The BLTS Archive- Kerzoinky Blue: The Female of the Species by LoriP. (zakhad.ficsite@gmail.com) --- "Wild Women Do" is from the Pretty Woman Soundtrack, and originally sung by Natalie Cole. "Some Days You Gotta Dance" is the Dixie Chicks. I have no idea who is responsible for the blond joke -- I heard it third-hand via a fax machine. --- Shehady made her way down the street from the medical center. She'd looked forward to returning home to Betazed for the conference, but even after two days, she hadn't made the adjustment to the slightly-longer days and nights. It would be dinner time aboard the *Rampage* - her stomach told her as much, and had been telling her for the past hour. She wished Will had been able to come along, but with the Federation on edge about the secession of Vulcan and the fallout from it, his ship had been stationed along the established corridor of space through which Romulan and Vulcan vessels were traveling. At the moment, traffic in that corridor was minimal. More activity was expected, however, and Starfleet wanted to be ready for anything. Shehady reached the hotel and rode the lift up to her room, and collapsed on the bed. No message light on the console on the desk. She pressed her cheek into the rippled green fabric of the bedcovers and sighed. Accepting the post on the *Rampage* then making it permanent had displeased her parents, but it had given her the desired result - room to grow, taking her beyond the walls of the medical centers on Betazed. And it had brought her to Will Riker, which also displeased her parents. That she'd refused to go through with the arranged marriage her mother had planned since her childhood had come as no surprise to anyone, but Rwana Kimmel's daughter was expected to adhere to certain standards. Starship captains lived dangerous lives. While even Betazed's peaceful climes were subject to a certain degree of danger these days, it was a great deal safer to start a family in Janara or Kwaria than on any Fleet vessel. Shehady knew she'd have to take an afternoon to visit her parents, but wasn't really looking forward to it. She could picture the skeptical looks from her brother and sister already. Starfleet was a phase Shehady was going through, according to their mother. It wouldn't last. The trouble was, though she might cut her tour of duty short, she knew that if her relationship with Will continued as it had been, she'd probably be following him around the galaxy for the rest of her life. That wouldn't sit well with her mother, either. The computer beeped politely. She sat up and stared at it, then let the caller leave a message, which she retrieved a few minutes later. A colleague wanting a dinner date. She went to wash her face, then left her room. Winter was almost there; she could feel the cool tingle in the air. More conference-goers flooded the street. She headed south, away from the crowds, into the less-traveled part of the city. Not that she didn't like her fellow doctors, but she didn't feel much like company. She returned from her walkabout of downtown Janara just before sunset, with a full stomach and the intention of reviewing her notes for her presentation the following day, but the sight of a familiar face stopped her just short of the hotel steps. Damned if he hadn't somehow managed some leave. She grinned and gave in to the urge to greet him with the full measure of the enthusiasm she felt. He looked a little startled at her sudden rush into his arms and her kiss, but responded eagerly enough. "It's so good to see you," she murmured, running her hand down the back of his neck. Then she knit her eyebrows. "How did you manage to pull off leave?" "I'm just gifted that way, I guess." She backed a step and looked at him. Something wasn't right about this. He looked the same, sounded the same, but his manner was different. "Is there something wrong? You seem a little distant." "There you are!" At the woman's voice, Will turned, and Shehady stared at the approaching pair of shapely legs in sheer stockings, topped by a band of black pretending to be a skirt and a tight low-cut vest with no apparent underthings beneath it. She was Bajoran, complete with ridged nose and earring. She regarded Shehady with a cool disdain, stopping just out of arm's reach and putting a hand on her hip. Shehady looked at Will's impassive face for a few seconds. "Something different," she blurted angrily, tears gathering in her eyes, then ran into the hotel. --- It had to be a mistake. Will Riker roamed the streets of Janara, padd in hand, putting out of his mind the words of warning his officers had spoken when he'd left the *Rampage* in the little-used captain's yacht and struck out for Betazed. It had to be a mistake - he couldn't bear to think of it as anything else. Shehady's parents had turned him away from their door, without a word, and had called the local constabulary when he stood too long on their doorstep begging for their help in finding her. They refused to answer their comm unit. He suspected Shehady was staying with them, but it was obvious they were protecting her. All he could do was keep trying. He inquired at the conference facility, but the conference had ended and they were no help. He inquired at the hotel, but she'd checked out. The medical center staff had disavowed any knowledge of her whereabouts, but something about their vaguely-accusing eyes made him wonder if they weren't hiding the truth from him. She'd mentioned friends, but usually only by first name; they'd intended to come to Betazed in a few months, so she could make introductions and they could spend a little time exploring together. He hoped that she'd stayed close to family, at least, and with that in mind he took her picture into shop after shop, into restaurants and bars and any other public place, asking the question over and over. Have you seen this woman, Shehady Kimmel? He stopped at nightfall, exhausted, and returned to the small space port on the outskirts of town. Rather than hole up in the yacht, he stopped in the restaurant and brooded over a plate of food he didn't care about, drinking Aldebaran ale until the other patrons appeared to be underwater and shadowed by a blurry double of themselves. Shehady's resignation had crossed his desk along with a handful of other communiques and he'd almost choked on his coffee at the sight of her name on the standard form. None of the other messages were from her. He'd waited a full day, spent the time trying to focus on work and enduring the continued repetition of the same question from each crew member he met -- 'are you all right, sir?' He'd waited, and awakened the following morning to a lonely bed and a lonelier soul. Four hours later, he'd turned over the bridge to Data. The android had stared at him for a few seconds and acquiesced. He was learning, at long last, how to read human facial expressions. "Why do you keep disappearing like that? I've looked all over - what's with the uniform?" He looked up at the woman. No one he knew, and she looked angry. Bajoran. She slipped into the booth opposite him. "You haven't had enough time to get this drunk. You been sneaking it, hmm? Do I make you that crazy?" "What're'y talking about," Will slurred defensively. "Oh, great. This is almost as good as when that woman ran up and planted one on you. Got any other personality aberrations you want to explain away with that wild tale about transporter accidents and inadvertent twinning? I suppose this incarnation of you is the alcoholic Thomas Riker. What do you have in store for me next week, the Bolian Thomas Riker?" Will blinked and tried to see her more clearly. Rage pierced his sluggish half-drunk haze. "Where is Tom?" The woman stared at him. "Don't you try this with me," she said, voice low and dangerous. "You try this and I'm on the next available transport off this boring planet. I can't imagine what you see in this place. I only came along because you wanted to see it again, gods know why, and that in spite of the fact that it's still a Fed planet - you'd think a Maquis would pick a better place for a hideout! A world of telepaths! What're you thinking, Tommy? Hell -- what am I thinking? Forget it. I'm gone." She retreated, leaving him to smoldering fury. He knocked his drink over reaching for it, and swiped the glass off the table impatiently. It bounced and rolled across the carpet. Brushing aside the anxious waiter, he stormed out of the restaurant and headed for the yacht. "Will?" He hesitated just outside the berth he'd rented and turned. No wonder there'd been so much confusion. The bastard had managed to grow a beard exactly like his. On purpose? It might be. Could come in handy to look just like an officer, when you're a Maquis. Had Tom joined the new movement starting to form against the new Romulan/Vulcan alliance? Will crossed the distance between them and grabbed the lapels of the grey jacket his doppelganger wore, and threw Tom against the wall roughly. "What did you do with Shehady?" "Look, brother William -- " "I'm not your brother! What did you do? Pretend to be me? Did you -- If you laid one hand on her you're a dead man!" Tom flinched at the spittle hitting his face. "You mean the blond? She didn't give me a chance to explain anything. What was I supposed to do, chase her down? Maron didn't believe the truth -- your cute little friend wouldn't have, either." Will hauled Tom into the berth and threw him down roughly on the ramp of the yacht. "Inside. I'm not letting you out of my sight." --- When she went to the door and checked the monitor, the sight of two Will Rikers on her parents' doorstep was enough to keep her gaping for a few long minutes. She opened the door and stared at them in person for longer. Shehady's head hurt. They were too much alike. Even twins wouldn't look this much alike. "This isn't what you think," the one in uniform said. She 'reached' -- that one felt right. "This is Tom. There was a transporter accident, years ago -- he's been in Starfleet and joined the Maquis. He isn't me, Shehady. He just used to be me." The professional part of her brain wanted answers to hundreds of technical questions -- what kind of transporter accident would result in anything but a fatality? "Shady," Will said, beseechingly. She could feel his need to touch her, to hold her, and understood it completely. The past week had been a nightmare. Forcing herself to cut off all contact hadn't been easy. She'd wavered between going out to find him, and finding the most distant part of the galaxy to hide in. She'd even considered going back to Tannick - now that the Conglomerate/Federation treaty had fallen apart, that would be out of Will's range, and she genuinely liked the Ryxi. They understood telepaths. Establishing a life there would be easy. The Ryxi weren't adverse to immigrants from other cultures, and there was a legitimate need for doctors who knew how to treat the humanoid life forms being recovered from the Collective. Living there, she wouldn't have to face her parents or Will again, unless she wanted to. Thomas scowled at Will. "Hey, look, none of this was my doing. She ran up and grabbed me, not the other way around. She made Maron angry to boot. Why don't you just let me go, and we'll call it a draw? You got your girlfriend back. I don't know that I'll be able to say the same." "Let him go," Shehady said. Will loosened his grip, then shoved the man backward. Tom nearly fell down. Catching himself, he ran through the yard and down the street as if afraid of being shot. Shehady then saw the phaser Will tucked in his belt, and understood why. "You threatened him?" "Your parents wouldn't let me in to see you. He wouldn't come willingly. Shady, I'm sorry, I should have told you about him. It never occurred to me that he'd ever be a problem. He's been in the Maquis -- I thought by now he'd be in prison." She stepped into his arms and kissed him, tolerating the taste of his mouth. He'd definitely been drinking. "I won't. You have my word on that. God -- the hell I went through when your resignation crossed my desk! No explanation, no good-bye, nothing. I had to see you. I had to know why, and I'm glad I took the chance, now." "Where's your ship? Are you on leave?" The front of his uniform smelled like something fermented. He was too rumpled, too red-eyed. More proof of his state of mind. "You've been drinking, haven't you?" "The ship is where it should be. I came in the yacht. I'm not leaving unless you're with me." She closed her eyes and linked her hands behind his neck, pressing her nose into the red turtleneck above the collar of his jacket. His pips were missing. "Will," she moaned. "The hell with it all -- Starfleet, the Federation, all of it. The hell with the admirals and all the posturing they're forcing us to do. I need you more than I need any of it." "Your career - " "No, I haven't quit, just gone slightly AWOL for a couple days. Data's got the ship. I don't want to talk about it." He breathed into her hair, the air warm on her scalp. "Shehady, I love you. I can't imagine being without you. Either let me delete the resignation without sending it to Command, or marry me." She smiled and leaned against him, drying her wet cheek on his jacket. "What a half-assed, unromantic proposal. It sounds more like an order from the captain." "Okay, so what am I supposed to do? Take off my clothes and then propose? What do Betazoids do, anyway?" "I don't care at the moment what anyone else does. But taking off your clothes sounds like a pretty good idea. Come inside." "Um - this is your parents' house, isn't it?" "Does that matter? They're not home at the moment." "So if I throw you down on the living room floor -- " "Actually, the tradition has been to celebrate marriage proposals on the rug in the family room. With a holographer present, so we can show the event to friends at the wedding." How easy it was to fall back into the comfortable arms of the man she loved, and pick up the teasing where she'd left off. Especially when he wasn't certain how much of it was teasing. "You're. . . kidding, right?" Shehady laughed. "Even if I was, we could start the tradition ourselves, couldn't we?" --- "You picked a beautiful time of year for a wedding," Deanna said, smiling and looking at the clear blue sky. "Betazed is always beautiful. Janara never gets any serious weather, either." Shehady stopped in front of a store window. "What do you think?" They stared in at the robe hanging on the mannequin. Pale cream silk, heavily embroidered with flowers in many colors and leaves among the blossoms. "That's your choice?" "My mother's. Compromises had to be made. I don't care for the gold cord along the seams, or the pattern, but I guess the silk's nice. The price I had to pay for letting the guests wear clothes." "What does Will think?" "That the women will like it, and the men will be standing with curled lips for a while." Shehady laughed. "He said he'll be more than happy to take it off." Deanna crossed her arms and studied the dress further, glancing around at the other items in the window. Shehady thought she looked more pensive than usual. "You don't like it?" Deanna turned her head. "Oh, no, it's not that. It's nice, as pre-ceremony robes go. I've seen worse. I was just thinking." "Ever wish you'd had a proper Betazoid wedding with all the trimmings?" "It would make Zakhad feel uncomfortable. The wording of the ceremony would exclude her completely. And I don't think it's really necessary -- all the vows and ceremony wouldn't add anything to what I already have." But Deanna touched the glass with her fingertips, stared at the robe, then turned away to resume their slow walk up the street. They'd gone window shopping on their way home after leaving Will and the other men at a restaurant up the street for the official bachelor party. "I think you still want it," Shehady murmured, raising an eyebrow. "I'll bet Gwaheer would do it, too. Except for the robe." "Don't be silly. I don't want to give my mother any ideas. It would be ridiculous. I've already had two children, and I feel married already. Let's go in this store." Deanna took her arm and gave her no chance to refuse. The shelves inside held all kinds of bottles and soaps and other items in any shade of the rainbow, and the cacophony of perfume smells threatened to give her a headache. "Did you have to pick Topical Pleasures? This place always slaughters my sinuses." "I haven't been in here before," Deanna said, looking around curiously. She smiled to herself and headed for the back wall, where the shelves bore the label 'edibles.' Shehady sighed and went with her. She waited at Deanna's shoulder, watching her nearly as closely as the clerk, who likely saw a guaranteed sale in the lascivious gleam in Deanna's eye as she sniffed some of the chocolate-flavored items. "Do you know Tom Riker?" Shehady asked. Deanna put the bottle she held down and turned to Shehady, deflating the hope of the clerk. "I'm surprised you do. I'm even more surprised that he's turned up on Betazed." "He was here four months ago. When I came here for a medical conference -- I saw him with another woman. I thought he was Will, taking some leave to surprise me. I nearly left Will over it. That was when he proposed to me. Deanna, Will threatened to turn him in, but he really wanted to kill him. I asked him to let him go, and surprisingly, he did. Will said the reason he came here was probably you." Deanna sighed and bowed her head. "Will's probably right.? "You aren't surprised that he might still be interested in you?" Deanna's frown, unexpected and unusual, was cause for concern. So was her answer. "No, not really. I know Will too well, and it's not hard to extrapolate what Tom's motives might be from it. He's genetically the same person, and to a point, he *was* Will." "Until the transporter accident, at which point their paths took opposite turns, and eventually Tom ended up in the Maquis -- but Deanna, I get the feeling you're skipping around something in that answer." "Let's go get some dinner and talk details in a more private setting." Deanna grabbed three bottles from the shelf in front of them and headed for the clerk. Shehady led them toward the spaceport and selected a restaurant along the way. "Why didn't you get chocolate?" she asked when, after being seated, Deanna pulled out a bottle and sniffed the contents, then tasted it. "I have enough at home. 