Imzadi_ Triangle Part 4

"I felt the same way. G.o.ds, we were so young, Will. We knew nothing about anything." She floated in place, treading water. "It seemed like we had all the time in the world. Who knew it would be the last time we'd see each other for so many years."

"Well... technically, it wasn't," Riker reminded her. "Unfortunately, everything that happened after that was ... well..."

She winced, remembering. After they'd been picked up from the jungle, the young Deanna-under pressure from her mother-had broken off her involvement with Riker. The sudden turnaround in the relations.h.i.+p had hit Riker hard, and unfortunately for the both of them, he had done something typically male: knocked back a few drinks and fallen into bed with a rather nubile and willing young woman. And Troi, who had only hours before defiantly declared her independence from her mother's suffocating demands, had found the two of them together, and stormed off, hurt and angry. Had Riker remained on Betazed, they might have had the time to try and straighten things out. But such was not to be the case, as Riker had received his new s.h.i.+pboard a.s.signment. There had been a fleeting reunion at a Betazed art museum before Riker had left, but it had been all too brief and unsatisfying. Once aboard his new s.h.i.+p, Riker had sent her a message, asking her to meet him on Risa some weeks later so they could take one last shot at salvaging their relations.h.i.+p. But the rendezvous was never kept... and they had lost touch until their unexpected reunion on the Enterprise years later.

"Funny that you remember that so clearly," she said. "Tom didn't."

"Tom? Oh." He got that frown then that usually crossed his face whenever the name of Tom Riker was brought up. Even though he was another person ... he was also the same person. It was something that Riker didn't particularly like to dwell upon. "Did you have to bring him up?" asked Riker. "I mean, things were going so ..." He paused and forced a smile. "... swimmingly."

"I'm sorry, Will," Deanna said, aware that she'd made him feel uncomfortable. "I didn't mean to..."

"It's all right," he told her, waving it off. "So Tom didn't remember anything that happened after the Janaran Falls?"

"Oh, I a.s.sume he did. When he said nothing of it, though, I chose not to point it out. It seemed ... inappropriate, somehow. Perhaps even a little sad. It was likely a deliberate effort on his part not to dwell on it as well. He had a good deal of time on his own down on Nervala Four, and he claimed to have spent much of it thinking about me."

"I have no doubt," Riker said with raised eyebrow.

"So he probably idealized our relations.h.i.+p; chose to focus on the positive and pleasant memories rather than the ..."

"Tragic conclusion?"

He said it with a good deal of humor, but there was something more to his tone that Deanna sensed very clearly. Plus, if there was any individual for whom she had an instant intuition for what he was thinking, it was ...

". .. Worf?"

She blinked herself back to attention, realizing that the warm water and her own ponderings had prompted her to mentally drift. Riker had been saying something, and the last word was the name of the s.h.i.+p's resident Klingon officer. "I'm sorry ... ?" she asked, admitting tacitly her distracted state.

"I was endeavoring," he sighed, "to make a ham-handed change in the conversation. So I was asking how things are going between you and Worf."

"Oh. Fine. Very well."

"I understand," and suddenly he was grinning in a devilish manner, "that Klingons read and write poetry during ..."

"Will!" Her face flushed slightly although she was, at the same time, slightly amused. "I don't see that as any of your business. Unless, of course," she added after a moment's hesitation, "you feel your own abilities as a poet are being threatened. We were just talking about the falls. You wrote the poem there, remember? The poem."

He put his face in his hands. "Good lord, I'm never going to live that down. It was so awful...."

"You keep saying that! It was not awful. It was beautiful." Her gaze softened at the recollection. " 'I hold you close to me...'"

"You still remember the first line?"

"The first line?" And without hesitation, she recited: "I hold you close to me.

Feel the breath of you, and the wonder of you And remember a time Without you But only as one would remember A bleak and distant nightmare And you shudder against me in your sleep Do you share the memory with me of dark times past?

And you smile Do you share the memory of times to come?

The future holds such promise And just as I cannot imagine how I survived the past Without you I cannot imagine a future Without you."

Riker stared at her in wonderment, shaking his head slowly. "I can't believe it. I can't believe you remember every line. I feel as if I wrote it a lifetime ago."

"In many ways ... you did. I, uhm ... I think I'd best be getting out now."

"Shall I turn around?"

"That would be the considerate course of action."

"All right." Riker got to his feet and turned completely around in a circle, so that he was facing her again just as she was about to emerge from the water. He grinned lopsidedly.

I M Z A D.

II.

"You're a riot, Commander," Deanna said with just a touch of scold in her voice. And then, boldly, she emerged from the water.

Immediately Riker turned away, placing her uniform on the ground behind him. "My, my, Commander ... becoming shy in your old age?" Deanna's voice floated to him. "It's not as if I have anything you haven't seen before."

"True. But it's just a matter of... of decorum," he said after a moment of searching for the right word. "After all, you and Worf are a couple now, and I... well, it's just... it wouldn't be appropriate for me to be ogling you."

"'Ogling'? Are you saying the sight of me naked would contain some prurient interest to you? Would be stimulating in some manner?"

"No, I'm not saying that at all," he briskly and rather ineffectively lied. And he had the sick feeling that she saw through the lie since, of course, attempting to dissemble with an empath was generally an exercise in futility. "I can ..." He cleared this throat, which was problematic considering that at the moment he felt as if there was too much blood in it. "I can admire your... figure ... in the same way that I would admire any naturally crafted work of art."

"Why Commander, you flatterer!"

"I have my moments. The point is..." He heard the rustling of her clothing as she dressed, and endeavored to block it out. Searching for the right angle to come at it, he said, "I would just feel intrusive, that's all."

"I notice that you didn't feel so intrusive that you refused to sit by while I bathed."

"Old times' sake," he said quickly. "I admit, this place reminded me a bit of the Jalara jungle. I succ.u.mbed to nostalgia; hardly a capital offense. Besides, the bottom line is ... how do you think Worf would feel if I started rhapsodizing about your body?" ; "That's a good point," she admitted. "You can turn around now, Commander. And this time, one hundred and eighty degrees should suffice."

He did as she said. She was busy shaking out her hair, which was already beginning to dry in the warmth of the air and sun. Her uniform was still a bit ragged, but at least she was looking refreshed. "Your concern over Worf s sensibilities is very commendable, Will. But I am a bit concerned about yours."

"Mine? Deanna, we've been through this..."

"I know, Will. We've been through ... a good deal. And I..." She hesitated, looking down. Very softly, she said, "Sometimes I think that we spend so much time telling each other that our relations.h.i.+p won't... shouldn't... be rekindled... that it's ..."

"What?" he gently prompted her after a moment. He went to her, took her hands firmly in his. "What are you saying?"

She looked up at him with eyes that were deep pools in which he could have paddled forever. "Do we keep saying these things ... because we believe it... or because we want to believe it? Because if we face the alternative, then we face the fact that we've wasted years that we could have been together."

It was a simple, casual, and calm observation, but it struck deeply into Riker's heart. Suddenly his lips felt very dry.

"Ow," said Deanna, and Riker realized that he was, all unawares, squeezing her hands far too tightly.

Quickly he released his hold on her and turned away from her. He straightened his jacket in unconscious imitation of a gesture he'd seen Picard make so many times. "Deanna ... at this point, there's really nothing to discuss beyond simple friends.h.i.+p, because there are other considerations. Worf, in particular, who is as decent and honest a man as I've ever known ... who will love you and protect you ... anything that I might say which would lead us down a different path would have an effect on him, and on Alexander, who I know absolutely adores you. I can't operate without taking others into consideration."

" 'No man is an island,'" Deanna quoted ruefully.

"Donne."

"For the moment," she said.

He frowned, not understanding, and then the puzzlement cleared. "I mean John Donne. He wrote that poem."

"So he did." Deanna laughed. "I'm sorry, I was... never mind." Then her expression drew serious. "Will... I'm just... feeling a bit confused at the moment. Conflicted. You're saying one thing, you're saying another, and I sense that there's more, that..."

"Deanna ... in many ways ... I will always love you. Just... I'm not..."

His combadge beeped. Never before had he felt so relieved at that sound. He tapped the badge and said briskly, "Riker here."

"The rescue vessels are approaching, Number One," came the crisp voice of the captain of the Enterprise... or, more precisely, of what was left of the Enterprise. "If you desire to have a final look around, now would be the time."

"I appreciate the suggestion, Captain... more than you know. Riker out." He turned to Deanna and said, "We should really go."

"Will..."

"Deanna ..." His instinct was to reach for her shoulders, to look her squarely in the eyes, but he realized that-for whatever reason-he couldn't do it. So he said simply, "There's nothing that we're going to say to each other now that we haven't said before. The bottom line is, you're happy with Worf now. You love him, don't you?"

"I... yes. Yes, I... I do ..."

"That's it, then." With that, he turned and headed back toward the wreckage of the fallen Enterprise.

But that's not it! Deanna wanted to shout after him. What-53 herself, for her own feelings, there was nothing but confusion and frustration. How was it that she could and should know everyone else's minds, but she couldn't know where her own mind was? Finally, she fell back on the word that summarized the bafflement of women throughout the ages. "Men," she sighed, and then added for good measure, "They're all alike."

CHAPTER.

I.

Iflforf was helping to oversee the orderly beaming up of the Enterprise crewmen to their respective s.h.i.+ps. Everything was proceeding in a straightforward fas.h.i.+on, exactly as he would have expected it to. Some were heading to the saucer section in a final attempt to salvage belongings and, in a few cases, simply to try to find something to bring along as a reminder.

He was also rather pleased-although naturally he would never have admitted it-that Alexander had refused to go on ahead of him. The young Klingon was remaining determinedly by his father's side as others of the crew made their way to the beam-up sites.

"Why are people going in groups, Father?" Alexander asked as he watched people a.s.semble at the sites. "The rescue s.h.i.+ps could just bring people up from wherever they're standing."

"True. But this way close friends and families, of course, were able to stay together rather than be split up between s.h.i.+ps and have to wait for a subsequent reunion," Worf explained.

"Oh."

Alexander sounded very distracted when he said it. It was surprising how much hidden meaning a one-syllable word- "Oh"-could carry with it.

"Is there something on your mind, Alexander?"

"No," Alexander quickly replied.

Worf made the impatient grunting noise that Alexander recognized only too well. "Alexander ... you know that I have little patience with trying to extract information. With a hot light and an agonizer stick, I could easily rip your concerns from your screaming throat. That is not, however, good parenting ... so I am told." As always, he spoke with such a grim mien that it was difficult for Alexander to tell just how serious he was. He certainly sounded serious. "In any event," continued Worf, "obfuscation is not the Klingon way."

"And do we only do things if they are the Klingon way?"

"What do you mean?"

Alexander looked off in the direction of the fallen saucer section. Worf had seen Deanna Troi head in there a few minutes earlier. Her hair had looked slightly damp, which he'd considered a bit odd, but beyond that she seemed rather peaceful, even happy. That was how she always seemed, in fact. That alone made her almost the polar opposite of him.

"Deanna is not very... Klingon," Alexander said. Apparently he'd seen her, too.

"That is true. She is as 'un-Klingon' as one could be and still be sentient."

"Why do you love her, Father?"

Worf bristled. "It is ... not appropriate that we discuss these things."

"Not appropriate? Father ... we've discussed war from every possible angle. We've discussed honor, tradition, combat tactics. I know how to kill someone fourteen different ways with my bare hands ... at least, in theory. But how to love someone... especially someone so different..." He gestured helplessly.

Worf looked at the urgency in his son's eyes. "These are ... these are not matters that come easily to me in terms of discussion, Alexander."

"I know that. Believe me, I know."

M Z A D.

II.

Alexander turned away from his father then and went back to watching the families gathering for rescue. Worf watched them, too, and he found himself studying them closely, as if he were an anthropologist observing the activities of another species. In a way, that was rather appropriate. He was another species, after all, and humanity was a race that he was still striving mightily to understand.

He watched the families. He watched the parents helping the children along, watched the mothers singing songs with the sons, the fathers carrying their little girls riding on their shoulders. He saw a set of parents dangling their giggling three-year-old between them, swinging the child like a pendulum, and the child let out a squeal of glee.

He knew that he and Alexander were a family, just as equal to and legitimate as any other family unit aboard the Enterprise. There were all manner of families besides the rather simplistic mother, father, child...

And yet...

And yet... in that very simplicity, there was a sort of elegance. Worf and Alexander as a family didn't seem wrong... and yet, a mother and father and child seemed so ... so right.

"I envy them," Alexander said.

It was as if he had been reading his father's mind, as if he'd been completely keyed in to what Worf was thinking. Nevertheless, it was Worf s nature to be cautious and less than forthcoming. So, guardedly, he said, "Envy them? In what way?"

"Well, look at them! Look how happy they are."

"Are you not happy, Alexander?"

A dozen emotions seemed to play across Alexander's face all at once. It was as if he had no clear idea how to answer the question. Then, finally, he simply nodded and said, "Yes, Father. I am happy."

"But you could be happier."