Shock Miss a Beat

Title: Shock Miss a Beat
Author: Lori (lpon@earthlink.net)
Series: TNG Kerzoinky AU
Rating: [PG-13]
Codes: P, R, M, C, T, F
Disclaimer: P, R, T, and C aren't mine, F and M are.

Summary: Guys' night out, girls' night in, some tension and some alcohol, a lot of talk and a little action. Immediately follows Bitter Greens (http://home.earthlink.net/~lpon/bitter.htm) in the Kerzoinky AU.

Warnings: not much to warn about, other than it might not make much sense unless you read Bitter Greens.

####

The impression that you sell
Passes in and out like a scent
But the long face that you see comes from living close
To your fears
If this is up then I'm up but you're running out of sight
You've seen your name on the walls
And when one little bump leads to shock miss a beat
You run for cover and there's heat, why don't they

Do what they say, say what they mean
One thing leads to another
You told me something wrong, I know I listen too long
But then one thing leads to another
One thing leads to another

The Fixx, One Thing Leads to Another

####

"Are you really happy living here?"

Beverly came back from her woolgathering and looked across the rippling water at Shehady. "You think I would be here if I weren't?"

"If Jean-Luc -- "

"We agreed together that this was the best place for us at this time. And we spend part of the year on Earth, in Labarre, as well. What we're doing is very important."

"I guess so."

Lightly-tanned, generously-proportioned, and nude, Deanna came back with their drinks. Placing their glasses near each of them on the edge of the spring, she stepped down into the water, sinking up to her chin and sitting. Shehady chewed her tongue thoughtfully and thought for the millionth time -- does Will compare me to this?

The men wouldn't be back for hours, most likely. Beverly had insisted that they go out together, Jean-Luc and Will and Gwaheer -- what a threesome. Shehady wondered who would get in the most trouble. Not Gwaheer, he was too cognizant of his family to take too many risks. Will, possibly, and Jean-Luc ran a distant second.

If they were present, all eyes would have turned to Deanna. Shehady had seen it happen not two days before, when the Picards had come over and the whole group had taken the plunge into the hot spring in Zakhad's garden. Even Jean-Luc, though he'd turned to Beverly quickly. Will hadn't been so quick.

"Why are you jealous of me, Shehady?"

She blinked. Deanna, completely serious, gazed at her through wisps of rising steam. And Beverly stared now, too. "I guess because I'm not as curvaceous as -- "

Beverly snorted and reached for her drink. "Tell me about it."

"I really don't think either of you has much to complain about," Deanna exclaimed, looking from one to the other of them. "Think about it. Either Will or Jean-Luc could have their pick of any number of beautiful women, after all."

"They didn't go on looks alone, you know that, Counselor." Beverly sounded mildly sour. So Shehady wasn't the only one. . . .

"That may be true, but it's just as true that everyone has insecurities about themselves, and in your cases they're completely unfounded."

"Especially Shehady's." Beverly pointed with her chin at her. "I'm sorry, but if I were half as -- "

"Please, spare me -- I've tried red hair, even, and I don't get half the looks you do, Beverly."

"Just what was it that got you started thinking this way, Shehady? You aren't a vain person. And Will obviously finds you extremely attractive."

"Do your looks matter to you, Dee? Even though I get the feeling your sweet husband would chase you just as avidly if you looked like a man?"

Deanna glared at her and sank under the surface for a few minutes. Beverly sighed. "You've done it now."

"I'm just curious."

Deanna popped up and blew water from her nose. Smoothing her hair to wring water from it, she shook her head. "'hiri likes how I look."

"Hmmm. Zakhad said the sense of smell was more important, and I don't know that looks have much to do with what Ryxi see in each other."

"It's individual preference. You think 'hiri doesn't appreciate the human form?"

"I think we ought to talk about something else before this turns into true confessions," Beverly said. "Like maybe we should talk about Shehady, and place our bets on how long it'll take Will to pop the question."

####

"So what do you really see in her?"

Gwaheer disliked this turn in the conversation. Around them in the dimness of the bar -- Will's name for it, Ryxi didn't distinguish between bars and restaurants -- other diners were involved in more sane discussions. Why not him?

"See in who?"

"You know, that's what bugs me the most -- you know exactly what I mean and you play innocent anyway. You know who."

"I don't understand the question. Are you asking personally, or generally what a Ryxi might see in her?"

"You, specifically, as a Ryxi." Will hunched over his glass and glowered across the table. Jean-Luc didn't look happy to be sitting with them, more or less in between.

"I think that may be -- "

"I don't care. I want to know. You make a big deal out of your sense of smell, and you're always complimenting her about how sweet she smells. Is that all you find attractive about her?"

Gwaheer closed his eyes. It wouldn't do to cause problems -- an honest answer would be best. Riker wasn't asking out of jealousy, exactly; his scent would be different if he were. He seemed curious and begrudging.

It struck him then -- was it because Riker thought Deanna would be better off matched with a four-limbed, bipedal humanoid, instead of a part-time bipedal gargoyle? He'd recently called Gwaheer that jokingly, but too often jokes held an element of seriousness.

"Deanna is a beautiful woman," he said at last, swirling the remaining half of his drink. "I did not believe she would want me. I believed the differences were too great. I had resolved not to return to the *Enterprise* again, and but for the problems with the Chel'whit'iei and Gregory Steichen, I would not have."

"It was entirely *her* idea -- that's what you're trying to tell me?" He didn't sound approving. Gwaheer matched his posture, forearms on the table, and looked Riker in the eye.

"Does it really bother you that I have wings and a tail, Will?"

####

"I'd give it six months," Deanna said.

"That's too long -- I think it'll be closer to four."

Shehady wanted to throw water at both of them. "Planning on having any other kids, Beverly?"

"What do you think?" Deanna asked, ignoring the question. "You've been with him for a while now."