'Hiri's quite fond of uttaberry." She grinned and passed one of the three bottles across the table. "That's for you -- a little something for the honeymoon." "Thanks." Shehady tucked the bottle in her jacket pocket without looking at the label. "So fess up, what's the thing about Tom you aren't telling me? Or is it about Will?" "You probably already know that Will assumed he and I would get back together someday." "He did mention that." A corner of Deanna's mouth twisted upward. "Shehady, I didn't know until after I'd married Gwaheer. I suspected it, I think. But. . . oh, I don't know. I really can't tell you what I would have done, if he'd said something to me prior to Gwaheer's reappearance in my life." "Reappearance? I thought you knew him all your life." "I have, but I hadn't seen him since I was a child. Never mind that. I'm with my husband now, and you're marrying Will tomorrow." Deanna leaned closer, elbows on the table. "Shehady, why are you feeling that way? If you're having doubts -- " This was what happened when one sat down with an empath, Shehady supposed, trying to stifle the rising anxiety. "I don't know what to do, Deanna. It's not a great big doubt, just a little niggling one. Did you doubt, before you decided Gwaheer was the one for you? Did you look at him and question whatever led you to that point?" "Yes. Absolutely, I doubted. So much so that I nearly drove him away. It's frightening to think about how close I came to losing him." "Drove him away? Didn't he want you enough to try to persuade you?" The waiter brought out their drinks and took their orders, interrupting the answer to that. Shehady repeated the question before Deanna could escape into small talk. "It wasn't a question of want." Deanna sipped her beverage and set it aside. The restaurant was well-lit; Shehady could see clearly that her dark eyes glowed with fond remembrance. "He chose to accept me only if I could make the decision myself, without coercion. He took great pains to be certain of that. It was, in a way, one of the hardest decisions I've ever made. I wanted him so badly. I've told you about the Ryxi equivalent of marriage? We hadn't even made love." "Oh. I thought maybe he'd made an exception for you or something. He's been flexible in so many other respects." "I didn't ask it of him." Deanna sniffed, grinning. "I don't know what he would have done if I had -- in that respect, with him it's all or nothing." "Will said everyone had plenty of misgivings about him, too, which wouldn't have made the decision any easier." Shehady could identify with that. Her ears still rang from that morning's latest go-round with her family. "Beverly thought I was crazy. Absolutely crazy out of my mind. She'd seen me fall for some short-termers before, and she kept trying to warn me -- every time she looked at me during those weeks leading up to it, she seemed to be shouting with her eyes for me to turn back before it was too late. Later on, she admitted she'd been thinking of Devonin Ral the entire time. The idea of polygamy had her on edge, too. I don't think she believed I'd be able to reconcile myself to it." "Devonin Ral?" "He was a professional negotiator we ran across once. A quarter Betazoid, mostly human, and an empath. He was. . . a consummate lover. For two days. It turned out that our ethics were incompatible. I disliked his secrecy about his ability and his dishonorable use of it to turn negotiations to his benefit. But, as it turns out, I've gotten the better choice, if I'd been able to stand Ral and Gwaheer side by side and take my pick." "And you didn't even sample the goods before you bought the whole bushel." Shehady shook her head. "You're a braver woman than I am." "Beverly said she suspected Gwaheer had me hypnotized, or manipulated telepathically, or something drastic to make me behave irrationally. She realized it wasn't true fairly early, however. Probably about the same time Will did -- he was much more outspoken than she was. But in the end, he, too, accepted it." Deanna returned from her recollections; Shehady saw the shift in her eyes, as she looked across the table again. "But you're frightened, and all my musings wouldn't help. Have you spoken to Will about your uncertainty?" "I'm afraid it would only upset him. He's so determined. I don't know if he'd be able to listen to what I'm saying." "You think he would misinterpret, you mean. That may be true. So why don't you practice on me, so you can get the words right?" Shehady grinned. "Does the counselor ever get a day off?" "I'm never off duty when a friend needs help. Let's get started. I'm Will Riker, and you're supposed to tell me why you're unsure of yourself." Deanna sat up straighter and did such an uncanny impression of Will -- chin out, eyebrows raised just so, that sly, flirtatious smile he used to such great advantage with anything female -- that Shehady burst out laughing. If only it had stopped there, she might have regained control. But Deanna raised one eyebrow higher, and tipped her head forward and to one side, adopting the classic Riker expression of tolerant-yet-skeptical questioning, complete with arms crossed over her chest. "Stop it," Shehady blurted between gusts of laughter. "Just stop it!" Deanna leaned back in her chair and looked down her nose in mild disdain -- another Rikerism. Then she smiled and relaxed into her own persona. "Stop what, Shady?" "Oh, please! Do Data again, like you did last night at the party." "Maybe later. After you tell me what's bothering you." Shehady concluded her laughing fit with a spastic, residual guffaw and a cough. "It's not something I can explain very well. I guess I question whether it's really meant to be." "Are you thinking that you and Will may not be imzadi, and that you would rather be with your imzadi, whoever he is?" "I know you and he were close. I know you called each other imzadi. He believed you were, and sometimes I think he's still not sure you aren't." Deanna's expression bordered on incredulity. "Gwaheer questions that, too. He's asked me if I still think of Will as imzadi. Not lately, but it's come up." "Is he jealous of it?" "No. His mindset is different than ours. He had a bond mate before I was born, he's had Zakhad all along, and I know there were others he's considered. He doesn't put us into hierarchies or label any one of us his 'one and only.' The Ryxi believe that all loves are different, just as all people are different. Some may be very similar, but there will always be something that makes each one unique. His bond with me is significantly different than the one he had with Rehia. I think he sees my former relationship with Will as beneficial to my personal development." "That's pretty unusual. From my perspective, anyway. I think Will feels a little threatened by Gwaheer, sometimes." That amused her; she tilted her head and wrinkled her brow. "Threatened?" "Oh, I don't know, I'm no empath -- not to any great degree, anyway. Not so I catch every little turn of his mood. But while we were staying with you, it annoyed him to no end that you were so ecstatically happy, for some reason. He was happy for you, but at the same time, something really bugged him." "Maybe," Deanna said, then paused to think through her words. "Maybe Will was thinking of old memories, and what might have been. I've wondered before if we wouldn't have been happy together all these years if he had come back for me and we had married. I wonder what kind of person I might have been. 'Hiri has a few pet theories about that, and I'm not certain which of them are accurate, but some sound nearly correct." "Must be fun in a household with two counselors constantly picking apart each other's brains. Indulge me -- what's one of his theories? The one you think has the most merit." "He thinks I would have ended up more like Mother." Shehady gasped, then began to giggle. "Oh, no! What made him say that? Were you mad at him for suggesting it?" "You had to be there. 'Hiri has a way of putting things that makes it easier to take. His point was that Mother married my father at about the same age I was when I met Will. She'd had a few lovers, but none that meant so much to her as Daddy. Gwaheer thinks it's possible that if Daddy hadn't died, if circumstances had meant more involvement in Starfleet -- promotions, reassignments, and so forth -- he and Mother might not have stayed together. For all her apparent flightiness, Mother is still very devoted to her traditional role of Daughter of the Fifth House. And Starfleet wasn't allowing families on starships until shortly before my assignment to the *Enterprise.*" "And your relationship with Will might have taken a similar route," Shehady said. "Will might have been killed any number of times, too, which would have made the parallel more accurate still. But you didn't stay together, and you joined Starfleet, established your own career, and never got back together with Will. You became more independent than your mother." Deanna sighed and traced a pattern in the wet ring where her glass had been sitting. "Mother's string of love affairs since my father's death have always been a concern to me. I worry about her - she leaps into relationships for the sake of not being lonely. But at the same time, I understand that. After Will, I reconciled myself to being alone, without a long-term relationship -- it took me a long time but I did it, and it made me a stronger person. One who was more appealing to Gwaheer than I might have been otherwise." "He likes the independent sort, I gather." "The emotionally independent sort. Mother's independent in other ways. You know, of all the men she's known, I have never seen Mother flirt with Gwaheer. I wondered why, and got curious enough to ask him outright. They're very good friends, but never more than that. He was amused that I would wonder." "Maybe she just doesn't like guys with wings and claws. And other wives." "That was part of it, I'm sure. He turned cryptic when I asked, just smiled and changed the subject. Speaking of which. . . ." Deanna paused, then asked, "Shehady -- do you love Will? Do you still want to marry him?" Shehady crossed her arms and put her elbows on the table. Tears started to trickle down her nose. Irritated, she used her napkin and mopped her eyes. At length, she regained enough control to speak again. "I can't imagine losing him. When he proposed to me four months ago, I had almost destroyed our relationship because I thought Tom was Will, and cut off contact with Will completely. If he hadn't come looking for me. . . . I'm happy that he did, Deanna. But I'm not sure if it's really going to work out." "Are you afraid that Will won't love you as much as he could have, if he isn't your imzadi?" Deanna passed her napkin across the table. Sniffing, Shehady dropped her own crumpled, sodden napkin in her lap and took Deanna's. "I started to believe he was really the one," Shehady blurted. "I came to the conference with a firm conviction of that. Then I bumped into Tom -- Deanna, imzadi is supposed to be between two people. Unique. But the resonance I felt with Will was present when I was with Tom. It was the same. Why, if I have a unique bond with Will, would I feel the same when I'm with someone else, even if it's some freak clone of him? Shouldn't the differences between them be more pronounced after all these years?" "It's hard to say. In a way, Tom *is* Will. Their memories prior to the transporter accident are exactly the same. When we found Thomas, he came to me and called me imzadi - in his mind, we never ended our relationship. The adjustment was very difficult for him; he'd lived for years believing he was *the* Will Riker. In most ways, he was correct, except there was a duplicate living the life he might have had." Shehady stared at her. "You could have started over, with him. You could have picked up where you left off." "No." Deanna was quite firm about it. "Tom lived alone on Nervala V for too many years. He wasn't the Will Riker I cared about -- he may have been the one I knew, years before, but I'd grown beyond the person I was." She softened a little, remembering. "I'll admit it was tempting to consider it. But the attraction was mostly due to wanting to relive some fond memories. And you're right -- there is a resonance. They do have the same neural pathways, to a point. Your reaction wasn't a betrayal, Shehady. It doesn't mean Will isn't your imzadi either -- it only proves how alike he and Tom are, physiologically speaking." "How can you be so sure of that?" Deanna looked up, and a few moments later the waiter brought their plates. After the man was gone, Deanna picked up her fork and prodded her food unenthusiastically. "I had the same questions, when they brought Thomas back from the planet. I felt the same thing. Only I suspect it was a lot stronger then -- he was more Will Riker then than he is now." "Do you think you and Will are imzadi, still?" Shehady watched Deanna eat, and took a few bites herself. She'd defaulted to her usual choice when on Betazed and not caring what she ate, oskoid leaves rolled and stuffed with cheeses and herbs. Bland filling, but the leaves had a slight bitterness that added kick to it. "I think we might have been, if we'd stayed together longer," Deanna said at last. "I think I was too optimistic. Too romantic. I was too quick to label something I didn't completely understand. I've always felt closer to Will than to most of my other friends, that's true. But you know, when I met Gwaheer -- among the Ryxi, bonds sometimes form between people who work together on a daily basis. If they choose not to develop it, the bond fades. I'm not sure that couldn't be true of any telepathic bond." "Do you think your bond with Will has faded, then?" "I don't know." Deanna munched a mouthful of kandik and dabbed juice from the side of her mouth with her napkin. "I can't tell. I have two children with latent talents who resonate with me, and 'hiri's always in the middle -- I have too much else in my mind to hear Will anymore, if there's anything left of that." Shehady sipped the last of her drink and put her glass near the end of the table. "Deanna, why is it that I can be engaged to a wonderful man who practically abandons his career to come looking for me, and yet I feel this doubt, and feel better only when I talk to you?" "Maybe because I 'resonate serenity?' That's what Zakhad said. Or maybe, just maybe, it's just wedding jitters and you're being ridiculous? It's not Will you should worry about. It's the fact that your wedding guests include -- let me get this right." She put down her fork and began ticking off guests on her fingers. "A Klingon, an android, four Ryxi, a gaggle of top brass from Starfleet, Kyle Riker, Will's old girlfriend, and Lwaxana Troi. And your family, and your relatives, and whoever they invited. Add to that the fact that Will asked Jean-Luc to stand with him in the ceremony -- Jean-Luc, who has an aversion to appearing nude in public, and an even bigger aversion to doing so with my mother in the vicinity -- and you could sell tickets. You could make enough to fund the honeymoon." Shehady dropped her fork and knife on her plate. "I never tallied it up like that. I've just lost my appetite. God. This is a nightmare." Planting her elbows on the table, she rested her forehead against the heels of her hands. "Don't worry. You picked a great matron of honor. I'll keep them all in line. And I promise to try not to giggle too much when the robes are dropped." Deanna rolled her eyes. "I just hope I can convince Gwaheer not to tell the birthmark story." "Huh?" "That's the trouble with having a husband who used to change your diapers. I had the mark removed when I was old enough to complain. 