The next afternoon, the Doctor chimed outside the Captain's office.

"Come," the voice ordered and the doctor strode in to find the captain at the replicator, picking up a teacup with tea in it.

"Doctor, please, sit down. Would you like something to drink?" He gestured to his teacup.

"Yes, thank you," replied the redhead, ordering herself a coffee and settling down in the chair opposite her Captain in a familiar routine.

"How is the Counselor this morning?" He asked casually.

The doctor took a sip of coffee and then replied "Very well I think. I'm going to have her return to her quarters this evening. She'll do fine there recuperating."

"Is she still...in harms way?" The Captain asked, concerned.

"No, not at all. She's been on the road to recovery for a couple days now but the whole experience took such a toll on her body, it took her some time to recover. Now that she can take care of herself, shes better off in her own home until she returns to active duty."

"And when do you expect that will be? We reach Spectrai in less than a week," the Captain was weighing his options as he spoke.

"Not for a couple more days at least, at least for full active duty. She can return to limited duty tomorrow. Desk duty only. She's not going to be combat or field duty ready yet." The doctor paused for another sip of coffee. "I tell you Jean Luc, we really dodged a bullet on this one. We were so close to losing her. I haven't felt that helpless in a long time." She focused on her coffee, avoiding his look, not wanting to meet his eye.

"I am sure, Beverly, that the fact that she survived that experience with minimal long term consequences is due mostly to you and your dedication."

Though she was grateful for the Captains words, she shrugged and rolled her eyes a little, bit did feel a little comforted.

"Doctor, do I need to worry about Riker and Troi. Going forward?" The Captain asked.

The doctor thought for a moment before answering. "No, I don't think so. They've never been anything but professional in the past. I don't think they will let whatever they are dealing with affect their mission and duty to this ship and crew."

The Captain nodded slowly, "And what about Will and Deanna? What about them?" He looked at his friend with his eyebrows raised.

The doctor tilted her head slightly. "If I figure that out, I will let you know," she replied.

Later than evening, Deanna Troi sat on her couch, feet curled under her, enjoying a cup of hot chocolate. She was purusing the list of communications she'd missed while she was in Sick Bay, but in truth she was just scanning for interesting and/or personal messages. She'd tackle the real catching up tomorrow.

The chime on her door rang and without looking up, she replied "come in" and then looked up as Will Riker's form stood in the door frame.

"Will!" She said, without surprise but with great affection. She moved to stand a little too quickly, catching herself with an arm on her table as the dizziness overtook her for a moment.

"Deanna," He said, moving to her quickly, holding her by the shoulders, steadying her. He looked at her carefully in her eyes. Her normal pale luminescence now looked frail but her eyes held as much depth as always. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," she replied simply. He looked at her again, skeptical this time. Seeing his look, she went on "I get tired easily still, and a little lightheaded is all." She downplayed the physical effects as best she could, knowing that it wasn't working. Not with Will Riker.

Something was different, she thought. She couldn't put her finger on it. She had wondered why he'd been so distant. She sensed his emotions carefully, not wanting to get in too deep.

Will too was taking in everything around him. The feel or her, the scent of her, the soft skin around her collarbone, the shadows under her eyes. And with the slight buzzing in his head, he felt like he was just a little bit in a fog. He shook his head slightly and led Deanna back to where she'd been sitting.

"I'm glad you're doing well. You had us all scared there for a while," he said simply.

"So Dr Crusher tells me," the woman replied. "I was unconscious for most of it so..." she gave a small shrug.

Now or never, he thought. "Deanna," He started. Then he paused. She looked up at him from her seated position, expectant. "How much do you remember?" He asked. Then he paused. "Or rather, what do you know about what happened?"

She looked at him quizzically, like she wasn't quite sure what she was asking. She inferred there was something important that he was referring to but couldn't place it.

"Honestly, not much, and what I do remember is not linear," she said vaguely. She could feel his frustration, his eagerness, and became irritated because she didn't know what he wanted from her.

"Deanna," He said in a voice that seemed to say 'I know there is more.'

Calmly, too calmly, she replied "I don't know what you want from me, Will." She looked at him intently.

"Don't you?" He raised his eyebrows at her.

He came and sat down next to her. "Do you remember before Dr Crusher brought you to sick bay? What DO you remember?" He could see she was genuinely perplexed.

"I remember feeling horrible, completely overwhelmed, starting to panic. I remember talking to someone, maybe Beverly? I was hot and cold and had a horrible headache. The emotions of the crew were overwhelming in every sense of the word." Her response was vague, almost purposefully so. She didn't truly remember, but did have some flashes of memory. Her hands burning, feeling hot, Beverly's cool touch, the sound of shattery glass, an overwhelming feeling of panic and dread. There was also an overwhelming sense of Will Riker. She didn't know what that meant or why.