"You're just grilling me because I hinted that Gwaheer didn't find you physically attractive. Fine, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have gone there or done that -- can we please talk about something else?"

Deanna pursed her lips around her straw and sipped. She looked at Beverly, then back at Shehady. "All right. I'm sorry. Let's talk about something else. Something less sensitive, and more frivolous."

####

"I only wanted to know if you truly appreciated -- "

"You wanted to be certain a beautiful woman didn't go to waste paired off with a freakish alien who makes her share him with another woman?"

Riker rocked back in his seat, slumping, glaring openly. "If you want to put it that way, why not?"

Jean-Luc sweated nervously, eyes darting back and forth, uncertain but wanting to do something. Gwaheer could smell his fear.

"I love my wives, more than I could possibly express in words. Is it so difficult for you to believe that?"

"What would you do if you were forced to choose between them?"

"There is no situation in which -- "

"If Zakhad and Deanna developed a dislike for one another, and each demanded that the other should leave, what would you do?"

"It would never come to that. Zakhad wants Deanna to stay. If she felt her presence were coming between myself and Deanna, she would probably take it upon herself to leave."

"Why would Zakhad want her to stay with you? I *don't* understand that!"

"You would have to know Zakhad as long as I have to truly understand."

####

" -- about blonde? You think I should?"

"I like it red." Deanna raised herself from the water and sat on the edge with her feet on the top step. She glanced up. "Zakhad's home."

A shadow passed over them, and then Zakhad's slowing wing beats drove gusts of wind across the grass surrounding the spring. She landed neatly and folded her wings, turning the squirming child in her arms loose. Zerin bounced twice and leaped at Deanna, who caught him and kissed his head while he clung to her neck and purred.

"You're tired -- and sad?" Deanna watched the Ryxian crouch nearby and test the water with her tail.

"I lost another patient."

"That's terrible," Beverly said.

Deanna put Zerin on the ground and pulled his tail. The little Ryxian boy acted as though she'd wound him up -- he dashed away giggling and flapping as if trying to take off in spite of his wings being too small. He rolled on the lawn, caught his own foot, and chewed on it, making querulous noises.

"I suppose it's going to happen, but two in a week is difficult, especially when one of them seemed to be doing so well." Zakhad closed her eyes and bowed her head.

"We'll replicate something for dinner when we're hungry. Why don't you climb in and relax for a while? Or go flying -- I know that sometimes helps," Deanna said.

"I'll be all right. I should start dinner -- "

"'khad, get in the water," Deanna said sharply. "Now."

"I'm all right."

"You shouldn't try to fool an empath." Deanna leaned and tugged Zakhad off balance by the wing, and the Ryxian fell into the water, half-jumping in to catch herself. Deanna dunked her and was pulled in by the wrist for her trouble. Shehady pulled her feet out and scooted away to avoid the waves that caught Beverly, who still sat in the water, in the face.

Deanna wrestled until Zakhad allowed her to massage the Ryxian's two sets of shoulders. When the water calmed, Shehady climbed back in and watched Zakhad's face. The Ryxian's disgruntled expression transmuted itself into bliss as Deanna worked at her muscles; quiet purring gradually became audible.

####

"Zakhad would really do that," Will said. "She's not a passive person. I can't picture it. I can't believe she'd give you up so easily."

"Human concepts of what makes something easy and difficult have always puzzled me. You presume that because someone does something readily that it is easy. I tell Deanna repeatedly that she has but to decide to leave, and I will let her do so. It does not mean I find that thought 'easy.' It means that I respect her decisions and give her the freedom to make them. I have always given Zakhad the same freedom -- what else could I do? She would choose to leave, in a situation as you would describe -- but she would not allow it to come to that."

"So how would you feel, if Deanna decided to leave?" Jean-Luc asked solemnly.

Gwaheer had to fight to control his face. The fear came and went, sometimes screaming in from nowhere, sometimes when he was reminded by someone or something around him. That uncertainty, the knowledge that Deanna could not completely understand everything about Ryxi culture -- there were some things she did not know, some things she might never grasp, and nothing he could do would help her. Experience was sometimes the only real teacher. Words were but labels -- everything he told her would be filtered through her own perception as molded by her own culture. She could look at Ryxi concepts from the outside, but only understand by participation. Polygamy was proving to be more than she'd bargained for already.

"I would want to die," Gwaheer murmured, picking up his drink.

####

Deanna raised her head slightly. Shehady wouldn't have noticed if Zakhad hadn't reacted; one of the Ryxian's ears went back, and her head followed, turning and rolling so she could look back out of the corner of one eye at her sister-wife. "Deanna?"

"It's. . . nothing. 'hiri is feeling a little depressed. Whatever they're talking about. . . . He and Will and Jean-Luc went out together."

"Will doesn't like him," Zakhad said softly. "I worry about that."

"I thought they got along really well," Beverly said, putting her empty glass on the ground near her head and wrestling one-handed with Zerin, who had trotted over and ran his hands through her hair. "They were joking around with each other when they left."

Zakhad's eyes rested on Shehady's. "You mustn't think it's jealousy because of Deanna. It's something else."

"I know he's not jealous. You're right, though, there is something, and if you have an idea. . . ."

####

"You think so?"

"At times I wonder if you have any inkling of what it's like to have a bondmate."

"I don't. Why don't you explain it to me? Must make you go insane, at least temporarily -- "

"Otherwise she never would have given me a thought?"

"Stop, both of you," Jean-Luc exclaimed. "This is ridiculous. The point is *moot.*"

"I'm only trying to understand a cultural difference and why Deanna finds it so easy to -- "

"My apologies, Jean-Luc," Gwaheer said. He tipped his head toward his friend ruefully. "Beverly's intent was for us to have a pleasant outing, while she and Shehady and Deanna spent time together. "

"You have nothing to apologize for. I think Will is the one who does, if anyone."

Will looked down his nose at the Ryxian. "You think I should apologize, but he's the one who keeps insisting that we can ask them personal questions."

