by Peter David
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for me, except she was looking at you! Every time, every damned time I saw you with her, it was like a knife in my heart. I never stopped loving her! Is that what you want to hear? I was coming to Betazed to tell her that. If it meant breaking you up, I was prepared for that, providing she still felt something for me! If she didn't, I wouldn't have blamed her. I made a command decision for years that we wouldn't be together. It was me, Worf, all me. You saw how quickly she got together with Tom, with only the slightest urging. She never stopped loving me, never. But me, I was second-in-command of the Enterprise! I had no time for distractions, for some sort of ongoing relationship! I couldn't give in to the emotions she stirred in me! And what if we did pursue it and, for whatever reason, it didn't work out? After all the years apart, who knew what kind of people we had become. So I forced myself to believe those emotions weren't there. And I did it so well that I convinced not only myself, but the woman who knows me better than anyone else. The one who is the better part of everything I am. I did it for her own good, for the good of both of us. And having made that decision, how could I stand in your way? How could I deny her happiness with you? It would have been wrong. It was what she wanted, it would have been wrong .. ."
"And am I supposed to feel sympathy for you?" Worf s fists were shaking with barely pent-up emotion.
"We're Imzadi, Worf. It means-"
"I know what it means. Lwaxana told me."
"Knowing it intellectually isn't enough. I don't expect you to understand,"
"Because you believe I am stupid?"
"No!" shouted Riker, fed up with Worf s defensiveness. "Because you've never felt about anyone in your life the way I feel about Deanna! Not if you were willing to let her die! No matter how much I tried to force myself to think it was over because I wanted it to be so, the fact is that we are, now and forever, Imzadi."
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"How dare you," Worf snapped. "How dare you tell me how I have and have not felt," He came in very close to Riker, barely inches away. "Do you think I did not know what the two of you meant to each other? Do you think I did not sense your ghost hovering between us whenever I was with her? That I did not feel as if I was constantly being measured up to you? That nothing I did was good enough? When we spoke, I always sensed that she was comparing my sentiments to yours. When we made love, I was always positive that she was thinking of you! Here I was willing to pursue the relationship that you were unwilling to give her. Afraid to give her-"
"I wasn't afraid-"
"You were! Afraid to share your life! Afraid to risk your precious career! Afraid to love someone more than you loved yourself! Do you think I was unafraid when I approached her, courted her? The risk of rejection, humiliation ... it was overwhelming! But I pushed past that, went through it, because I believed that the prize was worth the risk! Yet still she remained attached to you, you who were unwilling to take any risk for her." Worf s voice escalated in volume until it was almost deafening. "Laying your life on the line now, that is easy for you! Entrap her love forever and then go off to die a hero's death, and leave me behind, painted as the one unwilling to sacrifice himself! When the fact is that you were too much the coward to be there for Deanna when she needed you, and too much the coward to be there for your duty when the Federation needed you!"
Riker hit him.
It was not one of the smarter moves Riker had ever made.
He hit him bone on bone, which was never a good move to begin with. His fist caught Worf squarely on the chin, promptly breaking one of Riker's knuckles. It landed with enough impact to knock Worf to the floor, and the combination of surprise and power behind the punch was enough to keep Worf down for a whole three seconds.
At which point Worf came up swinging.
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Will backed up quickly, as Worf s first two roundhouses- driven more by fury than technique-missed him clean. While Worf was off-balance on the second one, Riker drove a knee up into Worf s gut. It doubled the Klingon over long enough for Riker to bring his hands together and double-slam a blow to the thick set of muscles in the base of Worf s neck. It was a move that Riker had used before, when he had been assigned to a Klingon vessel as part of an exchange program. It had worked rather well at the time against that particular opponent.
In this case, it didn't slow Worf down at all. It did succeed, however, in ticking him off.
Will Riker was suddenly airborne. Worf had grabbed his leg in one hand and his arm in the other, and when he straightened up, Riker was over his head and helpless. For one hideous moment Riker thought that Worf was going to make a wish and use Riker as the wishbone. Instead Worf pivoted and threw Riker. Riker meteored across the room and slammed into the far wall with the sound of a wet sack of potatoes. He slid to the ground, momentarily stunned, and then saw Worf charging toward him. He tried to muster the strength to get out of his way, but all he could manage was to try and crawl away, and then Worf had hauled him off his feet, his arm across Riker's throat, snarling in fury into his ear.
Riker dug his nails into Worf s hand. It was the only part of him that he could get close to, and the only tactic that he could think of.
Worf didn't let out a sound, other than a grunt. He tried to pull his hand free of Riker's but Riker held on as if his life depended on it-which it might very well have. Blood began to trickle from the point of penetration and finally Worf shoved Riker furiously away. Riker stumbled around but stayed on his feet.
Worf came at him and what followed was a dazzlingly fast flurry of blows. Riker stood his ground as Worf delivered one rapid-fire shot after another. Will blocked, moving entirely on instinct, faster than he ever had in his life. Worf growled in
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annoyance and then, for a moment, Won" got too close and his snarling face was near Riker's.