'Hiri tickles the spot with his tail when he wants to blackmail me into something, or when we're with someone and he wants to tease. Now you have to tell me something no one else knows." Shehady grinned. This was a game Betazoid kids played -- one-upping each other, secret for secret. "Okay. . . when I met Will, neither one of us were wearing clothes." "On Risa, that's not terribly surprising." "Oh. Well, I'm jealous of your hair, for one thing -- but I guess that's not a very good one." "You can't tell me you don't have *any* secrets, Shehady." "I'm just not that secretive a person, I guess. Okay -- I still have my birthmark. How's that?" "Where is it?" "My back, left shoulder, shaped like a little piece of pie. Daddy used to call me Pieback." "Well, that's not as good as mine. Sorry. Mine was a rather unattractive blotch about the same circumference as this glass, and used to be in the middle of my left butt cheek." Shehady giggled. "Blotch butt." Deanna sniffed. "Hey, you watch it. As Will says, pieback's a bitch!" The waiter came to refill glasses and take dessert orders while they were still recovering from fits of laughter and wiping tears from their eyes. Deanna declined dessert after a glance at the nearest clock and paid the check, and they continued on their way to the spaceport. "We're late," Shehady said as they stopped on the sidewalk outside. People were leaving the front entrance with bags over shoulders. "There they are." Deanna waved, and Jean-Luc Picard smiled and sidled through the crowd, Beverly following him with their baby in her arms. Two other people were with them; Shehady guessed Will's father was one of them. The other she recognized from medical journals. Short curly hair, sparkling blue eyes, and slight smile -- Katherine Pulaski. "Dr. Pulaski," Deanna said, surprised. "It's an honor," Shehady exclaimed, holding out a hand. "I've read most of your work." Pulaski shook her hand and raised an eyebrow. "Kyle didn't tell me you were a doctor. And I can't imagine anyone else wanting to read the things I write." "And this is Will's father, Kyle," Deanna said, pulling her hands from Kyle's -- he'd greeted her with a kiss on the cheek. Shehady held out a hand and had it shaken firmly. "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Riker." "Kyle, please. Or Dad -- that's nearly appropriate, isn't it? Close enough for the government." He laughed, infectiously, and Deanna exchanged smiling glances with Shehady. "We have rooms for you at the Fifth House, if you'd like to take advantage of them," Deanna said. "The wedding will be in the gardens there." "I'm surprised your mother would permit that," Jean-Luc said. "The Fifth House is a popular site for weddings. There are also tours three days a week. You missed the last one for today, but I have connections, so I'm sure a private tour will be provided." Deanna gestured for them to follow. "And besides, she imposed upon us more than once -- I merely imposed upon her for the rooms. She's perfectly happy with it. It gives her the chance to open up the mansion and stay there for a while, a change of pace from living in her small house at Elnara. If there's one thing Mother loves, it's a party." "Lead on, Blotch," Shehady blurted, unable to resist. Deanna raised an eyebrow. "After you, Bitch." "What -- " Jean-Luc stopped himself as they began to giggle. "Never mind. I'm sure I don't want to know." "Speak for yourself. I'm damned curious," Beverly exclaimed, eyeing the two Betazoids. "We could be a stage act," Shehady said giddily. "Bev, Blotch and Bitch -- " "It's wedding jitters," Deanna said, grinning, barely containing herself. Her mascara was starting to run again. "Or just hysteria, I'm not sure which. I suppose I could claim post-partum symptoms of some sort, myself -- " "Did you bring the baby?" Beverly asked, as the group started to move down the street away from the space port. "As if I had any other choice. Mother is in seventh heaven, and I'm glad she's opened the mansion for our use -- Zerin thinks the long halls are great fun to race and slide in, and Ke'stri loves the lawns." "Deanna, I had no idea -- when did you get married?" Pulaski asked. "And since when do you allow a newborn to play in halls or on lawns?" It took the duration of their walk of three blocks to the restaurant where the bachelor party was in full swing to explain it all in the sketchiest of terms. Kyle and Kate were sufficiently impressed and surprised -- Shehady remembered her own surprise at hearing that Deanna's husband was Ryxian and polygamous, and could guess that their feelings paralleled her initial reaction, from the guarded look Deanna had as she kept her face forward. Shehady said. Deanna glanced at her as she reached for the restaurant door. Shehady almost grimaced, but kept her telepath's demeanor -- blank and pleasant. And then when they all stood in the foyer, Gwaheer appeared from the back room they'd reserved, drawing attention from other restaurant patrons in the main dining areas. He sauntered through, gracefully avoiding tables and chairs and paying no attention to the stares of people unaccustomed to thin people with blue hair and large blue wings appearing in their midst. Deanna made introductions, and paid no attention to Kyle's and Kate's wide-eyed and thankfully brief scrutiny of her husband. Gwaheer didn't bat an eyelash at the appraisal. "Jean-Luc, you missed the dancing girls and the wild orgy, but you're in time for the 'drink Data under the table' contest." "Oh, merde." "Will said you would say that." Gwaheer tipped an ear at Deanna. "Your mother called. Zerin took apart her comm unit." "Where did she call from?" Shehady asked. She wondered if he weren't purposely engaging in small talk, just to give the newcomers the chance at a good, long look at him. "Zerin put it back together again, obviously," Deanna said. "He's in this phase where pulling things apart is a compulsion. Luckily Ryxi have eidetic memory. Did she say anything was wrong?" "No. She just wanted to test the unit, and check in to be certain the entertainment showed up. I must say, she has good taste in dancing girls." Deanna crossed her arms. "Just don't bring any of them home. I'm taking Beverly, Kate and Shady home -- call when the guys need a ride, all right?" "Gentlemen?" Gwaheer led the way, flicking Deanna's cheek with his tail tip as he turned. Deanna took the bags Jean-Luc carried and smiled at Kyle. "Careful with those dancing girls, my mother does have a way of seeking out excellence in hedonism." Kyle chuckled and followed Jean-Luc. Shehady stayed close on Deanna's heels, unable to contain a grin. "Wish we could see what's going on in there." "Oh, I could, if I wanted to," Deanna said. "At least partially, through 'hiri's senses. He's quite good at it. I don't think I want to, though -- 'hiri told me Data's trying to tell jokes." "Oh, no," Beverly moaned. "That emotion chip doesn't do much for improving his timing or taste in jokes, unfortunately." "What jokes?" Kate asked. "You mean Data is still trying to be humorous?" Deanna rolled her eyes and opened the door of the flitter three vehicles away from the restaurant. "What do you call a dead blonde in a closet?" "A corpse, a cadaver. . . what's funny about that?" Shehady crinkled her brow. "The hide and seek champion of 2450." Deanna tossed the bags into the back seat. "Don't ask me, I don't think it's funny, either. Neither did anyone else, apparently." Shehady insisted upon Beverly taking the front seat, where the infant seat folded out, and climbed in the back with Pulaski. Glancing through the rear window, Shehady saw another flitter pull out further down the street. "Oh, come on," Deanna muttered, whacking the console. "There. It's about time. Mother needs to do something about this -- maybe I should just have Homn take it in without even asking her." "How far away is the house?" Beverly asked, fastening Felisa in her seat. "Once the course is set, the transportation net will take over the controls and let the car go as fast as it can, so we should be home in ten minutes or so. It's nearly sixty kilometers from Janara." The flitter moved along under the set speed limit while in town, then sped up the open road heading north. "So are you a specialist, or general practitioner?" Pulaski asked pleasantly, turning to Shehady. "I've been stationed on the *Rampage.* Before then, I was here on Betazed. General practitioner, interned in an OB ward, and I'm studying xeno as I go along. Joined Starfleet for the experience. My career has been leisurely, but that's my approach to life in general." Shehady grinned and glanced at Deanna. "The docs have you outnumbered, Counselor." "I can think of worse company to keep. It's also nice to know there's a doctor within shouting range when you have two fearless children who think nothing of climbing before they can fly." "Now, are the children hybrids? Or are they Zakhad's?" Kate asked. Deanna looked over the back of her seat. "Zerin is her son, but I carried him. Ke'stri is a hybrid. We weren't going to try it. Zakhad insisted it was possible, though, and she hounded the specialists for months to see it through. Ke'stri looks Ryxi, but she has my hair, and Mother swears she has my smile." "She's beautiful," Beverly exclaimed, smiling. "And probably the first five-fingered Ryxian on record." While they talked, the landscape blurred past, and the flitter took a few long curves, only one of which set them swaying in their seats. Within fifteen minutes of their departure, they swept up the long driveway through groves of trees, and slowed at the foot of the cascade of stone steps leading up to the mansion entrance. Shehady remained indifferent about the mansion, which looked like most any ostentatious big house -- stately, skirted with pillars and wide windows, and surrounded by landscaped grounds. Her mother had loved the idea and agreed readily to Deanna's offer, luckily prior to meeting Lwaxana for the first time. They disembarked, and Deanna took only her small shopping bag and Felisa's diaper bag. "Homn will put the car away and bring in the luggage." Shehady turned her head at the sound of a long shriek. "That was too loud. Must be Zerin." "They know I'm home. You might want to stand back," Deanna said, handing the bags to Shehady. "Hang on to this for me." The patter of swift little feet preceded the arrival of a blue blur vaulting over the shrubbery on the right of the stairs. In mid-air Zerin's arms and legs opened wide and wrapped around Deanna as she caught him bodily. "Good grief," Kate exclaimed. "He's probably going to be a telempath like his father. He already knows when I'm within charging range," Deanna said over Zerin's purring. She headed for the stairs, catching her son's wings in an arm to keep them from fluttering around her face. "He's gotten a little bigger, just since I saw him last month," Beverly said. "He can't be two years old, even. I'd think he was four or five." "I hope he stops growing soon. Any larger, and he'd be impossible to hold." At the top of the steps, Lwaxana and Homn met them coming. Homn proceeded down to the car, and Deanna introduced Kate to her mother. "A pleasure to meet you, Dr. Pulaski," Lwaxana said. "Oh, this is so much fun, Little One! So many people! It's nice that all the men have gone to that party and left us here to ourselves -- they do get underfoot, don't they? The children have been playing so peacefully while you've been gone. Andrew let Zerin have some of his toys -- oh! You should have seen what *your* son did to my kitchen!" Deanna's exasperated-yet-tolerant expression amused Shehady to no end. "Why don't we show Beverly and Kate to their rooms, and let Beverly feed Felisa, and we'll all sit down for some tea?" "But I just fed her -- " Felisa interrupted her mother with a plaintive wail. Beverly looked at Deanna, incredulous. "I should know better than to question The Empath, shouldn't I?" --- Zakhad wasn't accustomed to having a servant around to fetch and cook and clean. Homn performed his tasks quietly and efficiently. That he didn't flinch from holding her children or look at them as if they were curiosities impressed her. She accepted his ministrations reluctantly out of respect for that. His presence meant that the usual things with which Zakhad distracted herself were not an option, however. She could sit with Deanna and her friends and talk. The evenings were so lovely here on Betazed; they all sat on the back patio overlooking more of the gardens, drinking tea -- a weak beverage, little more than colored water, but good guests didn't complain -- and letting the children play around them. Zakhad kept an ear trained on Andrew and Zerin. The larger boy could hurt her son without intention; young Ryxi were still green-boned, flexible and able to play roughly without too much fear of hurt, but Lwaxana's son was so much heavier. One misplaced foot coming down on a foot or tail -- Deanna's hand on her arm reclaimed her attention from the children. Her sister-wife's face was easier to read, now that she'd been with them more two years -- she looked at Zakhad in amused reproach. Deanna wanted her to be part of the group. Smiling, Zakhad tried to be interested. After the initial discussion of hybridization of Ryxi and humanoid species, the conversation had turned to the impending wedding and the 'bachelor party.' Ceremonies so foreign that even Gwaheer had admitted puzzlement about the nuances of them. 