Gwaheer watched a couple walking across the bar. The two Ryxi were twining tails, and emitting a variety of pheromones -- obviously someone was about to get what they desired. Heads were turning all over the room, too. Turning his attention back to Riker, he adopted his usual concealing-but-pleasant bland smile. "Zakhad had to put up with me for a century or so all by herself, Will. She's pestered me for years to find another wife. When she saw my reaction to Deanna, she insisted that I pursue her."

"I can understand that." The mild annoyance and discomfort on Will's face made Gwaheer want to laugh; the man seemed most perturbed by his host's nighttime activities. "It's Deanna's motivation for choosing you -- and Zakhad, that I question. I asked Deanna why. She says she loves you and won't elaborate. That'll have to be enough, so I can only ask you again -- what is it you find so immensely attractive about her?"

Gwaheer sighed deeply and waggled his empty glass at the bartender, who brought over the bottle and refilled all the way around. When the three men faced each other over full glasses again and the bartender had gone, Gwaheer took a sip, then said, "Let me tell you a story."

####

"When Ryxi marry non-Ryxi, it sometimes comes about that the non-Ryxi spouse experiences problems with their family. Misunderstandings." Zakhad leaned back into Deanna's hands, purring lightly again. "The family and friends back home do not comprehend how polygamous relationships function. They aren't prepared to accept that it's emotionally possible for a Ryxian to love more than one kahli with the same depth and passion. They have no basis for it, culturally."

"You think Will is going through this?" Shehady asked.

"I went through it." Beverly held Zerin -- or tried to. The infant had limbs shooting in several directions at once, and it was all Beverly could do to hold him with just two arms. "I still don't understand, but I've been around long enough to see how much these three care about each other. I can accept it."

"You did not have the same relationship with Deanna that Will had," Zakhad said. "That complicates things. He may not feel for her in the same fashion, but a proprietary instinct remains."

Deanna raised an eyebrow and leaned back, surprised. "'khad, are we speaking from experience, here?"

Zakhad's sly smile tickled Shehady's curiosity. "I think we have a story brewing. Do tell, Zakhad, please."

####

"When I was your age -- " Gwaheer glanced back and forth. "Well, more or less. I haven't worked out the math. I was counseling, just getting started, full of myself and not caring much for living alone. I walked out of the center one day and decided it was too fine a day for just going home. I went on a long flight south. I passed through a remnant of what I thought was the most pleasant thing I'd ever smelled, at an altitude most don't bother attaining. I circled and tracked along the trail, and soon saw who had left the scent. I pursued her. She was better than I -- more athletic, something I didn't want to accept, and as she led me on a progressively-acrobatic chase, I miscalculated and wrenched my wing. I didn't want to teleport home because I didn't want to lose her, so I spiraled in and crashed."

"She must have been impressed." Jean-Luc was amused. At least someone's mood benefitted from the story. From Will's expression, it would take longer for him to settle down. Ah, well.

"Embarrassing, but it got her to stop and talk to me, at least. She had to pull me out of a tree. I'd torn myself up pretty well, but the minute she helped me stand up, I felt no pain. It -- "

Gwaheer realized his hands flexed and his tail curled at the memory. Meshing his fingers beneath the table, he continued. "We were mated a few days later. Neither one of us doubted. It was -- impossible to explain. Magnetic. Impossible to deny. Two telepaths can experience that. My parents did."

"That was Rehia," Will said. He took a mouthful of *sefil* and winced as he swallowed. The pale pink liquid often brought more violent reactions from humans.

"Rehia brought Zakhad home with her about a decade later. She accused me of being oblivious and helpless when it came to women, and said she liked Zakhad. We fit together well, the three of us. Rehia and I had our daughter, and Zakhad became pregnant, and then there was a very bad period of about a year after she lost her child. She was terribly depressed and was certain I would give up on her. Very irrational of her, and we told her as much. She's never gotten over losing the baby. I still catch her in melancholy moments of remembering. For a long time, just the sight of a baby made her weep."

"She has Zerin now, though." Will didn't sound so upset as before. It was working -- the story-telling distracted him from his prior goal.

"It isn't the same, Will. No two loves are ever the same. She loved her unborn baby and there will never be any other child to replace him in her heart. . . ."

####

"Emau," Zakhad said, smiling wistfully, remembering. "He loved me. I considered him, and flew many happy spirals with him. It was a long time ago, several years before I bumped into Rehia and she took me to Gwahiri."

"What was he like?" Beverly asked. She had a similar expression on her face -- the universal 'remember-my-first-love' expression.

"Oh, he was so graceful, so kind. To me, anyway. It took a while for me to notice how he behaved around the other males. But he moved like a *goris* -- a very graceful animal, that seems to swim through the air, very fluid in motion. He could dance all day long. He tried to teach me the whole *ho'khalith* but there were so many movements. It was so fun to try, though."

"Why didn't you choose him?" Deanna asked.

"My mother. She disliked him intensely. Mother was always so wise, and I knew that if I went against her I would find out the hard way why she disliked him so. He said some of the worst things when I told him. It made me recognize what my mother had seen, that he wasn't so nice as he seemed, and that I would have been unhappy with him. He viewed me as his property, almost, not as another person. That was the feeling I got from his words. And after being with 'hiri, I felt the same proprietary instinct for a while. I grew out of it. When you are with someone for many years, the thought of being left becomes less of a worry."

"Your mother liked 'hiri?" Deanna asked.

Zakhad turned, gestured at Deanna to turn also, and reciprocated, kneading Deanna's shoulders with a firmness that made Shehady want a massage, too. "Mother liked 'hiri too much! My father knew it -- he was nervous when they met him. But then Rehia arrived, and Mother quickly lost interest -- 'hia was always much more assertive than 'hiri."

####

"I met Lwaxana when I finally did as Ian asked and visited him on Betazed. She disliked me rather intensely."

