Part 19 (2/2)
”You're wrong, Will. I do understand. I may not agree. But I understand. So,” she said after a moment's thought, ”tell me what other things about Betazoid philosophy puzzle you.”
And they remained that way, naked, wrapped around each other, talking. Just talking, until the early-morning hours, when the first rays of the sun stole across the treetops. They dressed, Riker feeling extremely self-conscious, Troi feeling... he didn't know how she felt.
”Thank you for an... interesting evening,” he said.
”I think we've made some progress.”
”When can we get together again?”
”Why do you want to get together again?”
”I... well...” He smiled. ”A lot of reasons.”
”In that case, I think we've made even more progress than I thought,” said Deanna teasingly. ”I'll be in touch with you, Will.” And she turned and walked off.
When she snuck into the mansion, Lwaxana was waiting for her.
Her mother was standing there, hands on hips, lips thinned virtually to nonexistence. ”Would you mind telling me where you were?”
Deanna looked downward. ”Yes, I would.”
”Deanna, we've never kept things from each other.”
”Not quite, Mother. I've never kept anything from you. I've never had much choice.”
Lwaxana pointed to the stairs. ”Go up to your room, Little One. We'll speak of this later... maybe.”
”Mother, I'd rather-”
”I don't care!” Lwaxana's voice was filled with more fury than Deanna had ever heard, and it occurred to the young Betazoid that now would probably not be the best time to discuss matters in more detail... particularly considering the details.
Nevertheless, though, she felt she had to say something.
”Mother,” she said very quietly, ”don't you trust me?”
The muscles under Lwaxana's face worked for a moment, flexing and unflexing. And then, softly, she said, ”Of course I trust you, Little One.”
”Well, then...?”
”It's others that I don't trust. Deanna”-she took her daughter's face in her hands-”you have a purpose in life. A higher purpose. And I distrust anyone and anything that seems as if it will dissuade you from that purpose.”
”But don't I owe an obligation to myself to-”
”Your obligations,” said Lwaxana sadly, ”are far greater than those to yourself. You have history to protect. You have tradition to uphold. People who died years, even centuries ago did so with a sense of comfort. Even completion. Because they knew that they were part of a larger tapestry; that they were part of something greater than themselves. It is not easy, Deanna, to sublimate your interests and desires to those long gone and those to come. But the happenstance of your birth and lineage means that you owe it, not only to those who preceded you, but to those who will follow... Please, Deanna... tell me that you won't let me down.”
In her face was more of a pleading expression than Deanna had ever seen. At that moment, as they had so often before, her own interests and willpower wilted before the needs and demands of the woman who had so shaped her life.
”Of course, Mother. I won't let you down.”
”Are you certain?”
”Yes.”
Lwaxana drew herself up, almost looking embarra.s.sed about her heartfelt plea. ”Well... that's... that's good to hear. Um... it's early, but... how would some hot chocolate sound to you about now?”
Deanna had to smile at that. Chocolate was one of the few tangible reminders-aside from Deanna's presence, of course-of her father. He had absolutely adored chocolate, and it was a craving that he had imprinted on his wife and, apparently, pa.s.sed on to his daughter. She licked her lips at the thought and said, ”That would be wonderful... but I wouldn't want you to go to any trouble.”
”Oh!” Lwaxana waved dismissively, ”it won't be any trouble at all.” She turned, cupped her mouth, and bellowed in a voice that shook the rafters, ”Homn! Wake up! Deanna wants some hot chocolate!”
”Mother! I thought you were-” And then she saw Lwaxana's stunned expression and amended, ”I could have made it.”
”Oh, nonsense. A daughter of the Fifth House? What an absurd notion.”
”But why did you have to yell?”
”Because Mr. Homn has an annoying habit of sleeping through my thought-castings. Amazing. The only other person I ever met who could do that was your father.”
Mr. Homn appeared moments later. To Deanna's surprise, the towering manservant was fully dressed. She wondered if he was simply a fast dresser, or whether he just slept that way in the event that Lwaxana needed him for something. Actually, for all she knew, he never slept. Certainly life with Lwaxana would seem to preclude the opportunities for such mundane activities.
”Deanna wants some hot chocolate,” Lwaxana informed him.
Mr. Homn looked at Deanna impa.s.sively, and Deanna gestured in a manner that silently said, I'm sorry about all this. Homn merely inclined his head slightly and headed off toward the kitchen.
”Now you see, Little One?” said Lwaxana, looping her arm through Deanna's. ”There are still some people who know how to give proper respect to those who are ent.i.tled to it. I suggest that you keep that in mind... particularly in the way that it applies to Lieutenant Riker.”
Deanna looked at her nervously. ”You're not going to contact Starfleet, are you? We're just friends, Mother.”
”Just friends because of your actions, my dear, not his. But no... I doubt I'll really speak to Starfleet about him. After all, Little One”-Lwaxana patted Deanna's cheek-”you do want me to trust you, don't you?”
CHAPTER 22.
Breakfasting at their customary caf?, Riker and Roper looked up in surprise when Gart Xerx appeared next to them. ”So here's where you're hiding, Roper,” he said in mock annoyance to the Federation amba.s.sador.
Roper shrugged. ”This is where I am every morning. Ask Mr. Riker here.”
”He is,” said Riker solemnly. ”I can vouch for him.”
”Although actually,” said Roper, putting his napkin down, ”I hate to say this, but I have to cut our usual morning ritual short. I have an early meeting this morning.”
He started to rise, and Riker automatically started to put his own food aside, even though he hadn't finished it. But Roper quickly stopped him. ”Just because I have to abort breakfast, Captain, doesn't mean you do. Stay. Chat with our great friend Xerx.”
”Great ffiend,” said Xerx with an exaggerated harrumph. ”Didn't come to my daughter's wedding weeks ago.”
Roper shrugged. ”My daughter and the captain here attended on my behalf. And I did send a lovely gift, didn't l?”
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