Riker tried to head-butt him, slamming his skull against Worfs.
If there was any move that Riker could have made that was less wise than having swung in the first place, it was that one.
The impact was audibile from nearly three rooms away. Worf didn't give in the slightest, but Will stood there for a moment, the world swirling around him. And then, without Worf having to do another thing, Riker fell backward, crashing to the floor.
To his credit, Riker began to get back up again, even though he was starting to turn rather pale. Worf watched him, shaking his head.
Riker suddenly kicked him in the crotch.
Worf had been sure that Riker was virtually out for the count. The speed and ferocity of Riker's move caught Worf completely off-guard. The shot landed squarely and Worf sank to his knees. It was everything he could do not to moan.
Will staggered in place for a moment, about to try and press his advantage. Unfortunately he didn't have the opportunity, because suddenly he completely lost his ability to remain on his feet as a wave of nausea swept over him, courtesy of a delayed effect of the head-butting. Riker sank to the floor a few feet away from Worf, propping himself up with one hand and clearly trying not to vomit.
"H . . . had . .. enough . . ." he managed to get out.
"Was that... a question to me ... or a ... description of yourself. .." Worf said between lungfuls of air.
At that moment, a squad of Romulans entered. They surveyed the damage that the two of them had done to each other, and Dr. Tok-who was carrying what appeared to be a medical kit-shook his head in annoyance. "Take this one," he pointed at Worf, "and stick him with his son and fiancee."
The Romulans did as they were told, while Tok knelt down opposite Riker. He pulled instruments from his kit and started
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working on Riker's face. "Hold still please," he said as the tools began to stimulate cellular growth in Will's skin.
"What are you doing?"
"Getting you fixed up. In case you're unaware of it, you came in here looking rather in bad shape to begin with. Your little brawl with the Klin
gon didn't do much for your complexion on top of that. Sela reasoned that sending you to the Klingon homeworld looking like you've been in a series of fights is hardly going to facilitate your passing yourself off as William Riker."
"Believe me," said Will, "that's the last person I'd want to be right now."
Worf was not entirely sure of the reaction he was going to get when he entered the room with Deanna and Alexander. So he was relieved when Deanna took one look at him, sighed, "Oh, Worf. . . thank God . . .," and ran to embrace him. The warmth of her, the intensity of her arms around him ... it all went a long way toward assuaging the serious concerns that he had been having. Deanna was, after all, the priority here. Although she was Starfleet, still she had been raised in the ways of Betazed. She might have had difficulty with the notion that Worf was prepared to sacrifice her rather than allow dishonor and dereliction of duty to hold sway. "I... I knew you were alive, even after I saw you take that fall... I knew it... and now you're here . , ."
"Everything will be all right," Worf assured.
"Yes, it will," Alexander spoke up. Then he paused and added, "Thanks to Riker."
There was silence in the room for a moment.
For a moment, Worf wanted to shout at his son. To dress him down, to verbally eviscerate him for taking that tone. But matters were difficult enough as it was. Now was the time for patience and understanding, the types of thing that Deanna had labored so mightily to teach him. To teach them both.
Before he could say anything, Deanna said to Alexander,
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"Alexander .. . what your father did ... it was the right thing for him to do ..."
"And Riker was wrong? You're saying it was wrong for us to live?"
"No ... he ... he also did ... what was right for him .. .**
Inwardly, Worf shuddered at the fact that she was echoing Riker's own words. Was there anything that the two of them were not united upon? Was there any room for Worf in the equation at all?
"Alexander, I expected you to understand," Worf said. "Have I not taught you anything?"
"Oh, you taught me, Father," Alexander replied with quiet defiance. "You taught me just how important my life, and Deanna's life, is to you. And you've done it with such efficiency that I don't give a damn if I never see you again."
"Alexander!" Deanna said, shocked.
Under ordinary circumstances, there was every possibility that Worf would have blown his top by that point. But he was still feeling emotionally spent from his altercation with Riker. So instead patience ruled the moment. "You have to understand, Alexander . .. when you were dying, a part of me was dying with you. But everything that makes me who I am, everything that I believe to be important, dictated that I had no choice. My commitment to Starfleet, and the Federation, and the Klingon way of life, all required-"
Alexander walked slowly toward him, fists balled up, and he practically shouted, "It had nothing to do with Starfleet! Or the Federation! Or the Klingon way! It had to do with your own stubborn pride!"
"That is not true!" snapped back Worf. "I cared about doing my duty, first and foremost."
"Obviously you care about duty more than Deanna ... or me... or anything."
"You do not understand."
"Oh, no ... I understand. You've made it very clear,"
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Alexander said to him. And then he turned and walked away from him, sitting with his back pointedly to his father.
Will looked in the mirror that had been provided him and was pleased to see that his face was well on the way to healing up. And he was wearing a Starfleet uniform, which, for some reason, made him feel more human again somehow.
The question was, had he betrayed that uniform by "knuckling under" to the Romulan demands?