"Do you remember me coming to my see you in your quarters?" He asked quietly.

She looked up at him. "No," she said simply. Then she paused, checked herself. "Possibly? It's all such a mess."

Will sighed and looked at her again. He could tell she was frustrated with herself for not remembering. But also knew, somehow, that she was holding something back.

"You told Dr Crusher not to let me in to your quarters." He watched her carefully for a response. Not getting much of one, he went on. "I wasn't aware of this though, and came to see how you were. Dr Crusher gave a very ominous update and I was worried for you. I think what you described is what was going on when I arrived."

Deanna sat quietly in the couch, mug held in her lap? Her dark eyes following Will Rikers every minute move.

"You threw a pot at my head," he said with a smirk in his voice.

Deanna's head snapped to attention. "I did WHAT?"

"You threw a pot at my head. The little white one with the plant in it that used to sit on your desk."

"Why would I do that? Will! I don't rememebr that at all? Did I hit you? Did it hurt?"

"No, you didn't hit me. You must not have been trying too hard," he said. "Deanna, I heard you yelling at me to get out, that you couldn't control your mind." The desperation was palpable. Hers then, his now.

Deanna's forehead creased. He went on "Deanna. I heard you. Out loud. In my mind."

A sudden realization came over the small Betazoid. "Oh. I see," she said simply. And looked down at her mug again.

"Deanna, we owe it to ourselves to be truthful here. How long have you known?" He asked.

"How long have I known?" She asked. "How long have I known what?"

"Imzadi," Will said, "how long have you known this connection still exists?"

"Don't you dare, 'Imzadi' me right now, Will Riker," She said quickly. "And what do you mean how long have I known? It's not new Will, I've known as long as you."

"But..." He stammered, "after we...parted, it wasn't the same."

"No, it wasn't. But it was still there," she replied. "It's not something that is just turned off. It doesn't work like that."

"But...So...for all these years, we still had this connection? And I was unaware of it? How is that possible, Deanna? I never had the control over it that you did. How is it that this bond remained in existence without my knowledge?" He was angry, and hurt, and defensive.

"You left, Will! Do I need to say it again? You left. You made the decision that Starfleet was the most important thing in your life and you left. What did you think was going to happen? It would just turn off?"

"So you did know. And you were controlling it." He said it quietly, the dawning of the betrayal spreading over him. "Don't you think I deserved to know? Did you have the right to just keep that from me? That a part of me was still connected to you?"

"Will, YOU. LEFT. What would you have had me do? Should I have left it wide open? So I could feel from across the galaxy every time you put yourself in mortal danger? So I could know every time you fell in love with the next exotic alien? So I could sense your sexual conquests from across the Alpha Quadrant? I didn't do it to spite you, William Riker. I did it to protect myself."

Riker felt his heart sink. Once again he had blundered into an emotional sink hole. He rubbed his hand over his face, squeezing his temples and the down to rub his beard. 'Okay, he thought. We're doing this.' He found the place in his mind where he knew Deanna existed and let it expand. He felt her anguish, her fatigue, and her simmering anger at him.

"Deanna," He said simply. "I'm sorry." He would apologize until the end of his days for the hurt he had caused this creature.

"You're sorry," She said pointedly, almost sharply. "Yes. I know." She stood slowly and made her way to the replicator to put down her mug. She turned, moving gingerly still, to keep the dizziness at bay and looked at him, eyes large with expectation.

"Tell me," He said.

"I didn't plan it that way. With you gone, I thought the emotions would be less somehow, and in a way they did become less but also it became more difficult to manage. Like a part of my soul was always searching for you. You must have felt something similar. Like you were always expecting something but it never happened." She looked at her former lover.

He nodded back at her. "Yes, I know that feeling. I've never been able to place it until now."

She went on, "It became exhasuting, to have my soul always searching. Slowly I learned to block it from happening, a practice of refusal of acknowledgement I guess. After a while it was done subconsciously and I didn't think much of it. Until..." she paused.

He filled in what she wasn't saying. "Until Farpoint."

She nodded slightly in acknowledgement. "When I saw you on the bridge that first day, I didn't know what to expect. And then when you didn't seem to have any interest in the link, I didn't change anything. I didn't really realize you thought it didn't exist anymore. I assumed you knew that a separation alone can't sever the link."

"Well, I know NOW," he said, with almost a wry humor in his voice.

"You realize what I am saying, Imzadi?" she asked, purposefully using that word. "The link isn't something that I, or you, or WE, can change. It is there until it isn't. No matter what I, or you, want."

Riker gazed at her, studying her face. "You mean this telepathic bond exist regardless of what we want?"