'Hiri, who knew Standard so well and so enjoyed studying the many facets of Betazoid and human behavior, wasn't quite certain about these proceedings -- what hope did she have of fully comprehending them? She was lucky she had learned Standard well enough to prevent difficulties with Deanna. "I've been feeling completely out of sorts. Can't sleep, can't stop thinking about everything that can go wrong." Shehady raised her glass to Deanna. "But luckily I picked a really calm bridesmaid." "You know, I had the wedding jitters like you wouldn't believe," Beverly said. "Deanna's a saint. I gave her plenty of practice in helping a nervous bride through the pre-wedding monkey nerves." She bounced Felisa on her knee; the human infant was the first Zakhad had the opportunity to observe for more than a few hours. Chubby, and surprisingly slow to develop motor and verbal skills. But then Deanna, who was half-human, had been the same way as a child, and she'd turned out to be fine, so Zakhad refrained from comment. "Why aren't we having a party?" Kate asked. "Why do the guys get to have all the fun?" "We had the bachelorette party yesterday. You should have seen Deanna," Shehady said, grinning. "She does these great imitations -- " "Oh, *please* don't start, I just got Ke'stri to settle down," Deanna exclaimed, shifting Ke'stri slightly. Zakhad automatically sampled the air. Ke'stri was quiet, calm, content -- more than could be said for the hours Deanna had been absent. Zakhad understood that Deanna needed some time away, but it was too early. The separation had been traumatic for Ke'stri, so soon after months of constant warmth and reassurance while in the womb. She clung to Deanna's abdomen, fingers knotted in her dress, wrapping her tail around Deanna's waist as far as it would go. Zakhad clenched her fingers and pushed her knuckles into the hollow beneath her ribs. She looked at the boys. Zerin held up a large toy -- plane, Andrew called it -- and imitated the motions the bigger boy made with a similar toy. Flying motions. His face crinkled in the focused look his father sometimes got when presented with a puzzle. Turning the plane over, he examined it with his as-yet clawless fingers and suddenly the toy was in several pieces. While Zerin turned pieces over and over, studying the way they joined together, Andrew complained. "He's just a child, Andrew," Lwaxana chided. "Just a very little child. Let him play. I can get you another plane if he breaks it." "Zerin," Zakhad said quietly. His slender ears swivelled to her attentively; he'd ignored Andrew's shrill complaint and Lwaxana's soothing reply completely, but was attuned to his mother's call. She flattened her hand against the place that was not so hollow now. "Zerin, together again." The other women were staring at her, scents surprised and puzzled. Zakhad realized she'd spoken in Ryxi. But Zerin put the plane together as easily as he'd broken it apart. He may not understand exactly what an item did, or how it was supposed to function, but he remembered in what order and pattern the pieces went back together. "Give to friend Andrew." Zerin stood, still wobbly on two legs, but like all Ryxi he had excellent balance even in absence of coordination, and compensated quickly enough to remain upright. Using his tail as a brace, he brought the plane to her instead. He beamed as he held it out, proud of himself. "Mama, toy has wings." To emphasize the point, he flapped his own undersized wings. "What did he say?" Kate Pulaski leaned forward. She showed such intent interest in both Zerin and Ke'stri. Zakhad wasn't certain whether to be flattered by it or not. "He said the toy has wings," Zakhad repeated in Standard. "Zerin, give the toy to Andrew." He turned and pattered to Andrew, who took the toy gently enough now that he knew Zerin hadn't broken it. "Thank you." "You're welcome," Zerin said automatically as Deanna had taught him to. He pointed at the steps leading down to the gardens. "We go running." Andrew, confronted by apparent gibberish, looked at his mother for help. Zakhad smiled. "Zerin, does Andrew have wings?" Zerin wavered, nostrils flaring, studying Andrew as instructed. "Let's go running," he repeated, this time in Betazoid rather than Ryxi. Andrew grinned and took the lead, but Zerin dropped to four legs and caught up with him easily. The others stared after the two children, their surprise obvious. Deanna smiled at Zakhad. "He's finally comfortable enough to talk around strangers." "He is his father's son. Tejerra cries when she sees him, he is so like Gwaheer at that age." Zakhad turned at the sound of a yelp from the garden, but it was a joyful cry -- Zerin was chasing Andrew around the fountain. He leaped up on the edge of it. "Away from the water!" Zerin leaped to the ground again and continued after Andrew, snatching at his heels. Zakhad heard a light gasp; Lwaxana. She looked uncharacteristically frightened, pale and holding her hand to her mouth. Of course, it would remind her of Kestra. "Lwaxana, may I see your family album? I think you may have images of 'hiri that I do not. And I would like very much to see pictures of Kestra and Ian again." Deanna and Beverly looked slightly alarmed, but Zakhad ignored them. Gwahiri had known Lwaxana longest, he would know best, and he had said that gentle nudges to remember Kestra and Ian were helpful to Lwaxana. "Of course," Lwaxana said brightly, recovering quickly and surprising Deanna. She rose, her green iridescent dress fluttering around her. Zakhad followed her into the house, glancing at Deanna with a smile. They went down a spiral stair, difficult for Zakhad because her legs did not handle the short jarring steps easily, and into the room she remembered being the library. Her first visit so many years ago had been the catalyst for a thorough cleaning. The old books were dusty and moldy, and had made her and 'hiri sneeze constantly. Today, though hints of mold smell remained, the air was much more tolerable. "I thank you for welcoming Zerin and Ke'stri as equals in your regard," Zakhad said. Lwaxana stopped her incessant chatter about what she was doing and straightened from the box she'd pulled from a cabinet. She frowned briefly. "Why wouldn't I welcome them? They're my grandchildren." Zakhad bowed her head and tried to keep her tail still. Lwaxana's touch startled her. She forgot sometimes that Deanna's mother was a telepath; Lwaxana patted her shoulder, then embraced her as best she could, oblivious to her arms rubbing along Zakhad's sensitive neck ridges. "You poor dear. You must feel like such an alien, here. Especially after that dreadful Kimmel woman made such a fuss -- why, you would think she'd never seen other species before! Shrieking like a siren, frightening the children -- if Shehady weren't such a dear thing I'd have thrown the lot of them out in an instant." Lwaxana stood back and patted her shoulder again. "I'll tell you what we'll do. After we're done here, you and I will sneak out and go down the hill to the hot springs. I've had a beautiful gazebo erected over it, and there's a small kitchen. We'll have a nice long chat about children and husbands, and let the youngsters take care of the kids and go on about weddings. I do love weddings, but you know, this isn't Deanna's wedding after all. . . ." "You are sad that she did not have a wedding," Zakhad said, smelling the mood. "I know it's not what she really wants," Lwaxana said. "It's all right. I have Andrew, and since he's not likely to see his father or visit Tavnia, I'll probably be arranging a Betazoid wedding for him some day." Zakhad frowned. Lwaxana wished it, but thought Deanna did not. But Shehady's wedding made Deanna slightly melancholy, and Gwaheer had had a long talk in private with her, from which they emerged peacefully -- the melancholy was due to the wedding, 'hiri had told her afterward. There was indeed a part of Deanna that had wanted a wedding. She didn't want to have one due to the possibility of causing Zakhad discomfort. Zakhad watched Lwaxana pull out two-dimensional photographs and isolinear chips for the holo-reader. The woman's movements were familiar, as was her humming -- Deanna hummed frequently, especially on her days off when she could relax and be with the children. She made meals for them sometimes, just her and Zakhad and the children, while 'hiri was away and Zakhad was exhausted from a long turn at the medical center. Her cooking skills improved each time she tried. She'd even started attempting the spicier Ryxi dishes, though her last try had resulted in an interesting experiment -- discovering how much smoke their house could hold. 'Hiri had told her, between laughing fits, to open the windows *before* using the highly-flammable *jhelgli* in her cooking again. Zakhad pressed her hand over her keel, feeling the thready dual pulse from her hearts. Deanna, who had brought such joy and laughter to her family. 'Hiri had seemed aged beyond his years, prior to Deanna's appearance in their lives. Awkward as it was at times for Zakhad, all the small compromises in their routine and the minor differences that could annoy were as nothing compared to the renewed light burning in 'hiri's eyes. Deanna wasn't quite as Zakhad had expected; she'd seemed soft and pliant at first, gentle as quiet rain and peaceful as clouds adrift. The hard edge she sometimes showed, either in her rare flares of temper or in wild sex play with 'hiri, had surprised Zakhad -- but 'hiri had pointed out that it was his general preference, after all. Too many people mistook Zakhad for a gentle, passive person, as well. Deanna always took pains to include her, though Zakhad knew Deanna's friends did not feel entirely comfortable with her. And Lwaxana was showing the same regard. Zakhad swept her tail in a thoughtful arc across the carpet and looked at a portrait on the wall, of Ian and Lwaxana on the day of their wedding, in matching pale green robes. "This ceremony, the wedding -- are there variations of it that would allow for three rather than two participants?" "I suppose -- why, aren't you so sweet," Lwaxana exclaimed happily. "That's so thoughtful of you -- why, I would think -- now we really *do* have something to talk about in that hot spring!" --- Will groaned. "Just lemme here. Be fine." The light hurt his eyes -- why couldn't they close the door and turn it off? "Come on." Jean-Luc sounded just as tired, but he hauled at Will's arm, levering him halfway out of the back seat of the flitter. "Worf, give me a hand." "'m not drunk," Will muttered crossly, brushing away the Klingon's hand. He moved his feet, but the gravel seemed unstable. "Jus' a lil' tired." Homn waited while Geordi and Kyle got out of the back seat, then drove the flitter away to the garage. Lwaxana's servant had come for them, sent by Gwaheer, who was infuriatingly not drunk and had simply teleported back to the mansion from Janara. Somehow the Ryxian had managed to nurse a single drink all night, or had slipped himself a stimulant -- Will didn't remember which. "Damn bat," Will muttered. His head pounded. Around them shadows loomed in the darkness, hunched-over creatures lying in wait -- no, Will, he chided himself. Those are trees. Shrubs. Ridiculous objet d'art Lwaxana Troi had scattered around the grounds. "Good thing 'heer washn't drunk," Kyle mumbled back. "Talked 'em out of a lawsuit. Shouldna tried dancin' onna table." Will bit his tongue so as not to snap at his father. He was right about their being fortunate that one of them had been able to talk the restaurant manager out of calling the constabulary, but it was Kyle Riker's fault that had happened in the first place. If he hadn't been pawing that girl and climbing on the furniture, the incident wouldn't have happened, and the party would still be going on. "Why aren'chou drunk, Worf?" Geordi sounded almost as bad as Kyle. "Klingons do not 'get drunk,'" Worf grumbled, then belched sonorously. "I'll bet." Will draped an arm across Geordi's shoulders. Jean-Luc took his other arm, probably to steady himself more than anything, and they attacked the eight flights of stairs that had earlier in the day been only two. "Whose idea wash it to -- urp -- drink an android under th' table?" Geordi asked, out of breath from the climb. Data had beamed back up to the *Rampage* -- too bad, he probably could have kept them steady up the stairway. Or carried them up one at a time. Even Worf wobbled a little, despite his Klingon stubbornness. "Guess," Will growled. "Think Deanna would forgive us if we broke his wings?" Jean-Luc muttered as they wavered on the first landing and faced the next set of steps. Will looked at the faces of his companions and wondered if it was just the glow of the lamps along the stairs that made them all look slightly green. Worf eyed Jean-Luc -- was he cross-eyed? Must be imagination. "I believe she would -- after she and Zakhad finished emasculating us." Will, Geordi and Jean-Luc stared at the Klingon for a long, swaying, drunken time. Then Will looked at his former commanding officer. "We had good soundproofing in crew quarters?" "Exsh -- Eshex -- yes, very good," Jean-Luc said with a sideways hiccup. "Forward, marsh." They reached the top and stood for a few minutes. Just when Will wondered if the swaying row of inebriated partygoers might be doomed to topple back down, the front door opened, and Gwaheer came out, holding a hypospray. Will grimaced when the cold nozzle touched his neck. It was like fire in the veins for a few minutes, but as it cleared, so did his brain, mostly. Shaking his head like a wet dog, he found his legs and feet were behaving, and his headache receded. "Thank you," Jean-Luc said, rubbing the heels of his hands in his eyes sockets. "What a night. Is everyone asleep?" "Actually, no. Part of the reason I brought you a stimulant -- there seems to be a party down in the ball room, and I think you would enjoy a peek in to see what's going on." "Please tell me they're wearing clothes." Gwaheer sniffed. "Will, of course they are. You aren't at *my* house. And Lwaxana only strips when she doesn't have guests." He stood back and waved them all through the door. The chandelier, a fiber-optic display that had been unimpressive in daylight, blazed every color of the spectrum overhead. The group came to a collective stop to look up at it. "You know what, I think I'm going to just turn in," Geordi said. "I don't think I've got another party in me." He headed for the staircase up the left wall of the foyer, and Worf followed him without a word. Gwaheer smiled cryptically and went down the hall to the right. Jean-Luc glanced at Will with an expression that sang curiosity, and Kyle was grinning, completely recovered and raring to go. Will considered heading upstairs, but suffered the same curiosity -- he too had a vested interest in knowing what was going on. Shehady was there, as were Kate and Beverly. They caught up with the Ryxian halfway down the hall. At the far end, where that wing joined the third side of the triangular structure of the Fifth House, a set of double doors stood open, and light poured out. Music echoed down to them, getting louder as they came within the final few yards of the threshold. Riker would have gone in, but Gwaheer held him back with a hand on his arm. "From someone who has been married well over a century -- don't be in a hurry to interrupt this. These are moments that you will wish you could keep forever. Just watch." Will frowned, confused, but peered inside, Jean-Luc and Kyle crowding up behind him. Gwaheer backed across the hall and stood against the wall just outside that door and slightly behind it. They were dancing, all of them, Beverly swinging Felisa at arm's length and laughing with her; Lwaxana clutching Ke'stri and spinning gently down the length of the room; Andrew leaping around with his older sister in a loose rendition of a two-step; Kate Pulaski and Shehady were doing a waltz, in a mockery of dignified propriety and completely out of step with the beat; and Zakhad, apart from the others to avoid hitting anyone, spun in place and threw a giggling Zerin in the air repeatedly. The cacophony of giggles, delighted shrieking, and outright guffaws nearly drowned out the music. The music ended and so did the dance, all too soon. They fell into a huddle over the console on the wall, gasping for air and still giggling spastically, faces flushed. "Let's do the wild one again," someone said -- Shehady, Will realized. She sounded happy. Not purring-sensual happy, or briefly-overjoyed happy -- she sounded thoroughly, unabashedly, completely happy with the universe and everything in it. No stress about the wedding creeping in, or exasperation about her family's lack of enthusiasm about her marrying a Starfleet captain. Will glanced at Gwaheer, and found the Ryxian looking at him instead of the women. He gave him a smile of appreciation, and Gwaheer nodded, then turned his attention to the group. Will noticed Jean-Luc and Kyle now stood in the open door, and stepped up next to them; evidently the girls were too caught up in what they were doing to notice, so why not? To his surprise, fists flew up in the air, and the whole group sang along, disregarding trivial things like being on key. It sounded like they were doing a cheer. "Wild women do and they don't regret it! WOOOOOOOOH!" The knot of estrogen-crazed women on the rampage broke apart. Andrew and Zerin ran for the safest spot available, under one of the tables along the other side of the room -- this was where the reception would be the following day -- and Lwaxana drifted away from the group holding the babies, smiling and kissing Ke'stri, then Felisa, on the head. Will hadn't seen this side of her before; Deanna had been right. She made a wonderful grandmother. Deanna and Shehady were dancing in step, and it looked like Beverly was leading them along, choreographing the moves. The three of them were grinning and singing along, punctuating the lines with finger-pointing and hip-swinging. Kate tried to keep up gamely; Will wondered if the Betazoids weren't coordinating themselves telepathically. "You tell me you want a woman who's As simple as a flower. Well if you want me to act like that, You'd better pay me by the hour. Don't want to travel in the danger zone Take another number Don't want a lover who can hold her own Baby, step aside if you don't want to ride BECAUSE Wild women DO And they don't regret it Wild women show What they're goin' through Wild women DO What you think they'll never What you only DREAM about Wild women DO. You think that love is a vision of A princess in a picture Well, let me tell you something, little boy You wouldn't know love if it hit ya Scared of someone who is off the wall Kickin' and a