Imzadi Forever

  She had to detach herself. Had to separate, had to be alone with herself…

  “May I join you?”

  She turned in her seat and looked up at Worf standing behind her. “You should not,” he continued, “be seated in that fashion.”

  “What fashion?”

  “With your back to the door. It is wise to have a clear view of the door at all times, in the event that there is an unexpected threat.”

  “You’ll protect me, Worf,” she said with exaggerated breathlessness, as if she were the heroine of some romantic melodrama.

  Worf didn’t so much as crack a smile. “Of course I will,” he said matter-of-factly. He stepped around to the other side of the table and sat down opposite her.

  “How is Alexander?”

  “He is resting comfortably. I am appreciative of the aid that you extended to him. I shall not forget it.”

  “It was nothing.”

  “No…it was most definitely something.” He leaned forward, his scowl deepening. “There is a matter I need to discuss with you.”

  She quickly discerned that it was something of a very grave nature. One didn’t need to be an empath to figure it out; his overall demeanor was more than enough to signal to her that there were very dire matters waiting to be discussed. Was there more to Alexander’s condition than Worf had been willing to admit? Or was there some political crisis with the Klingons that would need to be attended to? “What is it, Worf?” she asked worriedly.

  “It has to do with…an arrangement.”

  “An arrangement?” She was lost. “You mean, like…a flower arrangement?”

  “No. An arrangement having to do with us.”

  “Oh.” She was no closer to understanding what he was talking about than she had been when he first sat down. “What did you have in mind?”

  “It has to do with life and war.”

  “It does?” Her eyebrows were so high in puzzlement that they were bumping up against her hairline. “Does this have to do with a last will?”

  “No…not that at all. Deanna…” He interlaced his fingers, and the depth of his glowering was Deanna’s tip-off that he was thinking extremely hard. “…life is very much like a war. It has to be approached with planning and strategy. You have to anticipate that which may be thrown into your path, make optimum use of your resources and…most importantly…you must have solid allies and a firm army at your back.”

  “All right,” she said slowly. “I’m with you so far. I don’t especially pretend to understand where this is going, but I’m with you.”

  “I consider you a most valuable ally. You…you anticipate my concerns. You understand my strategies. You support me…even if you feel that my plans are wrongheaded or inappropriate. But you are not afraid to let your sentiments be known if you feel that I am acting in a counterproductive manner. I do not intimidate you.”

  “It takes all my self-control,” Deanna said. “Normally one look of disapproval from you makes me weak at the knees and I just want to crawl under a chair and expire.”

  For a moment he was rather pleased to hear it, but then he said after due consideration, “You were being ironic.”

  “Actually it was more like sarcastic, but ironic is close enough.”

  She laughed softly, and he noted that her shoulders shook slightly as she did so. He realized that even the most casual movement of her body seemed like poetry to him.

  “Worf”—and she placed a slender hand on his—“what is this about?”

  “Alexander likes you.”

  “I like him, too,” she said. “He doesn’t have it easy. He’s trying to stride two cultures, and I know from personal experience how difficult that can be. You should be proud of him.”

  “I am. And I believe that you have been a very positive influence on him. You listen to him.”

  “So do you.”

  Worf shook his head. “Not always. Not at first, certainly. You taught me how. You taught me to realize when he was not saying what was on his mind, rather than accepting his words at face value. You taught me to probe. And even now…it takes me tremendous effort to listen patiently to the boy. Frequently I find myself frustrated. But you do it so effortlessly. He knows that. I believe that is part of why he feels so affectionately toward you.”

  “As I do with him. And with his father,” she added.

  “Indeed. And how his father…that is to say, how I…feel about you.” He growled angrily to himself. “I am doing this very badly.”

  “Doing what? We’re having a very nice conversation about feelings. I know that’s not necessarily the thing you’re most comfortable discussing, but I’m proud of you for the effort. It’s sincerely made.”