The thought was repellent to him, but he had spoken the truth to Worf: He had simply felt as if he had no choice. The question wasn't how could he have saved them. The question was how could Worf not have. But he had been honest he said that, in many ways, Worf remained a mystery to him. He just didn't understand the man.
Then again, considering the number of times that Riker didn't understand himself, it was probably a wash.
That was when he heard his own voice just outside the door.
"I want to have a few minutes alone with the prisoner," Tom Riker said. "It'll be all right, I assure you. Where's he going to go?" The guard who was on duty apparently agreed to Tom's request, because a moment later Tom was inside.
"Here to gloat?" asked Will.
"No," Tom replied calmly. He paused, gathering his thoughts. "Will... I know you don't think much of me . . ."
"Is this where I'm going to hear another lecture about how difficult it's been for you? Of the hand that you didn't get dealt. Are you going to try and rationalize away the fact that you're a traitor?"
"A traitor to whom, Will? A traitor to what?" Tom grinned raggedly. "I'm doing my duty, just as you are. But I have a different duty. So I became a member of the Maquis while you stayed with Starfleet. So what? Someone had to be the evil twin."
Will, to his own surprise, laughed at that. "I don't think of you as evil. Stupid, perhaps .. . and a traitor . . . but not evil."
"That's damned decent of you. We're no different, Will. I
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watched you stand there and throw away your Starfleet oath- risk interplanetary warfare-for the life of a single woman. How does that make you any less of a traitor?"
"It is different."
"The reasons may be different, but the result is exactly the same. Don't tell me it's not, we both know it is." He crouched down next to Will and lowered his voice. "You can fool Sela . . . but you can't fool us. Don't even bother trying to lie to me. I know what you're going to do. You'll try and pull some sort of double-cross, some sort of last-minute stunt. You're playing for time, and-unlike Worf-you don't mind lying or losing face or bending to the pressure. You just couldn't let her die."
"Really. Tell me this, then: If we're so much alike . . . how come you could let her die?"
Tom looked down. He actually appeared ashamed. "You know . . . when I first met you . . . and I saw that you had let Deanna just be there, part of your life but outside of your life all those years ... I felt nothing but contempt for you. Perhaps some of that carried over to this day. But I think... to a degree. . . you are stronger than I ever could have been. Stronger because you resisted the impulse to pursue her, to reignite the relationship, even though you must have wanted to ... just because you felt it was the right thing for her."
"Mr. Worf seems to feel that it was a sign of cowardice," Will said.
"From what I've seen of Mr. Worf, he would. You see, the thing that Worf hasn't learned yet is that just because you can do something doesn't always mean you should. He acts on impulse a good deal."
"Worf s impulse was to save Deanna and Alexander. He resisted it in the pursuit of a greater cause. I didn't. What does that make me?"
"Cagey," said Tom. "Because, as I said, I know that you wouldn't give in just like that. You must have something in mind."
Will was about to reply, but then he stopped. A look of
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caution crossed his face. "You must think I'm seriously stupid."
"No. No, I don't think that at all. Why would you think I do?"
"If I were planning something ... if I was hoping to make a grandstand play ... do you seriously think I would tell you?"
"Oh, of course. I'm the traitor."
"Yes. You are. You have no idea what it's like, Tom ... to be ashamed of myself. .. and unable to do anything about it, because it's not myself.. . but it is."
"I suppose. After all, why would I have anything to be ashamed of when it comes to you, right? Will Riker, the great, Will Riker the wise. Will Riker who, even when he betrays his ideals, doesn't do it out of some nasty, dirty political cause. No, no. He does it. .." He made a thumpa-thumpa gesture with his hands over his chest. "... for love." He paused and then said, "You
know, Will... so many people ask themselves, if they had it to do over differently, would they? When the question had to do with your relationship with Deanna, you were probably the luckiest bastard in the galaxy. My existence gave you the opportunity to find that out. And the answer was, No, you wouldn't do it differently. How very gratifying."
"What's your point?"
"My point is ... how do I get to find out? If I had something to do over again, would I do it differently? I don't get to have a convenient re-creation of me through a transporter accident. So if I want to find out if I'd do things differently .. . there's only one way to find out. I have to do it myself."
And before the full meaning of Tom's words managed to weigh on him, Will suddenly felt a pinch in his arm. He looked down and saw two, small dartlike objects nestled in his right biceps. Then his gaze swiveled over to Tom's hand, where a small weapon was held.
"Good night, Will," he said.
The world moved sideways around Will Riker. He tried to pull his head together, but he couldn't do it. A moment later he slumped over onto the floor.
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"After all," Tom asked Will's insensate body, "how easy is it to betray one more person . .. when you've betrayed before?"
When the Romulans showed up, they saw only one Riker sitting in the middle of the room ... the one with the Starfleet uniform.
"Where's Will Riker?" they asked.
"How do I know where he is. Am I my brother's keeper?" said Tom. "He said he had other matters that he needed to attend to. That's all I know. You want him so much, you go-find him."
For all the seriousness of the moment, