The BLTS Archive - My Brother's Keeper
by Zlanna (zlanna@aol.com)

---

As always Paramount owns the Star Trek universe. I come and play in it
occasionally without permission.

---

"Deanna, Look, I had nothing to do with Lt. Riker's new post to the
Gandhi. That was something he worked out with Captain Picard."

Commander Riker sat on the long, curving couch which dominated
Counselor Deanna Troi's office. He sank low into the soft, overstuffed
cushions. His back was bent at an odd angle and no amount of twisting
seemed to ease the pain in the small of his spine. Looking up at the
Counselor was an odd feeling for a man who normally towered over
everyone around him.

The lights were turned down low, casting long shadows on the lilac
walls. The decor created an effect designed to make patients feel
comfortable, but he was anything but relaxed sitting here, having this
conversation.

The diminutive Betazoid turned on him demanding an explanation, her
fury boiling over her normally composed demeanor.

"You could have stopped him."

Now how should he proceed? The truth. It was always the wisest choice
when dealing with an empath. Especially this empath. "Deanna, he
wanted to go. I didn't force him to leave."

Troi rose slowly, deliberately. She moved closer to Riker, standing
over him, enjoying a rare height advantage over the Commander. Her
words were clipped. Precise. "Why didn't you tell me what he was
planning?"

Riker broke away from her gaze, struggling with what to say. "I," take
a deep breath he reminded himself, cursing the idea that had seemed to
make so much sense when he had discussed it with his duplicate. The
truth was hard to admit. "I wanted him to go. I wanted the chance to
be with you without him around. I wanted to be Commander of the
Enterprise without him here interfering."

"You mean interfering with our relationship."

"Yes, Deanna." He turned toward her, determined to punch through her
ice cold exterior. Meeting her stare with his own determined glare.
Refusing to back down. Refusing to apologize. "I mean," he said, "he
wanted to leave and I didn't discourage him," he took a quick breath,
"because I didn't want him interfering with our relationship."

She didn't move. Probably debating her next course of action. Slowly
the tension in her frown eased and her outwardly calm expression
returned. "And you believe that we should have a relationship?"

"Yes, I do."

"What kind of relationship?"

"An intimate one. A committed one... an Imzadi one."

A flicker of doubt clouded her dark eyes as she lowered her gaze.

"You must know I don't feel that anymore for you."

Riker hauled himself out of the couch and took the one step needed to
bring his body against hers. He pulled her into his arms. She came
willingly,easily.

His voice was a choked whisper. "You once did, Imzadi. It will
return."

He watched her hand reach up to caress his jaw. She ran her fingers
carefully along his beard, then smiled at the sensation.

"Yes. I'm sure it will."

He held her close, trying to convince himself this was no fantasy. It
had been too easy after so long. He bent down to kiss her to ensure
she wouldn't pull away. Her response made it clear she had no
intention of retreating. It was the opening he had been hoping for.
The strategic advantage he needed.

At the small cough behind him, Riker twisted in his seat in
ten-forward and jumped to his feet at the sight of Captain Picard
standing next to the table.

"Relax, Number One." Picard looked around the room, then took a seat
and whispered in a low voice, "I just came by to see how you are
doing."

"Good, Sir." Picard rarely came into ten-forward. Thinking the Captain
might have only made the trip to talk to him, Riker leaned forward,
"Is there a problem I should know about?"

"No, no." Picard nodded his thanks at Guinan when she sat the Earl
Gray tea in front of him. "I wanted to let you know I talked to
Admiral Glenson. It seems that Lieutenant Riker just saved three
members of an away team by tackling an armed Cardassian soldier. He
was overpowered and nearly killed but a Marquis raiding party arrived
and ran the Cardassians off. The rebels cared for the away team for a
week until the Gandhi Captain finally was able to negotiate the team's
release. It looks like your twin is going to get a medal out of this,"
Picard smiled, "and a promotion."

"He said he'd make Captain within six months." Riker shook his head.
"Damned if he won't."

Captain Picard took a leisurely sip of his tea. "I can't say I'm
surprised. I've never known a Riker to let anything stand in the way
of his objectives."

For a moment the two were silent. Then the Commander asked the
question he had not dared to ask before, "Sir,...about my relationship
with Counselor Troi..."

"I've considered you two a package deal since you first set foot on
the Enterprise. It is a development I welcome and the reason you
stayed on the Enterprise, is it not?" Picard said with a twinkle in
his eye.

"Yes," Riker admitted and tipping his glass to Picard added, "that and
the chance to learn from the best Captain in Starfleet."

Picard's laughter drew the attention of several officers scattered
throughout the lounge. "Commander, with a silver tongue like yours, I
wouldn't be a bit surprised that you beat your brother to that fourth
pip."

Riker nodded, but he didn't join Picard's laughter. Pinning the fourth
pip on his collar before his cocky brother had a chance to do the same
was exactly what he was working toward. All the sweeter to have Deanna
be the one whose hand secured the honor.

---

Riker was determined to make his newly re-established relationship
work with Deanna. Within six weeks the two of them were spending their
free time together. After a few more weeks, long talks became long
evenings that didn't end until the morning shift began.

Everything worked out according to the Commander's plan.

Until the evening it all fell apart.

In hindsight he should have seen the end coming, but the truth was, he
never saw it until it was staring him in the face. Of course he
thought he had everything under control as usual. Controlling his
responses to situations, to people, to events was a talent Riker had
perfected after years of practice. He was concentrating on maintaining
that control now. He knew eventually he would lose the battle, but in
the meantime, he was prolonging his inevitable defeat. After all, the
point was not to avoid defeat. The point was to delay it until he felt
his partner lose her control.

Deliberately, he slowed his breathing, enabling himself to last just a
few moments longer. He was rewarded with Deanna's groan. Grinning at
his success, he gave in to the wave of desire that engulfed them both.
His thoughts zeroed in on the moment and in that moment, they once
again united. He reached out, waiting to feel her mind probe his.
Waiting to hear her thoughts intertwined in his. Instead, he heard
only his own voice in his mind. He and Deanna were united but not
joined. Then the moment was gone. Exhausted, he lay under her,
listening to the sound of her breathing slow in unison with his. He
became conscious of the strains of the Mozart sonata that filled the
air of his cabin. He opened his eyes to see the small tear traveling
down her cheek. "Deanna?"

"I'm sorry. Its just..." she stopped. He knew already what she
couldn't voice. She had been waiting too, but the bond no longer
existed for them. Neither one had spoken of its absence. Riker tried
to remember the last time he had felt the link. He couldn't.

He stroked her hair, savoring the sweet smell of her. Jolani, a
Betazoid fragrance. It reminded him of jungle flowers and jungle
nights. "It doesn't matter, Deanna. It will come and if it doesn't,
its okay."

Abruptly she rolled away from him, affording a view of her back. "No,
it won't come back. I'm sorry. I love you. I do." She stopped long
enough to wipe her face with the side of her hand. "But I can't do
this anymore. I should've realized the link was gone for good. After
he left and we got together, I thought things would work out. I wanted
them to work out." He watched her sit up and swing her legs off of the
bed, "You mean a great deal to me, but it isn't fair for me to be with
you like this. I won't pretend the bond will return anymore. I won't
put you through this any longer."

Reaching out to her he stretched to take her hand in his. "Let me be
the judge of what is fair to me."

"No. We are not Imzadi anymore." She pulled her hand away from him.
"Can't you see that? I have no claim on you. You should get on with
your life."

Riker put his hand under her chin and gently guided her face towards
him. "Don't say that."

"Its true."

"Deanna, I don't want to 'get on with my life' without you."

"You have no choice." Her voice was cruel in its finality. She used
the same tone she always used when there was no changing her mind.

"Why? Why can't I have a choice?" he demanded.

"That's not what you want to ask me."

She spoke in the neutral voice she used in her counseling sessions. It
hurt more to be reduced to the status of a patient than it did to have
her wielding the power of choice for the two of them. He tried to keep
the bitterness out of his voice, but he didn't succeed. "What do I
want to ask you?"

"What you've wanted to ask for years."

"I don't know what you are talking about."

"Ask me. This is your chance."

Riker ran his hand through his hair, buying time to think. He realized
she was talking about their link. Their Imzadi bond. "I've never
questioned it, Deanna."

"You should have." Deanna rose from the bed, clutching her uniform to
herself. Hiding her nudity from him. "You should have asked me why I
linked with you. Why I never asked your permission."

"You had no control over what happened, Deanna. I know that."

She pulled viciously at a stray wisp of hair that clung to the sweat
on her face, "No, you're wrong. I had a choice and you should have
too. It was wrong for me to decide for both of us." Her normally
soothing voice took on an agitated tone of disgust, "I was young. I
was in love and I wanted you, so I reached deep into your mind and I
forged the bond. I never asked your permission because I was afraid
you would say no. I doomed both of us in a moment of passion and I
have forced you to suffer the consequences ever since."

Riker had never thought about whether she had consciously chosen to
link with him. Now that he knew it didn't matter to him. He wouldn't
give up the memory of what it had been like to hear her soft words in
his mind. "I would have said yes if you had asked."

"You wouldn't have understood what I was asking."

"I understand now," Riker fought the flush of his anger and bringing
it under a tight rein said, "and I tell you, I would have said yes."

Deanna's smile spoke her gratitude as she murmured tenderly, "Thank
you."

He tried one more time to convince her to stay with him, "Deanna, I
miss the link too, but I can love you without it."

"I know." She buried her head in her clothes. She reminded him of a
little girl standing heroically, bearing her confession bravely. "But
I can't do that to you."

"Could you do that to him?" He didn't bother to mention Lt. Riker by
name. She knew who he was referring to.

Deanna refused to answer him. Instead she turned to the door, "I have
to go."

Riker reached over, stopping her escape by placing his hand gently on
her shoulder, then guiding her chin towards him, forcing her to look
him in the eye. He forced himself to search deep into the dark expanse
of her gaze. "You are still linked to him, aren't you?"

"Don't." She turned away.

"Tell me, damn it, Deanna. I have a right to know."

He could see her black eyes flash as she answered, "And what gives you
the right to know?"

"Tell me the truth. Does the Imzadi link exists between you and him?"
She didn't answer. She didn't need to. He knew the answer. Knew by her
very refusal to tell him.

Deanna stared out the portal towards the myriad trails of the stars as
they warped by. Her voice so quiet he could hardly hear her, "yes".

Panic raged in his heart as she confirmed his worst fears. "No," he
protested but he knew his protests would not change the way she felt.

She turned toward him, her anguish visible in her ashen face. "I'm
sorry."

He stood there in shock. He had wanted to be wrong. He had wanted her
to deny his accusation. Now that he knew she was Imzadi to his
counterpart he wished he hadn't asked. He forced himself to maintain
his control. "And there is no hope for us?"

Deanna's eyes were wet from her admission. "I was so angry with him
when he left, I didn't think I would ever be able to forgive him. "Her
hand gently stroked Riker's cheek, "I thought it was over between him
and me, but..."

"Its okay. I understand." Riker tried to steady his voice. It was the
only part of him that was steady. His fists were clenched at his side,
but he forced them to relax until his arms hung limp. He wanted to
lash out at someone, something, anyone, but he couldn't fight with
her. Fate wasn't something either one of them could control. He
uttered the words in a desperate attempt to hang on to some last
visage of the bond that had joined them before. "We can be friends
though."

Kissing him on the cheek, she let her hand rest on his shoulder, "Yes.
Best friends." Drawing back she said, "I'm sorry." It was all she
could say. It helped. A little. Riker heard her leave his cabin. A
dull ache grew within him until it threatened to overwhelm him. He
wondered, not for the first time, if he should have been the one to
leave the Enterprise, allowing her and Lt. Riker to be together.

---

Aboard the U.S.S. Gandhi, Lt. William Thomas Riker stepped out of the
hot water shower onto the soft, thick bath mat, his tall body
shivering at the cruel slap of the cold air that greeted him. He
punched the biocontrol pad with his fist. No response. Damn, he
thought, the temperature controls were not functioning. It was the
third time since he had reported to the Gandhi two months ago that the
heat had failed. Didn't anything work on this bucket? Trembling, as
his wet body froze, he grabbed a towel from the rack and viciously
rubbed himself dry. "Computer, read my schedule for today."

"Schedule for William Thomas Riker: 2d shift, Cardassian Tactical
Strategies lecture series to begin at 1300 hours. Tactical simulation
exercises to begin at 2000 hours."

"Wait!" Riker threw the towel down in disgust, drawing in a quick
breath. He stood before his mirror watching himself as he demanded,
"What Cardassian Tactical Strategies lecture?"

