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As the holodeck shifted from The Orient Express to its usual black with gold square overlay, Deanna took in a deep breath and let it out slowly as she felt the shift in Worf and the tension easing around the ship. She finished her glass of champagne-flavored synthehol and followed Data and Worf back to the corridor.
At the turbolift, Worf paused and turned to regard her. “Are you sure you are alright?”
Data’s head tilted toward the head of security. “I very much doubt that Dr. Crusher and her staff would allow Counselor Troi to leave sickbay if she was not in good health.”
Dark eyes flickered back to Deanna, and it was clear that Worf was waiting for an answer. “I’m fine,” she insisted, rolling her eyes but offering a small smile to ease the sting of it. “Beverly cleared me, and my injuries weren’t serious.” She knew that Worf was going to hold himself responsible for it anyway, for not doing more, as though he could’ve anticipated a wall collapsing on her.
As she turned to walk to her office, Data stepped into the lift. “You are not joining us on the bridge, Counselor?”
“No, I’m going to check my communiques and messages, and then I thought I’d start on my incident report and logs while things are fresh.” The ship was back in good form, and she knew that protocol would be to return to their last intended heading and run a long series of tests on all systems. If anything was out of place, they would be detouring to the nearest starbase. The bridge would be busy with any number of assessments, none of which they needed her to complete.
The chime at her office door pulled Deanna Troi from her personal log, and she was more than a little surprised to find it had been nearly two hours since she had sat down at her desk. “Come,” she called, mentally running through her original schedule for today– she hadn’t remembered any appointments in the late afternoon.
As Will strode into her office, she moved automatically to meet him. But halfway to him, she stopped short. “You’re upset.”
Will crossed the room and stopped behind one of the chairs, his hands wrapping around the back of it. “Yes.” He leaned forward, stretching out his back in the way he always did when he had been sitting too long or hunched over and stressed. After this many years together, Deanna knew the signs that he was frustrated and holding onto tension, even without being able to sense the emotions.
While she wasn't entirely sure where this conversation was going, it was immediately clear to her that it wasn't going to be short. So she took a moment to order a raktajino latte, before turning to him and asking if he’d like anything.
“No, I don’t want a latte,” he scowled, clearly not happy that she was so seemingly calm about whatever it was that had him so upset. There was frustration, yes. And … anger. “Do you have any idea what it was like to see your name on Beverly’s casualty report?”
When her drink appeared, she claimed it and then took the long way around the seating arrangement and settled onto the long, curved sofa that so many of her patients used. “I’m sure it caught you off guard. But I’m sure it also told you that my injuries were minor, and that I was released.”
“It has to be life-threatening or you have to be unconscious for Beverly to hold you in sickbay,” he countered, moving now and pacing the far side of the room in an effort to burn off pent up energy.
She took a long sip and regarded him. “You’re welcome to give me your own version of a checkup.” It was meant to be light, because she was too tired right now for that. But Deanna immediately regretted her words.
“Damn it, this isn’t a joke.” Literally stopped in his tracks, Will walked over to her, arms crossing. “You put yourself in danger, going into the holodeck with the safeties off! You could’ve been killed, and don’t you dare try to downplay this.”
The surge of protectiveness left her breathless for a moment, and her next sip of her drink tasted more bitter than she’d remembered. Swallowing quickly, she countered, “We couldn’t turn the safeties back on. There wasn’t a choice.”
“You had a choice. You chose to go in there the first time, knowing safeties were off. And you went back.”
“I did my job.”
“Our CMO noted that she cautioned you against that.”
“And the Captain approved my request to return.”
“It was an unnecessary risk!”
“I didn’t take it alone. I had Worf and Data with me.”
“It was still an unnecessary risk!”
“Will–”
“No, don’t Will me. You didn’t even try to find another way to work around the holodeck. There’s a reason why we have safeties and had to ban using it without them.” There were too many near-misses, and Beverly had become fed up with O'Brien's dislocated shoulder simply because he couldn't be bothered to enable a simple safety.
“They weren’t working, and you know that.” She wasn’t sure when she had stood up, but she was glaring at him now, arms crossed in a mimic of his own seething body language.