SCREAMIN' Don't you want a lover who can do it all? Listen to me Jack! I ain't holdin' back! CAUSE Wild women DO And they don't regret it Wild women show What they're goin' through Wild women DO What you think they'll never What you only DREAM about Wild women do-oooOOOOO!" The big finale had probably been intended to be something other than the disorganized, arms-out off-balance lunge they did, but they didn't seem to care -- they whooped and laughed anyway. Zakhad looked on in amusement, and smiled -- she'd seen the men standing in the door. "Men!" she shouted, and Will flinched -- but the women charged the nearest table, grabbed glasses, and downed a shot of something. Zakhad laughed -- Will hadn't heard her laugh much in the last week, he realized -- and poured another round. Ah, drinking games. Will's stomach lurched at the thought. Stimulants did nothing to ease the pain of the contents of one's stomach. "I think I will not be joining them," Gwaheer muttered. Will turned; Lwaxana had come up quietly and handed over a sleeping Ke'stri, who now slept sitting in her father's big blue hand, her head against his chest. Jean-Luc took Felisa with a practiced fatherly grace Will hadn't believed he'd ever seen the man develop. "Thank you, Lwaxana," Gwaheer said. He passed her the hypospray. "You might like to use this when they're done. Then they might be able to make it up the stairs." Lwaxana grinned and tugged his ear. She walked toward the laughing group, gestured imperially at the two boys and sent them toward the door, then put a skip in her step and joined the melee in progress. Zerin fell in step behind his father for a few steps, then leaped and landed on Gwaheer's back, gripping his father's wing-shoulders. Gwaheer's tail rose to curl beneath Zerin and shove him further up until the little arms went around Gwaheer's neck. Andrew, though he was nearly five and had previously professed himself to be a man, took Gwaheer's hand of his own volition and smiled up at the Ryxian. Will walked between his father and Jean-Luc down the long hall. The music began again behind them, and the sound of shoes hitting the tile floor semi-rhythmically as the somewhat-inebriated group tried to keep up with the quick tempo. "Some days, you gotta dance, live it up when you get the chance, cause when the world doesn't make no sense, and you're feeling just a little too tense, gotta loosen up those chains and dance. . . ." "Good grief, have they been doing that the entire time we've been gone?" Will said. Gwaheer turned one eye on them. "Lwaxana said no. Evidently, this began as an attempt to assuage Shehady's wedding nerves in idle conversation, traveled to the hot spring, then to the bar in the ball room, where after several shots of something potent Beverly began to dance, and Deanna began selecting music." "Mama wouldn't let me have what they were drinking," Andrew said. Gwaheer smiled at him. "You aren't missing anything. If you're thirsty, go get something to drink -- there should be some juice left. Just remember to clean your teeth before bed." "You sound like my mother," Andrew exclaimed. Gwaheer cuffed his head lightly as he started to run ahead toward the kitchen. "Just think, Will," Jean-Luc muttered. "A couple years, and you too could have a few children." "Ankle biters," Kyle said. "Rug rats," Jean-Luc added, not to be outdone. "Ear pullers," Gwaheer said, enduring exactly that from Zerin. "Tricycle motors." Will blinked at Jean-Luc. "What?" "Tricycle. . . you never had a tricycle, Will? Kyle, what *did* you do to this boy?" "When I was a kid, we didn't have tricycles. We rode around on a stick with a couple rocks for wheels. And dammit, we liked it!" Kyle grinned. Jean-Luc rolled his eyes and patted Felisa's back. "I had heard that the months-long nights in Alaska could drive a man insane. . . ." Loud, off-key singing rose over the music, and the echoes did nothing to improve matters. "Why do I have this feeling of impending doom about tomorrow?" Will moaned. Jean-Luc sniffed. "Just look at it this way -- we're already going to be standing in front of a crowd of people naked. What else can go wrong?" --- Shehady couldn't take her eyes off the crowd gathering on the lawn below the window. She knew they probably couldn't see her through the gauzy curtain, and the sun was wrong anyway, but she stood back a few feet anyway. The door opened, and Deanna slipped in. She knew it was Deanna without looking -- Zakhad was guarding the door. "Got it, Shehady. Come on -- what's wrong?" "I can't," Shehady gasped. "All those people -- all those uniforms! Will said he only invited a *few* admirals!" "Get over here and stick your arms in this robe. Now." She obeyed on autopilot. Deanna pressed the front closed and straightened it, brushing imaginary wrinkles out of the voluminous sleeves. "Your mother will be immensely pleased with the way you look, anyway. She'd better be." Deanna shoved her in front of the full-length mirror. Shehady blinked. "This isn't me," she whimpered. The woman in the mirror had her hair up in as elaborate a style as possible given its length, coiled in a single curl at the crown of her head and supplemented with a carefully-hidden hairpiece. Her makeup was too perfect, managing to look completely natural yet polished, the foundation blended down her neck so it wouldn't look like a mask once the robe dropped. Deanna had done it for her, of course. She didn't usually bother with much more than foundation and lipstick, when left to her own devices. "It's the ideal you, just like it's supposed to be on your wedding day. How do I look?" Shehady tried to overcome shock and pay attention. "Oh, crap. You look ten times prettier than I do. Why didn't I find an ugly bridesmaid?" Deanna smiled and shook her by the shoulder. "Stop that. I'm presentable, that's all." If this was presentable, Shehady didn't want to see Deanna at her best. She looked down -- her own figure didn't even show through the robe the way Deanna's did. "The titless wonder. God, I wish we'd eloped!" "This isn't like you, Shehady," Deanna said solemnly. "It's just nerves. Everything's going just fine. Beverly is sweet-talking your parents, and Will is working on your sisters and brother. We've got Gwaheer sitting with the babies, so no crying in the middle of the ceremony, and Worf is stopping any Data jokes or soliloquies that might crop up. Geordi's minding the gift table, and my mother is behaving. There are only four admirals, two captains and an ambassador, and a bunch of the *Rampage* officers beamed down a few minutes ago. And you should see Andrew ordering the florists around." "And you can bet the minute the robes go down, everyone's going to stare at *you!*" "Well, Jean-Luc will be happy to hear that," Deanna said mildly. "He's determined not to turn around to face the guests at the end of the ceremony -- he mumbled something about not wanting people to draw comparisons between him and Will. Shehady -- get a grip. Where's the wild woman?" "Cowering somewhere behind the weak-kneed, insecure one who fully expects chaos to break out suddenly for no good reason?" "Some of the officers are talking about what's going on in Starfleet. Have you heard anything about the new group of rebels that's formed?" Spoken like a former Starfleet commander, Shehady thought. Evasive maneuver! Hard astern! "As a matter of fact, no. I've heard rumors, but I haven't been paying attention to anything but the -- " "The Vulcan/Romulan alliance wasn't popular, as you know. Some of the Vulcans who disagreed with it have formed a dissident organization, and some of the few remaining Maquis who hadn't been captured have joined as mercenaries. Apparently, Starfleet lost a small ship to the rebels last month. Since then, there have been four attacks on Romulan transports traveling through the Corridor. The Fleet's spreading ships pretty thin trying to patrol and catch the stolen ship." "That probably means if we survive the wedding, we'll be out there trying to survive on the -- " "Shehady," Deanna exclaimed in exasperation. "Fine. Let's try something else. Do you know any good recipes for chocolate?" "Sure, and they're all downstairs on the dessert table, so let my mother know which ones you want recipes for." "Isn't the weather nice today?" "Yeah, nice for a wedding," Shehady growled. "I'm SORRY. I can't -- get -- away from it!" "So what are you naming your first child?" Shehady glared at Deanna. "Blotch butt!" "And the daughter will be Bitch?" It was the final blow. Shehady giggled, then began to laugh, and Deanna followed suit. The door opened, and Zakhad leaned in. "Everything all right?" "Oh, yes," Deanna said, grinning. "We're fine. Is it time?" "Her parents are out here waiting to take her down for the official presentation of the bride whenever you're ready." Zakhad grinned and shut the door. Deanna squared her shoulders and brushed stray curls back, shaking out her arms. "All right. You look wonderful." "So do you. Want to lend me a few pounds of flesh?" Shehady pointed at her bridesmaid's chest. Deanna sighed. "We had doctors in the house last night, and you didn't speak up then, so no. Too late for that -- besides, Will might recognize them and want to know how you got them." "You are an evil woman. Just keep me sane until this is over, okay?" "That's my job. After you, Shehady Riker." --- Zakhad checked in the nursery before heading down to join the crowd. She smiled and passed on by unnoticed; Gwaheer had Felisa, Ke'stri and Zerin curled up in his arms together, and sang softly to them, while Zerin fed the younger babies bites of his cookie. Some days, it didn't pay to leave home without the imager. Heads turned as she came out on the balcony along the northeastern wing of the house. She ignored the attention as Gwaheer did, managing not to take it personally this time. Kyle Riker came over, holding a drink. Humans did that all the time, she'd noticed. Some didn't feel comfortable without a glass in their hand. "You're a lucky man," he said. "Deanna's a beautiful woman." Zakhad's ears went back, then she laughed. "My husband is inside, Mr. Riker." His chin dropped. "Wha -- oh! I am *so* sorry -- and now I'm so embarrassed, I've forgotten your name!" "Zakhad," she said gently. "It's no insult, really. It isn't the first time I have been mistaken for male. Our females are not so -- soft, as yours." "So how do you tell each other apart?" He recovered quickly, this one. She liked him already. "We have an excellent sense of smell." "You know, that makes perfect sense, now that you say it. Here I've been trying to count nose ridges and such." Zakhad laughed, startled -- humans often puzzled her more than they amused her. It was nice to meet an exception. "Your son is very like you, but not as funny." "Thank you," he said, bowing. "Aren't they a handsome couple?" Shehady had smelled terrified, up in the dressing room. Now she looked happier than Zakhad had ever seen her, and perfectly at home on Will's arm as they mingled in their matching robes. "They are well-matched. I have thought so since we met Shehady. They enjoy one another's company, and she fills the gap." Kyle Riker's eyebrows frowned. "Fills the gap." "It was the closest translation. There comes a time when a gap is perceived in the family. Sometimes the search is long, sometimes short, but the right person will fill the gap like a chink fills a hole to keep out the cold. If one attempts to fill it with someone who is almost, but not quite, the right person, there is a dissatisfaction. Shehady has been nervous about the wedding, and asked all the usual nervous questions, but that is normal. There is no real dissatisfaction, and Will only complains about the robe." Kyle smiled at her; surprise and pleasure tinged his scent. "You know, Zakhad, if you ever have a falling out with that husband of yours, come look me up." Zakhad's tail curled tighter. Will had told of his father's endless cycle of romances, and knowing Will's proclivity for practical joking, it was likely his father was of the same humor. This was a great opportunity if she'd ever smelled one. He was kidding, that was almost a certainty -- trying to flatter her harmlessly as 'hiri said humans meant to do via idle flirting. She could claim innocence if she had to; flirting was never harmless flattery for Ryxi. "An intriguing offer. Why would I wish to do so? I have not so great a knowledge of your customs; forgive my ignorance." "Well," he began, a little off balance, "that's a flirtatious way of saying that I find you interesting, and I'd like to get to know you better." "Flirtatious, meaning you are flirting with me. Deanna has mentioned this flirting to me. It is an interesting thing. It has the connotation of sexual interest, does it not?" "Usually, yes." He looked out the corner of his eye; Will and Shehady were approaching. Zakhad could smell Kyle's increased output of perspiration, slight as it was. She tilted her head and feigned thoughtfulness until Will and Shehady were within arm's reach. "It would be a fascinating experience. But, Mr. Riker, I am very sorry -- unlike my husband, I do not consider younger sexual partners. I fear you would not have sufficient experience to keep my interest. Thank you for the offer." She left him standing wide-eyed, as Will roared with laughter. Exchanging serene smiles with Lwaxana, who carried a present up the steps as Zakhad went down, she nodded pleasantly to people she didn't know on her way to where Deanna stood with Jean-Luc and Beverly. "You look very nice today, Jean-Luc," she said innocently. "Hell," he muttered, frowning down at the flower-covered silk. He glanced across the lawn at Will, who still laughed and was slapping his father on the back. "What did you say to make him laugh that way?" Zakhad flipped her wings slightly. "I'm not certain. I merely told his father that he was too young for me. Why that was so amusing -- " Deanna shoved her gently. "Zakhad! You kinked his tail! You knew he was only flirting." "But I'm just a naive alien here," Zakhad said plaintively. "Oh, right!" Deanna blurted between giggles. Zakhad coiled her tail and grinned, ears back. "It was a good tail-kink, yes? I did it for Will." Jean-Luc smiled. "Probably the best wedding present he's gotten today. You know his father started to dance on a table last night? He was singing at the top of his lungs and fell off. Data caught him, or we would have been home a lot later. He damaged the table and got into a fight with the restaurant manager, into the bargain." "Counselor?" Zakhad looked as Deanna did, and the man stopped short as he matched gazes with Zakhad. "Hello, Admiral Paris," Deanna said. "It's been a while. How is the Pathfinder project coming along?" "Not well," he said with a sigh. Zakhad smelled concern. Paris. 'Hiri had mentioned him -- his son was on a ship in the Delta Quadrant, a Starfleet ship that had been lost. For a while 'hiri had been planning a joint venture to contact and help that ship. Then the alliance with the Federation had broken apart, and the project had been abandoned. "I am sorry about your son," Zakhad said. The admiral looked at her again. "I'm sorry," Deanna said. "This is Zakhad. My sister-wife." Paris blinked. "Your. . . ah. Nice to meet you, Zakhad." As so often happened, he was uncomfortable. Humans didn't know what to do about multiple spouses, especially when unprepared for meeting them. "A pleasure to meet you, Admiral. Our husband has told us he was sorry that he could not proceed with locating *Voyager.