"Lt. Riker is the scheduled speaker for the Cardassian Tactical
Strategies lecture series scheduled for the following dates: today at
1300 hours and the next four Tuesdays at the same time."

"Who arranged the lecture?" Riker slipped on his uniform T-shirt and
wondered how he could have missed knowing about a lecture he was
supposed to deliver. He checked his chronometer, two hours until the
start of the class.

The monotone continued dully, "Lt. Riker requested the training class
and is responsible for activities concerning its creation and
delivery."

"Like hell I am." Riker pulled on the rest of his uniform taking his
anger out on the pants and coat. He went to his desk and swung his
chair around, straddling the seat backwards, tilting the chair forward
on two legs as he studied the screen. He read it carefully a second
time, then shook his head in disbelief. Written across the screen was
a complete synopsis of a course to be presented. It detailed
preparation hours logged, 60 hours of shift comp time taken over the
past two months leading up to the big day that he was to teach his
first course aboard the Gandhi.

A setup? It certainly appeared so. From the records before him he
surmised that McGrath had drafted the memo and sent it to all the
senior officers when it became apparent no one had signed up to attend
the classes. Training Coordinator, Lt. Commander McGrath was a
pleasant enough sort of fellow. They had met a few times, in the mess
hall. Just a quick introduction. McGrath had asked him about teaching
a course on tactical strategies sometime, but they had only spoken in
generalities. Apparently McGrath had remembered those generalities
well enough when he realized he had screwed up and no one had
registered for his class. In disgust, Riker pounded the disconnect key
on the terminal. Lt. McGrath had played the system like a fiddle and
Riker knew he was the one who was going to have to do some fancy
dancing to land on his feet.

An incessant beep startled Riker out of his musings. An incoming
message light begin to blink. Hitting the Read/Audio message button
with his fist, he listened. "Lt. Riker, please be informed that
Captain Jellico will be rendezvousing with the Gandhi in one standard
hour and attending your Cardassian tactical class scheduled at 1300
hours."

Riker groaned in frustration. "Great!" This day couldn't get much
worse. Jellico would make sure this fiasco got on his record. In fact,
Jellico would delight in putting this fiasco on his record. This was
not the way to become a First Officer in record time. Sighing
dejectedly, Riker glanced over at the picture of Deanna Troi on his
desk. "Deanna, of all my harebrained ideas, this was the worst."

The picture Riker studied was held in a frame with a hinge that closed
like an old fashioned book. One side held the vidpict of the two of
them, arms clutching each other. The memory of the day returned as he
studied the picture as they gazed into each other's eyes, the deep
royal blue of the magnificent ocean that embraced Betazed behind them.
The second half of the dual frame held an old, first generation
holographic pict of his mother as a young woman. Elizabeth Riker's
blonde curls were caught in a tiara, tumbling down, framing her
smiling blue eyes. She was dressed in an ivory wedding gown of
elaborate lace work, her expression one of immense satisfaction. Her
head leaned slightly into the shoulder of his father, a young Lt.
Commander Kyle Riker. His dad was stood with his arm protectively
around his new wife.

Riker fingered the Ordevian leather frame, delicately stamped and
varnished by hand. He ran a finger over the embossed, interlocking
lines of the design and the almost hidden initials of the artisan, DT.
His eyes drifted to the third picture which was frameless. He studied
the photo of his brother and him taken on the transport pad of the
Enterprise just before he had left for the Gandhi. They stood side by
side, arms awkwardly wrapped each other's neck, smiling, caught in the
surprise of a quick one liner Will had nervously uttered just before
LaForge had taken the stillpict. He searched the picture for some
physical difference between him and his brother but found none. He
attempted to swallow his anger for his brother without success. It was
his brother's fault he was here now aboard the Gandhi. Closing his
eyes he heard yet again the declaration. "I've never settled for
anything in my life. I know what I want, I know what I've got and
you'd be lucky to do so well." Words issued by a sanctimonious idiot.
Words that haunted him day and night.

Riker's memories were disturbed by the computer voice, "Lt. Riker, you
have an incoming message from Deanna Troi."

The familiar warmth that came when his thoughts turned to Deanna
returned. He tapped the vidlink button. Her image appeared, dominating
the small screen. Her dark eyes stared into the viewscreen, but there
was a sadness hidden there he hadn't seen before during their talks.
She was seated at her desk in her office, between patients he
imagined. "Deanna! It's good to see you! I was just thinking of you."

"Hi. I wanted to thank you for the chocolates. Did you really make
them yourself?"

Riker drank in her image. He noticed she was wearing her ebony hair
up, in the severe bun she used to favor so long ago. Her bun was
secured with a thick Betazoid hair chiffon which held her massive
curls tight. The memory of his hand reaching up and releasing those
curls over her nude shoulders brought a small smile to his lips. The
familiar pain of his loneliness returned. He forced himself to ignore
it and concentrate on her words.

"Sure did. Old Jackson dropped them off, did he?"

"Yes. They were delicious." Riker watched her smile gradually
disappear into a frown of concern. "Is everything okay?"

It fascinated him that even over such a great distance, she was linked
to him, wired into his emotions, picking up his worry. Now he
understood why she was contacting him in the middle of the day shift.
"No, but it is a long story. I'll send the morbid details in a message
tonight." He tried to sound like he was asking a casual question. "How
is Commander Riker these days?"

Deanna frowned, setting her jaw taut. Her tone was evasive as she
allowed, "Fine. A little less sure of himself."

"But he is handling himself okay?" Riker tried to keep his voice even
and his emotions steady in the face of her scrutiny.

"Yes. Don't worry his job isn't available yet!" She studied him
through the viewscreen. "I have to run to an appointment. I just
wanted to check and see you were all right. I'll look for that
message."

"Deanna?"

"Yes?"

"I," Riker knew he had to be careful. "I miss you. Six months until my
first leave is going to be a long time." He heard his own voice crack.
He tried to hide how lonely he was, how much he regretted leaving her.

"Maybe you should have thought about that before you left for the
Gandhi."

"Deanna, we've been through this before. I had no choice."

"You had a choice. You made your choice." she answered.

"I couldn't stay there with him on the Enterprise. You agreed to that
yourself." Riker tried to ignore his pounding heart as his fear
accelerated its beat.

"You aren't responsible for everyone else. You don't always have to
play the hero. You don't always have to protect everyone."

"What are you talking about?"

Deanna sat wordlessly for a few moments. She obviously was struggling
with herself. He could tell there was something she wanted to discuss,
but she remained silent. He watched at a loss how to end the awkward
pause. He broke the silence with a forced laugh, conscious of the fact
it wasn't too convincing. "Well, absence makes the heart grow fonder,
right? Thalani, Imzadi. You are in my thoughts always."

Troi wiped at her eyes, her voice was soft having shed any sign of
accusation, "Thalani, Imzadi. And you remain in mine. Send that
message. I need to know what you are feeling."

"I will. Talk to you later." After the vidlink shut off, Riker felt a
chill run down his spine. He tried to shake off the unfounded sense of
panic that gripped him as her image disappeared. His heart, engulfed
in emptiness,labored under the weight of her absence.

---

Captain Jellico stared out the port window of a Federation fighter as
he traveled at warp 6 toward an intercept course with the Gandhi. He
ran his hand over his face, feeling the deep worry lines that cut
through his forehead. Rubbing with his fingers, he could not relax the
tense muscles in his face. Soon, though he would be able to sleep.
Soon the nightmare of the past week would be behind him. Soon, he
would bring his daughter back to his wife. Just one detail to resolve.
One disdainful detail and he could forget the doubts of the past few
days.

Jellico stared at his face in the window before him. The next time he
looked into a mirror, he would not see this man that stared back. This
coward who was afraid to go to his superiors. This officer who
resisted logging his report to Starfleet headquarters because he
didn't trust Starfleet to put his interests ahead of theirs. In
thirty-two years of service to Starfleet there was not a single black
mark on his record. He had always been proud of that. He might not be
loved by all, by he was respected by his fellow officers he served
beside. Until today, he respected himself. Not now. He doubted he
would ever feel that pride again. He reached down feeling the delicate
paper note in his cache. Paper. No one used it anymore, except the
Cardassian operative who had left it on the pillow of his bed the week
before. They had used paper because they knew no one would trace the
message that had been carefully written in standard script. Jellico
pulled out the note, reading it for the hundredth time. "Your daughter
sends her greetings from Xelos IV. We would be happy to trade for
information on the Omega Starbase weapons computers."

Jellico had considered trading himself for his daughter until he
realized he couldn't do that to his wife. He couldn't put her through
his torture. Not again. Not after his imprisonment by the Romulans.
Instead he convinced the Cardassians that he didn't have the access
codes, but, he promised to deliver someone who did - Commander William
Thomas Riker.

He knew Riker had finished leading a three week defensive strategy
training program at the Omega Starbase. The Commander would know
everything there was to know about the weapons computers. Jellico had
promised to deliver Riker in exchange for his daughter. Battling the
ethics of committing treason against Starfleet by handing over a
Starfleet Commander had preoccupied him briefly. He had almost lost
his nerve until inspiration had hit. Lt. Riker. Jellico had studied
the reports of Riker's duplicate. Sounded suspiciously like a clone. A
clone wasn't even human. A mere copy of a man. Lt. Riker had sat on
Nervala IV for eight years out of touch. He hadn't a clue what had
been going on in Starfleet. No communications, not even Starfleet
rumors to spread. He had been rescued only three months before and had
spent the last two months on the Gandhi on a routine exploration
mission. He wouldn't be able to compromise a ingle Starfleet secret.
Better yet, though, Jellico could convince the Cardassians that Lt.
Riker was Commander William Riker in disguise on some top secret
mission. It didn't really matter if the Cardassians bought it or not.
By the time the Cardassians realized Jellico had tricked them, Delwana
would be safely home.

Knowing how stubborn Commander Riker was, Jellico was certain the
clone would be able to endure the Cardassians torture for several
weeks before his final demise. Yes, Jellico thought with satisfaction,
the clone was the perfect solution to his problem. Handing a clone
over to the Cardassians wasn't even treason. Jellico carefully folded
the note replacing it in his cache. He swore to himself he would save
Delwana and if he was clever, Starfleet would never even know he had
been blackmailed.

---

Lt. Riker strode into the empty classroom glancing quickly around at
the vacant seats. An hour and a half of trying to tract down evidence
that McGrath had manipulated the computer record to make it appear
that Riker had screwed up had yielded nothing. No proof in the
computer of the deception, nothing to indicate that he hadn't
requested the course and been responsible for its development all
along. He did find however, that McGrath been promoted to Commander
fifteen hours earlier and assigned to the U.S.S. Sputnik-C. A quick
check revealed McGrath had already departed for the Gandhi and was
aboard a passenger ship bound for his new assignment. With McGrath
gone, Riker was left with a black mark on his record that was going to
be tough to explain to Starfleet headquarters.

Riker paced in front of the view screen waiting to face the
humiliation of having to explain why three months of supposed work had
resulted in a class no one wanted to attend. The doors to the
classroom opened and a team of five Starfleet officers entered.
Leading the group was Captain Jellico who confidently crossed to
Riker, a cruel grin on his face, his small brown eyes darting around
cataloging the scene no doubt. He held a small, black portfolio that
he clapped nervously against his leg. Stopping a few feet in front of
the Lieutenant, he squinted his eyes slightly, then laughed loudly.
Turning to the security guards and attache who accompanied him,
Jellico waved the portfolio around the room, "Well, gentlemen, it
appears we are a little early for the Lieutenant's class. Where are
your students, Lieutenant?"

Swallowing, Riker tried to smile. He had the distinct impression the
Captain knew beforehand no one was signed up for the course. Spreading
his hands wide he announced, "I guess no one feels a need to study
Cardassian strategy."

Jellico propped a gleaming boot up on a chair seat, and wiped at his
spotless shoe.

"Dismissed men." Jellico's voice was calm, yet it reeked with malice,
"all except you Lieutenant. I want an explanation." The security team
and attache left quietly. Riker studied Jellico, already knowing the
Captain was playing a game in which Riker was but a pawn and in which
the Captain made the rules. After a few minutes the Captain motioned
toward a student chair. "Please, Lieutenant. Take a seat."

Exhaling, Riker tried to offer an explanation, "I know this looks bad,
Sir, in fact, it is bad, but," Riker paused to gage Jellico's
reaction, "it isn't all that it appears, I mean,"

Jellico raised a hand impatiently. "Save it Riker. I don't like your
original. Everyone knows that and I don't like you, but I came here
today to offer you the opportunity to redeem yourself. Word has it you
are looking to make First Officer as quickly as possible."

