscious couldn't. I thought about Riker. I didn't know how badly I'd hurt him, or when he was coming back. If he ever was. The scratches had been deep, and I hoped that there wasn't any permanent damage. He had been so decent to me, and I'd hurt him, terribly. I doubted he would forgive me for it. I didn't think I could.
The door slid open. Standing up, I saw Riker enter the quarters. He took a few steps in and then stopped. The door slid shut behind him.
I slowly walked towards him, stopping a few feet in front of him. I looked up at him.
"Will?" I asked. "Are you okay?" He nodded, but it wasn't enough. I looked down at his arm. There was still blood on the sleeve. I glanced up at Riker's face, and then down at his arm. Carefully, I took his hand with mine and slid the sleeve up his arm. The cuts had healed, leaving three pale-white scars. I slowly ran my fingers up the scars, tracing their paths up to his elbow.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, not able to speak any louder. I could feel tears start to work their way out of my eyes. I blinked them back, and then looked up at Riker.
He was looking down at me, not with the anger that I had expected, but with something else.
"I didn't mean to hurt you," I told him, not letting go of his hand. If I let go, it would all be over. Everything.
"I know," Riker said, speaking for the first time. "I'm fine."
I shook my head, and looked back at his arm. Using my right hand, I began to carefully wipe the remaining blood away from the edges of the scars.
"Tasha." I didn't answer. Riker reached up and lifted my face, and then took my right hand with his left. "You don't have to be upset, I'm alright."
"I keep hurting you," I said, feeling the tears working their way out. "I'm so sorry."
Riker shook his head. "It's not that bad." Releasing my hand, he reached up and wiped my tear away. "Really, it's alright. What's wrong?" He ran his thumb along my cheekbone, resting his palm against my chin.
Hesitantly, I raised my hand and placed it on top of his. Slowly, Riker leaned forward, keeping his eyes locked with mine. Then, ever so slowly, he pressed his lips against mine.
At first, I froze. Then, slowly, I reacted. I moved my hand off from on top of his and slowly slid around the back of his neck, moving it up into his hair. My other hand clutched his hand tighter and he pushed against my lips harder, his hand still cupping my face.
Then I came to my senses. Pulling back, I tried to collect myself. But he still had his hand on my face and my hand wouldn't seem to let go of his hair.
"Will," I breathed. "I can'- I mean, I don't think-"
"Stop thinking," Riker answered, moving his hand around to my neck and pulling me in again. This time, I didn't resist as he slowly kissed me. Tightening my grip on his hair, I pulled him towards me, at the same time stepping closer to close the gap between us.
Releasing his other hand, I ran mine up his arm and around his back.
I drifted into consciousness. I groaned, not quite ready to wake up. But I was uncomfortable, and there was something hard underneath my head. Maybe rolling onto my stomach would help. I started to roll over, and was stopped by something. Frowning, I pushed against it and found, to my frustration, that it wouldn't move. Sighing, I opened my eyes, resigned to the fact that I would have to move whatever was there, and gasped. I was lying next to Riker.
More than that, I was in his bed.
I froze, my eyes wide as I looked around me. I was lying on my side, pushed against Riker who, apparently still asleep, was lying on his back. The hard thing that I had felt beneath my head was Riker's left arm, stretched out to form a kind of living pillow. When I had moved onto my side, his arm had moved with me to wrap around my back.
The blankets were pulled down to below my, our, waists for some reason, revealing Riker's bare chest. Thankfully, he was still wearing pants. Looking down at myself, I found that I was wearing only an undershirt and a pair of shorts
I lay frozen, not sure what to do. The events of the night before were coming back to me, and I was becoming more upset by the minute. I had slept with Riker. Well, I hadn't actually had sex with him, but that didn't mean that I wasn't still lying here in my underwear with Riker's arm wrapped around me. Kissing had led to making out had led to some sort of mutual decision to fall asleep together.
For a moment, I considered simply falling back to sleep. Maybe when I woke up, this would all be a dream. But no, that wouldn't work. Plus, I wasn't altogether sure that I wanted it to have been a dream.
"Morning."
I trembled, looking up at Riker. His face was not a foot from mine, and he was smiling at me.
"Morning," I cautiously replied.
"Sleep well?" he asked.
I nodded. I could tell that I was starting to blush, although if it was from the fact that we were both half-naked or that I was lying practically on top of him, I couldn't tell.
Riker didn't seem to mind, though. He wrapped his arm around me tighter, until his hand was on my waist. I quickly pulled back, more out of instinct than anything else. I still had instincts? I would have thought that I'd killed all of them out during the past week.