  “It is not simply a matter of discussing things. It is…”

  “War?” she prompted.

  “Yes. That is right. And I would like to…” He searched for the right words. “I wish to formalize our alliance.”

  She stared at him for a long moment, completely clueless as to what he could possibly be talking about. And then it hit her like a ten-ton anvil. Her eyes went wide, her jaw slack. “Worf, are you…are you asking me to…?”

  “If you laugh…” Worf cautioned her.

  “No! No, I…I wouldn’t think of laughing! I’m…I just, I don’t know what to say….”

  “The preferred response to a marriage proposal is ‘Yes.’ ”

  She sat back in her seat as if rocked. “A marriage proposal. Worf, I…I won’t lie to you. I never could lie to you, really. I love you, you know that, and I think you love me….”

  “Yes.” He didn’t sound particularly loving. It was more matter-of-fact. But it was enough that he’d said it.

  “Still, for all that…Worf…may I ask what prompted this?”

  “More self-examination?”

  “If you hope to be married to me, you’d better get used to it.”

  “A valid point.” He still had one hand tightly wrapped in hers. The other he drummed thoughtfully on the table. “I have been observing families…seen what they have to offer one another. Mother, father, child…I consider it a reasonable and intelligent situation. Not the only viable one, but it may very well be the ideal one. We complement each other well, Deanna. We function well as a team. And Alexander deserves…” He took a deep breath. “…he deserves better than for me to be his sole influence.”

  “Oh, Worf…don’t sell yourself short….”

  “I do not. In fact, quite the opposite. I have a rather high opinion of my abilities as an officer and as an individual. I have my failings, Deanna, but false modesty is not one of them.”

  “Yes, so I’ve noticed.”

  “More sarcasm. It does not suit you.”

  “Sorry.” She kept her lips pursed and a determinedly serious expression on her face.

  “It is my opinion that whatever qualities I have are due to the exposure I had to a multiplicity of backgrounds. The galaxy is too small for isolationism. The more Alexander knows, the better he will be able to serve others and himself. And I…”

  “Yes? What about you? Thus far we’ve spoken almost entirely about Alexander. What about you, Worf?”

  “I…do not wish to be without you. Deanna,” he said, looking her levelly in the eyes, “I know that I am not exactly the sort of mate that the average Betazoid dreams of. Has nightmares of, perhaps, but does not dream of. But I am stronger with you than without you, and I would like to think you feel the same way about me.”

  “I do feel that way, Worf. But it’s such a major commitment…and everything is so much in flux right now…”

  “Precisely my point. At a time when matters are in flux, that is the moment when security should be grabbed. A security that we can offer one another…and, together, offer Alexander.”

  “I…”

  “I do not need an immediate answer,” Worf told her, “but it would be preferable. For I know that an answer given now would be one given by your heart…and I would find that much
easier to accept, no matter what the answer was, than one that required overintellectualization.”

  What he said struck a chord. She remembered when she had first met Will Riker, years ago, and how he had accused her at the time of overanalyzing things to death. Of being incapable of acting on impulse or with emotion, which was peculiar considering that she was someone who was supposed to understand emotion so thoroughly….

  Riker.

  My God, she thought, I’m in the middle of a marriage proposal…and I’m still thinking about Will.

  This was madness. All the time that they had spent together on the Enterprise, all the back-and-forth, and the suggestions, and the one step forward, two step back…all of it, really, amounted to nothing except pleasant memories of a relationship that had long ago cooled. Yet she realized, with startling clarity, that she was still holding on to it in some measure, deep down, for one of the simplest and most obvious of reasons:

  Imzadi.

  They were Imzadi.

  They were Imzadi, and they were supposed to be together.

  But life, as an Earth musician had said several centuries earlier, was what happened to you while you were making other plans. Life for Riker and Troi had taken them in other directions, and although there had been some dalliances and some rekindling here and there, the fire had never been fanned once more into full blaze.