"Well, I know that I need to pay my dues Sir. I fully intend to earn
my promotion to First Officer, someday"

"Someday? That pompous ass of a duplicate of yours is already First
Officer, although at the rate in which he turns down promotions, he
will probably die a First Officer. I heard that you were a little more
ambitious than that. Did I hear wrong?"

"What is your point, Sir?" Riker forced himself to relax. Jellico
wanted something from him, that was obvious. Most likely the Captain
had the ability to force him to do whatever it was without the cat and
mouse game.

"You are a lucky man, Lt. Riker. I am here to offer you a way to reach
your goal much quicker than you ever imagined. Something that will
appeal to your ambition." Jellico's sneer taunted Riker, daring him to
ask what the deal was. He wasn't going to give Jellico the
satisfaction. Instead, he waited until the Captain tired of the game.
"There are a series of Cardassian bases that we have discovered.
Starfleet can't officially acknowledge that we know about these bases.
The Maquis are threatening to go in and destroy the bases, but they
haven't the knowledge, nor the ships to do so. It is vital that those
bases be destroyed. We want to send someone in who will guarantee the
bases are eliminated."

"We?" Riker wanted to make sure this was an official proposal.

"Starfleet."

Nodding, Riker chewed his lip for a moment. "This is a dangerous
operation."

"If you are captured we will make sure we get you out in a prisoner
exchange. If you get killed..."

"Understood."

"Glad you agreed." Jellico stood up as if to go.

"Captain. I haven't agreed." Lt. Riker protested.

"Riker, you agreed the moment I picked you for the job. Here." Jellico
opened the portfolio removing a computer disc. "This disc details how
to infiltrate the local Maquis cell. If you succeed in destroying the
bases undetected, you will be picked up, shunted off to a remote star
base and after six months quietly promoted to First Officer. If you
get captured, we will arrange a prisoner exchange and retrieve you."

"If I fail, what happens to my record?"

"We return you to the Gandhi and reward your help by promoting you in
a year or so." Jellico smiled and with a finger drew a cross across
his heart. "You have my word."

"Everyone will think I'm a traitor."

"Everyone who counts, will know you were an undercover spy for
Starfleet. You  will be a hero, and catch up in rank to that arrogant
son of a bitch brother of yours. That's what you want isn't it?"

"I'd like some time to think about this."

"No. Listen Riker. You have nothing to think about. You are out of
here. It's not your decision." Riker watched Jellico tap on his com
badge, "All right,he's ready." The doors to the classroom swished open
to reveal the security detail waiting patiently.

"I have to send a message to someone." Riker protested.

"No messages. Screw up and you will never have a career in Starfleet.
Understand?"

"What about my gear?"

"You won't need your belongings where you are going. The Maquis travel
light."

Two security guards took position in front of Lt. Riker and two fell
in place behind. Walking silently down the hall toward the transporter
room, they refused to answer his questions or smile at his forced
humor. By the time they reached the transporter room, Riker had fallen
into a solemn silence himself wondering when he would see Deanna again
and hoping she would realize he was not able to contact her. Given the
Risa fiasco though, he wasn't counting on Deanna's empathy to realize
he was out of contact with her against his will.

---

"I'm sure he had a good reason for not writing." Commander Riker tried
not to sound too happy that it was Lt. Riker who was in trouble for
once.

"That makes one of us." Deanna stood in the middle of her cabin, her
arms gripped around herself, hugging herself as if she could contain
her anger by physically holding it in. She stared icily at the
vidscreen.

"He probably just got busy. Let's contact him." Seated next to
Counselor Troi on her couch he reached out to place an arm around her.
She drew back coldly, then looking up, her face softened. "No. I've
had enough worrying about Lt. Riker."

Patting her shoulder Riker tried not to appear too anxious to witness
the brewing storm that was sure to erupt when Deanna confronted the
lieutenant. "Come on. Let's see what the jerk has to say for himself."

The Enterprise's position was only a few light years from the Gandhi.
After a couple of awkward minutes the link connected. No one answered
which was unusual. Riker waited for the Lieutenant's messaging center
to respond, but he was greeted only with dead air space. The screen
flashed a brief red light and the stern face of a Vulcan
Communications Officer appeared. "Excuse me, Commander Riker. This is
Communications Officer Suwan. You are trying to contact Lt. Riker?"

"Yes, that is right. If he's not in his cabin, I can record a message
for him to be viewed later." Riker noted the formal tone of the
Vulcan, but then again Riker reminded himself, that was typical of
Vulcans.

"I'm afraid that is impossible. Lt. Riker left the Gandhi seven days
ago." The Vulcan Communications Officer stared at the view screen, his
impassive face providing no hint of Lt. Riker's whereabouts.

"Left? Where? What happened?" Riker repeated.

"I am not at liberty to discuss that, Sir." What was going on? If this
was anyone but a Vulcan he would expect to discover this was some sort
of joke, but the Vulcan remained expressionless.

"Then put on someone who is at liberty to discuss it, Lieutenant."
Riker's voice rose reflecting his anger.

"One moment, Sir." The Vulcan disappeared.

"Commander Riker? This is Commander Sxing." Sxing was a Luss and First
Officer of the Gandhi. He was tall, his orange complexion smooth with
a thin face and a small goatee. His pointed ears were long, giving him
a satanic appearance. "We haven't released news of this yet, but given
your rank and your relationship to Lt. Riker, I have just received
authorization from Captain Jackson to inform you that the Lieutenant
deserted the Gandhi seven days ago." Sxing let the news sink in. "I am
sorry, Sir."

Riker shot a quick look at Troi. Her expression was hidden behind her
hands that were clutching her head as if she were trying to physically
contain her panic. "Any idea what precipitated this, Commander? I,"
Riker reigned in his temper refusing to embarrass himself over his
duplicate's actions, " I can't believe he would just desert."

"I'm afraid I'm at a loss to explain Riker's actions, Commander. He
was doing well here. Very well. You would never have thought he was
just a lieutenant. The man knew the ship as well as I. A born leader.
To tell you the truth, I was shocked myself. He had voiced a certain,
sympathy with the Maquis situation on a couple of occasions, but this
caught us all off guard." Sxing shrugged, "I am sorry, I can't help
you anymore. Gandhi out."

The vid link went black. Stunned, Riker turned toward Deanna. He tried
to comfort her. "There has to be an explanation. Maybe he is on an
undercover mission."

Deanna regarded Riker for a long time. "Without his CO's knowledge?"

"Its possible," Riker said. "Maybe Jackson isn't at liberty to reveal
that he is on a mission."

"No, Sxing was telling the truth." Deanna answered. "Something is
wrong. Something is terribly wrong."

Riker laughed in frustration. "Well, on that we are agreed. He might
be arrogant, but I'll never believe he would desert."

Six weeks later no word of Lt. Riker had reached the Enterprise.
Outwardly Deanna appeared her normal self, carrying on her duties as
usual. Off duty she grew more withdrawn, appearing socially only
during the poker games and official functions. It was during a poker
game that news of Lt. Riker's whereabouts finally arrived.

Commander Riker was dealing out the poker cards, as was expected of
him every week, but he wished he could drop the pretense of enjoying
the evenings. He stole a look at Deanna as she sat quietly next to
him. He followed her gaze as Lt. Worf entered the room. The Security
Chief appeared in a bad temper even for a Klingon.

"Worf. Here, take my place." Deanna offered as she got up. She usually
found an excuse to leave early in the night. This was no exception.
Riker could tell she was clearly not paying attention to the game and
was anxious to make her escape.

"Thank you, Counselor. I have some news you and the Commander might be
interested in hearing. News about," The Klingon's lip curled in
disgust, as he pronounced the name with contempt, "Thomas Riker."

Deanna stopped short and turned quickly around. "What? Is he all
right?"

"He has joined the Maquis." Worf picked up the cards that Riker had
dealt him,looked them over and threw them on the table, face down. He
shot a sharp,accusatory glance at Riker.

The First Officer shook his head. "Impossible. He would never give up
a Starfleet career to join the Maquis."

"How can you be sure, Commander?" Data asked. "He might have been a
duplicate of you, but his life experiences have been very different
for the last 8 and a half years. Perhaps he resents Starfleet for not
rescuing him earlier from Nervala IV."

"Data!" Riker picked up his glass and downed the synthehol forcing
himself to choose his words carefully before replying. "Data, I
believe I know Thomas Riker very well. He is as focused on his career
as I am. He wouldn't desert the Gandhi to join the Maquis."

"Perhaps if he wanted to impress a woman?" Worf said.

Riker retrieved his own cards, checked them quickly, then slapped them
face down in front of him. "He's not a fool. He wouldn't sacrifice his
career for a woman."

It was the wrong thing to say and Riker realized it immediately. When
Deanna didn't respond, he looked over towards Crusher for support.
Beverly reached out a hand which she placed gently on Troi's forearm,
"I'm sure he has a good reason for what he is doing."

"True." Commander Riker agreed. Then taking a deep breath, Riker
turned once again towards Troi. "There has to be more to this than we
know." He meant the words to be encouraging, but her clenched teeth
and stony silence didn't soften.

"Desertion. Whew." LaForge sipped his ale." That is grounds for some
hefty confine time."

"He wouldn't desert." Troi's eyes met Riker's, as if she were speaking
to him, but he heard no words in his mind. He couldn't reassure her.
He watched her slowly leave his cabin, her head down, her shoulders
slumped. The doors shut behind her. He resisted the urge to follow
her, she needed a friend, not a former lover. No one spoke until
Riker, turning towards Crusher, finally said, "Maybe you could...?"

Crusher nodded, "I'll go check on her."

The Commander clenched his jaw as he stared at the cards. At this
point he didn't know if he were madder at Deanna for preferring his
duplicate or at Worf for assuming Lt. Riker was a traitor or at
himself for defending his "brother".

---

Troi knew Crusher was on the other side of her cabin door before she
gave the command, "Come." Deanna fought with herself trying to decide
if she wanted to confide in her friend or not.

"Are you okay?" Beverly walked over to the chair in Deanna's cabin and
plopped down at her usual place during their heart to heart talks.

"No." Troi sat on the couch and ran her hand through her long, dark,
curly hair. She caught herself in her Rikeresque gesture, then shot a
quick look at the doctor. "Beverly, I can't believe that he would
desert. He wouldn't desert."

"Deanna, how was he the last time you talked to him?"

"He seemed fine. A little lonely." Deanna sighed, pulling her feet up
tight against herself as she curled up on the couch. "This isn't like
him. I don't understand why he hasn't tried to contact me. His career
was the most important thing in the world to him."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"I'm not." Beverly moved closer to the Counselor.

Deanna pulled away. "Are you saying that it was my fault that he
joined the Maquis?"

"No, of course not." the doctor said, "I just think maybe, when he
realized that things were over between you two, he decided to change
the direction of his life. That isn't bad. Perhaps he's found a new
purpose in life."

"I wish I could reach him. Talk to him. Tell him. " Deanna looked up
at her friend. She was tempted to confess all to Beverly, but
couldn't. The relationship between Imzadi was intense, private. It
would be wrong to break that confidentiality she shared with him . How
could she explain the bond to anyone, anyway? How could she try to put
into words all the Imzadi link represented? The truth was, she
couldn't. Not even to Beverly. She didn't try. "I never told him."

"Told him what?"

"That I wasn't..." Troi turned back to Crusher. She took a deep
breath. "I didn't tell him I wasn't with Commander Riker anymore."

"Why?"

"I meant to, I just..."

"Didn't know how?" Beverly prompted.

Deanna broke into a small smile, "Wasn't ready to give him the
satisfaction of knowing yet."

Crusher smiled, her laughter warming the room, "I don't envy you,
Deanna, trying to juggle two Will Rikers."

Deanna nodded. Two Will Rikers. The first time she had learned of
Will's duplicate she had known two Will Rikers would turn her life
into chaos.

---

The human, formerly known as Lt. Riker, now simply called human, tried
to live for the moment. For the moment he was being marched down the
long, dark hallway. The cold rocky floor stung the bare, burned soles
of his feet. He tried not to analyze the source of the stale stench of
the air. At the end of the hallway was the room. He tried not to think
about the room. He tried not to guess how many strides left to the
room. He tried to remind himself that this moment he was alive, this
moment he was without pain. But it didn't work, because he knew only
too well what the next moments would be like. Two heavy, metal doors
screeched out their protest as the guards swung them open. Amid the
dim light Riker spotted the dark red spatters that colored the doors.
He tried not to speculate if the dried blood was his own. He cleared
his mind. He focused on playing chess. He began to replay his last
chess game with Data in his mind as the guards halted in front of
Gul-Merk.

"Commander Riker. Welcome. This is our first meeting." Riker realized
in shock that Gul-Merk had not referred to him as human as had his
previous tormentor, but had called him by name. But why was the
Cardassian calling him Commander Riker?