Will blinked. His glass still half-full -- he was losing himself in the storytelling. "She did? She sure doesn't dislike you now!"

"She mistrusted me around her daughter. Kestra was such a beautiful child, and I certainly couldn't fault her for being so protective of her -- she was more like Lwaxana than Deanna is. Always seeking the fun in life. She would have been a telepath. She loved me -- called me her pet dragon. We sang many songs together and climbed trees, and Lwaxana finally relented to Ian's wish to make me her godfather. When Deanna was born, Kestra became jealous. She did what children often do when their parents' attention is focused on a younger sibling in those first months after birth. Kestra constantly demanded reassurances from me that I loved her. It was so hard for her. The day she died, I was at the house waiting with Dalwon for them to return from the family outing. I thought Lwaxana would go insane. Ian went to the hospital with Kestra, even though it was fairly obvious nothing could be done, and Dalwon tried to comfort his daughter -- and that left me holding the baby. To that point, she hadn't allowed me to hold Deanna. She was afraid I'd hurt her with my claws."

"It's easy to forget you knew the Trois that long ago," Will said quietly. Less ire now than before, even.

"Not for me. Sometimes, when I catch Deanna's face out of the corner of my eye, I see Kestra. She resembles her somewhat. And I remember Ian, and think of how proud he would be. I wasn't there when he died. I wish I had been. I visited a month after it happened, and found poor Dalwon and Homn caring for Deanna, and Lwaxana locked up in her room. Deanna doesn't talk about it, does she?"

"I don't think I've ever heard her mention it," Jean-Luc said. "Other than the fact that her father died when she was a child."

"Then I won't speak of it either. But Lwaxana was never the same. After Kestra's and then Ian's death, she changed dramatically. I made it a point to visit her as often as I could. When it became necessary for Deanna to 'forget' me, I could only come when she was at school. She left for the Academy all too soon for Lwaxana. Over the years I had many updates, many stories -- she let me listen to some of her correspondence from Deanna and told me all about each visit to the *Enterprise.*"

"Really?" Jean-Luc sounded disgruntled. Gwaheer smiled at his dismay and remembered Lwaxana's amusement over her visits and Picard's reactions to them.

"Jean-Luc, she likes you. She always has. Flirting is her way of dealing with all men who aren't Betazoid -- it's how she keeps them from remembering she's telepathic and thus making them uncomfortable. You're a very private person, so she tried to protect your sense of privacy by making you forget she could read minds."

"Substituting one discomfort for another?" Will almost laughed. He kept looking at his former commanding officer.

"Given the choice of the two, which would you prefer -- obnoxious flirtatious behavior, or the looming possibility of a beautiful woman reading your every thought? From the point of view of someone who had never met a Betazoid before, of course."

Will's head jerked back, and he blinked. "Well. . . I guess I see the point."

"She always claimed she read my thoughts. . . but I suppose that was part of the act," Jean-Luc said. "Deanna always had so much patience, but Lwaxana annoyed her more than anyone I've ever seen."

"Family does that. It's why I throw Tormal out whenever I have human guests."

"You and Lwaxana are close friends." Jean-Luc almost made it a question.

"We are," Gwaheer said slowly. "She makes it a point to keep it that way because Ian and I were friends. I reminded her of him too much for her to try making me anything else."

"Not because of Zakhad?"

Gwaheer smiled at Riker through his drink as he raised it to his lips. "Lwaxana and Zakhad are good friends as well. Both of them have suffered the loss of a child -- there is something in that which created a bond. Neither of them has ever spoken to the other of their loss, but it's always between them, whenever they are together. Which is the other reason Lwaxana will never consider me anything but a friend."

####

"I thought Termin was my imzadi," Shehady said, letting her head tip back against the stone edge of the spring. "He really was a wonderful man -- when he wanted to be."

"Thought he was? I didn't know you could be mistaken about something like that." Beverly paddled her feet in the water and let Zerin climb in her lap. She spun a flower in front of his face, and he batted it then grabbed it and tried to eat it. Zakhad and Deanna reached simultaneously for it, laughing at each other. Beverly removed the flower from the boy's mouth, much to his dismay.

"Oh, every girl wants imzadi. I was young and optimistic. I thought I'd find imzadi before I was twenty. Termin saw a pair of bigger tits bounce by, and the next thing I knew he was gone." Shehady grimaced at the look on Deanna's face. "Don't tell me that's why I have a basic insecurity about my body -- it's all over your face. If you think it makes me feel any differently to know it's probably the reason, think again."

"What's wrong with your body?" Zakhad frowned. "It looks fine to me. From what I understand of Betazoid or human standards, it seems quite well-endowed."

"Oh, gawwwwwd. . . . I can't believe this," Shehady groaned, lowering herself to lay on the stone with her head in the grass. "I'm being appraised by a Ryxian doctor. A *female* one."

"There is something wrong with that?"

"Women don't usually do that for women, unless they *prefer* women," Deanna said.

"Prefer. . . oh. But 'hiri thinks she's very -- " Zakhad ducked her head. "I'm sorry, Deanna. I did not know it would upset you to -- "

"Don't worry about it, 'khad. I'm going inside for a refill of my drink -- does anyone else want something?"

####

"Why Deanna?" Will asked, after a long pause. So he hadn't given up, after all.

"It wasn't planned that way, Will. She was, after all, my goddaughter."

"It didn't keep you from pouncing on her within a month of meeting her."

"Lwaxana worried about her." The memory of it made Gwaheer smile in amusement. "She insisted for months that something was wrong, and Deanna needed help. She'd seen Deanna at the commissioning of the E. She wanted me to do something -- she appealed to my commitment as Deanna's godfather. I insisted I couldn't do that. I hadn't been on the D more than four times, because I could not trust myself to uphold the non-interference directive with her aboard. Finally, to assuage Lwaxana's concerns, I agreed to take a vase of her favorite flowers to Deanna. She provided me with the bearings I needed to teleport into Deanna's quarters -- that meant opening her mind completely to me and letting me sift for enough detail to use. That convinced me she really was serious in her concern."

