Betazed, winding down the day.

[capt_will_riker]

::carefully dumps heavily marinated replicated chicken into pan, adding another sprinking of replicated oregano for merit

Comments

[dee_troi]

::...Imzadi?...::

::caught up in basking at the feel of home...heavy, sweet air, thick, dewy grass under bare feet...literally jumps at the sudden, heart-felt summons radiating within mind::

::inhales and exhales just as swiftly, fingers closing more tightly around the cuffs of shunned boots::

::lifts head, eyes searching out the square of warm light nearly hidden by thick garden foliage::

::doesn't bother raising voice...on Betazed, breezes carry, and he has quite an ear for even her whispers::

I'm here, Will.

[capt_will_riker]

::realeases a breath wouldn't admit to holding if pressed, dropping spatula on counter and heading for cracked door at near gallop::

::breezes right through, letting the flimsy barricade...Betazoids are still too trusting...fly back against outside wall::

::approaches target with a twinkle and cough, folding arms around her slender figure and lifting::

You're late again, Mrs. Riker.

[dee_troi]

::laughs a little into the soft material of a well-worn shirt, grabbing fistfuls for leverage as bear hug shows no sign of ending::

::lifts face, nuzzling::

::wrinkles face at prickle::

You're itchy again, Mr. Troi.

[capt_will_riker]

::harrumps, rubbing jaw against a soft cheek just a bit harder as punishment::

I had to find some way to repel my admirers. Betazoid women are fiends, you know.

[dee_troi]

::releases grip on shirt with one hand, using it to slap against his chest instead::

Really. I suppose it's a good thing I'm back to protect you, then.

::rubs a foot against husband's leg as he gradually loosens hug, before planting both firmly back on ground::

[capt_will_riker]

::grins, sweeping arm out and waiting for her to move along inside::

::carefully examines from behind...messily piled hair, slightly slumped shoulders...the usual cause for worry, these days::

::tries to keep tones light, inscrutable::

And for how long this time, Counselor?

[dee_troi]

::casts a sharp look back over shoulder, immediately speared by a pang of guilt...whether entirely innocent or not, the question was perfectly valid, and certainly not meant as a jibe::

::forces tension out of stance and face, plastering on a smile...one hopefully believable::

::still, shuts eyes, attempting to shove away ache in head::

::maneuvers inside and around the heavy, ornate table and counters with ingrained grace, finding a chair and settling down::

Well, I should be able to field all of my Pathfinder related duties from here for another few months...barring any unexpected developments in Voyager's situation, I am essentially on standby, as usual.

[capt_will_riker]

::nods::

I wouldn't take it as a knock against your skill. They seem to be a self-sufficient lot, which isn't surprising, all things considered.

[dee_troi]

Or are they simply in denial?

::considers own question as it hangs, frowning a little at self...maybe it's simply ego complaining...who could blame Voyager's crew for hoarding their comm time?::

::the understanding mask of a counselor is no substitute for the face of a loved one...patients seem to realize that much all too well::

[capt_will_riker]

::studies her for another long moment, before resisting the urge to offer hollow comfort, turning back to the oven instead::

::warm food is always a start::

::chooses not to answer what was most likely a rheotorical question to begin with, offering one of own instead::

You said you could handle your Pathfinder duties from here. Has Starfleet given you more?

If so, it sounds like they think you might be under-utilized as well.

[dee_troi]

::raises a brow at his back, recognizing the thorough bastardization of one of own techniques::

::plays along, to be kind::

That isn't saying much, though, is it? Everyone is under-utilized in Starfleet these days, between the Borg losses and stress-induced attrition...

[capt_will_riker]

::wonders briefly how pointed that last part was, before grabbing two of the plates nearby::

::carefully portions, considering next words::

Deanna, we both know it isn't a question of worth. You happen to be one of Starfleet's top-ranked and most experienced officers...and your value isn't limited to your counseling.

I do, however, admit a little curiosity as to why they've decided they need you so much again now.

The war is over, things are slowly but surely edging back toward normalcy...

[dee_troi]

::watches him stride across room, depositing plates before making a return trip for drinks::

::slides own food closer, waiting for companion to take seat before continuing conversation::

I think that's why they want me, Will. I've done what I can as a medical professional...the people willing to accept help have already been brought in, and most are moving past the need now.

But there's still a need for diplomacy...perhaps now more than ever.

[capt_will_riker]

::swirls a piece of meat...only half-cooked, dammit...around on plate, avoiding eye contact::

::her tone is pleading enough::

If they want you to do diplomatic work, that's fine. If you want to do diplomatic work, that's fine. Anything to make you happy again...

::shuts mouth, wary as always of crossing that thinly drawn line...love her, cherish her, just don't pity her::

Council elections are coming up soon.

[dee_troi]

::laughs, perhaps a tinge too bitterly::

A mere empath taking a Council seat? Really, Will. I somehow don't think people see it a good time for such radical reform.

::reaches out across table, closing hands around his and squeezing::

I don't want to be on the Council.

::twists head, breaking shared gaze to search out view from the window...the evening stars::

I miss being out there.

[capt_will_riker]

::resists following suit, eyes firmly locked on the tense, half-shadowed jaw of companion::

We decided to settle here because you wanted to be closer to home, Deanna. I'm not blaming you, but I would like to know what's changed...