The BLTS Archive - Through The Eyes of A Stranger
by Maddie (mystwood60@hotmail.com)

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Published: 04-30-05

Updated: 04-30-05

Disclaimer: Paramount owns them all...the ship, the crew and the
universe, but...the plot belongs to me.

Archiving: Yes, but only with permission from author. My stories are
like my children. I like to know where they end up spending the night.

Feedback: Always welcome

(Episode summary: This is the episode that originally introduced the
Trill. Briefly, Dr Crusher falls in love with a Trill ambassador,
Odan, who is aboard the Enterprise to negotiate a treaty. When the
host body is severely injured it becomes necessary to remove the
symbiote. Unfortunately, they are unable to sustain the symbiote
without a host and the nearest Trill is too far away. Commander Riker
volunteers to be host until a suitable Trill can be found. Hosting the
symbiote takes a physical toll on the commander, as well as an
emotional one on both he and Crusher. However, the treaty is
successfully negotiated and a new Trill host found before Riker
succumbs to the physical stress.)

Author's notes: This story was originally published in hard copy by
Orion Press in their Star Trek: The Next Generation fanzine Eridani 15
(1991).

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Leaning his forearm against its supporting framework, Will Riker's
face was inches from the transparent observation port. He had intended
on looking out at the stars, but instead he found himself staring into
his own eyes reflected in the polished surface. A few days ago, he had
seen his face through the eyes of a stranger, and it had been a
disquieting experience. Everything familiar had become foreign, and
though he looked now, at his own face, with his own consciousness,
some of the uneasiness remained.

He wondered if he should mention the disjointed feeling to Deanna, or
simply wait and see if it passed. It probably would pass, as soon as
he was back on duty and busy enough to relegate the sensation to the
back of his mind where it belonged. He had had too much time to think
about it in the past few days.

Suddenly concerned that someone might observe his apprehension, he
straightened and glanced self-consciously up and down the quiet
corridor. The passageway was uniformly lit and completely deserted.
The air was cool, and the stars shimmered in the blackness outside,
streaking trails of light and pulsating with energy as they slid past
the warp driven vessel.

Although it was the middle of what would normally be his sleep cycle,
Riker could not sleep. So, he had been walking, somewhat aimlessly,
for over half an hour, not thinking of where he was going, just
marking time. Eventually, he had come here, to the outer rim of the
starship’s saucer-shaped hull. Perhaps, because of the view, he
thought absently. No space traveler, seasoned or not, could deny that
it was a spectacular one. Only the vastness of the galaxy class
starships could accommodate such a broad expanse of space's glorious
vista from so many points of the ship, as though the designers were
trying to capture the heavens within the hull of the great vessel. Or,
perhaps, they meant to remind wandering first officers that there were
mysteries and depths in the cosmos man might never encompass with his
most massive engineering accomplishments, or comprehend within the
confines of his own awareness. Whatever, Riker thought pragmatically,
it’s damn beautiful.

Leaning his shoulder against the bulkhead again, he was momentarily
lost in the breathless view. Idly, he scratched at the itchy spot on
his stomach. Suture less, laser incisions were not supposed to itch.
The casual action brought him back to the present, to the restlessness
that had driven him to prowl the quiet corridors of the Enterprise's
night. He ran his hand slowly along the muscles of his abdomen, half
expecting to feel movement—but, of course, he could not. It had been
over seventy-two hours since Doctor Crusher had removed the symbiotic
being who was Ambassador Odan from his body. He had spent most of the
following seventy-two hours in recovery, then in his quarters resting
under doctor's orders not to move. But there was no reason for him to
remain in bed any longer. Although the strain of hosting Odan had
taxed his system to the limit, bringing him near death, he had begun
to recover as soon as the ambassador had been removed, and after
another physical in the morning, he hoped to return to duty. In the
meantime, he had rested enough in the past three days to last him for
a while and he found himself unable to sleep.

Drawing himself to his full height, Riker resumed his walk, making a
conscious effort to slow his usual long-legged, ground eating pace to
a sensible stroll. At the same time, he tried to relax his shoulders,
which felt too stiff. After all, he was not in a hurry to get anywhere
and he did not want to appear as though he were stalking some unseen
enemy. Running away from ghosts would be a better description anyway,
he told himself.

At the next computer terminal he keyed in his access code and spoke
softly, "Computer, locate Deanna Troi."