"She had sent me a message," Jean-Luc said. "I thought she was only being an overly-concerned mother."

"I didn't know that." Gwaheer noticed a Ryxian watching them from across the room, from the shadows in a corner. Something in the slant of his ears made Gwaheer suspicious.

"So you delivered the flowers," Will prompted.

This was what he wanted, Gwaheer realized. He wanted to know how it had begun, between Gwaheer and Deanna. He wanted to -- what? Compare? He loved Shehady. It was too obvious that he did, and that whatever he'd felt for Deanna was past. But Deanna had been his first love, and a certain affection remained along with friendship.

Gwaheer met his gaze solemnly and thought about firsts, and especially about Rehia. Will looked haunted, Deanna had said. It was never clear by what even though she'd had her suspicions. Perhaps if he were adequately reassured of Gwaheer's feelings for Deanna -- but why would that help?

But did that matter? The stories had led him to this point. He might as well continue and see.

####

While Deanna was gone, Shehady pulled her legs under her and knelt, and teased Zerin into grabbing range. The Ryxian infant stalked her, reminding her of a cat she'd owned once.

"I'm sorry," Zakhad repeated, moving through the water and putting her forearms on the edge. "I did not mean to offend -- "

"Deanna accepts that Gwaheer loves you, but she probably doesn't like to think about sharing him with anyone else," Shehady said. "She knows he might feel attractions -- knowing him, he's probably told her as much. All men do, after all. But it makes her feel funny to hear about it, that's all."

"And Jean-Luc sneaks peeks at you, too," Beverly said. "As long as he doesn't trip over himself, it doesn't really bother me much. But Zakhad, she's right -- verbalizing it makes it uncomfortable. It's like it gives the attraction more meaning than it really has."

"I wish I were better able to understand. I wish -- "

Shehady gave up on Zerin, who loped off and climbed a small tree, and slipped back into the water. She put a hand on Zakhad's shoulder. "You feel a certain responsibility to make Deanna feel comfortable, don't you?"

"You don't understand what it was like." She raised her head, and Beverly leaned forward in alarm. Zakhad didn't sound upset, but her eyes brimmed with tears. "You don't know how happy it's made us to have Deanna here. How old he seemed -- how tired he was, before. He wasn't happy. It wasn't that he loved me any less. It's possible to love someone and still feel sadness -- it only smells different. Everything was wearing him down, and he felt so weary and alone. The day he came home, after the first time he spoke to Deanna, I knew it had to be her. He was *alive* again."

####

Gwaheer closed his eyes and fought the song rising in his throat. He heard the footsteps of someone passing within a wing's length of the table, and smelled a brief hint of her. Jean-Luc's slight concern became less so, and Will waited, patiently now that he knew Gwaheer would keep talking.

"I took the flowers, and turned on my cloaking device, just to be sure. When I arrived I was a little surprised at how accurate my bearings had been, for being second-hand from a non-Ryxi. The room was dark. Lwaxana had sent me straight into her bedroom; the air held faint traces of her scent, so I knew I was in the right place. I put the vase on the table and backed away, and was about to leave when she sat up -- I hadn't realized she was in bed asleep. My shields were as strong as I could make them because I knew she would be able to sense my presence otherwise. But I could smell her unease. She'd been dreaming. Her last letter home spoke of her dreams, and how unsettling they were to her."

He paused. Opened his eyes. The drink had lost its appeal; he shoved it aside and scraped two of his claws together absently. If Deanna were there, she would have reached out to cover his fingers with her hand, to stop the slight noise that irritated her so. He did it sometimes just to elicit that response from her.

"I couldn't move. I don't think I even breathed. She got out of bed, smelled the flowers. I backed into the wall, and she whirled around to look. For a moment, I forgot she couldn't see me. She looked straight at me. It was the same thing over again -- I couldn't escape it. It reminded me of -- "

He put his head in his hands and dug his claws into the back of his head slightly in hopes that the pricking would ground him in the present. It didn't do anything to prevent the tears or the quiver in his voice.

"I didn't want it, not again," he whispered. "Not a Starfleet officer -- not someone who would be constantly exposed to all sorts of risks, life-threatening situations -- the Borg. Again. I couldn't do it again. I denied it. I ran from it. Zakhad demanded that I confront it, and I fought against her insistence, but at the same time I kept being drawn back to the ship, over and over -- I felt guilty. She didn't remember me and it was only adding to whatever was bothering her. Lwaxana wanted me to just talk to her, Zakhad wanted me to -- so when she wrote the note asking me to, I waited for her. I wanted to reassure her that I meant no harm. There were times while we talked that I was so tempted to say something I *knew* would frighten or anger her, something that would put an end to a relationship before it started."

"You're pretty hopeless, aren't you?"

The smile in Riker's voice reassured him that his torment at revealing such private emotions wasn't in vain. "More than you realize, I'm sure." He let a hand fall to the table and looked one-eyed at Will. "The only reason I confess these things to you is the knowledge that even if you do not appreciate it, she will."

####

"What are you all looking at me like that for? You've been talking about me, haven't you?" Deanna put the glasses on the ground and sat with her feet in the water, then passed the tall frothy yellow drinks to them, fending off Zerin's attempt to sample hers.

"Not anything bad -- really," Beverly said lightly. "Just that you sing off key."

"If that's the worst thing you can say about me, I'm doing very well indeed." Deanna grinned and sipped her drink, then began to hum.

"Oh, not that again," Zakhad exclaimed. "Do you always have to sing *that* song?"

"It was one of my father's favorites, when he was very happy about something."

"It makes no sense!"

Beverly exchanged curious glances with Shehady. "What song?"

