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Will Riker waited for four years. Oh sure he wasn’t exactly celibate the whole time but it was never a situation where something could eventuate. Really Deanna’s reasoning had been sound at the start. After all it had been years since they’d seen each other, she’d said things, he’d done things they’d both regretted and Deanna had been so embarrassed after her outburst on that first away mission. Will had even agreed at first - they needed time to figure out how to work together, and being . . .together. . . would complicate that. Then she’d nearly got married, had a child, lost a child, he’d nearly taken the Ares, her mother had shown up and some how, before he’d even realized, it was years later; and she was his friend. Best he’d ever had.
Of course he’d thought about going down to Betazed on shore leave; but he didn’t see the point if Deanna was determined to stick to the status quo so he hadn’t done anything about it. He’d actually been nervous when he’d told her he was going, taken Deanna’s lead when she’d she’s suggested going together. And then her mother had shown up . . .again at the worst possible time. That had been it. For the next six months he’d been unable to get her out of his mind, thought about her constantly. So he’d told her.
Maybe his timing hadn’t been great but a month long mapping mission had meant a lot of down time, and the Tuesday night poker game had gone a lot later than usual. It was also the only time he’d been alone with her in a week, and they’d both let the more relaxing properties of the synthahol go to their heads. Well it was ancient history now. . she’d said no; not while they were serving on the same ship. Somehow that didn’t make as much sense as it once had, they were so close now - knew each other so much more deeply than they had. He’d pressed her, for some kind of acknowledgement and it had been barely a whisper when she’d admitted that she hadn’t stopped thinking about them either.
So he’d waited. . .and then he just couldn’t do it anymore. He’d asked her to dinner the night before and, yes, he’d meant more by it than their usual dinners, she’d known that. She’d had that look, the one that said she knew exactly what he was thinking, for the first time he’d seen, what? Sympathy? Pity? Maybe - certainly something he didn’t like. Something that meant maybe; just maybe - they weren’t on the same page at all and he’d been waiting for something that was never going to happen. So he’d stopped. Waiting.
Maybe he’d gone just a little bit overboard. . . most of the women he attempted to form some kind of relationship with weren’t really available for long term prospects - but it wasn’t something he’d really pursued before and he wasn’t even sure what his game plan was. For the first time since he’d left the academy he was actually living up to his rather inflated reputation. Shore leave had been just to clear his head. Worst. Shore Leave. Ever. Including the time they were abducted by Ferengi. Nothing though compared to the conversation with the Captain where he’d had to explain just how exactly he’d come by that damn game in the first place.
So he’d slowed down, started seeing one of the stellar cartographers. It had lasted a couple of months in fact before ending perfectly mutually as friends. But through all of that there had still been Deanna. Still his best friend. The one he always turned to, and who came to him whenever she needed a laugh. Whenever she was injured he’d be the first to sickbay and the last to leave. The relationship had ended ultimately (right at the point when these things became capitalized) because; “he didn’t really seem to have room in his life for a Relationship”. He half suspected what she’d meant was; “apart from the one you’re already in.
Then Thomas had happened and he’d finally realized what had been going on all along. It wasn’t serving together, that had just been a convenient excuse. (Deanna’s relationship with Worf would’ve shattered that illusion if he’d still held it anyway). It wasn’t that she didn’t feel that way about him anymore; she clearly did, although he’d concede she’d maybe got caught up in the whole thing just a bit. He told her he was Flattered. He was more than Flattered. He was caught somewhere between being ecstatic and wanting to blow himself out of an airlock; both of himself. Because the reason she wouldn’t be with him, the one thing standing in his own way - was himself. Not - the other him, that was just temporary - but himself the one who’d served side by side with her for six years, that him - The one who didn’t have a convenient excuse like being trapped on a planet with no way to get off.
Still he can’t bring himself to regret leaving her. Hurting her yes, he’s regretted it every second since, but not their separation. If he’s sure of one thing it’s that if he’d stayed, or if she’d followed him; her path would never have led here. Seeing her now, here among the stars, he can’t imagine her being happy any other way. Can’t imagine her being anyone else but the woman she’s become.
So that’s it then. He tried to move on, the way he probably should have a long time ago, the way he’d never wanted to. For a while he even though he’d managed it. He went on dates. . . he attempted relationships. But civilians just don’t understand the demands of the job and dating subordinate officers can be fraught with difficulties at the best of times, and short of dating Beverly or the Captain there aren’t any other options. Lieutenant Correll he suspected was really just after a fast promotion, after two dates he’s pretty sure and called it quits. Things looked better with Rebecca Smith, there’s definitely potential but on their third date he skewers himself on some Cypirion cactus, and uses it as an excuse to bail.
Really Deanna’s the problem; he knew what it could be like, he wants that, nothing less. He’s never been prepared to settle and he wasn’t about to start. So he went on as he always has, and if maybe he took a little extra care to leave Deanna the odd gift, or spent that little extra time over lunch who can blame him. If best friend is all he could get, he’d take it. He’s not about to loose the most important person in his life no matter how dysfunctional it might seem - even to him. Maybe one day . . . .
When Deanna started seeing Worf - he’d noticed. He’s wasn’t sure at first who she was seeing - only that she wasn’t as available as she usually was, that she began to turn her cheek for his goodnight kiss, that she stopped dropping in after hours for a late night chat. He’d never known Deanna to date a shipmate before but he can’t think of anyone else it could be. He figured it was serious the first (only) time she flinched when he called her Imzadi; she still hadn’t told him she’s seeing anyone. That’s when it fell into place, the number of times he’d seen them together in the corridors, or heading to the holodeck with Alexander. When he realised the times he’s unknowingly third wheeled on their dates. . .it had never occurred to him not to join them in Ten Forward, it hurt.
The worst part is it makes perfect sense. Sure to the casual observer they look completely unworkable, but despite the differences in philosophy their values are similar. The importance of family, of balancing the spiritual with the physical, a shared experience of being outsiders within their own culture, of balancing those expectations, meditation. They just kind of. . . fit.
When Deanna and Worf’s engagement ended, despite the fact that he’d made his own position clear, Will Riker waited. He gave Deanna space. Ultimately he’s glad he did. His own friendship with Worf was in tatters and Deanna’s relationship with Alexander was strained. Making a move now would destroy them completely. Riker is sure that while saddened by the end of her engagement, it is the damage to her relationship with Alexander that Troi regrets most.
So Will Riker waited for four years, four years of war. The Enterprise E is a battleship, he misses the kids, he prefers the colour scheme. He doesn’t date . . . neither does she. Beverly teases that they sound like an old married couple. Riker just smiles, Deanna asks about breakfast with the Captain.
It’s not true that Deanna hasn’t kissed him with a beard, but she hasn’t kissed him with one. There have been a thousand quick goodnight kisses, a touch of lips; brief, chaste. There have been lingering brushes that could have evolved into more but didn’t. But they haven’t kissed. Right now he feels like he'll explode if he doesn’t get to finish what they started in her office, if he doesn’t get to just kiss her. If shaving is all it takes . . well he’s never been one to back down from a challenge, especially where Deanna Troi is concerned. But he’s not opposed to having a bit of fun with it either.
He knows she’s in her quarters, they’re both off duty, she has that insanely huge tub . . . Any second now her door will open and he has one more gift for her; a genuine antique, family heirloom in fact. A straight edge razor; tied with a bow.