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Lieutenant William Riker—Castaway Will Riker, as he was starting to think of himself—could feel himself sinking into a funk the longer he spent in these quarters they had put him up in. There was nothing to do here other than eat (admittedly quite good) food and shower and contemplate all the ways in which the world must have moved on without him, which he would need to face eventually.
So when Deanna Troi visited his quarters, it felt like a cheerful little ray of sunshine had seen fit to interrupt the gathering of storm clouds.
The moment he picked his imzadi up and spun her around, though, he could immediately tell there was something wrong, just by the way her body stiffened awkwardly in his arms. And when he searched her eyes, there was warmth there, relief and affection, but also a coolness holding him at arm's length.
All at once, it sunk in that, if another copy of him did indeed leave that planet, then he and Deanna were probably in a relationship—had been for the past eight years, if they were lucky enough to have stayed together that long. And if they weren't, then this was pretty awkward. "You're in a relationship," Will guessed. "With... him?" Even though it was a bit of an unusual case, he supposed that being too affectionate with him could be seen as a form of cheating.
Deanna gave the somewhat cryptic answer of, "Well, yes—of sorts." She told him about how, after Nervala IV, she and the other Will Riker had chosen to work on different ships, to prioritize their careers over their relationship; how they had both ended up on the Enterprise by chance and rekindled a romance then, albeit a different one from what they'd been envisioning before that Will Riker's career started taking off. "He and I are together, in a sense," Deanna said. "We go on dates. We're physically intimate." She had such a quaint and yet straightforward way of speaking, and Will's heart ached as he realized how much he had missed it, how little it had changed.
"But we're not exclusive," Deanna continued, "and we have an understanding that if something else comes along that would take us away from the Enterprise... well, we won't stand in each other's way."
Will was quiet for a moment, unsure how to respond to this revelation. He wasn't a jealous person—never had been. Even now, something in him was happy that Deanna had found someone who could take care of her, someone she enjoyed being with. And if that person was another version of him, all the better. Still, he found resentment running through him like a knife—maybe it was different with yourself. The other him was the one who escaped. The other him was the one with the promotion and the stellar career. The other him was the one with friends and a social life and Deanna.
"And you're happy with that?" Will finally asked tentatively. If Deanna was happy, then he couldn't really ask for anything more than that.
Deanna paused to think about it. "It's an arrangement that makes me happy, yes," she said. "I enjoy what we have, and it's been a positive part of my life."
Will considered Deanna's honest but carefully-worded answer. She was happy with the arrangement, content. But it didn't mean there weren't other things Deanna would be equally happy with, or even more.
It wasn't exactly what he had envisioned a reunion with Deanna might be like, down on that planet. But he thought maybe this wasn't the worst situation to be in—Deanna was here and she was available. He had been left behind and had got dealt a bad hand, but he could still make the best use of the cards he'd been dealt.
When Lieutenant Riker did not immediately respond to Will Riker's order, Will followed it up with, "Lieutenant, do you have a problem?" It came out more testy than he intended it to.
The lieutenant straightened immediately. "No, sir."
Will wasn't sure how someone could say that and make it sound insolent. What was even more disorienting was hearing it come out of his own mouth—well, not exactly his mouth, but close enough to be bothering. In it, he could hear the familiar notes of how he spoke when dealing with commanding officers he didn't particularly respect or whose judgment he disagreed with. He wished that it didn't bother him so much.
Will had to resist the temptation to pinch the bridge of his nose. It wasn't helping that Data and Worf kept shooting glances between the two of them during exchanges like this one, glances that were distinctly tense despite neither man being the type to experience or display discomfort.
I just need to make it through this assignment, Will reminded himself. He and his transporter clone happened to be the two officers on the Enterprise with the most knowledge of the Nervala research station. After this, the other Will Riker would not be on any missions, and Will would have full discretion over the selection of personnel for missions.
Still, Will thought, if this went on any longer, he just might go insane.