"I love you, a bushel and a peck -- "

"It makes no sense," Zakhad repeated. Probably trying to keep Deanna from singing any further.

"What's a bushel?" Shehady asked, trying not to laugh at Zakhad's irate glare at her for encouraging Deanna.

"Old Earth measurements. A bushel is about 35 liters, and a peck is about four bushels." Beverly sounded highly amused by it. "The song is familiar to me because it's from a very old musical."

"So you know the words? Good! You can sing it with me," Deanna exclaimed. "I love you a bushel and peck, A bushel and peck, And a hug around the neck. . . ."

Beverly did sing it with her. Shehady laughed out loud at last as Zakhad begrudgingly began to sing along, and all three did arm motions to go with the words.

". . .A hug around the neck
And a barrel and a heap
A barrel and a heap
And I'm talking in my sleep
About you, about you

Cause I love you a bushel and a peck
You bet your pretty neck, I do
Doodle, oodle, oodle,
Doodle, oodle, oodle,
Doodle, oodle, oodle ooooo. . . ."

Zakhad stopped short of the doodle-oo's and grabbed her ears in her hands despairingly. "It makes NO SENSE!" she exclaimed.

"It makes sense to me, now that I know what a bushel and peck are." Shehady splashed water in two different directions, catching Deanna and Beverly in the mouths as they kept doodling and oodling. They spat water back at Shehady, and Deanna began pumping her arm, throwing water. Over the splashing she shouted the next verse of the song, and Beverly stood up with her and scooped water and sang too.

"I love you a bushel and peck
A bushel and peck
Though you make my heart a wreck
Make my heart a wreck
And you make my life a mess
Make my life a mess, yes
A mess of happiness
About you, about you
Cause I love you a bushel . . . ."
####

"So what's it really like, being in someone's head all the time? Being a bondmate?" Will asked, lounging in his chair. That he relaxed at last was reassuring. Gwaheer sensed Jean-Luc's curiosity as well, in the subtle shift of his scent -- the more time he spent with the former Starfleet captain, the easier it was to read the meaning of the shifts in his unique chemistry.

"Not as you imagine it, obviously."

"Bonded Vulcans say, 'parted from me and never parted.' What does 'never parted' entail, then?" Jean-Luc asked.

Gwaheer intentionally put his ears in upright, Vulcanesque positions and raised an eyebrow. "All my attempts at describing it will no doubt fail. But, nevertheless -- " He placed his hand open on the table. "I have had telepathic contact with you, Jean-Luc. Discard that perception of it at the outset. The contact of mind to mind for healing purposes is nothing like the bond. It is the difference between talking and kissing."

"An interesting analogy."

Gwaheer nodded at the table. "Put your hand this way, flat on the surface."

Jean-Luc did so.

"You feel the table, but it does not intrude upon your being. The bond between telepaths can be this way. Or, it can be deeper. The empathic abilities differ from one individual to the next. The nature of my bond with Deanna is substantially different than the one I had with Rehia. Emotion can be stronger than thought. With Rehia, I was not so. . . hopeless, as you call it. We were a duality of thought, a singularity of purpose. We argued often and loudly, but never with great anger. Her emotions were plainer to me than mine were to her."

"Deanna's probably the opposite." Will put his hand on the table, too, but raised it again seconds later to pick up his glass.

"Not precisely. A bond heightens latent abilities. She's perfectly capable of speaking her mind. But because she is so much an empath, the bond is -- let me see if I can manage this."

Gwaheer laid his ears back hard against his head in concentration on the hand he still held against the table. It was hard not to actually push against the surface. Picturing what he wanted to happen and shoving the image forward in his thoughts, willing his flesh to respond, rearrange, pull through and force aside the molecular structure of the synthetic stuff of which the table was made --

His hand sank a centimeter into the table. The tingling and burning sensation of holding it there alarmed him a little; teleporting didn't give him that sensation. Extending his sense of place, he pulled his hand through to the underside of the table, then brought it up through it again, the effort a little easier the second time. He held out his hand to Jean-Luc.

Both humans exhibited alarm; this was why he normally didn't use this ability. Jean-Luc gripped his fingers and turned his hand over, frowning at the solidity of it.

"Thought and matter and space and time," Gwaheer said. "All relative. But this is the best example of the nature of my bond. We pass through one another, and remain intact. The elements of us intermingle and interact but do not lose cohesion."

"Is it that different than with Rehia?" Jean-Luc asked.

"The difference cannot be expressed in words. It is not so different, but it has a different -- texture would be the best term. The loss of it was no less severe. I would have suffered as badly as I did with Rehia, had the loss of Deanna been made permanent. They drugged me, during the trial," Gwaheer said, disliking the memory. "When the telepaths disabled my abilities -- they were cognizant of the allegations made and angry because of them, but they were reluctant to perform the procedure required of them. They suffered part of my pain at the severing of the bond. They were quick to sedate me. The only reason I did not simply choose to die upon awakening was the knowledge that there was a chance of regaining what I had lost. I had to work with Sakhara afterward to help me banish some of the residual pain left from that experience. I had him filter some of the memories."

"Deanna was unconscious for a long time," Jean-Luc said softly. "Beverly was very worried about her. And when she did wake up, she was in an altered state -- very different than the person I knew her to be."

"I know," Gwaheer said quietly. Being reunited with Deanna had brought with it a cascade of pain intermingled with the joy -- she had shared her pain of separation with him. "It frightened her to think that she had behaved so violently toward you, Jean-Luc."

Will's shock cut across his scent as sharply as his glance at Jean-Luc cut across the distance between them. "What happened?"

Jean-Luc met Gwaheer's gaze instead of Will's. "She didn't do anything, physically. I thought she would hit me. But she shouted, cried -- Beverly had to regenerate a few broken blood vessels in her eyes. I don't want to see her in such a state again."