"Counselor Troi is in Ten Forward," the machine responded.

Riker began to walk again. Ten Forward was not that far from his
present location, but he was not certain he was ready to talk to
Deanna yet, though it might be exactly what he needed. He knew she had
come to visit him in sickbay immediately after surgery, but he had
been too exhausted and muddled by medication to talk. He had sensed
her presence, been grateful for it, but since then she had kept her
distance more so than usual.

Whether he intended to come or not, he found himself standing before
the doors of Ten Forward. Taking a deep breath, and feeling like an
errant schoolboy off to see the headmaster, he stepped through the
doors. As they swished closed behind him, he waited for his eyes to
adjust to the subdued light.

"Welcome, Commander Riker. It's good to see you up and about again,"
said a soft voice to his left.

As he turned, Guinan nodded her greeting, the broad brim of her
headdress flopping gently with the movement.

"Can I get you something, Commander?"

Riker paused. He really didn't want a drink. Shaking his head, he
studied her with mock intensity before he asked, "Don't you ever go
home?”

The enigmatic hostess shrugged, and smiled her knowing smile.

Riker turned to survey the darkened lounge. The place was almost
deserted, then he saw who he was searching for and experienced an
alarming rush of deja vu.

"You aren't the only one who couldn't sleep," Guinan said.

"It appears so," Riker agreed. He stood next to the bar wondering if
it might not be better to leave. He did not want to disturb them, yet
the scene was hauntingly familiar. Their two heads, one dark as night
and the other the color of flame, bent together in earnest, private
conversation. It was odd. He had never really tried to characterize
the color of Beverly Crusher's hair until now. Having decided it was
best to leave, he was about to slip away when Troi looked up. Catching
his eye as she peered over Doctor Crusher's shoulder, she acknowledged
his presence with a slight nod of her head, inviting him wordlessly to
stay. Riker knew he would not leave without talking to her. He needed
talk to her.

Beverly Crusher rose, spoke softly to Troi, then walked away from the
table the two women shared, exiting from the far hatchway. She
pointedly avoided the door near which Riker stood, though it was
nearest to their table.

Riker walked over to where Troi sat. She toyed with a glass, swirling
a few chips of ice and studying them as though reading some mystic
message. Riker eased himself into the chair the doctor had vacated,
stretching his long legs. He had thought he had regained his normal
strength, but the exertion of walking tired him more than he expected.
He waited quietly. It was a natural silence, born of familiarity and
he savored the relaxed air of the moment. Such moments were rare.
Reaching out, he gently touched Troi's hand. As her fingers curled
tightly around his, she looked up, her dark eyes thoughtful.

"She's avoiding me," Riker said, leaning his head in the direction
Beverly Crusher had taken when she left.

"Understandably so," Troi agreed. "She loved Odan very much."

"I know," Riker said firmly. "When I volunteered to host Odan, I was
thinking of the peace mission at Palee Azel. I didn't mean to
complicate her life or her relationship with the ambassador."

"The complication was none of your doing.'

Riker nodded. "The ambassador stopped to see me before he—or she—or
they disembarked."

"Don't misunderstand Beverly's actions, Will," Troi went on, squeezing
his hand with her delicate one. "She is grateful for the time and
happiness she had with Odan, however brief. And she appreciates the
risk you took to preserve his life, but it is difficult for her to
accept that he could physically change so drastically. She is having
trouble coming to terms with what part of him she really loved.
And..." Troi hesitated, withdrawing her hand from his and leaning back
in her chair, "...she's somewhat embarrassed."

"Was I that bad?" Riker asked jokingly, smiling and enjoying the
reflection of that smile he saw on Troi's face. To his surprise, she
flushed slightly.

"That's not the point, Will. She just never thought of you as—“

"--a lover?"

"Yes. And now she's not sure what you think or how much you remember."

Riker crossed his arms on his chest. "I remember it all, Deanna. But,
it was as though I were a long way away, watching, unable to react or
control the situation. What I felt were Odan's emotions and his
passion. I could understand his desire, but half of me was thinking it
wasn't comfortable." Like looking in a mirror and seeing your own
face, but knowing, at the same time, it was the wrong face. Riker did
not voice his last nagging thought, but dropped into a disconcerted
silence— wondering how to fit words to his fleeting impressions.