Deanna was getting ready for bed when she heard the door to her quarters chime. "Come in!" she called, already knowing who it was and not minding the late call.
Will entered, still in uniform. "Do you have time to talk?" he asked, uncharacteristically weary.
Deanna motioned him in, and he sat down heavily in a chair as Deanna went to get him something to drink from the replicator. "Let me guess," she said, setting down the drink and taking a seat opposite him. But really, what was there to guess? There was only one problem Will could have on his mind right now. "You and Lieutenant Riker are not getting along."
"That's an understatement," Will said, running a hand over an exhausted face and letting out a long exhale. "I've just never worked with someone who had so much trouble... I mean, even the simplest orders—"
Will struggled to articulate it, but Deanna knew exactly what was bothering him: "You mean he takes direction fine from everyone but you," she said. She knew she shouldn't find this whole situation amusing, but... well.
Will nodded and added, "And I feel like he's the only person I've ever felt weird giving orders to. ...Have you ever tried giving orders to yourself?"
Deanna laughed, shaking her head. "No," she said, "but I can imagine that it would feel very awkward."
"I don't think you're even supposed to have family members in the same chain of command," Will mused to himself. "Most people find it too hard to manage. And somehow, I think this is even worse." Will sat back in his chair, stretching out his legs. "Luckily, the captain is already looking into finding him a posting on another ship. It'll be a big relief once we're both out of each other's hair."
This all made Deanna sad—that the two Wills weren't getting along; that the lieutenant who had just come back into their lives would soon be leaving. "So soon?" she said wistfully.
Will looked at her, indignant. "Not soon enough! I'm not sure how much longer I can take this."
"It's just," Deanna tried to explain, "I was hoping that the two of you would have time to get to know each other—be there for each other. You're like brothers, almost..."
Riker looked at her skeptically, and Deanna pressed on, heedless: "Long-lost brothers," she said. "Having gone through what he has, the thing he might need most at the moment is family; his friends."
Will let out an exhale and looked up at the ceiling as his mind went back in time to think of who were the closest people to him at the time of the Potemkin's mission to Nervala IV, and came to the same conclusion that Deanna had: he had no family—none he was on speaking terms with, at least—and Deanna had been his most intimate connection.
He let out an aggravated sigh as a sense of guilt and responsibility sunk in. "I mean, what am I supposed to do? The two of us can barely stand each other's company."
"Find an understanding," Deanna told him. She thought of how Will had finally hashed things out with his father, Kyle. "Knowing you, though," she said, "and him... it might take something a bit stronger than words."
The atmosphere in Ten Forward was cozy, despite the relatively large size of the room and the fact that it looked out onto the deep void of space. It was the lighting, Will decided—whoever had designed the lighting in this room had done a commendable job. Once Will had been given access to the full ship, he'd wasted no time in familiarizing himself with it, imagining what it must be like to work here. Ten Forward, he'd quickly decided, seemed like the perfect place for a chat with Deanna.
Deanna studied the brightly-colored drink the waiter had brought out for them, her fingers tracing idly on the glass.
"Listen, Deanna," Will said, hands running nervously over his knees, "on that planet, I had a lot of time to do some thinking. And I've been doing even more thinking since I've come aboard." He paused. "I want to start seeing each other again," he blurted out. "More than that, I'm thinking... well, one day I want to get married, and if I get married, I want it to be you."
Deanna's brows raised in surprise at the mention of marriage.
Will knew it was risky, bringing that up so soon; they had barely spent any time together since he'd come onboard the Enterprise. But he knew he had to be bold, make it clear right away what he was hoping to get out of life, put his cards on the table. "You can raise a family on a ship like this—or, or on any other ship in the fleet. However my career goes, if we're married, we can go anywhere together."
He could see Deanna hesitate. "I've got a good life here on the Enterprise," she said cautiously.
"Well, maybe I could find a position here. You know, something with a bit less contact with my other self. Operations track... Security, perhaps, or engineering."