Merk was studying Riker, looking deep into Riker's eyes. That was when
Riker knew. Whatever happened today, whatever happened in these
moments, he would live. "They never look you in the eye if they are
going to kill you." Elementary prisoner survival class, second year at
the academy.

"I thought for our first meeting Commander, we would inspect your
Earth history. Quite imaginative species, really. What do you say we
explore the period called the "Inquisition?" Computer, let's start
with this device called "the rack."

Riker ignored the knot that formed in his stomach as the simple,
wooden device materialized. A bare, rough timber made up the main
section of the rack, a small square of wood attached where the guard
strapped in his head, a larger piece of wood attached where his
buttocks were strapped down. His feet were to be tied with coarse rope
to another piece of wood at the end of the device. There were two cog
wheels that interlocked. A tall, muscular Cardassian soldier applied
his weight to turning the wheel that pulled the two sections of the
rack in opposite directions. Riker's scream sliced the air with each
click of the cog wheel.

The Cardassian soldier paused for breath as he took a break from
tugging on the largest wheel of the rack. Riker distracted himself
from his pain by attempting to estimate how long he had been in the
room. Perhaps an hour. It seemed like longer. Much longer. Riker tried
to faint. Sometimes if you fainted they grew tired of the sport.

"Now, Commander. We know you switched places with your duplicate
before leaving the Enterprise. Captain Jellico told us about your
secret mission to expose our bases. So you can spare us both a lot of
discomfort if you will simply tell us the access code to the
Federation Delta-2 Starbase weapon launch computer."

Riker licked his lips. Sweat flowed down his face in tiny streams. He
was thirsty, but he knew better than to ask for water. "I don't know
the launch codes. I'm not Commander Riker. I'm Lt. Riker of the U.S.S.
Gandhi."

"Come, come, Commander. Don't patronize me." Merk nodded and the tall
guard turned the wheel of the rack another notch.

Riker screamed out in agony. "I..." he tried to catch his breath, but
it only caused his lungs to ache more. "...don't know." Another nod.
Riker focused his thoughts. He focused on not reaching for Deanna. He
would not call out to her with his mind. He would not have her share
this pain. Not this time. With each scream he managed to keep his pain
his own. It was his own small, private victory. Tears streamed down
his face, their hot streaks dripping onto his neck. Again, the nod.
Again the scream. Once again. Then finally, a nod, but this time the
name he called in his thoughts were echoed in his shout.

---

In the holodeck of the Enterprise, Mozart's Requiem filled the great
simulated concert hall in which Deanna Troi sat. Not only the physical
appearance of the great Lincoln Center stage had been recreated, but
the exquisite acoustics as well. Relaxing, Deanna opened herself up to
the moving symphony and its sad melancholy melody bore her thoughts to
Lt. Riker and the searing gap his departure had left in her life.
Stubbornly she refused to allow herself to imagine what he might be
enduring. She had spent hours with Picard following his captivity at
the hands of the Cardassians. She knew only too well, the humiliation
tactics Cardassians used with their prisoners. That in itself would be
hard for the proud Riker to accept.

Renown for their methods, the Cardassians were infamous for torturing
their prisoners, then using doctors to reverse any physical damage.
Once their victims were recovered, the Cardassians would start their
deadly games again. They could prolong the torture for as long as they
wanted. When her Imzadi's spirit broke, they would kill him. She would
know the moment his death came. Then she would be alone as her mother
had been alone. Alone with the emptiness of the broken Imzadi link her
only companion. A broken Imzadi link. She had read about the grief
that would not heal in Betazoid novels. She had grown up watching her
mother's silent suffering. Watching her mother roam from one
unfulfilling relationship to another, trying to move beyond the broken
bond. Would that be her fate as well?

She waited, the mournful notes of the music reverberating in her soul.
Then the pain started. It seared like a wave of fire through Deanna's
body. So intense, so unexpected was the violation that she rose out of
her seat from the sharp mental stab she received from Lt. Riker. Next
to her, already cradling her in his arms, Commander Riker cursed his
brother's inability to resist the temptation to reach out across the
link to Deanna. "Deanna, don't comfort him."

"He needs me."

"He can't help reaching out to you, but its worse for him when you
take on his pain. Resist the bond."

"I can't." Between her ragged gulps for air Deanna whispered, "I
won't. I will help him."

Riker tapped his com badge, "Emergency transport to Sickbay."

The two of them dissolved as they dematerialized. Beverly Crusher was
already waiting in sickbay as Deanna materialized on the biobed.
Quickly Crusher reached for the hypospray and brought it towards
Deanna's neck.

"No!" Troi screamed. "I must remain conscious."

"Then I'll give you something for the pain."

"No."

Commander Riker stared at her. "No?" His question voiced his anger.

"Not yet." One last shudder and Deanna weakly nodded to Crusher, who
immediately applied the spray rendering the Betazoid unconscious.

"The good news, I suppose," Crusher said to Riker, "is that these
attacks are getting farther apart."

"He is getting better at handling the pain on his own. As soon as he
is able, he won't call for her at all." Riker said. He reached out,
brushing a drop of perspiration from Troi's cheek. "Then she'll having
nothing left."

"That's not true, Commander, she'll have you."

"It's not the same, Bev. It'll never be the same."

---

Inside Guarak II one of the guards announced, "He's passed out,
Gul-Merk."

Merk inspected the prone body of the prisoner. "What was the word he
called out?"

"Ouch?" one soldier teased, prompting the laughter of the group.

"Play the session on the viewscreen." Merk instructed. Impatiently he
listened. "Curious." Merk said, "Most men call for their mothers. Why
did he scream for this Deanna?"

"Wife?" someone offered.

"Find out." Gul-Merk ordered. "Find me this Deanna, and we find the
key to breaking our Commander."

---

Lt. Riker heard Deanna's voice in his dreams, but when he awoke he
couldn't remember what she had told him. Alone in the dark, windowless
cell, he cursed himself for the pain he had brought her. The next
time, he promised himself, the next time, he would not reach out to
her. He would not impose his agony on her again.

---

A week later Harnad entered Gul-Merk's office, a triumphant smile on
his lips. "I've found this Deanna the human screams for."

Merk smacked his lips in anticipation. Motioning Harnad closer he
whispered, "Tell me. Tell me everything you know."

"Her name is Deanna Troi and she is a half-Betazoid, half human."

"Betazoid?" Merk repeated. "Bring me the Betazoid prisoner, Trath.
Perhaps we can strike a deal with him."

Prex Trath fell in a heap at the foot of Gul-Merk. Prex had only one
wish. The wish of all who had survived a day with Merk - that death be
not far off.

"I wish to strike a bargain with you Betazoid." Merk watched the
telepath closely. "You have only to help me read the mind of one
human, and I will set you free. What do you say?"

It was with considerable effort that Prex shook his head from side to
side. He had resisted Merk's efforts to get him to use his telepathy
against numerous other beings. He would die, but he would die without
having betrayed anyone.

"Come now, Betazoid. One human. And I'm not even asking for military
secrets. Just information on a woman named Deanna. Tell me why he
calls her name and I will set you free. That is not much to give me in
exchange for your freedom." Merk jerked his head toward the door.

When it opened, Lt. Riker was standing between two guards. "Ah,
Commander. You have accepted my invitation to join us again. What
century are we up to now? Ah, yes. The early 20th century. Finally.
The discovery of electricity. I've been waiting for this." Merk and
his guards laughed at the joke, but the human didn't respond.
"Please," Merk waved a hand at the chair, "take a seat."

Prex watched the tall human study him. Like Prex, the human was
hairless, the by product of the drugs that were administered daily.
Despite the cold temperature of the room, perspiration beaded on the
human's bald head. Two guards pushed Riker down into a chair facing
the Betazoid and began to tie him up. The human never said a word as
the guards affixed the wires to his body, but his bright blue eyes
never left those of Prex. The Betazoid could sense the human's
curiosity. It was a typical human response normally, but here, in this
place of misery, it was an odd reaction. Everyone else that Prex had
sensed here in this place felt fear. Even the guards were afraid as
they followed the orders of Gul-Merk. When Merk nodded at one of the
guards, he flipped the switch and Prex lost all interest in what his
empathic senses were picking up.

Merk held up his hand signalling a brief break for the guard while
allowing the prisoners to contemplate what it was Merk wanted from
them. During the pause Merk taunted the victims for their lack of
endurance, but he never asked them a question. Prex drew his breath in
short gasps. He focused briefly on the human as a way of diverting his
attention from his pain. The human insanely was experiencing pride.
Enormous pride. At what, Prex wondered in amazement? In his ability to
withstand such a high level of suffering? In his arrogant assumption
he would survive?

Prex watched the human in disgust and cursed humanity and their
torture machines. He always did suspect humans were primitive
creatures obsessed with violence. With every bolt of electricity that
surged through his body, Prex hated the human more. Sometime during
the long minutes between Merk's nods, it became the human's fault Merk
had devised the deadly game.

Prex realized the game was indeed deadly, for insight brought him
RaBeem. One of the prisoners was going to die and one would survive.
Whoever could withstand the energy, whoever could retain their sanity
through each flip of the switch, that person would be dragged out of
the room unconscious, but alive for yet another day of torment. The
other would be incinerated on the spot where they died. The human
heart was able to withstand much greater surges in pure energy than
the Betazoid organ. Prex had only one hope - to reveal to Merk what
this Deanna was to the human, Riker.

Prex allowed himself a small probe of Riker's thoughts. Not that he
was going to do anything with the information he promised himself, but
it wouldn't hurt to learn who this Deanna was that the Cardassians
were so interested in. Prex caught Gul-Merk smiling at him. Merk
waited without nodding.

Amid his pain and his determination not to cry out for Deanna, Riker
never noticed Prex's probe. Riker never knew that Prex learned in an
instant when he read Riker's thoughts that Riker's Imzadi was Lwaxana
Troi's daughter. Riker never guessed that Prex recognized his duty as
the son of the Sixth House of Betazed and carried out that duty with
honor, protecting the Daughter of the Fifth House as was his
hereditary obligation. Riker never suspected that Prex reached out to
Riker taking on Riker's pain as well as his own hastening his death.
Riker never realized Prex's satisfaction when he gasped his last,
rattled breath, content in the knowledge that his death had meaning
after all in this place forsaken by the Great Spirit.

All Riker knew was that Prex's death brought relief. Relief that the
pain had subsided and pride that he had not needed Deanna's help.
Riker promised himself he would not contact Deanna again. He collapsed
into the welcomed darkness of unconsciousness with a smile on his
parched lips.

Gul-Merk was incensed. He pounded the table with a clenched fist.
"Why? Why did the Betazoid die so quickly? And why was Riker smiling?
I want answers! Who can give me the answers I seek?"

"Perhaps," the Cardassian physician offered calmly, "the Romulan can
help you."

Merk snapped around, regarding the doctor with an icy stare.
"Excellent. Bring him here."

It didn't take much for Merk to convince the Romulan to meld with
Riker - only a cheap promise of freedom. The Romulan went gladly to
the human's cell. In fact, he relished the idea that he was buying his
freedom at the expense of a human. As the guards stepped aside, the
Romulan entered the cell, crouched beside the still figure of the
unconscious Riker and melded his thoughts to that of the former
Starfleet Lieutenant. When he stood straight, it was the Romulan's
turn to smile.

---

It had been a long time since Lt. Riker had left his cell. How long he
didn't know. There was no way to mark the passage of time in his dark
room. He had counted the moans of the prisoner whose cell was next to
his. If that prisoner's torture was a nightly ritual, then Riker
calculated it had been over a month since the last time he had made
the long trip to the room. Riker grew stronger each day that passed
without the torture. He knew it was a deliberate technique of the
Cardassians. As soon as the memory of the pain subsided, they would
resume their nightly visits. In the meantime, he assumed every time he
heard a noise that this was the time they were coming for him. Except
they didn't. And they wouldn't. They wouldn't come until he reached
the point where he  expected them not to come. Then they would fetch
him.

Riker awoke to a light shining down from a window. The force field
prevented escape, but a metal plate in the wall had been moved,
allowing the light. He shielded his eyes from the brightness, but he
couldn't resist trying to peek around the cell. Squinting, he realized
his calculations had been correct. His cell was about 5 meters by 4
meters. He had already learned to find his way to the toilet in the
dark. There was a dirty sink, stained dark brown. Whether the color
came from rust or his blood he had no idea. He hadn't had much time to
inspect the room when the doors opened. Riker stared at the prisoner
that was pushed inside. Then cradling his head in his hands he fell to
the floor and began to weep. "No!" he shouted, "No. Not you, Imzadi!
God, not you."