  With Worf, though, love burned very hot indeed. Worf did nothing in half measures, and although he had obvious trouble discussing things such as feelings, he nonetheless loved her with the type of all-consuming passion that she had once thought Riker felt for her, and she for him. The very thought of it made her heart pound, made her realize just how much she was missing.

  And he was right. They were about to be cut adrift. Who knew where Starfleet would send them? Who knew if they would be reunited or sent in different directions? Requests could be put in, strings could be pulled, but in the final analysis no one knew anything for sure. Deanna had felt as if everything was slipping through her fingers, and here was an opportunity being given her to have something permanent, something real.

  It’s crazy, an inner voice cautioned her. Marry for the right reasons, not because you’re scared of being alone.

  But she was not afraid of solitude, of that she was quite positive. Being on her own, being alone with her thoughts…these were not things that held any trepidation for Deanna Troi. She was an independent, secure, self-sufficient woman. She had nothing to prove.

  Why marry Worf?

  She loved him, and he loved her. And she loved Alexander, too, or at least was reasonably sure she did. They had good chemistry, he was dependable and brave and would willingly lay down his life for her, although heaven forbid it would ever come to that; it was simply an indicator of the depth of his feelings for her. From a purely social growth point of view, he was an up-and-coming officer in Starfleet. They would be able to be assigned to the same ship.

  Why not marry Worf?

  It might still be too soon, the relationship too young.

  But she had known him for so long. He wasn’t a stranger. He wasn’t…

  Imzadi…

  The word came unbidden to her once more, and with almost physical effort she pushed it away.

  “Yes.” She didn’t say it so much as blurt it out, and a look of surprise crossed her face.

  “Did…did you say, ‘Yes’?” Worf asked, leaning forward and tilting his head slightly as if he needed to hear her better.

  “I…I did, yes.” Now that she had made the reply, she instantly felt as if a weight had been lifted from her. “Yes. Yes, Worf…I will marry you….”

  Worf leaped to his feet, slapping the table with enthusiasm, and shouting, “Yes! She said yes! We are engaged!”

  And that was when Worf saw Commander Riker.

  Riker was at a table halfway across the room. He was half standing, clearly in the act of rising from the table at which Geordi La Forge was also sitting. And he had frozen in position, his face completely inscrutable.

  It was at that moment that Worf abruptly realized, at the most rudimentary of levels, that his engagement might well be the most short-lived on record.

  As La Forge and Riker approached the Ten-Forward, Geordi could tell that something seemed to be preying on the first officer’s mind. Geordi wasn’t exactly sure whether it was his place to broach the observation. He fully respected William Riker as an officer and as a man, and he certainly didn’t mind sitting down at one of their frequent poker games with the usual suspects. But he had never exactly been, well, “pals” with Riker. Shipmates, colleagues, yes. But they’d never really been all that tight.

  Under most circumstances, Riker was a curious mixture of outgoing and conservative. He never lost sight of the responsibilities that his position entailed, but there was a clear devilish streak in him that always seemed to be hovering just below the surface. Geordi wasn’t detecting any of that, however. Instead there seemed an air of near melancholy hanging over him. As they walked down the corridor of the Farragut, they’d pass assorted displaced Enterprise crewmen, and even individuals who had served with Riker in the past. In all instances, Riker would nod or say a few polite words. He unfailingly acknowledged everyone’s presence. But his heart and his mind didn’t seem truly engaged, even as he made small talk with all and sundry.

  Finally, Geordi said, “It really wasn’t your fault, Commander.”

  “Hmm?” Riker seemed to be in a world of his own. With effort he focused on Geordi. “What? Oh. The Enterprise, yes, well…I suppose you’re right. I’ll probably be replaying everything in my mind for years to come, but hopefully I’ll come to that conclusion, sooner or later.”

  “Better sooner than later.” He paused. “That’s not it, though, is it?”

  “What ‘it’ are you referring to, Geordi?”