His hand ran through his hair, and he straightened. “You were the senior officer. You were the one responsible for setting the standards.”
Her head shook in protest. “The Captain gave me permission to return. I assumed the risk.”
“And their risks? Data can withstand a lot, and Worf is hard to injure, but neither of them are indestructible. You didn’t even try to find another solution first. As the most senior officer, you set the standard.”
“That sounds very logical, but you and I both know that saying I’m the most senior officer might be technically true, but the practical parts of our roles on the ship make it a technicality at best. Yes, I had the highest rank, but it’s,” she nearly said ridiculous but quickly pivoted to, “impractical when you consider that I was on the holodeck with the Second Officer and the chief of security.”
Steely blue eyes narrowed, and he scowled at her. “It was an unnecessary risk,” he gritted out.
She regarded him for a long moment now, head tilting to one side. “And one I freely chose. And the two other officers on our ship who could’ve ordered me to stand down chose to allow me to go ahead.” The day and everything that had happened to her was starting to crowd in, and Deanna felt suddenly tired. And unwilling to continue an argument. One, she realized, that Will didn’t particularly want, either. “I’m sorry if that’s not the answer you want. And I’m sorry you were worried. But I can promise you that I do feel alright, other than being a little worried about you.”
He shifted slightly and rubbed his face and sighed. “I’m still angry.”
“You’re scared,” she corrected softly. Normally she would give him more time to name his own emotions. “And it’s easier to be angry with me than to be scared.”
“As First Officer, I disagree with your choice today.”
“You disagree with it for that reason and because we’re in a relationship. But the only way out of that risk is to shove me into a zero grav container and ship me back to Betazed.” She stalked to her sofa again and settled back into a seat with her latte. “It’s the life we’ve chosen. The life I choose.”
His brow remained furrowed. “I’m still angry,” he repeated.
She sighed and nodded. “Promise me that you’ll eat something before Data’s play tonight? He’s invited us– it’s a selected performance, invitation only. I’ll save you a seat.”
Will shook his head as though that might clear things between them. “Eventually, we’ll have to talk about this again. Or further.”
“I know,” Deanna acknowledged.
“And I am glad you weren’t seriously injured,” he added, more for a lack of any way to finish the conversation. “I promise I’ll eat something.”
“See you tonight.” As he left and the doors whooshed to a close behind him, Deanna drank down the last of her latte and nearly wished they didn’t have an event tonight. It truly had been a long day, and she didn’t really have time for a true nap– not if she was going to make it back to sickbay for a routine follow up from her concussion and change into casual clothes for the play and manage to eat something herself.
But she did have time for something that would help her let go of some of the stress. Shifting, Deanna stretched out on her couch and made herself comfortable. “Computer, initial ten-minute non-sleep deep rest cycle.”
The room was dark and comfortable, and Deanna relaxed into the coziness of their friends gathered to support Data. Beverly had assured her that she was on the mend and only needed to return tomorrow if anything felt off or worse. If anything, the contentment and tiredness of those around her did make it harder for the first half of the performance as she shifted her focus at times from Shakespeare to shielding.
Will had slipped in moments before it began, but he had offered her a tight smile as he took the seat she’d saved. She was pretty sure he would rather be sleeping, but he was determined to support all of his crew in their hobbies and interests. Creative outlets were essential.
This particular performance was an experiment in storytelling, as Data combined various monologues and various lines to highlight themes and play with characterization.
Data waved his arm at his small audience, gathered in a semi-circle mere feet from him, the gesture encompassing all of them. “Let us not burden our remembrance with heaviness that’s gone…”
She felt the emotional shift in Will at the words, and he was staring at their friend for long moments before he reached for Deanna’s hand and gave it a soft squeeze. Her fingers tangled with his, feeling a peace settled between them.
“I’m sorry.”
Deanna wasn’t sure if he had whispered those words, or if he had shared the thought with her. But she took a shuddering breath and let out a soft sigh as she let herself lean against him now. His arm wrapped around her shoulders, and she rested her head against his shoulder, feeling the love and tenderness when he pressed a kiss into her hair.