Riker immediately let me go and I hopped into a sitting position on the far side of the bed.
"You alright?" he asked, raising himself up on his elbow.
"Uh, yeah," I said, still blushing. "I just, uh, I need, uh, I'm going to take a shower."
I quickly hopped off the bed and half ran into the bathroom. Once I got there, I climbed into the shower stall.
I leaned against the wall, letting the hot water run over me. It felt nice, and it also woke me up. I absentmindedly I began to wash as I ran, play by play, the events of the past night.
Climbing out of the shower, I created some new clothes. Then I brushed my teeth, stalling. I needed more time to think.
Think. What was it that Riker had said? "Stop thinking?" Maybe that was what I needed to do. But I hadn't meant for last night to happen. I was too confused, too vulnerable to let this thing with Riker turn into anything more. I didn't regret kissing him, or letting him kiss me, but I couldn't let it go on. Because I knew where it would go.
Opening the bathroom door, I looked around in the quarters. Riker had gotten out of bed and, now dressed, was cooking something at the table. They looked like pancakes. He looked up when I came in.
"Are you alright?" he asked as I slowly walked across the room toward the table.
"Yeah, I just, uh, um." I sighed, giving up. I didn't know what to say. Fortunately, Riker apparently did.
Setting down his cooking utensils, he stepped toward me. Completely unconsciously, and against what my confused thoughts had been telling me, I stepped towards him, too.
"Don't run away," Riker said, stopping a foot in front of me. I had a feeling that he meant more than in just this moment.
"I'm not," I told him. And I meant it. I was through running. I took a deep breath, trying to think of something to say about the previous night, but Riker cut me off.
"About last night," he said. "I didn't mean for that to happen."
"Me either," I cut in quickly.
"You were upset and I…" Riker trailed off. "It just happened."
"Nothing happened," I said. For some reason, we were making this into a bigger deal than it was.
"So you want to forget about it?"
I nodded, maybe too quickly. "I think we can both handle it," I said.
I wasn't sure if Riker was disappointed or relieved by my ready agreement, but he quickly drew out a smile. "Good," he said. "Because I'm making a really good breakfast."
I grinned, then bit my lip. That went better than expected.
"Have a seat," Riker said, pulling out a chair. I sat down as he turned back to his skillet. "I hope you like pancakes."
"I love pancakes."
"Good," Riker answered. Riker? I almost laughed. I think that it's about time that I start thinking of him as Will, I thought.
"I didn't know you cooked," I told Will as he slid the pancakes onto a plate and poured new batter into the skillet.
"I bet there's a lot of things that you don't know about me," Will said. He grinned. It sounded like a challenge to me.
"Like what?" I asked.
"What's my favorite planet?" he asked.
I snorted. "That's the one question that I do know the answer to," I told him. "Risa."
Will grinned again. I hadn't realized before how often he did that, or how it made his eyes light up. I hadn't noticed a lot of things about him.
"Do you like orange juice?" Will asked.
"Yep."
Will went over to the replicator and ordered two orange juices. As he did so, I smelled something that smelled very like burning pancakes.
Hopping up, I grabbed the spatula and quickly flipped the three pancakes in the skillet. Two of them were a little dark, but the third was completely blackened. I slid the two edible ones onto the plate, leaving the burnt one.
Picking it up on the spatula, I turned to Will.
"Nice," I said.
Riker, I mean Will, set the glasses on the table and then inspected it.
"It's not that bad," he said.
"'Not that bad?'" I repeated. "You annihilated it!"
"Let's just eat," Will said. He switched off the burner and then sat down. I followed suit, and Will handed me one of the orange juices.
"I'm sure the other ones are delicious," I told him.
They were. Or, it may have just been the company.
Just as we were cleaning up, though, we were interrupted by a summons of all senior officers to the bridge. We'd arrived at the Neutral Zone.
"I'll finish cleaning up," I told him. "You can go."
Will nodded. "I'll be back later."
"Alright." Will turned to go. "Will!" I said suddenly. He turned back toward me. I shrugged. "Be careful."
"I will," he promised.
He turned to leave again, and then turned back. Walking quickly over to me, he leaned down and kissed me on the cheek. Then he left.
I dematerialized a few more dishes, and then sat down on the couch. Inhaling slowly, I leaned back. A smile slowly spread across my face. Everything was going to be fine. It didn't matter what happened with the Romulans, or how long it took to get back to Starbase 32. Everything was going to turn out okay.