"Zakhad knows what I am like, after losing a bondmate," Gwaheer said. "She force-fed me too many times, dragged me around the house, forced me through the basic functions of mere survival. She read to me for hours. She put up with my nightmares filled with the chanting of the Collective. She would never ask Deanna to leave, because she knows the torment I would endure, being bonded but apart, feeling Deanna's mental presence but never able to touch her -- "

"You are afraid of losing her, aren't you?" Jean-Luc took a small sip of his mostly-untouched drink. "Even now, even though you're bonded, even though you *know* she's devoted herself to making it work."

Gwaheer closed his eyes and tried to compose his thoughts, sort them from the emotions yet make them an expression of them. "I exist apart from her but cannot remove myself from the constancy of her regard. I cannot deny her individuality -- but it is not unknown for bondmates to separate. That Deanna was briefly taken from me reminded me of how painful it is, and how impossible it would be to be without her. I hold her, but in my open hand, enjoying the taste and fearing I will lose the substance of it."

The sudden loud voice of someone exclaiming in anger, in Ryxi, cut across his thoughts. [No right to say! Hand away! Not yours!]

He turned, orienting one ear on it, eyes still closed. Sense of depth told him the altercation was across the room; sense of place told him many objects and several people stood between his position and the angered participants in the heated discussion.

A person -- male, Ryxian -- rushed toward Gwaheer, brushed past, leaving contrails of angry and pained scents swirling. "So angry," Gwaheer murmured, opening his eyes. "So furious with the thought of loss."

"You can tell that?" Will asked.

"He was arguing with others, in the back. I could hear their words. I do not pay attention, usually, but I think that was one of my agents." Gwaheer decided a change of subject was warranted, and since he was tired of talking about himself. . . . "Do you think Shehady will make a good mother?"

####

Shehady danced around the room with Zerin, singing a nonsense rhyming song she remembered from her childhood.

"Oh, just listen to her," Beverly said, watching in the mirror of Deanna's dressing table while Deanna put her hair up.

"Two months at the outside for a proposal, six months for a wedding -- and no bets on when she'll get pregnant." Deanna pulled another section of reddish-blonde hair around the brush and sprayed it. "Your hair's terribly dry, Bev."

"I can't find a shampoo on Tannick that agrees with it." Beverly reached behind her and grabbed a few of Deanna's curls. "How do you keep yours this soft?"

"Easy. I send Gwaheer to Betazed to get me shampoo. Want some?"

Shehady ignored their chatter and made a face at Zerin. His eyes, so like his father's -- solid blue with those pale yellow streaks that turned into zigzags when his pupils dilated -- focused on her face with a rapt fascination, and he wriggled and gave her an open-mouthed grin, showing off the deep pink interior of his mouth and his purplish-blue tongue.

"Deanna?"

"Hm?"

"What color is Gwaheer's tongue?"

####

Jean-Luc burst out laughing at the sudden question. "She doesn't look like anyone's mother."

"I would say not," Gwaheer said, grinning. "She's lovely, and quite a good match for you, Will. Beautiful and stubborn."

"Thanks." Will glared at him suddenly. "You'd better not be thinking -- "

"I wouldn't. Even if she does remind me very much of Rehia. Fire and air. Unwilling to admit failure. And she moves like a hunter," Gwaheer murmured, gesturing with his hands, smiling at the thought.

"I'll have to hurt you if you keep talking like that, out of general principle." He wasn't bothered by it; the threat was a bluff, Gwaheer thought, an assertion of ownership but without claws.

"Sometimes I take Deanna and Zakhad out for dinner, just to show them off. Have you not done that with Shehady?"

Will looked somewhat startled. "Show them off?"

"Certainly."

"You aren't afraid of starting brawls?" Jean-Luc asked. "I gather from comments your brothers have made that Zakhad is, by Ryxi standards, quite a catch. And Deanna seems to have the interests of at least two Ryxi I can think of."

Gwaheer wondered briefly which two, and dismissed it out of hand. "With Zakhad to protect us, no one would dare intimidate us."

"Okay," Will said disbelievingly. "Is this the same Zakhad who would give you up to Deanna without a fight?"

"Don't mistake her willingness to make sacrifices out of love for me for gentleness. Others have done so and in a less advanced age would still have the scars."

Deanna sought him actively as he spoke, and shimmers of question and concern invaded, interrupting him. <Is something wrong?> he asked, imparting the empathic kisses they often exchanged. Her minimal telepathy may have been strengthened by the bond, but his empathy had been affected in equal measure.

He laughed and looked at his companions. "Deanna wants to know if we are arguing yet."

"Tell her I've got Will in a headlock and you're keeping score," Jean-Luc said.

<I'm keeping score. Jean-Luc has Will in a headlock.>

<You! Tell Jean-Luc he's a bad influence on you.> She was laughing, too, but not for long. <Zakhad had a bad day -- lost another patient. We have been having our moments, here, too. I think we should meet for dinner at Bluthan's.>

####

"I think the best thing about having a husband must be the sex. Any time, anywhere you want, without guilt or consequence or uncertainty."

"Funny, I hear that sort of thing stops after the wedding."

Beverly sniffed and rolled her eyes, turning and trying to see her back in the mirror. "Well, Shehady, sorry to disillusion you, but there really is sex after marriage. From what you've been saying, Deanna and Zakhad are pretty good proof of it -- especially Zakhad. Talk about long term relationships."

Zakhad, coming in as she spoke, laughed at Beverly's observation. "And I wouldn't trade a minute of it for anything. Even the bad times. Except for losing Rehia, and my baby."

Shehady touched her arm sympathetically. "It's too bad you can't dress up, too. Really unfair that you can't wear nice clothes."

"I don't understand that, either," Zakhad said, allowing herself to be distracted by the comment. "Clothes are so important to you. Although it does alter your appearances."

Beverly ran a hand over her four-months-pregnant bulge, slight but visible in the front of the black sheath. "I carried Wesley out front like this, too. I'm going to look like I swallowed a shuttle."