Deanna smiled, amused at the mental image of Will working under Worf or Geordi. "That would limit how far you can rise," she pointed out. If he got a promotion to the head of those departments, he would of course be directly reporting to himself again.
"I know," Will said. He didn't even know if serving on the Enterprise was something he would end up being able to handle. "I'm also looking into getting a posting on another ship," he admitted. If he was putting it all out there, he had to say that, too. "I have to try. If I find something, I was hoping perhaps... well, you'd be willing to come with me."
Again, Deanna's eyebrows rose at the proposal, but otherwise, she managed to keep her face pretty neutral. "I'll... need to think about it. And discuss it with... well, you know who."
Will nodded. "I understand." He took a deep breath before saying seriously, "Deanna, while I was down on that planet, I was always thinking about you—about what really mattered in life." He thought about this other version of himself, living his life, making decisions he wouldn't make... Well, that wasn't quite true was it? Making decisions that this Will now wouldn't make, with eight years of experience, and eight years of solitude. "I don't want to let you go."
The next time Will talked to Deanna, she dropped a bomb on him.
"He asked me out, Will," she said, which wasn't the surprising part. The other Riker was him, after all, and he had seen the way the lieutenant looked at Deanna—and the way she looked at him. It was what came next: "He mentioned marriage," Deanna said. "Starting a family. I think he's serious."
Will felt a whole load of feelings jolt through him all at once—alarm and regret and envy and concern. It had been a long time since marriage had been on the table for him and Deanna. "And what did you say?" he asked cautiously.
"Well, I said I'd need to discuss it with you."
Will contemplated this revelation in silence. He had a good life here with Deanna. They weren't exclusive, though, nor were they committed to staying together, to following after each other if their situation changed. The possibility of one of them leaving the ship to pursue something or someone else had been raised several times in the past, but none of those tentative plans had panned out. But now... Marriage! To someone who was him, almost a frozen and preserved version of him from eight years ago. Never in a million years would Riker have imagined that would be the person who could take Deanna away from him.
"What about his career?" Will said, although he knew he was grasping at straws. "Last I talked to him, he seemed rather eager to rise up the ranks—making up for lost time and all that."
Deanna gave a thoughtful pause. "I... think this version of you might be willing to sacrifice his career for a relationship. No one seems to want to say it out loud, but, well, his career hasn't exactly gone very smoothly... He would be giving up less by prioritizing family now."
"I know him," Will protested. "I mean, I know me." A setback like that would have only made him even more determined and ambitious, especially, he thought, without his experiences aboard the Enterprise; that time turning down his first command, having to make peace with both his father's and his own expectations for himself.
But who was he to say whether his doppelganger's experiences on Nervala IV might have been just as transformative—or even more...? No, Will was going about this the wrong way. "What about you, Deanna?" he asked. "Is that something you'd be interested in? Something you want more than—than this?" He pointed between the two of them. Now that it had been brought up, Will couldn't help but wonder if he might be the one to give Deanna that instead of his other self.
Deanna sighed. "I'm not sure I'm ready yet, but I do want a family. But I also want to stay aboard the Enterprise. I don't want the lieutenant to leave, but I also don't know if I have any say in that."
Despite everything, Will grinned. "Well, sounds like you just want everything."
"Doesn't everyone?" Deanna replied, equally amused.
"I heard you were offered a new posting," the commander said to him, leaning against the side of the door to his quarters.
"I was," Lieutenant Riker said. "Aboard the Gandhi."
"And?" the commander prompted. "Are you going to take it?" There was a tension to his voice. It was clear he wanted to know what Will intended to do, but after all their recent experiences, Will wasn't sure what exactly the commander was hoping for or why he was so strung up about it. Perhaps worried about the possibility that he might choose to stay here, for Deanna? Or of the much-less-likely scenario that he would leave and Deanna might leave with him?
After a long pause, Will sighed and admitted, "I haven't decided yet."