* The dissolution of the treaty was a great blow to him. He worked so hard to build a foundation for an alliance." "I was hoping to talk to your husband," Paris said, looking at Deanna, as they all did. "He is here, isn't he? I thought I saw him earlier." "He's taking care of the children inside. I'll let him know you'd like to speak to him. Perhaps at the reception," Deanna said. Paris glanced back and forth at them, incredulous. Zakhad knew what he was thinking; another common assumption among many humans was that women tended to spend the most time with children. Zakhad did wish she were with the babies rather than making stilted conversation with people who were uncomfortable in her presence. But part of Gwaheer's motivation for her participation today was that she should learn more about Deanna's culture first-hand, and that end wouldn't be served if she retreated to her preoccupation with motherhood. "Traditionally, caring for children has always been the responsibility of the male," Zakhad said, borrowing her lecture voice from Data. "Oh, shut up, 'khad!" Deanna cried. "Stop telling stories like that." "You should not tell me to shut up. You are only second wife. I could be rid of you in an instant, if you do not have more respect than that." The admiral took a step backward, looking at Beverly and Jean-Luc, who both seemed just as dismayed. Deanna grinned, and Zakhad giggled and raised one ear. "Kinked you," Deanna said lightly. "We're kidding, Admiral. Zakhad likes to tease. Jean-Luc, we need to go. The official is approaching the dias. After you, sir." She gestured toward the balcony. "Oh, no, after you, Counselor," Jean-Luc said, a little miffed. About the joke, or the ceremony? Probably both, Zakhad thought. "Isn't it a human tradition that women always walk several paces behind -- " "Cultural jokes are losing their effectiveness, Zakhad. Time for some new material." Deanna patted her arm and went with Jean-Luc toward the balcony. Zakhad turned to Beverly. "It was fun for a while. Where do we sit?" "Up front. Admiral, would you like to sit with us? I think you'll enjoy the view." --- Deanna went looking for Will and Shehady, leaving Jean-Luc at the head of the balcony stairs. The first place she looked was the greenhouse her mother had put against the back wall of the mansion on the balcony, empty since Lwaxana had moved out to a smaller residence. It seemed a logical hideout -- close, yet private. When she noticed the door already ajar, she hesitated, and in the few seconds she heard Shehady's voice. " -- that we're staying on the ship." "I know your family is important to you, Shady, but we can't just cave in to what they want. It's our life, not theirs. Why can't they accept that?" "Mother's stubborn. I can't fault her for being concerned, though, because it really is dangerous -- " Deanna pursed her lips. She'd thought this was already a moot point. Of course, it probably still was -- this could be nervous babbling. "What's wrong?" "Will, it's time to go. They're waiting." Deanna retreated quickly and was waiting with Jean-Luc at the steps when the couple emerged. She glanced at Jean-Luc, smiling, and he rose to the occasion, doing his best not to look disgruntled as he felt. "It won't be so bad. Just picture the crowd in their underwear." He bit back his first retort, and his face settled into tolerant, half-amused resignation. "That won't work. I think you know that." "Just don't look at the rest of the wedding party from the neck down, and if you do, think dirty diapers. That should handle any unwanted automatic responses." "I'm not sure whether to thank you or not," he grumbled. Turning, they bracketed the happy couple and followed them down the stairs. The small ensemble Rwana Kimmel had hired began to play one of the traditional chiming wedding songs, and the crowd rose from their chairs. Shehady and Will raised their arms and began the dance through the guests, who began throwing the small white blossoms on cue, showering the wedding party liberally with petals. Deanna danced along, glancing down occasionally to make sure her bare feet wouldn't land on anything she wouldn't want to step in, and sidled across to bump hips with Jean-Luc. "Stop looking like you hate this. You can fake it better than that." He tried so hard, but couldn't loosen up. Anticipation of nudity was killing him. Deanna looked at Shehady and laughed; she'd already managed to step on her hem, and unselfconsciously danced with the front of her robe open down the aisles among the guests. Will was throwing himself into the moment, grinning and adding his own interpretation to the simple steps they'd rehearsed. They danced past Shehady's family, most of whom looked happy enough. Rwana pitched blossoms as if wishing they were rocks. Oh, well -- it was Shehady's day, not hers. Deanna threw herself into the dancing more as she warmed up, hoping either to draw attention from Jean-Luc's stiff performance or encourage him to relax more. Her mother appeared in Deanna's path unexpectedly, laughing, and they danced a few turns around each other with a recaptured freedom similar to last night's revelry. Encouraged by Lwaxana's forthrightness, other guests dancing in place left their chairs and flowed into the many aisles between blocks of seats. It sometimes happened at Betazoid weddings that the progression to the front where the official stood was longer than the actual ceremony, but as the Betazoid saying went, when joy takes over, formality waits patiently. Some of the Betazoid guests were dropping their clothes. Well, that was to be expected, too. Many were flinging handfuls of blossoms into the air at random, where the breeze caught them and sent them swirling and floating down. It was like dancing in a snow storm. Tired of the hot silk, Deanna pulled off her robe and hung it over her arm, and let the rhythm of the drums and the happy melody of the strings and chimes carry her. Beverly appeared, pushing past two wildly-gyrating tanned men who grinned invitingly at her, and danced next to her husband. Jean-Luc finally lost some of his stiffness in her presence. Deanna glimpsed Worf, standing in the front rows of seats like an island in a heaving sea, watching Data -- the android was surrounded by girls and trying to dance with the same freedom and spontaneity as the other guests. Geordi was half-dancing, half-running from a persistent woman she'd seen him talking to earlier, and grinning -- he wasn't fighting her attempts to remove his uniform very hard. She caught a glance of Zakhad, standing in the shadow of the balcony, watching. Deanna felt a pang of guilt -- it was only that Zakhad feared hitting someone with a wing or tripping people with her tail if she danced with the same freedom, in the way Ryxi danced, but still, that her sister-wife couldn't be herself in the middle of all this happiness frustrated Deanna. The musicians slowed the tempo, and Deanna knew that meant things were supposed to calm down -- the official must be on a schedule. Sure enough, through a brief gap in the crowd she saw him gesturing at the conductor to slow it down more. Locating Shehady's pale blond hair through the milling, slowing dancers, she headed for the bride, noticing Jean-Luc following her. They reached the dias just a few steps behind Will and Shehady, who, at the official's instruction, dropped their robes to the ground. Deanna let hers slide off her arm to the grass and schooled herself not to react when she saw, out of the corner of her eye, the movement of Jean-Luc's robe falling. Shehady's rapturous expression cast out any remaining doubt that the bride and groom might have unresolved issues. Deanna smiled as the couple faced each other and joined hands, right to left, left to right, and the official began the opening soliloquy. Sentimental tears gathered in her eyes. The bond between the two was too obvious; the official, old white-haired Kelor Din, who had been performing these ceremonies for decades, even recognized it. In the third paragraph of the ceremony he used for interspecies marriages that often didn't feature a telepathic bond, he switched seamlessly to a traditional one. The first mention of the word 'imzadi' startled Shehady; she glanced at Deanna incredulously. Deanna smiled and nodded, and indicated with her eyes for Shehady to pay attention to her groom. For once, the ceremony didn't seem to last an eternity. Deanna felt the usual rush of warmth when Gwaheer turned his attention to her, and sensed that he was watching; Homn was minding the children, he informed her. He wanted to hear the ceremony. The opening soliloquy was coming to a close. Kelor Din raised a hand and invited all present to open their thoughts and join in harmony and love, to witness the bond that is imzadi. Deanna looked at Jean-Luc, carefully keeping her eyes on his face, and saw the startled look there -- this hadn't been part of the plan. Trusting he wouldn't mind the intrusion, she said, She sensed a moment's consideration, curiosity, and then assent. Gwaheer did, too, and took the liberty of filtering the experience into imagery for Jean-Luc's benefit, assigning colors to the myriad of presences gathering as the Betazoids present linked with one another. Deanna saw Gwaheer as a blue glow, and alongside him a faint red mote that was Jean-Luc. They joined the others in a swirl of rainbow hues and all shades in between, floating in a ring around two golden suns in the center of the galaxy. The company of nearly two hundred minds awed Picard. He'd never experienced contact with more than a single telepath at a time. Deanna watched the others beginning to merge, the colors running together to white. Gwaheer gave her a mental nudge of encouragement. Grateful, she loosed her hold on Jean-Luc and discarded their shared image-based perception of the collected minds. 'hiri would keep Jean-Luc at a comfortable distance. It would be too easy for him to lose part of himself in the merging of minds if he participated that completely. She flew in and found Shehady and Will, both familiar presences, and felt Gwaheer's well wishes joining her own. Will was drifting in a hazy, delighted state of surprise; Deanna laughed and touched his consciousness. More surprise, and the mental equivalent of a cheesy grin. She gave them a 'hug' and got out of the way; there were plenty of well-wishers darting in to take her place. Gwaheer became her homing beacon. Extricating herself from the mingled wedding guests was as easy as pouring herself through the bond to him. she heard Jean-Luc thinking. Gwaheer gave them a good shove. Deanna opened her eyes and glanced at Jean-Luc, who swayed a little and met her gaze, an awed expression on his face. Kelor had also left the unity of thought, and resumed the spoken part of the ceremony, asking bride and groom to speak their oaths to one another. Shehady recovered almost immediately; Will stumbled over his memorized Betazoid phrases, looking like he'd been hit by a phaser on heavy stun. As the last halting words fell from Will's lips, a rain of red roses, divested of stems, suddenly pelted them from above. Shehady laughed, and she and Will looked up. Gwaheer soared in a circle, swooped down over their heads, and landed on the balcony rail. He grinned and gave Deanna a thumbs-up, which she returned. Kelor Din smiled paternally, and cupped a red rose in each hand as he raised his arms and pronounced the final benediction over the couple. Deanna clapped, and Jean-Luc followed suit impatiently, she sensed -- his attention had been on the ceremony throughout, but now all he wanted was to put on the robe again. The rest of the wedding party picked up their robes and shrugged them on. Deanna draped her robe over her arm again and kept one rose as a memento, noticing that Shehady had a few of her own. With a riff of a drum, the ensemble began to play again, and more blossoms flew. The guests began to dance again. Deanna led the way this time, since Jean-Luc looked incredulous and unwilling; he'd been told that at the end of the ceremony the group simply left the dias and headed for the reception. The spontaneous repeat of the journey up the aisle wasn't a complete surprise to Deanna or Shehady, however. The unexpected change in the ceremony had precipitated it. And, Deanna noticed as she glanced toward Shehady's parents, the Kimmel family was now as joyful as the other guests -- even Rwana couldn't argue with the imzadi bond. An indeterminate period of time later, shin aching due to a misplaced kick of someone she'd danced too close to, Deanna reached the balcony steps, the rest of the wedding party behind her. "That wasn't so bad," she said to Jean-Luc. "We only went around the entire crowd twice. You put the robe on inside out, by the way." "When can we change?" "Right now, if you want. We don't do receiving lines. It'll take a little time for everyone to get around to the buffet line -- the ceremony took an unexpected turn, and they'll all be talking about it." He strode for the nearest door as if a red alert awaited him somewhere inside; Deanna grinned at Will, shrugged, and hurried after Jean-Luc. He slowed a little, glancing back at her. "Are all Betazoid weddings like that? With the mind meld?" Deanna laughed. "Not all, Jean-Luc. Just the ones in which the couple are imzadi." He stopped and looked at her thoughtfully, standing in the middle of the hall, forgetting his goal for the moment. "I thought that was a rare occurrence, even among Betazoids." "It is. Does it surprise you so much? Will's quite receptive, for a human, and Shehady has loved him almost from the moment they met." "She has?" He really was surprised; his eyes held a fond glow, as he thought of the couple. "You and she have become very close, I've noticed. She's a delightful woman, but still, it's. . . surprising, that she's asked you to be in her wedding. Especially when she has so many friends she might have asked." "Surprising, because of my history with Will, you mean. I think Will is still trying to figure it out himself. I don't try -- I like Shehady. She and Zakhad get along, too." Jean-Luc crossed his arms and frowned a little. "I've noticed that the reception your family received has been rather mixed. I'm sorry." "We expected some misunderstanding. We'll be fine." Jean-Luc resumed his march, speaking back over his shoulder. "I'm surprised your mother hasn't insisted that you have a wedding of your own." Deanna leaned and shook petals from her hip-length curls as she walked, not able to give a suitable answer to that. She followed Jean-Luc up a small staircase just down the corridor. He hurried on ahead of her; she went along at a more sedate pace and was left far behind. A few people had already come inside and were meandering around the mansion. Since this was one of the few Houses open to the public, people tended to think it was acceptable to wander everywhere even during private events. What she didn't expect was that someone had ventured into her suite. Deanna stopped just inside the open door. "Excuse me, but this is my room." The woman turned. She looked familiar, but Deanna couldn't place her. She wore her pale brown hair piled high with ringlets curled at random, and a glimmering electric-red dress, with a light silver gossamer layer drifting over it. "You're staying here at the mansion?" she said, obviously not believing her. "Yes, I am." "I cannot believe the carnival this wedding has turned into," the woman exclaimed, words dripping contempt. "Those winged. . . creatures. . . walking around, and Shehady's insistence on welcoming them as if they're family. That Troi woman flitting about flirting with every man in sight, even the Klingon -- and why he had to be here I have no idea. And now there's you, claiming to live in a public landmark. I cannot believe the Kimmel family has come to this." Deanna stared at the woman through half-lidded eyes, debating whether to describe in detail what she'd done with one of the winged creatures last night in that bed across the room, or to call Homn and have her removed from the property. Finally, she abandoned those tempting ideas, and settled for something less satisfying, but more politic. "As a daughter of the Fifth House, I can assure you, madam, that I have every right to stay under this roof as long as I please, whenever I please. As for the guest list, I can assure you that neither the Klingon nor the 'winged creatures,' nor any other non-Betazoid person in attendance, would have matched your rudeness, were they to comment upon your presence here. If you will excuse me." Deanna tossed the robe and the rose on the foot of the bed. The flower seemed even redder against the heavy gold brocade coverlet. She went to the closet and slid back the door, took down the white full-length dress she knew matched the one Shehady would be wearing, and selected undergarments and jewelry from one of her bags in the closet floor. "You're Deanna Troi." She'd expected the woman to retreat when faced by the fact that she'd insulted a daughter of the Fifth House. Deanna straightened, a necklace dangling from her fingers. "Yes." "I am Shehady's grandmother, Keila Kimmel." She smiled and inclined her head. "It is a pleasure to meet you." "Charmed," Deanna replied, sounding quite the opposite. Keila was using a familiar tactic. Deny the unpleasantness, so therefore it never happened. Reluctantly, Deanna thought that it probably really was the best thing to do, for the sake of the wedding. She heard galloping in the hall, and Zerin charged through the open door, romping up to her and holding his arms up in a plea to be held. "Mother," he said in Betazoid, trilling