"In a way yes, when we fell it love Will, it was created, and until that changes it will exist, even if we are on opposite sides of the known universe," she replied.

She had once looked up case studies of severed Imzadi bonds. Other than death, she had found 5 cases. Three where the couple had mutually chosen their own ways and the link dissolved unexpectedly. One where the couple simply ceased to have a telepathic link for an unproven, but suspected case of "falling out of love," and one where one partner had changed so much that the couple was not linked, even though the second partner was still willing. The rest of the research seemed to indicate that, even if separated and unwilling to share a life together, an Imzadi link remained if the partners still felt for each other the emotions that forged the link in the first place. This felt like more explanation than she wanted to give at this point.

Their familiarity and intimacy as well as the nature of their conversation made their connection much more obvious, to both parties, but especially to Riker, after having no experience for the past several years. He could sense her unease and hesitancy at the topic, and some anxiety at what his reaction would be and underlying that, he could barely sense it but it was there, regret? He reached out with his mind, rusty though it was and tried to cast a message to her 'Do you regret it all then? Do you regret everything we had before?'

He was shocked at the ease at which he could do it. "Like riding a bike" popped unwittingly into his head, though that seemed somewhat inappropriate.

Surprised, Deanna replied out loud "So you haven't forgotten!?" The she paused for a moment. "What in the world is the Captain going to say. Do we need to tell him? What's the protocol for this kind of thing? I don't think there is one." She wondered out loud. She didn't answer his question. Truthfully, she didn't know the answer yet.

"Ahh, about the Captain, well, uh. We probably don't need to tell him, only because he probably already knows. Beverly told him." Riker told Troi, slightly chagrined.

"Beverly told him?" She replied, aghast. "What did she know about it? You told Beverly, Will? WHAT exactly happened while I was unconscious??" She swayed slightly on her feet but didn't want to sit. That felt like an imbalance of power as long as Will was still standing.

He held up his hands in defense. "I didn't tell her." He replied quickly. "Deanna, please..." he implicated, seeing her sway. "Sit down please. I don't want to have to call Beverly and explain why you passed out. Deanna closed her eyes and nodded, knowing he was right. She was so tired. This conversation, and the renewed activity of her telepathic link, was exhasuting her already meager supply of energy. Will came towards her and took her by the elbow, escorting her back to the couch before she could protest. His touch made her mind tingle. She could feel that he noticed it too.

"Tell me. Tell me it all," she said.

Will looked at her directly. "After you yelled at me, in my head, and threw the pot at me, it felt like my head had a knife going through it. Beverly saw me outside in the corridor and ordered me to Sick Bay. A test that they ran revealed I had elevated neurotransmitters, the type that a human should not have. They treated me with one of the medications that they were using on you and after that the levels dropped. That's when I found out that you were speaking, or yelling rather, telepathically. I hadn't realized it before, but none of the medical staff heard it. Anyway, Deanna, when you were saying you couldn't control it, you didn't mean the emotions of the crew, you meant you couldn't control your link with my mind." He looked at her, daring her to contradict him. "You couldn't. I felt everything, and it was horrendous."

Deanna sighed and closed her eyes. When she opened them, she said "Will, I'm so sorry. I never imagined it would be like that. If I had known... I never would have..."

"Have what? Kept it a secret? Surely you had some inkling or you would not have told Beverly to keep me out. We could have both been killed." Riker looked at her intently. Not shying away from the confrontation.

"I didn't realize not having control would go both ways with you. By the time I did it was too late. I'm sorry," she said. She bent forward and rubbed her temples. She was developing an excruciating headache. Unfortunately Will knew it. "So how did Beverly figure it out?"

"She put two and two together, then she told me and the Captain what she thought. I couldn't really deny it right there," he replied.

She bent down again, keeping her head in her hands. "Deanna," Will asked. "Please, can I help you lie down? I felt a fraction of what you went through. Please let me help."

"No, Will, I'm okay. Really. I just need some time." She resettled herself on the couch as if to imply she wasn't moving.

Where do we go from here, Deanna?" Will asked.

She looked up at him, feeling very small seated on the couch while he towered next to her. She gave a small shrug and a small smile.

"Well, for what it's worth," he said as he bent down to press his lips to her head, "I am glad you're okay. I'll check on you later."

She smiled a small, slightly sad smile at him again, disappointed at the loss at what had become an easy commraderie.

He turned and walked slowly to the doors. As they opened for him to step out into the corridor, he heard her in his head, without pain, with only a comfortable familiarity he hadn't known he had missed.

"No. I don't," the voice said. "I don't regret it. Not any of it."

Riker paused, and turned to smile at her again, a smile that she returned, as he returned to his quarters to think.