"The experience has left Beverly feeling ambivalent also," Troi
continued, reading, the apprehension he struggled so hard to conceal
from her. "You have become part of a memory she will always treasure,
but which will cause pain. Although the spirit she loved was Odan's,
the body was—"

"Mine," Riker finished her sentence again. Looking into Troi's dark
eyes, he saw a troubled look. "And how do you feel, Deanna." She's not
the first woman I've been with since we parted on the Yorktown, but
she is the first one who's been a comrade of yours as well, he
thought.

The beautiful Betazoid glanced down at her glass, the ice had melted
into a thin film of water.

"You've been avoiding me, too, Deanna, since I got out of Sickbay."

"I've been busy. Beverly needed someone to confide in and since I'd
been with her through this, I—"

"I asked how you felt."

"Isn't that my job?" she responded, leaning forward with her arms on
the table, staring at him intently.

"Usually, but I'm not talking professionally. I'm talking to Deanna
Troi. Someone I care about.”

"Will, I did my duty as counselor, and as Beverly's friend. She needed
to explore her emotions and discover exactly how she felt about
Odan—both spiritually and physically. Even If that resulted in going
to bed with...you." Troi turned the glass in her hands, an
uncharacteristically nervous gesture from the normally well-composed
and confident counselor. "I had to convince myself that you were Odan,
not Will Riker. Just as she did."

Riker sat quietly, waiting. "And did it work?" he asked when she
failed to continue.

Troi smiled ruefully. "Not very well. Will, I—it hurt."

They've all hurt you, he thought, all the women I've been involved
with, however casualty, since we parted years ago. Something he never
wanted to do, but knew he had.

"None of your past loves were friends of mine," Troi retorted
vehemently, catching his unguarded thought, "and I never told them it
was all right. This time, Beverly was my friend, too, and I gave her
permission." Her voice softened. "And still, I found myself feeling
jealous." Shaking back her dark hair, Troi looked Riker straight in
the eye, ignoring her own anger and striking at the heart of his
dilemma. "And you, Will, you said you remembered everything. You must
have some emotional response to what happened, yet you've been as
closed to me as I've ever known you to be."

Riker recognized Troi's professional counselor tone. He would have
preferred to talk to Deanna, the woman he loved, but he realized she
wasn't going to let him yet. He took a deep breath, as she watched him
intently. "It's unsettling," he said, "to look at everyone and
everything you've known for years through the eyes of a stranger.
Everything is as it should be, yet everything is wrong."

"And you feel..." Troi persisted, more gently.

"Out of sync. But that isn't as important to me as knowing that you
understand. What happened between Beverly and me was not what I
intended. The peace mission went well, and Odan negotiated a viable
treaty. If I helped in some way to prevent a war, then I accomplished
what I set out to do and I'm proud of that. If there is anything I can
do to make Beverly feel better, I'll do it." But I don't want to hurt
you in the process, he added silently.

"Beverly is going to be fine, Will." Troi's voice and manner were once
more calm. "She's very unhappy now, and confused, but she will bounce
back, as will you. Once you are back on duty you will begin to put
everything in perspective. Odan is gone.”

"But not soon to be forgotten."

"By any of us," Troi concluded softly, lowering her eyes from Riker's
steady scrutiny.

They sat together for several minutes, staring out of the forward
viewport. For the briefest instant, Riker glanced at his own
reflection, and for the first time in days, felt as though he was in
sole possession of his body. If time did heal all wounds, maybe
someday, it would even heal the wounded hearts left by their
separation years ago. Then, her proud, aristocratic, Betazoid heritage
had come crashing head-to-head with his ambition and his Terran
bullheadedness. Neither of them had had the courage or the experience
to know it was time to compromise. One day soon, he was going to sit
her down, and they were going to stop avoiding the pain. Until then,
until they confronted their own past mistakes, there would only be
stolen glances and moments such as this. Reaching out, he slipped his
hand under Troi's chin and raised her head so she was looking at him,
and he smiled. He rose, extended his arm to her and said, "I'll walk
you back to your quarters. It's late, and I have an early morning
appointment with the good doctor."

Smiling, Troi stood and took his arm, sliding her slender hand into
his large one.

Riker found the action comforting and comfortable. There was only one
woman on the Enterprise, perhaps in the galaxy, who made him feel that
way. Only one who was really important, and someday he was going to
let her know, though he suspected she already knew.

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The End