Deanna stood watching him cry. She knelt beside him, putting her arm
around his shaking shoulders. "Imzadi" she repeated.

Riker tried to compose himself, conscious of the fact that his captors
were watching every moment. "How did they capture you?" he hoarsely
whispered.

There was a gentle, vacant look on the face of Deanna Troi. "Imzadi."
was the only word she uttered. She ran her hand through his hair in a
soft caress.

It didn't take long for Riker to recognize that this woman was not
Deanna Troi. She looked identical to Troi but there were differences,
subtle differences. This woman did not have Deanna's distinctive
accent. She had her compassion, she had her empathy, but there was
another difference that Riker could not ignore. This Deanna Troi could
not send telepathically to Riker nor whisper in his mind. Whoever she
might be, she wasn't Deanna Troi. He shared no link to this woman.
"What is your name?" Riker asked the girl as she huddled next to him
the cell.

"Deanna. Deanna Troi. You know my name."

There was no impatience in the girl's voice. For all the emotion she
showed she could have been Data. "You are not Deanna. Who are you?"

"I am Deanna Troi."

"Do you know who I am?" Riker waited for her answer, waited to catch
her in her lie.

"Yes. You are Will Riker, my Imzadi."

"I am not Will Riker. I am Thomas Riker. Why do you call me Will
Riker?"

"Because that is your name." The woman squinted up at the window.
Riker had to admit she looked exactly like Deanna. Her mannerisms were
similar to Deanna's, but, he reminded himself, she was not Deanna.

"Who told you I am Riker - the guards?"

"I know you. You are my Imzadi. You are Will Riker."

Deciding to change tactics, Riker tried again, "Where do you come
from?"

"From Betazed," was his answer.

Taking a different tact, Riker asked, "Do you remember when we met?"

"No."

"Can you remember anything about us?" Riker asked.

"I remember, I remember you are Imzadi."

"Do you remember anything else about your life? About your capture?"

"I remember waking up in a bathtub." The woman came to him and wrapped
her arms around his neck. He reached up and tried to push her away,
but she clung stubbornly to him.

Giving up the effort, Riker stared at the woman, trying to decide if
she was teasing him. "A bathtub?"

"Yes."

An idea formed. An idea that would explain a lot. "Were there other
people in bathtubs asleep?"

"Yes."

Clones. Clone technology existed throughout the Federation and
although there were strict rules regarding ethical uses of clones in
the Federation, non-Federation species such as the Cardassians often
experimented with cloning. Cloning required original DNA from the
sponsor though. If the Cardassians had been able to clone Deanna, they
must have made contact with her. That meant Deanna was in danger
should the clone not carry out her mission. Deanna's only hope was
that he convince the Cardassians he believed the clone was in fact
Deanna. "Don't worry Deanna," he said as he wrapped his arms around
the woman, "don't worry." Even a substitute Deanna in his arms felt
better than the loneliness he had endured.

---

Time passed without measure. Maybe weeks. Maybe even months. Riker
lost track of time again. The light came and went but he had no way of
knowing if the light intervals equalled 24 hours. As the days slipped
by the fact that Riker was not Imzadi to the woman mattered less and
less to him. She wasn't Deanna, but in the dark as he held her close
against the cold, she felt very much like Deanna. Her need for him
gave him a renewed reason to survive. She needed him and she didn't
resent his desire to protect her. She drew him into long conversations
about his feelings without ever trying to draw information out of him.
Her focus was entirely on the present. She seemed to have little
understanding of their captivity. She had no fear, just an innocence
that was out of place in the bowels of their hell. Instead of fighting
the depression, the hopelessness of the situation, she was content to
be with him. She found small ways to comfort him. A kiss when he was
least expecting it, sometimes just a hand to hold. He tried not to
grow fond of her. He tried not to grow attached to her. He tried to
resist holding her close during the middle of the night when
nightmares dominated his dreams, but he failed. Every day that passed
he realized he was sealing her death contract. Every kiss they shared
was only inviting her death at the hands of the Cardassians. Riker had
no doubt their captors would keep her in the cell with him until they
were sure he was close to her and then they would kill her in front of
him. Riker predicted the course of events with amazing accuracy, but
he only partially predicted the Cardassian's strategy.

"Will," the woman whispered to the sleeping form next to her. "Will, I
have to tell you something."

"Call me Thomas."

"But Will is your name."

"Not any more. I go by Thomas. What is it you need?" Riker groggily
stirred from the hard floor.

"I can sense another." the woman smiled. Her smile radiated her
innocence. Even in this most miserable of places her gentleness calmed
Riker. In the quiet night Riker pulled her back against him, enjoying
her warmth. "Sense another? Where?"

The woman pointed to her stomach. "Here, within me."

Riker tried to swallow the panic that threatened to overwhelm him.
"No, that's not possible." Riker knew that clones were sterile. It was
the only reason he had dared make love to her. It was not possible
that the clone was pregnant.

The melody of her laugh filled the small cell. "Of course, it is
possible, Imzadi."

"How long?"

"Quite some time now. You can feel the kick. Here." She grabbed his
hand and guided his fingers to her tummy. He had noticed the weight
gain, but he had never even questioned the cause. He felt the kick
beneath his fingers. He had been such a fool. Now it would be worse.
Now the Cardassians had him where they wanted him. Whoever the woman
might be, her child was his and Riker would do anything to protect the
child. And the Cardassians knew it. Within an hour the guards came for
the two of them.

"Commander, answer my question and I will let your Deanna Troi go."
Merk taunted. Riker was tied to a solitary post about ten meters from
a simple wooden table where the Cardassians had tied the nude clone.
She is not Deanna. Riker chanted to himself. She is not Deanna.

"Not interested in cooperating? Very well." The Cardassian picked up a
long wooden object, which Riker realized was an old baseball bat.
"What century are we up to now Riker? The twentieth century. I
understand that baseball was a favorite sport then." Merk swung the
bat hard against Riker's leg. A sickening crunch was heard. The
clone's screams filled Riker's ears as they joined his own. "Yes,
fascinating game. You need a bat and ball, correct? Well, plenty of
time for that, my friend." Merk went over to the Cardassian physician
who was standing next to the clone on the table. "Doctor. Perhaps you
can tell me. Is the Commander here the father of a daughter or of a
son?"

Riker didn't want to know the answer. He knew already Merk would kill
the girl that looked and acted like Deanna. He knew because Merk never
looked the girl in the eye. She did not exist for the Cardassian. She
was already dead. He did not want to witness the death of his child as
well.

"Congratulations, Commander. You are the father of a son," the doctor
turned toward the guards. "Shall we have a look? Shall we deliver the
boy now?" In horror Riker watched as the guards strapped the girl to a
medical bed and the doctor opened an old fashioned medical bag and
withdrew his surgical instruments. To drag the agony out, the doctor
drew a red line in ink along the girl's stomach where he planned to
cut.

"Access codes, Riker? They could buy her life." Merk laughed. Riker
knew better though. He knew the girl was dead whether he gave Merk
access codes or not. Silently he listened to the girl's screams. She
is not Deanna he chanted again. He did not reach out to his Deanna.
Not until a guard brought the bat hard against his chest cracking
several ribs.

As he watched her slow murder, Riker continued to insist to Merk he
did not know the access launch codes. Riker knew the Cardassian could
care less about the access codes at this point. Both Riker and Merk
knew that the access codes would have been changed long ago. They were
engaged in a battle of wills and as long as Riker could resist he
would live. Cave in and he would be dead.

As the woman's screams sounded for the last time, a lone Cardassian
entered the room. This man carried himself with authority and his face
reflected his distaste at the scene before him. Gul-Merk was a sadist.
Crazed, driven, enjoying the misery he caused. Not this man. This man,
Riker realized was a soldier. Perhaps a soldier with honor. It was
Riker's only hope and he clung to it desperately. Riker closed his
eyes. A vision of his mother flashed in front of him. Opening his eyes
again, Riker watched the stranger as he crossed over to Merk. The
guard raised the bat and Riker heard in his head a prayer his
grandmother had taught him, "Our Father, who art in Heaven." Deanna
had always encouraged him to practise the ancient spiritual beliefs of
his mother, but when he entered a place of prayer, it was usually with
Deanna at his side. Now his mother's religion seemed strangely
appealing. All men find religion when they face their death he had
heard and apparently it was true. This blow would be it, Riker
realized. This blow would bring his death.

Will Riker welcomed death for the first time in life. For this time
his death would eliminate the incentive for the Cardassians to seek
out and capture the real Deanna Troi. His death would buy her freedom
from her bond to him. His death would free her to love his brother
aboard the U.S.S. Enterprise.

Then he remembered his son. His son who would never live the life he
was meant to have. A clone can't conceive. He watched the bat with
amusement as it came in slow motion towards his head. He wanted it to
end. He welcomed the end. He heard a voice ask, 'who will remember our
son if you die?' It was the last thought Riker had before the sound of
the wood cracking bone echoed against the scarred walls of the room.

---.

Commander Riker walked past the small crowd gathered in front of the
Starfleet headquarters cafeteria and made his way to the table where
Deanna Troi was waiting for him. He felt the gaze of the crowd on him
as he passed by. He knew he was the topic of their conversation.
Nearly everyone was talking about the former pilot who had crashed the
Enterprise-D. He had borne the jokes all morning. The snide comments
of the junior officers. They didn't care that the Starfleet inquiry
board had just cleared him of any wrong doing. Five Admirals had
commended him on his actions saying it was a wonder the ship survived
and unbelievable there were no causalities. None of that mattered to
the snickering subordinates who entertained themselves at his expense.

"Rough day?" Troi asked as Commander Riker sat down opposite of her.

"Not if you don't mind people making jokes about your eyesight, your
coordination and your piloting skills," Riker's voice trailed off in
disgust.

"No one thinks the crash of the Enterprise D was your fault. Mine
perhaps." Deanna took another big bite of her Sundae, apparently
Thomas concluded, unconcerned with what people may be saying about the
crash. Thomas reached over with a finger and wiped a bit of chocolate
sauce off her face. Before he could do anything, Troi leaned over and
licked his finger with her tongue suggestively. He raised his eyebrows
when she leaned forward to plant a chocolate flavored kiss on his lips
before returning to her dessert.

"Speculation by strangers is not what bothers me the most. I keep
thinking, what he would say if he heard."

"Your father? I'm sure he's heard." Troi closed her eyes as she
savored the sweet taste of the fudge sauce. A deep suggestive moan
escaped her lips. Riker watched her mesmerized, licking the chocolate
from his lips where she had kissed him. "No, not my father."

Troi groaned, then lurched forward, dropping the spoon onto the floor.
It clattered next to her unconscious body.

Starfleet headquarters wasn't a galaxy starship. Riker couldn't order
a transporter beamout to sickbay from his com badge. Picking Deanna up
in his arms, he ran toward the nearest communications terminal to
place the request for medical aid. He punched in the emergency code,
"I have an emergency in the canteen. I need a biounit here on
the double."

Within a few minutes, Riker was seated aboard the dustbuster, as the
small anti-grav transport craft were nicknamed. Cadets and officers
alike jumped out of the way as soon as they caught sight of the
speeding craft and the flashing red warning lights. The pilot expertly
guided the craft through the crowded facility and towards the hospital
wing. A Betazoid doctor and four nurses were waiting for the incoming
craft. They detached the biobed from the top of the dustbuster and
hurried Deanna out of the room. Riker was alone. Gradually he realized
he should call someone. The only person he could think to call was
Beverly Crusher. At her suggestion he placed a com call to Picard. He
started to turn away from the terminal, when he stopped. Lwaxana. Upon
learning that the D had crashed, she had insisted on meeting Deanna at
Starfleet headquarters to insure Deanna was all right. She was due to
arrive in a few hours. Riker placed a call to the Betazoid embassy
informing them of Deanna's collapse. He wasn't looking forward to a
reunion with the Daughter of the Fifth House. He wasn't looking
forward to her accusations or ridicule.

Beverly arrived within a half hour and established a position in a
chair nearest the nurses station. Riker paced the hall of the hospital
ward. "For goodness sake, take a seat." Crusher begged, setting her
PADD down on a nearby table and crossing over to intercept the
Commander.

Allowing himself to be guided to a chair, Riker dropped his head in
his hands. "She hasn't had a spell like this for almost a year,
Beverly. Why now? Why would she suddenly keel over like this?"

Crusher shook her head, "Who knows? Lt. Riker?"

"Most likely."

Crusher patted his knee. "Maybe this is a good sign. It must mean he
is still alive, right?"

"I doubt he would agree that surviving six years in a Cardassian
prison is a good thing, Bev." Riker rose and began to pace again and
this time, Crusher didn't interfere.