sweetly. Nosy battleaxe be damned, his wide blue eyes and happy smile were melting Deanna on the spot. She beamed at him and picked him up. "Did you see Daddy fly?" "Flowers," he blurted happily. "Did you learn that word from Grandmother?" "I love Grandmother." He patted her cheek with his hand, stuck his toe in his mouth, and squirmed. "Mama love me?" "Oh, silly Zerin knows Mama loves him." She bit his ear lightly, one of many Ryxi gestures of affection. He giggled and climbed up her shoulder, clinging to her neck, so she let him hang down her back and searched for some earrings. When his grip tightened and she sensed him getting scared, she spun and found that Keila had come up behind her. The woman was studying Zerin; her eyes shifted to Deanna's face. "I thought that child was less than two years old." "He is. Ryxi are precocious." Keila shook her head slowly. "Your mother lets him call her grandmother." "She is his grandmother. He's my son, after all." "Shehady said he was the other woman's son." Deanna stepped away from the closet. "He is *our* son. Betazoids are supposedly so fond of love and peace -- I would think you could understand that love takes many forms, and parentage is not always determined by genetics." She glanced at the open door. "And Zakhad, you don't have to hover outside." Zakhad stepped into the room slowly, Ke'stri in her arms. "Shehady is asking where you are." "Tell her I'll be down in a few minutes." Keila stared at the Ryxian, so Zakhad stared back. "Good day, Mrs. Kimmel," Zakhad said at last. "It was a beautiful ceremony. Your granddaughter is very happy with her husband, but her family has made her very sad." "'khad, it isn't our business," Deanna said. "Shehady is a good friend," Zakhad insisted, stopping short of an irate foot-stamp. "When it is so obvious that she will do a thing in spite of what they think, it would make more sense for them to accept it and wish her well rather than -- " "I think that's a moot point. Tell Shehady I'll be down as soon as I'm done arguing with you about keeping your tail out of other people's business," Deanna said firmly. Zakhad hadn't been able to participate in the unity of thought; she didn't understand what had taken place, yet, and that the tension in the Kimmel family was likely easing. "Will is also a good friend," Zakhad continued. Laying her ears back in determination, this time she did stamp her foot. This wasn't like her. Deanna paid closer attention -- she was good at shielding herself in spite of her lack of telepathic talent, but Zakhad was definitely more upset than Deanna had thought. "Yet Shehady's father, though he does not say so, feels anger even while he congratulates Will and Shehady. Will is human, and Betazoid and human are so alike -- why would he be angry?" "It isn't that Will is human," Deanna said. "It's because he's Starfleet. And Shehady will be on the ship with him, in dangerous situations -- " "But there will *always* be danger! Will is a good officer, and Shehady a good doctor -- they are needed very much where they are, and she would be stationed on the ship whether they married or not! I do not understand why that would make a difference. I do not understand why 'hiri likes these people so -- they treat our children like pets, and they do not like to speak to me. When they do, they ask me if I am male or female, or make jokes I do not understand." She sounded nearer to tears than she'd been since Gwaheer's brush with an erroneous court conviction. Deanna held out a hand and approached Zakhad. She took her hand reluctantly. Uncertain of what might reassure her sister-wife, and painfully aware of Keila's presence, Deanna said, "These people are simply a little uncertain because you're very different from what they are accustomed to, yet you speak in Standard -- and Betazoid, though yours has a very pronounced Ryxi accent. When people expect you to be either completely different or completely alike, and you're somewhere in between, they don't know what to do with you. What little they know about you isn't enough to form a basis for conversation. You've just got to be a little more patient with them. Just until the reception is over, okay? They'll all go home and it'll be just us and Mother again." Deanna stroked Ke'stri's head, sensing she was about to cry, and Zakhad handed the baby to her without hesitation. "Zakhad, go down and tell Shehady I'm getting dressed." "What is your full name?" Keila asked suddenly. "Both of you." Deanna and Zakhad turned as one to stare at the woman. Deanna sensed no hostility, just rigid determination and a certain openness that hadn't been there before. "Deanna zel'Gwahiri Terlag'heza, and Zakhad zel'Gwahiri Terlag'him. Why do you ask?" "I think it's fairly obvious what the second part means. What are terlag'heza and terlag'him?" "Zakhad is a medical doctor. I am a psychologist. Please, I'm in a bit of a hurry -- " "Zakhad, if you would allow it, I'd like to re-introduce you to my family. Come with me, please." Surprised, Zakhad followed Keila from the room. Deanna put Ke'stri on the bed and hurried to get dressed. When she turned as she fastened the second earring, she saw that her daughter had demolished her keepsake rose completely and she and Zerin were tasting the petals. "No! Put that down!" Both of them dropped the petals and began to cry, sensing her alarm, and she swept them up in her lap to soothe them, her rush to leave forgotten. "I just saw Zakhad with -- Deanna?" Gwaheer appeared in the door. Hearing the babies cry wasn't terribly upsetting any more, but he hadn't expected the tears on her face. He closed the door behind him, crossed the room swiftly, climbed up on the bed, and wrapped himself around her from behind. "Tired, and stressed," Deanna whispered. "That's all it is. Zakhad's feeling really out of place, and Shehady's family reacting so badly in the beginning didn't help matters." Arms around her, chin on her shoulder, he swayed gently, letting Zerin and Ke'stri pull at his fingers. "She isn't accustomed to prolonged exposure to other cultures. She doesn't know how to distance herself from it." "And you do?" "Here, now -- no. This is your world, your culture, and I have made it part of my own to some degree because of you. I agreed to bring you all early because it is important that Zakhad understand more about it than she does. Otherwise I would have brought you alone, and come back with Zakhad and these two for the wedding." "Maybe that would have been a better thing to do for Shehady's sake. She's had so much difficulty with her family, and we only added to that." "You cannot call back the wind that's already passed by you, Deanna." He brushed tears from her cheek gently with a thumb. "Would you be this teary-eyed at our own wedding?" Deanna hugged the children closer, then let them loose. Zerin slid down to the floor, Ke'stri not far behind, and the two wrestled playfully, chewing each other's ears. Turning in his arms, Deanna ran her hands down his neck. "I'm just. . . frustrated. For Zakhad. For the children, because people keep petting their heads like they're little animals. For you, because you feel the hurt when we're misunderstood." "I knew there might be misunderstandings, but that will always happen at first contacts between species -- and this qualifies. Worf is also being treated this way. Not many of the Kimmel's guests have seen a Klingon before, or an android. We are not the only ones being misunderstood." Gwaheer kissed her affectionately. "Love, you should fix your makeup and go downstairs, but -- Deanna, would you like a formal wedding of your own?" "I couldn't," she blurted. "'hiri, you know I love you -- but we've talked about this before." "It's Zakhad's idea, lovely one. She has been making plans with your mother, rewriting the traditional vows because she knows you were concerned for her feelings -- I believe they have begun a guest list. Zakhad informed me this morning that I needed to come up with a formal proposal. She didn't give me the option of saying no. I doubt she'll give you that option, either." Deanna matched his smile with her own, and then some. "I would love to marry you -- but you know it's expected to be a little more permanent than just being a zel?" "Just a zel? As if that were so small a thing." "I'm only teasing," she murmured into his lips before pressing hers to them. Deanna savored the taste of his mouth -- he'd been eating fruit, probably some of the berry salad Shehady had insisted on -- and parted from him reluctantly, running her fingers down his face. "Were you surprised at what happened during the ceremony? Did you understand why?" "The official recognized them as imzadi. It was surprising, but only because I hadn't realized the bond between them was that strong. He's human, and. . . ." "And you thought I was his imzadi? The more I learn, the more I know that I do not understand as much as I thought I did. I don't care if I ever understand. I love you, and we are happy. And I am such a dead woman if I don't get downstairs." He was pleased, overjoyed in fact -- it rushed through the bond and made her skin tingle. It made it easier to leave him sitting on the bed and finish getting ready. He kept the children occupied and watched her fix her makeup, sending a wave of warmth along after her as she ran out the door. The guests, three hundred of them, were still moving through the buffet line, with approximately a fourth of them through the ball room and in the courtyard. There seemed to be plenty of them just milling around talking. She saw Keila with Zakhad in a large, loose group of the Kimmel family, and sensed nothing more unusual than brief flickers of curiosity. Blinking, she counted smiles -- they were talking to Zakhad, and Zakhad was smiling back! "There you are," Shehady huffed, hurrying up to her. "What are you standing here in the shadows for?" Deanna had come out a different door and stood deep in the shadows of the corner where the two wings of the mansion met. "I'm just a little shell-shocked. Your family is smiling at Zakhad." "I noticed," Shehady exclaimed, grinning. "My grandmother's doing. She said she talked to you -- but that isn't all of it, is it?" "I'm a little numb -- it isn't every day you get a marriage proposal from the father of your children." "EEEE!" Shehady hugged her and laughed, dancing in a little circle with Deanna. "Oh, I TOLD you he would do it! What are you doing about Zakhad?" "We don't have any choice in the matter. Zakhad's planning it with my mother -- 'hiri received orders this morning." Deanna let her goofy grin escape. "Feel like stripping in public again soon?" "Hey, for my blotchy-butt buddy, I'll even forgo the breast implants, just to make her look better by comparison." Giggling like schoolgirls, they hurried out of the grassy area onto the paved courtyard, slowing and regaining their more mature demeanor. Shehady had worn her white dress, as predicted, and linked arms with Deanna. They headed for the table in the center of the yard, which was clearly for the wedding party and parents only. --- The bar opened shortly after dessert for post-luncheon libations. While the caterers began clearing tables and chairs, Lwaxana started the music, which poured into the courtyard through rented speakers. Large as the ball room was, three hundred people dancing in it would have been crowded. And in spite of the bright afternoon sunshine, the breeze made being outdoors much nicer. Zakhad appreciated it. Rooms made for humanoids were claustrophobic, especially when full of people, though the mansion was better in that respect than most. She fetched herself a drink and came back outside, and indulged in a fond laugh at Zerin. He'd been chosen as the official party favor distributor, and scuttled about carrying a basket of noisemakers and pink blossoms for the ladies. The job was the best fun he'd had yet during their visit to Grandmother's house. His language skills were improving rapidly thanks to the contact with so many people, and she noticed that the humans looked surprised when he spoke to them -- most of them still didn't realize Ryxi identified people by smell, and Zerin was remembering to address Betazoids in their own language, all others in Standard. He came up to her eagerly for the fifth time, grinning, and she tugged his ear fondly. A footstep behind her startled Zerin; he stared, then bounded away again. Zakhad turned to find Commander Data standing at a polite distance. Zerin didn't know what to think of a man who smelled like a machine. "Good afternoon, Commander. Are you enjoying the party?" "I am, although it confuses me -- earlier today, there seemed to be some discomfort on the part of many of Shehady's family members. That seems to have dissipated somewhat. Are such tensions common at weddings?" The android took a step closer. He held a drink; Zakhad wondered if he really enjoyed such beverages, or if he drank them to fit in, as she did. "This is the first Betazoid wedding I have ever attended, so I do not know. I assume so. Others have said as much." Zakhad smiled at him pleasantly. "Would you care to dance, Zakhad?" She blinked and put her ears back. No one else had asked her to, except Andrew. Glancing at the couples waltzing around the courtyard, she snapped her wings decisively and put her glass on one of the few tables left standing around the perimeter of the pavement. "I would like that, thank you." He also put down his drink, put a hand on her shoulder and took her hand in his, and led out across the courtyard. She marveled at the fluidity of movement he managed; too controlled, too precise to be human, yet it was an organic motion, not mechanical. Part of her focus had to be on keeping her tail and wings from striking other dancers, but she smiled at him and kept an ear on what he was saying. "You have felt very out of place here," he said. "I understand. I have spent my life among humans, and while Betazoid culture is very similar, there are nuances of it that I do not yet understand. And I have noticed that most of them do not seem comfortable in my presence." "Betazoids probably don't know what to make of someone they can't read telepathically." He quirked an eyebrow. "That is probably true. The Ryxi were not so uncomfortable with my presence, however." "The Ryxi do not fear what is different so much. And not all of us are telepathic." The waltz ended a moment later, and Data bowed politely and left her, turning to ask another woman to dance, apparently choosing one at random from the milling guests around the periphery of the pavement. He, too, must be under orders to socialize. Hearing a light step, Zakhad pivoted to find Deanna standing behind her, grinning. "That was an interesting choice of partner. I thought you couldn't dance." They walked together up the courtyard. "I can barely dance. The upgrade was only possible because of your lessons last night." "'khad, thank you," Deanna said softly, dark eyes glowing. "Gwaheer told me the wedding was your idea. It really isn't necessary to do it -- " "It would please you. It is necessary. I cannot claim to understand everything about this," Zakhad waved at the guests dancing behind and around them, "but it's obvious that more than anything else, it is a celebration. I may not know what a wedding truly means to you, but I can celebrate with you. And it pleases Lwaxana, so much." At the edge of the pavement, Deanna hesitated, glancing around them. A small group of curious guests went by, but did nothing more than glance at them. "You like my mother, don't you?" "Why is that hard to believe?" "I'm sure you are aware that not everyone finds her easy to be with. She makes many people uncomfortable, especially certain humans." "And you?" The shock passed through Deanna like a slow thaw. Her cheeks reddened slightly. "Mother has a very different approach to life than I do. It used to bother me more than it does now." Zakhad looked around them at the mature trees around the courtyard pavement. "You know, the last time I visited this place, you were very young. These trees had just been planted, and we were drinking tea and sitting at a table not far from where Beverly is dancing with Geordi." Deanna looked at the southeastern corner of the pavement, brow furrowed as if trying to remember. "I had never met your sister. 'hiri didn't bring me with him to visit until after her death. I only saw her sadness, her pain -- even when she sounded happy and laughed with Ian, I could tell she missed Kestra as if she had died only the day before. I understood how she felt. 