Title: A Bird in the Hand
Author: Maddie
Rating: T
Genre: Drama/Angst/Hurt-comfort
Summary: Will Riker returns to the Enterprise after months as a prisoner on Corvas Seven.
Disclaimer: The characters belong to someone else, but the plot belongs to me

Author's Notes: This story was originally published in hard copy in the Orion Press Fanzine Number One, Issue 3, edited by Joan Winston

A Bird in the Hand

By, Maddie

Deanna Troi glanced in her mirror, absently patting her hair into place as she rushed out the door. He was due in a few minutes and she wanted to be there to greet him, to welcome him back on board, and secretly, to assure herself he was truly all right. Deep inside, she quelled the uneasiness that refused to go away, that had prodded at her since she had read his medical report over two standard months ago. The information therein had deeply disturbed her, on more than a professional level. Every sense, every instinct, told her to be cautious, but her heart only told her to be happy, to rejoice that he was back and let him know his friends still needed his warm humor, his expertise, and the strength around which his junior officers so often rallied. He had to know he could still provide the same stable core.

"Deck Six," Troi said as she stepped into the turbolift

Again her hand went nervously to her hair, and then she composed herself, knowing it was vital she not appear the clucking mother hen, though part of her wanted desperately to hold him and assure him nothing had changed. The psychologist in her knew better, but the professional warred with the personal on all levels in this matter, and though she wanted to be with him these last months, she knew it was best to let an impersonal, uninvolved therapist handle his case.

With a deep calming breath, she stepped from the turbolift, and walked quickly to the transporter room. She breezed in, trying to project an air of business-as-usual professionalism, while her insides churned. "Good day, Lieutenant," she said to the young woman manning the transporter controls.

"How can I help you, Counselor Troi?' the technician asked.

"Commander Riker is due on board and I wanted to greet him."

The technician eyed her quizzically.

"We're old friends," Troi responded quickly, feeling compelled to explain her interest. "And he has been on assignment planet side for several months."

The lieutenant nodded again. Troi quickly ran through her mental files, trying to place the young officer, when it occurred to her, Lieutenant Ambrose had come aboard the Enterprise in Riker's absence.

The young woman looked at Troi and raised her eyebrows in a facial shrug. "I am familiar with Commander Riker's name, Counselor, but no one is scheduled to beam up from Starbase 112 for the next two hours.

"I received a communication stating that Will, uh, Commander Riker, would be beaming aboard on the hour.

"I'm sorry if there was a misunderstanding, Counselor, but that request was cancelled several hours ago. I understand the Commander is transferring to the Enterprise on one of the cargo shuttles.

"Cargo shuttle?" Warning flashers went off in Troi's head. She turned and hurried out of the transporter room. It occurred to her, as she walked to the turbolift, she had not asked when he was scheduled to arrive, but she did not dare ask Lieutenant Ambrose. She was all too aware of the wave of bemused puzzlement emanating from the confused Lieutenant. She must think all her officers are daft, Deanna thought, forgetting her embarrassment as it was overwhelmed by a wash of deep concern.

The shuttle craft settled to the deck, a squat, waddling creature compared to many atmospheric craft. No need for sleek aerodynamics in the airless void of space, and it certainly was functional. Like so much of my life, Ro Laren thought bitterly. Artistry and grace sacrificed to utilitarian survival. She waited while the outer doors of the cargo bay slid closed and atmospheric pressure within the area returned to ship normal.

Ro thought she saw figures moving in the forward compartment of the shuttle. She stepped unobtrusively into the bay, and stood a few meters from the craft. When the hatchway finally hissed open, Ro found herself holding her breath. What was she going to say?

She did not have time to answer her own questions.

His tall form ducked slightly to avoid hitting his head as he stepped from the shuttle hatch, followed by a squat Tellurian. The Tellurian bowed quickly, twice in rapid succession, the customary farewell gesture among his people, and then walked toward the rear of the shuttle to supervise its unloading. For a moment the shuttle's passenger stood alone, the expression on his face unreadable. Ro tried to imagine his feelings. Was he glad to be back on board the Enterprise? Did he feel like he had come home? Unlike many of her crewmates, Ro often felt at loose ends on board the Enterprise. It did not feel like home to her. No place ever really had, but she knew of his feelings for this ship, or at least what the crew had talked about in his absence. His refusal to leave her to accept a command of his own, though he had been presented with the opportunity on three different occasions. Ro had difficulty understanding such loyalty to a person, much less to a vessel or a way of life. Trusting others was not one of her strengths.

As Ro watched, he looked around, assuring himself he was, in reality, back aboard, and then he took a deep breath, bent to pick up his carryall, and started toward the cargo bay exit. It was then, she stepped from the shadowy corner which had concealed her presence, and placed herself deliberately in his path. He stopped short, his face darkening for a brief instant, and Ro braced herself for a reprimand. She was off duty, and she had every right to be here, but she had, all too often, been corrected for her unorthodox approach to shipboard procedure. Why should now be an exception? Before this assignment he seemed to take particular interest in her activity and went out of his way to correct her procedural lapses, even while indirectly praising her inventiveness. She found that confusing, but she found much about Starfleet puzzling and contradictory.

"Commander Riker," she said at last, crushing the silence.

"Ensign Ro," Riker answered her, nodding his head in acknowledgment of her presence.

Ro shifted her weight, unsure of how to continue. The absence of conversation became a protracted emptiness. Then he stepped aside, to walk around her. Instead of blocking his way, she fell in step beside him, easily matching her stride to his longer one. The awkwardness of the moment in the cargo bay hung around them. She knew she had to speak, but could not find the words, her brashness failing her. They moved to the nearest turbolift, Riker entered the command for his quarters, and then they rode together in dogged silence. When the lift door opened at their destination, Riker stepped through and as he did so he spoke.

"Do you have something you wish to discuss, Ensign, or are you just going to shadow me?"

"You know damned well..." Ro exploded; rankled by the tense silence, then she bit her tongue. His manner had been coolly professional, not accusatory. He had stopped walking and now stood opposite her in a quiet intersection between two corridors. She squared her own shoulders and spoke quickly, but firmly. "On Corvas Seven, I took action contrary to standard procedure. Action that placed the mission and the landing party in jeopardy.'

"Something that's never appeared to bother you before," Riker answered coldly.

Damn him, Ro thought. She would have preferred anger to this calm. "I...I felt an apology was in order."

"An apology," Riker echoed, the corners of his mouth twitching in a grimace, or a stifled smile, she could not be sure. "From Ensign Ro Laren, who operates on her own set of standards, regardless of the results, or what the rest of the universe might find acceptable?"

Ro looked at her feet, forcing herself to breathe regularly, burying the anger that swelled in her. Then she squared her shoulders and looked Riker straight in the eye. "Yes, sir, an apology. My actions are directly responsible for—"

"—the last six months of my life," Riker finished, his voice harsh and edged with ill-concealed bitterness. "Well, don't apologize, Ensign. You acted precisely as you were supposed to."

Startled, Ro felt her mouth drop open, and then quickly snapped it shut.

"I was counting on you," Riker continued, "to do exactly what you did do, Ensign. I was certain you would react to the situation on Corvas Seven in your own independent fashion, and place me exactly •where I wanted to be without blowing my cover."

"You wanted me to make a mistake?"

"I depended on it,' Riker answered tersely.

For a moment, Ro stood toe to toe with her first officer, anger and frustration radiating from her. Then he nodded his head. "You are dismissed, Ensign,' Riker said quietly.

Ro hesitated a moment longer, biting back an acid retort, then she spun on her heel and stormed down the corridor.