  “Look, I hope I’m not being out of line here…but you seem as if you’ve got a couple of iron weights tied to your shoulders.”

  “I’m just busy trying to plan for the future, Geordi, that’s all. There’s going to be a lot to deal with in terms of the crashed vessel…the reassignments…it’s going to be difficult not looking at your face every day in engineering. Or the poker games where I could easily make a week’s pay in just a few hours. That’s a lot of loss to cope with.”

  When he had spoken, it was with a bit of the old pop and semi-teasing in his voice, but it seemed more of an effort than usual. Geordi wasn’t at all sure what to make of it all.

  They reached the doors to Ten-Forward and Riker gestured for Geordi to go in first. Geordi nodded appreciatively and preceded Riker in. There was a table to one side that a couple of crewmen were just leaving, so Geordi promptly claimed it and Riker sat down across from him, straddling the chair as was his custom. He held up two fingers to the bartender, and very shortly two glasses of synthehol found their way to the table.

  “Oh!” Geordi said, pointing across the way. “There’s Worf and Counselor Troi. They seem to be looking pretty cozy.”

  Riker turned around in his seat to glance in their direction. Worf was speaking and Deanna was leaning forward, completely involved in what Worf was saying, whatever that might have been.

  Geordi, however, wasn’t paying attention so much to Troi and Worf as he was to Riker. He tilted his head slightly, like a curious canine, and then slowly he let out a long, drawn-out “Ohhhhh. I get it now.”

  “You get it?”

  “Yes, sir, I do.”

  “Well, good for you, Mr. La Forge,” Riker said with affable confusion. “Now would you mind cluing me in as well?”

  “I shouldn’t have to. You’re the one who gave it to me.”

  “Gave what to you?” Riker shook his head in frustration. “Geordi, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Oh really. That’s odd. You’re the one whose respiration and heartbeat both jumped the moment you saw Worf and Counselor Troi together.” He tapped the VISOR sagely. “You can fool me
, Commander, and maybe you can even fool yourself…but you can’t fool this.”

  Riker interlaced his fingers and leaned forward. He was the picture of controlled calm, at least to anyone who wasn’t possessed of a VISOR that was practically capable of dissecting him at a molecular level. “If my heart goes pit-a-pat when I see Deanna and Worf together, Mr. La Forge, it’s only because I am so pleased to see Deanna having some much-deserved happiness.”

  Instantly Geordi knew that Riker was lying through his teeth. His VISOR wasn’t always one-hundred-percent dependable when serving as a lie detector, and when it came to encountering people for the first time who might be trying to hide something, Geordi’s abilities as a truth barometer were sorely lacking. But when it came to people he knew extremely well, Geordi could make assessment of veracity that bordered on supernatural accuracy. In this instance, the abrupt jump in Riker’s body readings was so clear to La Forge that it was the equivalent of a sighted man watching the words “I’m lying” appear in blazing letters on Riker’s forehead.

  But Geordi didn’t exactly feel comfortable about confronting Riker with absolute knowledge of Riker’s prevarication, and so he mustered his formidable poker face and said, “All right, Commander. That’s nice to hear.”

  Riker kept a level gaze for a long moment, and then slowly he sighed. “Is it that obvious?” he asked after a time.

  Inwardly, Geordi was relieved at Riker’s response. He had certainly not wanted to offend Riker…or, even worse, cause him personal upset over stirring up matters that were painful to him. “Not to most folks,” Geordi replied. “But I’m not most folks.”

  “No, Mr. La Forge, I dare say you’re not.” Riker looked over his shoulder at Troi and Worf, and then pointedly made an effort to look anywhere else.

  Geordi leaned forward and lowered his voice, as if he were concerned that people might be eavesdropping. No one was, of course, but somehow it was the sort of conversation that lent itself to quiet discourse. “But I don’t get it, sir. I thought you had given your blessing to their getting involved.”