'hiri knew that I would, because I lost my own daughter so long ago and I still felt the ache. We were of some comfort to each other, but she couldn't take it, and tried to eradicate all memory of Kestra. 'hiri stopped bringing me after that." Zakhad smiled sadly at the memory, then shook it off. "But that was long ago. I am happy to be here now, in spite of the tension with the guests. Lwaxana is much better now." Deanna nodded and touched Zakhad's arm, as she sometimes did when uncertain of what to say and about to change the subject. Which she did, predictably. "I wanted a souvenir rose. Ke'stri destroyed the one I took -- Mother just told me they're here to take down the chairs from the northeast lawn, and I want to get another before they trample all the blossoms into the grass." They circumvented the ball room, slipping through a side door, down the hall, and through another side door. They came around a row of shrubs onto the flat lawn near the dias. Men were collapsing chairs at the far end of the seating area. Deanna scooped up several roses, sniffed one, then held up her skirt and collected more of them. Not questioning it, Zakhad helped her pick up blossoms. She heard a sound in the hedge behind the dias; standing up with ears pricked, she caught a whiff of someone. Human, and familiar. "Will?" Deanna stood up and whirled around. "He's in the ball room, dancing with Shehady's mother," she said, uncertain. "Deanna." It was Will's voice. Zakhad knew the voice as well as the scent. A wing's length from them, he came around the end of the hedge. He'd changed clothes; rather than the dress uniform of a Starfleet captain, he wore a blue tunic and black pants, and calf-hugging boots. "Tom," Deanna exclaimed. Her reaction was immediate; bitter fear cut into her normal, pleasant scent. Dropping the flowers, Zakhad tensed and swiftly readied herself for whatever might happen next, honing her focus, training her eyes and ears and nose to detect minutiae that would precede an attack. This was a confusing situation, but Deanna would not be afraid for no reason, nor would she be mistaken about Will's identity. "Imzadi, please," the man said. He was soft-voiced, but the smell was off. Darkness hovered about this man. Not exactly anger, but anxiety, certainly. "I'm not your imzadi. Tom, I'm married now. Just go away and leave me alone." Deanna marched toward the ball room, stiff-backed as she always was when nervous and angry -- but still, fear was predominant in her scent. Zakhad followed her, keeping her guard up and her ears back. The confusing man named Tom who was Will tried to run past Zakhad, reaching for Deanna, but Zakhad heard him and tracked him without difficulty. She snapped her wing open, struck him in the head with the leading edge, and knocked him to the ground. Refolding the wing, she continued after Deanna, who had only hesitated long enough to watch Tom roll across the grass and give Zakhad a thankful glance. "Deanna!" He didn't give up easily. This time, when he ran after them, Zakhad spun with her hand shooting out at neck height. Her long fingers bracketed his neck neatly and his own momentum swept his feet out from under him. He held something in his right hand, and the instant she noticed it she snatched the phaser from him, even as he raised it in self-defense. Deanna's fear stung Zakhad's sinuses. "Hold him, I'll get some of the *Rampage* officers -- the security chief is here." She dropped her skirt, spilling her roses, and ran for the ball room. The purple hue his face was turning wasn't normal for humans, she guessed, but didn't let go until the promised officers, Data and a man in security yellow, arrived. "Tom Riker," Data said. "Thank you, Zakhad. You may release him now." She gave Data the phaser and dropped Tom, backing away as the android tapped his communicator. Apparently Deanna wasn't the only one who knew better than she who this odd person was. A transporter beam took the three men away. Zakhad gathered a double-handful of roses and continued walking. Deanna met her on her way inside. "I picked these up. Do you want more?" Deanna, breathing heavily, looked at her with surprise. "Zakhad, a man who probably smelled just like Will just charged at us with a phaser set on heavy stun. Aren't you a little upset about that?" "It was startling, but not distressing. He was easily handled." Deanna raised both eyebrows and tentatively asked, "Let's not tell anyone until after the reception, all right? We don't want to alarm anyone. There's already been enough stress today." "But what if there are other armed men?" "Data's beaming down security officers to patrol the grounds until the party's over. I don't think there'll be any more trouble -- I'll explain why later. We'll be fine. Let's go inside." --- Shehady laughed and tried again to step on her brother's toes while they danced. "You're no fun, Tailim. You're too good at dodging." "You're pretty good at dodging yourself -- where are the bells you're supposed to be wearing?" Tradition -- brides were supposed to wear tiny bells, braided in their hair and stitched into their clothes. Hardly anyone did that any more. "You didn't have Selia wear them at your wedding." Tailim shrugged. "Mom talked about it. Selia's mother said it was a silly idea. There's your bridesmaid again -- are you sure she's married? Radni really likes her." "Yes, so shut up already." "I think we would have heard all about it if a daughter of the Fifth House -- " "She followed her husband's customs first. She's planning her wedding here. Happy?" "Okay, so tell me again -- is that her husband or the other wife she's with?" Shehady glanced over again as they whirled across the courtyard to the jangling tune of a Betazoid song. "That's Zakhad, the other wife." She looked again on the next revolution, and the next. Zakhad and Deanna were standing too still. Watching something. "Hey, let's stop for a minute, Tai. I'm just about to throw these damn shoes away." They stopped, and he followed her to the nearest table, where she fell into a chair and pulled off one of the sandals. His attention wandered; grinning, he touched her shoulder in farewell and headed for the other side of the grey pavement, where a group of big-eyed, full-figured girls were gathered. Not that Selia would care -- she was inside somewhere flirting with Worf. Let her buy her own trouble. Shehady watched Deanna and Zakhad watching someone else -- Admiral Paris, she realized, noticing the grey-haired gent dancing sedately in a corner of the courtyard. The shadows were lengthening as the sun set in the west; it was hard to see the couple's faces. The woman wore a long-sleeved, form-fitting green dress not native to Betazed. Was it Paris' wife? She looked a little younger than Shehady would have expected. Suddenly, Lwaxana Troi emerged from one of the many doors around the triangular courtyard, and, arms up and sleeves aflutter, glided to the admiral, calling, "Oh, AD-mirrrral, *there you are!* Why, I've been looking *everywhere* for you!" Shehady's heart stopped in her chest. She looked to Deanna, but she'd disappeared -- no, there she was, weaving through the minglers along the edge of the pavement in her mother's direction. Zakhad was missing, though. But Deanna stopped short of her mother and the couple. The woman looked displeased, and stood with her arm around the admiral's waist; Paris, on the other hand, was smiling and chatting animatedly with Troi. What the hell was going on? Deanna had promised her mother wouldn't get too outrageous and cause a scene. And who would've thought Paris would actually enjoy the attentions of Lwaxana? The woman in the green dress started to look around suspiciously. Deanna moved again, but her attitude had changed -- now she practically charged forward, as if trying to tackle her mother. But Lwaxana was hurrying out of the way, and sudden movement drew Shehady's eye -- from behind a shrub a Ryxian leaped out, looking fierce, fingers splayed and reaching for the admiral. Shehady tore off the other sandal and was half across the distance between her and the odd events taking place in the southwestern corner of the courtyard when Zakhad made contact -- with the woman. She landed squarely on the woman's shoulders and back, an arm around her neck, gripping the woman's wrist. The hand attached to the wrist Zakhad held gripped a phaser. Deanna pulled the admiral away; Paris stumbled and fell, rolled, leaped to his feet, and watched with the same fascinated horror as Shehady as the phaser went off. The beam lanced upward into the sky. Luckily. Or maybe not -- hopefully a hand phaser wouldn't damage an orbiting ship, if it chanced to hit one. She didn't know all the physics behind phasers to know if they were short range weapons, or if the beam would go on forever. She'd been letting her thoughts ramble incoherently. Screaming broke out around her, jarring her back to attention. The guests were flooding indoors in a stampede of formal shoes on flagstones. Deanna rushed in and grappled for the phaser. Shehady saw the woman grimacing as if exerting great effort, and her thumb moved on the phaser, then it clattered across the pavement. Zakhad let go as the woman ceased resistance and fell backward. "Sit on her," Deanna exclaimed, picking up the phaser. "It's on overload." Paris took it from her and popped off the top. "It's been rigged," he said hoarsely, looking up with the official Starfleet we're-really-screwed expression. "There's no way we'll get this far enough away from of here -- " A window opened on the second floor behind Shehady, and she turned to see Gwaheer leaping out of it and gliding across the courtyard as the phaser began to whine. Deanna grabbed the phaser out of Paris' hand and tossed it straight up; Gwaheer caught it and vanished abruptly. "End of problem," Deanna said firmly. She sighed heavily, and gave Shehady a dire grin. " Told you I'd see that nothing bad happened." Shehady came closer and studied the angry prisoner. "I know this person. She was one of the organizers for the medical conference I attended four months ago." Will, Worf, Data, Jean-Luc -- people were pouring out of the ball room, and inside Lwaxana was loudly reassuring everyone that everything would be fine, things were under control. Shehady realized that only moments had passed, and tried to soothe the quiver in her stomach. "So why was she holding a phaser on you?" "She didn't say. I can't imagine -- unless they wanted a hostage to negotiate for something they wanted?" the admiral said, straightening his uniform. Will slowed to a walk and took Shehady's hand, pulling her to his side. "What's going on?" "Tom was here," Deanna said. She met Shehady's gaze solemnly, as if trying to reassure. "He approached me with a drawn phaser when I went out to pick up some of the roses. Zakhad caught him, and Data took him to the brig on the *Rampage.* He was tracking my movements and waiting until he was able to approach me alone. I suspect they knew that I would be able to sense the admiral's reaction to their kidnaping attempt; we found a signaling device on Tom, so we knew he had someone else here working with him." "We agreed that the other agent could be anyone," Data continued. "Upon enlisting the help of other Starfleet personnel present to observe all possible targets they might have had, I triggered the signal device, and we waited. When nothing happened overtly, Deanna began a circuit of the ball room and courtyard, and sensed that Admiral Paris began to feel some trepidation, but was not certain at first why." "So I asked Mother to find out," Deanna said, looking at Lwaxana, who came to her daughter's side and took Deanna's arm. "And she could tell only that the woman Admiral Paris was with was hiding something, and able to block her telepathically. Zakhad went around to approach from behind, and saw the phaser in the woman's sleeve." "Why, Admiral?" Beverly asked, a hand on Jean-Luc's shoulder. "Or do you know?" Paris was shaking his head and staring at the woman, as two security guards arrived and Zakhad gave her up to them. "I can't be certain what they wanted, whether it was information on a classified project or if they simply wanted a hostage to use as leverage for some other purpose. But I am extremely grateful to you all for apprehending them before they carried out their intentions." Shehady glanced anxiously at Will. "What if they were after your ship? What if there are more of them, and they were going to use the admiral merely to reach the transporter room? Tom was Maquis -- he could be one of the mercenaries hired by the Vulcan dissidents, trying to capture a better ship." She felt the weight of many stares, and looked around at the grim expressions -- Worf, the admiral, Jean-Luc, Beverly, several of Will's officers, Geordi, and Will himself. Deanna looked at the ground; she didn't seem to share the slight surprise of the others. She'd already thought of that possibility. It had been her words earlier that Shehady had drawn upon, after all. "I have our security chief coordinating with the local authorities for a full security sweep," Data said. "I am sorry, Captain, that this has disrupted your wedding. Security has tried to be as unobtrusive as possible, but I have requested security teams to make tricorder sweeps of the grounds and the interior of the mansion -- " "Don't worry about it, Data. We're just glad no one was hurt." Shehady inhaled deeply -- finally, her breathing was returning to normal. Gwaheer glided down and landed nearby, and Deanna looked visibly relieved to see him, moving a few steps to her right to take his hand. "I would have been back sooner, but I took a quick flight around the property after ridding myself of the phaser. One person, on foot, running due east toward a flitter parked in a concealed spot outside the fence." "Thank you. If you will all excuse me." Data spun on his heel and hurried off. The admiral followed him, jogging to keep up. "Just what did you do with the phaser?" Will asked. "Took it above cloud level and six kilometers out." He pointed roughly northwest at the sky. "I thought I'd left this sort of thing behind me when I left Starfleet," Jean-Luc exclaimed, chuckling and eyeing Will and Shehady. "Leave it to you to find spies at your wedding." "Hey, it's not our fault," Will exclaimed. "In fact, I'm not sure who to blame. Why was Tom hanging around on Betazed, anyway?" "Who cares?" Shehady shifted her weight from one foot to the other; the pavement was cold under her stocking feet. "But you know they hold all kinds of conferences here. The medical conference I attended was just one of four conferences that month, according to the schedule at the meeting facility in Janara. Tom was obviously in contact with the woman we caught just now. Maybe she passes along information on potentially-interesting visitors as she gets it. I'll bet as one of the conference organizers, she's really good friends with the folks at the hotel where the admiral is staying." Will looked a little insulted. "Shades, I was trying to tease Deanna, not analyze his real motivations." "You should've seen Zakhad strangle your doppelganger," Deanna said, crossing her arms. "You wouldn't be so quick to tease me, if you'd seen her defending me." She looked at Zakhad; the Ryxian flexed her fingers, claws out, and grinned menacingly. Gwaheer snorted. "You know, there's often a lot of truth to certain cliches, and one cliche in particular seems to hold true regardless of what planet you're on." "What's that?" Jean-Luc asked. "That the female of the species is always deadlier than the male," Gwaheer said. Grinning lopsidedly, he gathered a wife under each wing and headed for the ball room. Shehady put her palms to her forehead and groaned. "I don't believe this day!" "Well, honey, you remember I *did* promise you something different," Will said smugly, crossing his arms. It reminded her of Deanna's uncanny imitation of him -- Shehady giggled, and tried to stifle it behind a hand. He tilted his head a little and looked at her quizzically, in another of the expressions Deanna had mimicked. Lwaxana didn't help; she laughed outright, looking at Shehady conspiratorially. Deanna had run through her entire repertoire the previous evening for all of them. At a disbelieving stare from Will, Lwaxana clapped both her hands over her mouth and hurried away. "What's going on?" Will exclaimed suspiciously. Beverly, wrapping her arms around Jean-Luc's shoulders from behind, smiled lazily and said, "Go ask Deanna. Just remember -- imitation is the sincerest form of flattery." --- The End