A/N: This is the next episode in a series I've been writing revolving around Carmen Riker (the daughter of Commander Riker and Counselor Troi from a parallel, war-torn universe who crash landed in the prime universe). I will try, however, to bring up any pertinent background information you need to know for this adventure so that anyone can follow along. Feel free to send me any questions if I didn't explain something enough :-). And if you're interested, the first story in this series is "Somewhere Out There."

"Hello?" Riker stepped into the dimly lit quarters, which at the moment, looked more like a crime scene.

"Over here." The voice hailed him from a blue sofa, which seemed adrift in a sea of dirty laundry and dirty dishes. Carmen slouched atop this sofa, a bowl of melted ice cream cradled on her lap.

Shaking his head, Riker made his way over to the replicator. After placing his order, a tall glass appeared on the tray. Steam wafted from its frothy surface. A bitter, earthy smell filled the quarters.

"Here," Riker offered, holding it before him as he waded towards the sofa. "This will straighten you out."

Carmen glared at him from over her bowl of ice cream. "Who said I need straightening out?"

"You're eating ice cream. For breakfast. At 1100 hours."

"What, is that against the law?" She lifted a half-melted spoonful. But Riker snatched the spoon, dropped it into the bowl, and set the whole thing on a side table.

"Not since I last checked. Now drink." He shoved the glass into her hands instead.

She scowled at him fiercely, but tilted the drink up to her lips for a sip. "Blech!" She bolted upright, sputtering in disgust. "This stuff tastes horrible!"

"Says the one who eats gagh," Riker pointed out. He sat down beside her and slung a foot across his knee, looking rather smug.

She scowled at him again. "Gagh is an acquired taste. But if I acquire much more of this taste, I think my insides will liquify. What is it, anyways?"

"It's a Vulcan mocha."

"Vulcan?"

"Yeah. The ones who have no sense of humor. This is why, you know. Terrible coffee." A grin finally cracked her sullen demeanor. Riker's smirk turned into a smile of sincerity. "So are you gonna tell me what's wrong? Or am I gonna have to make you drink that whole thing?"

Carmen laughed wryly. "Alright, alright," she relented. Setting the drink down, she blew out of the side of her mouth and made herself comfortable. "Well, I was working late last night with Geordi. Sheppard always works late, too. I thought maybe we could go by Ten Forward after his shift. Grab some dinner."

"And?"

Carmen groaned as though it pained her to continue. "He was working with that Ensign Powell again. And they were talking about baseball. Can you believe it? Baseball!"

"What, is that against the law?" he quipped.

"No," she shot back, slapping his arm. "But...it's just...that's our thing."

"It's a lot of people's thing. Look-" Riker settled deeper into the sofa. "If you two are going to be just friends, then you're going to have to accept that this kind of thing will happen."

"But Ensign Powell? I doubt she even knows how to throw a baseball."

"Carmen…"

She knew that tone of voice. It meant a lecture was coming. She folded her arms, bracing for it.

"When you care about someone," he began. "It means you want what's best for them. Even if it's not what's best for you."

Carmen grimaced, loathe to hear the truth. "But how? How did you do it, with Deanna?"

"Well, it went both ways. She always handled it better than I did, admittedly. And being a counselor, she'd probably have some sage, eloquently-worded advice on the subject. But as for me, it always came down to her happiness. If I wasn't ready to be the one to make her happy, then I had to swallow my pride and let someone else do it. It was better than both of us being miserable and alone."

"Yeah, I know," she grumbled, sinking against his shoulder. "But that doesn't really make me feel better."

"Well...what about the fact that Powell is engaged, and she probably brought up baseball because her fiance is a big baseball fan?"

"What?" Carmen exclaimed, straightening back up. "Are you sure? How do you know that?"

His smugness returned. "I did a little digging around. You're not the only one who noticed they've been working together a lot."

"Wait-have you been keeping tabs on him?"

"What, is that against the law?"

A relieved laugh burst from her lips. "Well...thanks. For looking out for me." She clapped a hand over his knee.

"Don't mention it," Riker insisted. "And you know...if anything comes up while I'm gone, you can always talk to Geordi."

Carmen paused, her gratitude morphing into suspicion. "You asked him to keep tabs on me, didn't you?"

"I can neither confirm nor deny-"

"Oh come on," she groaned. "You'll only be gone for a week. And I'll be on the Enterprise the whole time. How much trouble can I get into?"

"I shudder to think of the answer."

"Okay how about this…" Carmen pulled up her legs so that she was sitting cross-legged on the couch. "I promise not to get into trouble while you guys are on your honeymoon. Happy?"

Riker pretended to waver on whether or not he believed her. "Alright," he finally said. "We still have a wedding to finish planning, anyways. Oh! Speaking of which…" He rose from the sofa, pulling the front of his uniform straight. "We're expecting company for dinner tonight. She's helping Deanna with all the wedding stuff. I apologize in advance."

"For having company?" Her brows drew together quizzically.

"Well...you'll see." He sighed, already exasperated it seemed, and turned to leave without further explanation.