Several hours later Riker was allowed in Deanna's hospital room. The
room itself was as silent as the Venetian moon. Riker sat in a chair
next to her bed watching as she tossed and turned in her sleep.
Sitting on the opposite side of the bed was an exhausted Lwaxana Troi,
her head starting to drop for the third time. "Lwaxana. Get some
sleep. I'll stay. I'll be here if she wakes up." Lwaxana stretched
slowly. In the dim light without her makeup, she seemed ancient to
Riker, not at all the battleax that had kicked him out of the Troi
mansion so many years ago.

"I want to thank you Thomas, for staying by her." Riker began to
protest, but Lwaxana interrupted him. "I know how hard it has been for
you being so close to her, knowing the strength of her bond with
another, given your feelings towards her. Yet, you have kept your
promise to him. You have remained with her, as her best friend,
protecting her all these years. I know it would have been easier on
you if you had accepted a promotion and left the Enterprise."

There was no way to answer. No way to explain what had kept him aboard
the great Starship. Hope? Perhaps? Hope she would come to accept the
fact that Will Riker was never returning. Guilt? Guilt that he was the
one safely aboard the Enterprise, when deep down he knew he should be
the one in the Cardassian prison. He tried to shake off the doubts,
the second guessing. He had studied plans of the prison. He had read
every scrap of information on the moon where his brother resided, but
he could not find a weakness in the Cardassian stronghold. He and Data
had spent long nights trying to improve on a plan for storming the
prison that held Will, but the could not beat the 10% chance of
succeeding according to the android. "It's what he would have done."
Riker said, feeling very tired and very old.

"No, Thomas. It's not. Will Riker would have rescued you or died
trying." Lwaxana's words fanned Riker's shame.

Sitting up abruptly, he asked, "Is that what you think I should do? Go
steal a ship and set a course for that Cardassian prison and free him?
Do you think I haven't thought of that? Do you think I haven't
imagined that scenario a hundred times at night? And what would become
of her if I was killed too in the attempt, Mrs. Troi? And for what? We
don't even know if he is alive! Do you think I'm a coward? Staying by
her only out of fear? She has lost her Imzadi, but if I go rushing in
to that prison, acting the part of the hero, and I'm killed, and she
loses both of us, what happens to her then? What will she choose to do
with her life? Have you thought of that?" Riker's chest heaved as he
yelled the words out. He was standing up, crouched as if to spring out
at Lwaxana.

Lwaxana replied quietly, "It is for your refusal to put your life at
risk for him, that I have thanked you already, Commander."

"You don't understand, Mrs. Troi, it should be me in that prison. I
should have left the Enterprise. Then they would be together. It
should have been me."

Lwaxana placed her hand on the Riker's shoulder. "I understand, I
understand everything. He did what he thought was best for Deanna as
have you. His captivity isn't your fault."

Before Lwaxana could further console the First Officer, Deanna spoke.
Her words were barely audible. "Something horrible has happened.
They've broken him. He's given up. He wants to die." Deanna screamed
once more before losing consciousness again.

---

The Cardassian Commandant watched the vid screen before him as the
doctor checked on Riker in his cell. Although the human had been
unconscious for three days, he continued to live. The Commandant grew
tired of the wait. "He isn't going to die. The man has a will to
survive that is impossible to crush. He has earned a respite. Ship him
off to the mines."

"Yes, Commandant." Merk replied.

"And Merk, put him on a light detail. His resemblance to the First
Officer of the Enterprise might be useful sometime. Get his weight to
that of his duplicate. Take him off the drugs too. Let his hair grow
back. He's of no use to us if he looks 15 years older than the other
Riker."

---

Thomas Riker was unwilling to attack the Cardassian mines until he
could come up with a strategy that gave him a 50% chance or better of
success. Neither he nor Data could find one. Weeks turned into months
which turned into years. Eventually Deanna no longer felt her Imzadi's
pain and the Commander had less of an incentive to free his duplicate.
Either the Cardassians had quit torturing his brother or he had died.
Deanna insisted he lived, but Thomas had his doubts. Gradually, he and
Deanna fell into a comfortable friendship that only occasionally
threatened to erupt into a romantic relationship.

---

The lights were low in the quarters of Commander Riker aboard the
Enterprise-E. Soft Vendaxian music was heard over the elaborate sound
system the Commander and Geordi LaForge had finished constructing only
a few days earlier. Dinner plates smeared with the last remains of the
Chateau-Briand were on the table. Thomas studied Deanna Troi as she
downed the last of her Chardonnay, then licked her lips. He focused on
the frequency with which she was breathing. She stared hungrily at
him. His eyes extended an invitation he knew she could easily read.
His gaze held hers and she moved gracefully forward in her seat,
leaning close to his chair her arm brushing his. They had served a
long time together. A long time since Will's captivity. She had tried
to love others as had he without success. Despite the absence of the
Imzadi bond, they were so close that they always ended up together.
Humans had no Imzadi bond to tie them together, they had only love. He
believed he could love her in a way that would fulfill her if she only
would give him the chance. He suspected if he were any other man, she
probably would have given herself to him long ago, but she had
resisted. He suspected she resisted because he reminded her of her
Imzadi. To look upon the same face must remind her of all she did not
possess. Maybe he had only been fooling himself all these years. Maybe
he had no chance with her.

Deanna's voice was silky, seductive, "Enjoy the dinner?"

"Not as much as the company." he replied, his eyes searching her face
wishing he knew what she was thinking.

Sticking a fork into the last piece of steak, Deanna held it out for
him. "More?" Riker opened his mouth to accept the last morsel but
Deanna whisked the meat away and instead leaned over meeting his lips
with hers. She lingered in the kiss, then pulled back, her
disappointment evident in her frown.

Riker struggled to contain his own frustration. "Its okay, Deanna. It
won't be the same. It doesn't mean it can't be good."

"It's not fair to you."

"I don't mind. If you want to pretend I'm him, I don't mind." Reaching
out, she tenderly brushed his hair back, allowing her hand to rest
gently against his forehead. Her eyes searched his for several brief
seconds. "I don't need to pretend you are anyone other than the man
you are. A wonderful man. A man who never deserved this fate."

"I know you will always be Imzadi to him, Deanna. I also know you also
love me."

"And how do you know so much, Commander?"

"Because I don't need the Imzadi link to know you Deanna Troi. I don't
need it to love you."

"Neither do I." Giving in to her emotions Deanna leaned forward,
brushing her lips against the First Officer's a second time as her com
badge sounded. Laughing at his groan of disappointment, she pulled
back suddenly to answer, "Troi here."

"Incoming message for you Counselor. Urgent. From Deep Space Nine."

"Deep Space Nine?" Riker repeated. He braced himself to learn of
Worf's death.

A deep baritone voice boomed through the com link. "Deanna. This is
Worf. I have uncovered news of Thomas Riker."

Riker's heart stopped as he listened to Deanna. "Yes?" She asked, the
trembling of her voice echoed the rhythm of Riker's pounding heart.

"We have located him. He is alive."

---

Picard granted Riker and Troi's leave request. It took two days by
shuttle to reach Deep Space Nine. Two days of quiet talking about
everything except what each other was thinking and long stretches of
silent contemplation. Two days of wondering what course their lives
would now take. Finally they arrived. After settling Deanna in her
room, Commander Riker made his way to Quark's bar where he met Worf
and the two of them sat by themselves nursing their drinks...

Worf looked around the bar before starting, "We have discovered that
Gul-Gudak's daughter takes her two sons every year on the same
vacation. The course she travels takes her within five kilometers of
the Cardassian border."

Smiling the Commander immediately picked up where the Klingon left
off, "If we can divert her off course into Federation space..."

"We can negotiate a trade." The Klingon looked ferocious, his long,
sharp teeth gleaming in the dim light of the bar as he smiled.

"Will Sisko help us get Starfleet's approval of a rescue?" Riker
asked.

"We might have a better chance," Worf answered, "if we approach Major
Kira first. I have learned she was...fascinated...with the
lieutenant."

"Really?" Riker smiled. "Glad the old charm still works on someone."

Worf ignored the comment. "Dax will help us as well. Meet me here at
0800 hours tomorrow morning. We will discuss how we will approach
Commander Sisko."

---

Commander Riker caught Benjamin Sisko's frown as he followed Worf,
Dax, Troi and Major Kira into Sisko's office. Lt. Riker's theft of the
Defiant hadn't been a high point of Sisko's career. Riker guessed his
presence wasn't a welcome reminder of that theft for the Station
Commander.

The trill, Dax spoke first. "Commander, we have received confirmation
that Lt. Riker believed he was on an official Starfleet mission when
he stole the Defiant and tried to expose those Cardassian military
bases. Admiral Jellico has confessed he was being blackmailed by the
Cardassians and in exchange for his kidnapped daughter, he sent the
lieutenant on a mission designed to result in the Cardassians' capture
of the lieutenant."

Sisko frowned, unconsciously stealing a glance toward Commander Riker.
"Yes, I've read the reports about Admiral Jellico's confession. You
wish to rescue Lt. Riker, I presume?"

"He was told by Jellico that if he were captured, the Federation would
free him in a prisoner exchange." Kira interjected.

"He knew the risks," Sisko replied evenly.

"Commander," Kira paused as if she were carefully selecting her next
words, "I was with Riker on the Defiant. I told him at the time he was
not acting like a terrorist. I accused him of acting like a Starfleet
officer. He kept talking about his mission. I never put it together at
the time, but in hindsight, I see he was never a Maquis terrorist. I
accused him of trying to act like a hero," the Major turned to Troi,
"when in fact, he was."

"A hero?" Sisko's voice rose in concert with his anger. "A hero? He
nearly got us in a war with Cardassia!"

"Benjamin!" Dax scolded. "He saved millions of lives! Even Gul-Dukat
had no idea that the hidden bases of the Obsidian Order existed until
Lt. Riker risked his life to uncover them. Where would we be today if
he hadn't exposed what was going on?"

Sisko sat down hard in his chair. "He could have started a war that
would have killed millions."

Worf, standing in the back of the room answered, "He acted honorably.
He trusted us to find out the truth. He trusted when we did discover
the truth that we would also act honorably. He trusted us to bring him
back. That is what we must do."

Sisko stared at the Klingon for a few moments. Slowly, Commander Sisko
turned toward Commander Riker, "we cannot admit that the Federation
was behind the Lieutenant's actions."

Riker leaned forward in his chair. He said nothing as he regarded
Sisko. When he spoke it was with caution. "You bargained with the
Cardassians to save his life. Otherwise he would have gotten the death
sentence. Bargain with Starfleet. He is to be reinstated as a
Starfleet officer."

"I can't do that! That would be admitting Starfleet involvement in his
actions!"

"Better the Cardassians are left wondering about Starfleet involvement
than to have someone reveal that Jellico tricked the lieutenant into a
mission that didn't exist."

"Better for whom, Commander?"

"Better for all the junior Starfleet officers who will question every
order that comes down after it is known that a senior officer traded a
lieutenant to the Cardassians in a blackmail deal."

"And who would make such classified information public, Commander?
You?"

"The Cardassians won't question the Lieutenant's reinstatement. They
can't. They won't want the embarrassing questions that would arise
regarding who was building those bases. Starfleet can turn their
collective heads while we bring him out, but once back, the Lieutenant
gets the first promotion available to First Officer aboard a
starship."

"Impossible."

"Make it possible." Riker challenged.

Troi had been silent during the discussion. She reached over across
Sisko's desk to place a hand on his arm. "He is as dedicated an
officer as you. As far as he knew Starfleet ordered him on a suicide
mission and he went willingly. As you would have done. As any of us
would have done. He was willing to give up everything at the request
of Starfleet. He has given up everything. Return his life to him
again. Authorize a rescue."

Sisko met the Betazoid's pleading eyes. "I'm sorry, Counselor," Sisko
set his jaw and glared at Riker. "I won't do that."

Riker put an arm around the Betazoid, then bent down and whispered to
her. She nodded slightly, rose and walked out of the room. Sisko
turned his back to his officers, who offered no more protest. One by
one they rose, leaving the station Commander to himself.

A few hours later Riker sat in Quark's turning his scotch glass a
quarter turn at a time. Across from him sat Commander Worf.

"It is a clever plan." The Klingon pronounced.

"Its the best we can do without Starfleet's help and it raises the
odds to 22% without the risk of losing personnel. At least Jellico was
able to pull together that intelligence report on Gul-Gulax.
Disappointed we aren't going into the prison, guns blazing, Worf?"
Asked Riker as he watched the Klingon closely.

"I wish to retrieve the lieutenant alive." Worf said simply.

Riker took a long sip of his scotch. "Why? Why are you willing to get
kicked out of Starfleet for him?"