"But what a way to go," Shehady said.

Deanna came in, wearing a similar sheath but in blue -- matching Gwaheer's blue wings, Shehady realized. She must've programmed that color into the replicator. They were all wearing the same type of dress, simple, short-sleeved, elegant and shimmering. Shehady had opted for metallic lavender, for a change. She usually wore red or dark green.

"Oh, look at us -- if we stand together we look like a bruise!"

Deanna scowled at her. "Only a doctor would make that observation. Are you ready to go?"

####

Gwaheer led the two along the streets of the We'lassi part of town. Riker seemed more interested in his surroundings -- of course, Jean-Luc had been this route several times since he'd set up a home here. Bluthan's was a favorite place for recovered Borg and non-Ryxi immigrants to congregate.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the Ryxian following them. He wasn't certain of gender; the Ryxian hadn't come close enough to scent, and wasn't wearing any jewelry or gender-specific markings. Sometimes Ryxi reverted to old customs, tattooing their bodies or piercing edges of wing membranes or ears, and the gender difference became obvious based on the types of patterns or ornaments worn. It made identification from a distance easier. Too bad this one didn't have any.

The Ryxian seemed intent on them, had been staring at them throughout their conversation in the bar, and though he dodged down several side streets Gwaheer hadn't been able to lose him.

"You're taking the scenic route, aren't you?" Jean-Luc said.

"I suppose so."

Jean-Luc shot him a skeptical glance. He straightened the loose green tunic he wore, a remnant of his uniform-tugging days. "What's wrong?" he murmured.

"Nothing yet," Gwaheer muttered, covering his lip movements with a scratch of his nose. "Walk."

Now Riker was on alert as well. Humans broadcasted so much in their postures.

They rounded the last corner and saw that they were late -- no matter that no time had been set, the women were waiting outside the restaurant, Beverly with crossed arms, all of them staring. Zakhad and Deanna met his eyes from nearly half a block away, and Deanna's alarm was instantaneous, followed swiftly by Zakhad's as she scented Deanna's fear.

But their follower didn't leave. It hung about, standing in the street, looking as though it were waiting for someone not half a block away.

Beverly took Jean-Luc's arm and accepted quiet compliments with a happy smile, Shehady greeted Will in a similar way, and Deanna and Zakhad each pressed a hand to his chest, leaning in to touch foreheads. The combination of their scents nearly overwhelmed him for a moment.

[Lovely ones, adoration mine. I greet with awe -- honored and most fortunate I am to touch you.] Ryxian fell from his lips too naturally. It was rude to their guests, who hadn't brought along translators.

[Formality?] Zakhad asked in kind. They were drawing curious looks from the humans. It was a very formal greeting he'd used, but after reciting the history of his married life in summary, the occasion seemed to merit it.

"Did you have a pleasant afternoon?" he asked, glancing at Shehady and Beverly to include them in the question.

"Very much so. Lots of girl talk, about former boyfriends, and clothes." Shehady's nonchalance was too polished -- Deanna had already hinted that not all went well. "What did you talk about?"

"Guy stuff, of course," Riker said lightly, which in itself belied the supposed innocence of it all. "By the way, ladies, you all look absolutely stunning."

"You're just saying that because it's true," Beverly said. "And tell us, Captain, in your entirely subjective opinion -- which of us is the most stunning of all?"

His head turned to Shehady instantly, to Gwaheer's amusement and relief. Gwaheer turned his attention to Zakhad, who purred and chuckled; she pulled Deanna forward into Gwaheer's arms.

[Cherish and savor. Beautiful, you think?]

[Talk about? Behaving why?]

[What are you saying?] Deanna asked in Betazoid, getting their attention.

[Is anyone else hungry, or are we just going to stand out here and confuse each other?] Shehady put in, also in Betazoid. She leaned against Will, arms around his neck.

[Tell her beautiful,] Zakhad insisted, stamping her foot. [Needs to hear. Now.]

<I'm sorry, Deanna. I don't know what's got into her. I'll argue with her later -- by the way, you look wonderful. Will's only partially right. You are the most beautiful woman here.>

She rested her cheek against his chest and radiated pleasure. He was surprised at her reaction to such simple compliments -- surely it had been obvious that he found her attractive?

The approach of the mystery Ryxian interrupted, drew the attention of all of them. The Ryxian stopped short, looking from one to the other, studying and being studied, then gestured at Riker.

Riker?

[Do not know humans well?] Gwaheer said.

[I do not. This one is?] The newcomer's nostrils flared, and ears came forward with downturned tips -- curiosity, and from the lashing, high-held tail, interest. Eyes only for Will, who misconstrued and held Shehady closer.

[Is male, and by his customs mated.] As mated as this one needed to know about, anyway. [Not appreciative of you. Apologies final.]

An ear swept back, and the pale blue eyes appraised Zakhad, and Deanna. The tail tip waved around his ear. [For you?]

[No interest.]

The Ryxian turned away, and several wing-lengths down the street took flight.

"What was *that* all about?" Shehady asked. "Was she interested in Will?"

Gwaheer noticed Zakhad's tail immediately coiling, and nonchalantly stepped back, planting a foot on it. "Evidently."

"There was more to it than that. What was she saying to you?" Riker showed none of the previous hostility, or even suspicion. Gwaheer considered further, and got an elbow in the ribs from Deanna.

"What was it about, 'hiri?"

"I merely explained that Will was not available, and neither was I."

"I suppose I'm not her type," Jean-Luc muttered.

Gwaheer barely suppressed a grin. "I had to explain Will's gender. This was not a Ryxian who had previous experience with humanity. We've been followed since the bar -- perhaps I should have brought you here to begin with, as there are more human customers here and there would be less confusion."

"Still," Jean-Luc said.

Gwaheer snorted and guided Zakhad and Deanna toward the restaurant entrance. "Jean-Luc, honestly, I sincerely doubt you are his type."