The commander stared at him before straightening up, decisive. "You and me," the commander said. "Anbo-jyutsu."
Will squinted. "What?" It'd been years since he had done anbo-jyutsu, and now hardly seemed like a good time for a match. Did his other self have an obsession with determining which of them was better at games or something?
"Last time I needed to make a big decision about my life, my career... well, it helped," the commander said. "You'd be surprised how much swinging around a weighted stick in the dark can help clear the mind."
Will was still skeptical, but he figured he didn't have much to lose. He could use the chance to whack at himself with a stick—maybe a little physical aggression would do him good.
So that was how he found himself in one of the Enterprise's gyms, standing across from his double in full anbo-jyutsu regalia. They flipped their visors down, then bowed and said the pre-match greeting, and then it began.
The world was darkness and Will circled warily, careful to keep his footing near the edge of the ring.
"Well?" he heard his other self say, giving away his position and movement, but cutting above the electronic hum of the staves. "Don't you have anything to say to me?"
Was this some kind of distraction tactic? Will anticipated the swing coming, dodged it, and returned with one of his own, which unfortunately also didn't connect. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Are you really serious about Deanna? Or are you making promises you can't keep?"
"Of course I'm serious. It's just that..."
"But you're still considering the assignment."
"Well, it's just that I don't know how viable it is for me to stay here long-term." Will could hear the swing coming and ducked beneath it, and used the opportunity to close in and counter with his own swing but he was too late and lost where the other Will was.
"Because of me or because of the rest of the crew?" came the other Riker's voice, moving to the right.
Will circled clockwise to keep most of the arena between them. "Both." It was mostly his clone, and they both knew that, but still: "I don't know how well your officers will take it, having me as both their subordinate and their boss," Will joked.
"You could quit Starfleet," his double suggested.
"I could," Will admitted.
"But you don't want to."
Will was about to answer but he heard the swing and ducked—not quite quick enough. The end of the staff hit the side of his head, knocking him sideways. He tried to dodge the followup, but somehow it managed to hit him square in the chest, ringing him out.
Will sighed, flipping the visor up. His own self stared down at him, clad in red.
He got to his feet and returned to the ring, flipping his visor down again. The second round commenced. "Would you want to?" he asked. "In my position?"
"No," came his clone's voice. "Probably not."
It was frustrating, Will thought, everything about this whole situation. None of the options that lay in front of him, even the wildly optimistic ones, seemed particularly appealing. In one path, he could stay on board the Enterprise, share Deanna with his clone, work in Starfleet or work as a civilian. Or he could leave for another ship, Deanna somehow deciding to go with him, and the two of them could raise a family a hundred light years away from the Enterprise. Or he could move on from Deanna entirely, find a new life for himself. Every option he could think of made him feel incomplete, like he was just half of himself desperately scrounging for something like his old life, or starting over from scratch.
Will stalked around the anbo-jyutsu ring, listening carefully for any movement and the telltale hum of the two staff ends. He leapt over a low swing, landed only a glancing blow, and quickly drew back. He was having trouble summoning the concentration for a decent fight, though. When he stopped to consider it, it seemed obvious to him that his other self was likely living the best version of his life, which left no room for him, Castaway Riker. He remembered his other self, beneath the research station exhorting him to climb—to hang on, to live, to not give up so easily. But for what?
"You can make a life for yourself here, if that's what you really want," his other self said, before launching a vertical strike that buzzed right by Will's shoulder. "You just have to choose it."
Will didn't particularly feel like being lectured on living a good life, especially by his other self who was at the moment trying to bash him with a five-kilogram pole. For the next couple of minutes, both of them concentrated solely on the match, tracing the electronic hum of the staves in the darkness.
Will managed to hit his other self on the back, but missed the followup and found himself being propelled backward by a circular swing. A second ring-out.
Before starting again, Will took the time to take a deep, centering breath. Somewhat predictably, being down two points only made him more determined to win. It had been years since he had practiced this sport, and his other self had access to this full anbo-jyutsu gym. It wasn't fair, came the thought, before he pushed that feeling down; he had never liked attributing failure to other people, or viewing initial disadvantage as insurmountable. Skill, discipline, ingenuity, and calm thinking—these were his tools, and he would use them.
It took all his concentration, but eventually he did manage to land a blow, and one more solid than he was expecting—he could hear the sound of his opponent hitting the mat outside the ring.
Letting out an exhale of relief he flipped up his visor. Somewhat to his surprise, his other self had an impressed grin on his face as he pulled himself up. But maybe that wasn't so surprising—Will had always liked doing anbo-jyutsu and it'd been a long time since he'd had a decent opponent; the other version of him must be thinking the same thing. He flipped his visor down. In the dark, it was easier to just pretend he had a challenging adversary rather than someone he was trying to prove something to.
"So about the Gandhi posting..." his clone said.
"I'm not really sure I have anything more I want to say on that," Riker said. Hearing his voice was distracting and he was more interested at the moment in the outcome of the match than in his future life plans.
"But I'm trying to tell you something," the other Will protested.
"Oh yeah? And what's that?"
"That if you want to stay here, I'm not going to stand in your way."
"But you're not going to make it easier, either."
"Well, I'm not going to give up what I already have, if that's what you mean."
Will circled, but then was surprised when his counterpart's foot collided with his ankle, and not in a way that indicated a misstep, a miscalculation of the distance between opponents. This was an intentional tripping motion.
"Matte!" Will said, calling for a halt to the match. With an angry movement, he pulled off his helmet. "That's an illegal move!" There were no judges here, but he was certain if there were, they would have stopped the match for that.
"I know," the other Will said. He had already put his staff down and was sitting nearby, seiza-style, a relaxed smile on his face. "I wanted to get your attention."
"For what?"
"Like I said, I'm trying to tell you something." At that, the other Will leaned in and pulled him in with a hand on the back of his head, drawing him into a kiss—a deep kiss. At first, Will made a noise of surprise, but then suddenly... it was like everything fell into place. All the tense interactions of the past few days, the edge between them, the sense of loss Will felt at the thought of having to leave...
At the very least, this seemed like a much better way of resolving their differences than an anbo-jyutsu match.
The other Will pulled back, his eyes looking seriously at him, handsome eyes—if he could be forgiven the vanity—so similar to his own. "I'm trying to tell you I want you to stay," the commander said. "And Deanna, well, she definitely wants you to stay. I know it's not going to be easy, but... can't we figure something out?"
Will stared at himself. Could it really work, he wondered. Tentatively, he drew his other self into another kiss to see. It was definitely a very bizarre experience... but not an unpleasant one. Will still wasn't sure whether this would actually work out in the end, but the thought of it excited him at least. And if there was something that the past few days had taught him, it was that, setting aside the fact that Commander Riker was him, the two of them actually got along. A stand-up guy, this version of himself, someone he could respect—unless he was barking orders at him, that was.
"Well?" the other Will prompted.
"Well," Will said, "I'm willing to give it a try if you are."
Afterwards, when they were changing out of their anbo-jyutsu uniforms:
"By the way, did you know Dad was cheating at anbo-jyutsu the whole time?"
"What? You're kidding."
"He was."
"That bastard."
The two of them let out a hearty laugh.
The next time Deanna saw the two Wills, they showed up at her quarters, faces flushed and grinning ear to ear. Before Deanna could say anything in greeting, the two of them had picked her up and spun her around, which wasn't exactly easy to do with two people, even though the two Rikers made it look easy. They spun her around and then set her back down.
"I... take it you two figured things out then," Deanna said, fixing her hair back into a neat ponytail.
"We... came to an understanding?" one Riker said, looking at the other.
"Something like that," said the other.
"Good," Deanna said. "Now, are you two hungry? Let's have dinner."