"Because." Worf looked away. His voice was distant when he answered.
"Because Deanna needs his freedom and he is my friend."

Riker held his glass up. "To success, my friend."

Worf smiled slightly. "To success, Commander."

Riker sat down the drink. "I wonder what he'll be like after all these
years."

"He will be as obnoxious as he always was," Worf said, then downed his
drink as Thomas's laughter filled the empty bar.

---

Four days later Riker sat at the controls of the runabout. During his
time on Deep Space Nine, he and Worf had worked non-stop to get
everything ready. Now the moment of truth was nearly at hand. Finally
over the communication channel, the word came. "Commander Riker, the
Cardassian transport ship, registry T-435 has appeared on our screens,
just as Jellico predicted."

"Excellent, Kira. Let's hope Gulak's daughter hasn't changed her
routine and is on that transport."

Riker watched the readout on his display screen with the intensity of
a hungry hunter. "Now! Worf!" a small explosion was seen in the
distance. Long range sensors showed the Cardassian vessel tumbled,
then righted itself.

"Jam their navigation controls, Deanna," Riker ordered. Just as he
planned, the Cardassian transport ship veered off course, into
Federation space and finally into the range of the viewscreen.

"Transport on my signal. Now!" Riker ordered. Time was suspended
during the wait for the report of their success.

Kira's voice came over the runabout's com link. "Excuse me Commander,
but we seem to have five, rather bewildered Cardassians that have
suddenly materialized inside a Maquis hideout."

Riker's broad smile tainted his comment, "Do they require assistance,
Major?"

"They do indeed, Sir."

"Send their coordinates and I will see if I can be of assistance,"
Riker said. So far so good.

On the viewscreen aboard Riker's runabout, Gulak's image appeared,
sputtering, saliva spitting into the air as he demanded the return of
his family.

"I see. The woman and two boys are your daughter and grandsons, then?"
Riker asked.

The Cardassian scowled at the vid link. "Yes, as if you didn't know
that already."

"Perhaps a trade would be in order then, Gulak." Riker's tone was cold
and impersonal.

The Cardassian glanced to his left as if communicating to someone not
in view. "What do you have in mind?"

"My family for yours, of course. You do have someone related to me,
don't you?"

"I have a terrorist. If you think I'm returning your brother, you are
mistaken." Gulak said. Even on the view screen Riker could see the
Cardassian's neck vein throb with anger.

"I see." Riker hit the com link cutting the communication. He grinned
when the light returned a few minutes later. "Yes? Do you wish
something else?"

"When and where?"

"Immediately. We wouldn't want your daughter to be exposed to any
unpleasantness would we?"

Gulak hesitated. "We need some time to clean him up."

"We'll clean him up." Riker interrupted. "Now or never." The
Cardassian scowled.

"Where?"

"You can beam my brother aboard this ship."

"A simultaneous transport." Gulak insisted.

"If you try to outsmart me Cardassian, I will destroy your family's
ship. And if you destroy my ship, there is a phaser canon on the
planet's surface which will destroy your daughter's vessel. Do you
understand?"

"Understood." The Cardassian turned to the side. "I have sent for him.
It will be a few moments."

Commander Riker waited. Finally Gulax turned back to the viewscreen,
"He is ready."

A short nod from Commander Riker into his viewscreen and Major Kira's
voice came over the com link. "Ready. Base - begin transport."

Commander Riker watched as Lt. Riker materialized inside the shuttle.
The Lieutenant cocked his head to one side confused, then turned
toward the Commander. The Lieutenant's dark hair was long and tied
back into a braid, Klingon style. His beard too had grown considerably
and was dotted with bits of gray. His eyes surveyed the small shuttle.
His smile broadened when he recognized Commander Riker sitting in the
pilot's seat watching him. "Hello, Thomas," he said simply.

Commander Riker nodded. "Welcome back, Will."

Will Riker broke into a wide smile. Thomas knew it well. Full of
bravado to hide the pain. "You took your time."

Thomas Riker turned in his pilot seat and entered the coordinates to
return to the Enterprise. "I got delayed a bit - happens to the best
of us."

Will Riker drew a dirty hand across his forehead, "Jellico sent me off
on his own, didn't he?"

"Yes. Unfortunately, Will, I have some bad news - this rescue wasn't
arranged or approved by Starfleet."

"Not approved hmmm? So, I'm trading one prison for another?"

Thomas turned in his pilot's seat, "Well, this time at least, you'll
have plenty of company."

Will looked at Thomas, "Why? Why did you risk your career to free me?"

"Beats the hell out of me," Thomas said with a laugh. "Time to go face
the music though. Don't expect a medal this time out."

"A medal? I'd settle for a warm bath."

"You won't get that until we reach the Enterprise. It's too risky to
return to Deep Space Nine - Sisko's never forgiven you for stealing
his ship. We are going directly to the Enterprise instead."

"Will Deanna be there?" Will asked.

"She'll rendezvous with us in an hour," Thomas said, "then we will fly
home together."


Will Riker sat in the passenger seat of the shuttle waiting for Worf
to bring Deanna. Thomas watched him intently.

Will's index finger tapped a nervous beat. His stare was a challenge
to Thomas, but his voice was disinterested. "Just how close are you
and Deanna these days?"

"Close enough." Thomas answered preferring to leave his duplicate in
the dark about his relationship with Deanna. "Why did you do it,
Will?" It was the question Thomas had wanted to ask for the past eight
years. "Why did you leave me with her? Did you want her to fall in
love with me?"

Will got up and crossed over to a wash basin. He closed his eyes,
splashing the hot water over his face, sighed with contentment at the
simple pleasure and left his hands covering his eyes. Reaching down he
scooped more water up and washed the caked dirt off his face. "She was
in love with you. I knew that. She wanted to be with you but didn't
want to leave her career, her friends on the Enterprise. You'd lost
time. I had nothing left but my career. Volunteering for the Gandhi
assignment seemed the best solution." He fell silent for a moment. "I
wanted to give her the chance for happiness I had robbed her of
before. She deserved that."

"That's the stupidest decision you've ever made. It's not what I would
have done."

Will studied Thomas as if searching for something in the blue eyes
that matched his own. Apparently not finding what he was looking for,
he shrugged and answered only, "Then perhaps we aren't so alike after
all." Will sat down again. Leaning forward in his seat, his legs apart
unconsciously reflecting Thomas's posture.

Worf's voice boomed over the com channel. "Prepare for transport of
Counselor Troi."

"Go ahead, Worf - we're ready." Thomas answered. In a few minutes
Deanna's form materialized on the shuttle. She flashed a smile first
to Thomas, then catching sight of Will, she lingered in his gaze. The
two of them stood staring at each other as if unaware of Thomas
Riker's presence. Then Will pulled her close and they kissed, clinging
to each other in silence, the tracks of their tears mingling as Thomas
knew their thoughts were now also joined.

---

Back home Thomas Riker sat at the desk he had occupied for eight long
years. Four aboard the Enterprise-D and the four aboard the E. He
looked up as the door slid open and Will walked in, casually crossing
over to look at the pictures that decorated the desktop. Following
Will's gaze to a large oil painting of Deanna Troi placed on the wall
above the desk. Thomas smiled, in contrast to Will's frown. Reaching
in a drawer of the desk, Thomas pulled out another set of photos.
"Here. I thought you might like your own set back. The Captain of the
Gandhi sent them to me after you left."

Will took the pictures gingerly as if they might crumble in his hands.
"Thanks. I figured they were lost for good." Will studied the photos,
absorbed in the images he hadn't seen for 8 years. He lingered on the
picture of he and Deanna on the beach, the wide ocean behind them. An
endless horizon full of endless opportunities. Without taking his eyes
off the photo he asked, "I don't suppose he sent the trombone along
with them?"

Thomas laughed, "Yes. And it is safe and sound. I did try to pick it
up a few times, but just didn't have the desire to start up with it
again."

"Ah, but it is great for strengthening your lips." Will replied, his
face devoid of humor.

"Yes, so I've been told."

"By Deanna?"

"Yes, by Deanna. Speaking of which you are back late. Long session
with her?" Thomas teased.

"I'm exhausted. We've just about finished the required counseling. I
can't wait until she gives me a clean bill of mental health. Couldn't
be soon enough. Reliving everything was nearly as hard as going
through it the first time."

"Well, she gave you a good incentive." Will laughed and Thomas
couldn't help but notice his brother's laughter had a cruel edge to it
these days.

"Yes," Will agreed, "complete the counseling program and then spend
two weeks with her on Betazed. Definitely a good incentive except with
Lwaxana watching our every move. I'm not sure two weeks on Guarak II
wouldn't be preferable."

"Lwaxana's not so bad. She's mellowed over the years. I'll give you
another incentive. Before we go to Betazed, I'll be ready to switch
back to being Thomas Riker."

"We?" Will's face fell into a frown. "You are going with us?"

"I thought I might if a commission doesn't open up first. Don't tell
me you don't welcome my company."

"I'm not into threesomes." Will replied crossly.

"No." Thomas fingered the edge of the frame that held the picture of
the Betazed beach. "Me either." Flashing a grin he added, "Too bad.
Would have been a nice, tidy solution. In fact," a mischievous smile
spread across his face igniting a twinkle in his eyes, "very
convenient when Deanna enters the Phase."

Will didn't take the bait. "Why didn't you two get together, Tom?"

"Deanna and me?"

Will nodded.

"We tried. It didn't work out."

Will returned to studying his set of pictures again. "I know you are
settled in here. Comfortable with everyone. You've been First Officer
on the Enterprise longer than I ever was. You can remain Will Riker if
you want."

Thomas smiled then shook his head. "I appreciate that Will, I know how
hard it is for you to make such an offer. Funny thing is, I've spent
the past eight  years thinking of myself as Thomas Riker pretending to
be Will Riker. I'm looking forward to being Thomas Riker again."

Will studied the oil portrait silently, then nodded his approval. "Who
painted the picture?"

Thomas looked up and regarding the painting for a moment, "Me."

"You? We're no good at art."

"No, Will. You spent all your time on your music, so you never
developed an interest in art. I do all right. As least as good I bet
as your screeching on that 'bone."

Will's eyes took on a distant stare. "Did she suffer badly, Tom?"

Thomas stepped backed, then turned away. "Will, there is no need for
this."

"Did she?"

"You couldn't help yourself Will. We both knew that."

Will was insistent, "Did she suffer much? I have to know."

Thomas fought to keep the edge of his anger out of his voice," I said
drop it. It's over."

"Please Tom. I can't ask her." Spinning around, Thomas spit out his
words, fueled by his anger. Did Will have to have everything spelled
out for him?  Here he was trying to protect his brother's feelings and
he insisted on dredging up old memories. "Yes, damn it! She suffered.
What do you think? She collapsed into a heap and cried out from your
pain each time, feeling it just as sharply as you did. Except she was
here. She had the choice of whether to reach out to you or to ignore
your plea. And she chose to be with you every time."

Thomas regretted his words when he saw the remorse in his brother's
eyes, "I tried, Tom." Will backed away, distancing himself from his
duplicate. His voice cracked on his broken words, "I swear I did."
Will Riker held his head in his hands. His shoulders, bent inwardly,
shook as the words rushed out, "Every time I promised myself I
wouldn't reach for her. Every time I wanted to die, I was prepared to
die, but she always reached out to me. I prayed she would fall in love
with you. Spare herself. I thought maybe that would break our link."

"I won't lie to you Will. I prayed she would fall in love with me too
and maybe she would have if you had died, but you didn't. You have no
competition for her, so calm down."

"And you accept that?"

"Accept it? No, I don't accept it, but there is nothing I can do about
it. I tried to make her forget you. Is that what you want to hear? And
I did for a time. For how long? All of about three weeks, but try as
hard as we could, the link doesn't exist for us." Thomas took a deep
breath. This was painful, but Thomas realized, necessary for Will. His
voice was gentler when we spoke this time. "Look, I haven't felt the
Imzadi link to Deanna since the transporter accident that made two of
us. I thought at times when I was alone on Nervala IV that I could
sense her, but now I believe it was wishful thinking. She can't send
to me and I can't send to her. She has no more sense of my emotions
than anyone else's on board. I am not her Imzadi - you are."

Thomas stopped, then finally found himself able to punch through his
own disappointment to help his brother. "Look. Don't blame yourself so
much for the pain you put her through. Sharing your pain made it
easier for her to bear her grief, crazy as that sounds. She craved any
contact with you. It made her  feel she was helping you, even if only
by letting you know you were not alone."

Will stood quietly without moving. "It did help."

Commander Riker's door chime sounded, "Come in." Thomas called. He
wasn't surprised to see Deanna Troi enter. Her dark eyes were focused
on Will Riker. The look in her eyes said all Thomas needed to know.

"I wondered if I could borrow the Commander for the evening?" Deanna
asked.

"Sure," Thomas winked, "Just have him back by midnight when he turns
into a pumpkin." The joke didn't provoke a response. Will and Deanna
were staring at each other as if they were a million light years from
Thomas Riker. Watching them together, Thomas recognized the look in
their eyes. How could he not? It was the same way he and Deanna had
looked at each once. A lifetime ago. Will's lifetime he realized. He
knew then what he had to do. What he should have done years ago.

---

Everything had been arranged for Commander Riker's transfer. Only one
last detail remained. Stepping into the proximity detector's range for
Deanna Troi's office, he responded to the computer's inquiry with
"Thomas Riker." The doors parted and he peered around the room without
stepping through the entrance. "Are you alone? Do you have a minute?"

She looked up, the surprise evident on her face slowly turned to
understanding. "Tom. Please... come in." She studied him for a moment,
her silence her invitation for him to begin.

He reached out, picking up the framed photo of he and his brother that
sat on her desk. He studied it silently as if he had never seen the
picture before. When he said nothing, she prompted, "What do you need
to talk about?"

She had caught him off guard with the directness of her question.
Something she often did. He had planned to start with a little small
talk, then work his way up to what was on his mind. He ditched the
plan. He would tell her the truth. It was always the wisest choice
when dealing with an empath. Especially this empath.

Thomas scratched his beard, then slowly ran his fingers along his jaw.
He tried to fill the awkward break in their conversation, "I switched
places with Will."

"Yes, he told me - still First Officer though." Deanna smiled as she
pronounced the rank he had held in the guise of another for eight
years.

Thomas instinctively reached up to touch the third pip that decorated
his collar. "Starfleet approved Will and I changing back. Jellico's
confession helped convince Starfleet to approve reinstatement despite
the unapproved rescue. Actually, Picard thinks they are grateful we
did it." Silence permeated the office of Counselor Deanna Troi. He
waited for her to respond. It was a long wait.

Troi stood up from her desk, took his hand and pulled him gently over
to the couch. He sank into the deep cushions next to her. She leaned
her head against his shoulder, her hands wrapped around his arm, "When
do you leave?"

Thomas closed his eyes, wanting to freeze the moment forever. He swung
his arm over her shoulders and held her close. "Tonight. In three
hours. Turns out my assignment, the U.S.S. Rwanik, was in space dock a
few light-years away when my orders were issued."

"A ship of Betazoids? That should prove a...challenge."

"I wish," he held her a little tighter. He knew what he wanted to tell
her. He wanted to tell her he wished her bond had been with him. He
didn't. Instead he took a deep breath and lied. He knew she would
notice but she wouldn't call him on it this time. "I wish you and Will
all the best."

Deanna closed her eyes and nodded. "It will be all right, Tom. You'll
find another to love. Maybe someone on the Rwanik."

Thomas Riker reached up to hold Deanna's hair one last time. He
brought the soft curls to his lips then whispered, "Maybe, but no one
will ever touch my soul the way my first love did."

---

"Come." Deanna answered to the door chime of her office. She looked up
to see Beverly Crusher peeking in, surveying the room.

"I dropped by to see how Lt. Riker is doing."

Deanna rolled her eyes skyward, "He's made a great deal of progress,
but its hard, Bev."

"Still wish you could avoid being his counselor?" Deanna watched Bev
approach the couch and take her usual seat.

"I still worry that my personal involvement with him could make things
worse." Deanna closed her eyes for a moment as if lost in thought,
then continued, "I'm afraid that the unresolved aspects of our
relationship could escalate his trauma rather than help him deal with
what happened during his captivity."

Beverly waited patiently. When Deanna didn't continue, the Doctor
prompted her. "Deanna, you know there was no counselor on Deep Space
Nine trained in torture recovery."

Troi rose from her chair and began putting PADDs away in a cabinet.
"Yes, I know. I just wish I could have found a psychologist somewhere
in this part of deep space that could have helped him. Then I could be
a friend rather than counselor to him."

"Well, after your experience treating Jean-Luc after his captivity
with Gul-Madred, I think you would have been the most experienced
counselor no matter who you could have found. Will is lucky to have
you as his doctor."

At first Deanna had thought Bev had made a slip of the tongue, but she
couldn't deny what her empathic sense was telling her. Crusher was
emitting a strong sense of anticipation. Setting the PADD in her hand
down on the smooth desktop, Troi asked, "You knew?"

"About the switch? Yes, I knew."

"How long?"

"Since Thomas's first physical. I was their personal doctor after all.
I had originally done the brain scans on the two of them." Crusher
rose. "I never let on to Thomas I knew though."

"You never told me you knew either." Deanna dropped her head, avoiding
Crusher's sympathetic look. "I feel like a fool now for not confessing
to you earlier."

"We were neither one in a position to discuss what had happened."
Beverly sighed and shook her head, "It's funny, the two of them are so
much alike in so many ways, there are times I thought you might end up
with Thomas after all."

Deanna smiled, then looking at Beverly she said, "Yes, they are alike
in many ways."

---

"You are doing quite well." Deanna began.

"And so we are done?" Will asked. He sat up from his prone position on
the couch, waiting as Deanna sat down next to him. Seizing the
initiative, he slipped his hand onto the top of her thigh.

Taking his hand and moving it back to his lap she said, "You know the
rules, Lieutenant."

"Commander to you, Counselor."

"Not until your counseling is through - Lieutenant."

"You are the one torturing me now, Deanna." It was said as a joke and
Deanna took it that way, resisting the impulse to remind him that her
insistence that they keep their relationship platonic until after his
full recovery was wearing on her as well. Will ran his hand through
her hair, then slowly slid the back of his hand against her cheek in a
gentle caress. "Deanna, when did you know I had switched places with
Tom?"

"I knew before you had left the Enterprise."

"And yet you said nothing?"

"What was there to say if you wanted to leave me?"

Will reached out, taking her hand in his. "I didn't want to leave. I
knew you had...," Will hesitated as if choosing his words carefully,
"...been with him. I thought I was doing what would make you happy."

"I know." Deanna stroked the hair on the top of his hand, then placed
his hand back on the couch as she frowned and studied him. "Will? What
is it you haven't told me?"

"Haven't told you?"

"I can feel you hiding something. There is something that you haven't
told me. Something that happened when Merk was torturing you."

"Deanna." Will hesitated. "I'm..." he swallowed hard as he apparently
composed himself, "I can't."

"We can't finish your treatments until you talk about it."

"Deanna..."

"Okay, I'll bring in another counselor. It's what I should have done
originally."

"No." Chewing on his lip, Will rose from the couch and began to pace
the length of Deanna's office. "I don't know. No."

Seeing how agitated he was getting, Deanna knew she was on to the last
issue he had to work out, "Okay, then you'll have to go to Starbase
411 and work with Counselor Lerk."

"Deanna! We're supposed to go to Betazed together."

"Will, I can't approve your resuming command until you resolve this.
We will go to Betazed after your treatments at 411." Deanna had hoped
that the threat of delaying the Betazed trip would have pushed him to
confide in her what had happened. Apparently though what had happened
that was so terrible he couldn't discuss it. After the excruciating
detail he had provided of the numerous tortures he had undergone, she
couldn't imagine what he now kept to himself. "I'll tell you what.
I'll go with you to 411. I won't be involved in your treatment, but
you are allowed family visits and under Betazoid law, Imzadis are
family. I'm sure I can get Trex Lerk to make an exception for you. He
is an old friend of my mother's." The wave of guilt that poured from
Will hit the Counselor like a shock wave. Grasping the edge of her
chair, she felt nauseous from the attack, then slowly she realized she
was close to the breakthrough she had been seeking. "Will? What is
wrong?"

Riker rose as if to go. "Nothing, I'm tired. Maybe we can continue
this tomorrow."

She knew now she had to press onward. "Family. That is it, isn't it?
Why does the idea of family scare you so?" Deanna's mind was racing as
she tried to make the mental leap from the emotional response to the
words that produced the emotions. At times like these her frustration
peaked over her lack of telepathy. "No, it doesn't scare you." It
wasn't fear she had felt - it was overwhelming feelings of guilt.
"Will, did you have a family on Cardassia?" The concept was
preposterous and yet it was the only explanation for his reaction.

"Deanna, leave it." His panic was strong. Panic and outrage at the
discovery. She had stumbled on the source of his great unspoken pain.
"No, you have to talk to me about this, Will. Look at me."

Reaching for him, she guided his face toward her. Her voice was soft,
soothing, encouraging, "you can tell me. I will understand. There was
another woman. Tell me about her."

"There wasn't another woman. It...," Riker stopped unable to continue.
Deanna felt the fear, fear for her. She studied him, slowly slipping
the pieces of the puzzle into place, the emotional response, the
words, his actions, it all fit neatly together.

"Me. It was me. How?" Will stood up, looking longingly at the door.

"How, Will? Tell me." His hand was still linked in hers and she
refused to let go. She pulled him back and he didn't resist, but sank
back onto the couch in defeat.

Dropping his head in his hands, he admitted softly, "A clone. A clone
that produced a son."

"But clones are sterile."

"I know, but she was pregnant."

"Where are they now?"

"Dead. Murdered by Gul-Merk." Once Deanna had drilled a hole through
the wall of his guilt, Will's words tumbled out in a rush that left
Deanna desperately struggling to keep up with his story. He left
nothing out. He described the clone's childish innocence, her
inability to comprehend or refusal to acknowledge the desperation of
their situation. He described the loneliness of the night that led to
the conception of the child and his fear when he learned of the
existence of the child. Finally, he described the details of their
death. Deanna could sense his guilt at the child's death and the
violence of his emotions. Spent, exhausted by the relief of having
unloaded the burden of the guilt he had carried so long, he collapsed
back against the soft embrace of the couch. "Clones can't have
children." Will repeated as if to himself.

She wasn't used to being this close to him. The strength of his
emotions overwhelmed her. She could feel his loss. Recognize the pain.
The same pain she had borne at the death of Ian Troi. Understanding
came.

He looked up at her. "It was our child, wasn't it?" he asked.

"It might have been."

"How?"

"I was at a Ferengi Trade Conference. I had asked Tom to check
something with Data and he left the room. I began to feel sick. I
thought it must be because you were being tortured again. I stumbled
out of the conference center and collapsed in the hall. When I awoke,
there was a Cardassian soldier standing over me. Admiral Jellico and
Tom arrived just as I awoke and Tom took me back to the Enterprise
where Beverly confirmed that there had been," she stopped as she tried
to find the best words to use.

"What?"

"A medical procedure performed."

"What kind of medical procedure?"

"Some sort of gynecological procedure. We weren't sure what or the
motivation behind it. We suspected the Cardassians but we had no
proof."

"Why? To produce a child from the two of us?" Will doubled over
resting his head in his hand as he struggled to understand. He looked
back up at her. "Seems a bit farfetched, Deanna."

"True, but,...Cardassians have a history of genocide towards an
enemy's family. Killing the son of an enemy holds great meaning for
them."

"Clones are sterile." Will repeated aloud. He stood and resumed his
pacing of the office.

"Of course it could have been any couple's child placed within the
clone," Deanna countered from her seat on the couch.

He stopped and faced her for several long minutes. His voice was
subdued, carrying the realization that had descended. "But it wasn't,
was it?"

Deanna shrugged off the questions, "I don't know. We will never know."

"I knew," Will returned to sit beside her. "When they killed the clone
I had no doubt he was our son. I remember now. That was why I had to
survive. So you'd know..." Riker ran his hand over his mustache,
hesitated and then added, "I felt like you were there with me somehow,
that you knew."

"Maybe. It must have been the time I was hospitalized. I thought you
had died. I could feel you wanted to die and then - I collapsed. When
I woke I knew you were alive."

Deanna understood that Will was still entangled in his memories inside
the Cardassian prison, "To never have the memories of him."

"We have the memories, Will, no matter how painful."

"Such a waste. All those years, Deanna, such a waste."

"Those years don't have to be a waste. We both learned from them.
Grew."

Will reached up and fingered the Starfleet emblem that comprised his
communicator. "I love you." Their eyes locked for a moment. "If you
don't want me..."

"I want you, Imzadi."

"What happens now?"

"Now," Deanna patted the place beside her where he had been sitting,
"we close that chapter of our lives and move on to begin a new one -
together."

Will's breath came in labored spurts as he sat down. He leaned forward
then stopped inches from her mouth, "Can we start now?"

Deanna smiled in answer, "Yes, we can start now." As Will's lips
pressed tenderly against Deanna's own, she clung to him tightly,
embracing within her grasp all that had eluded her for so long.

---

The End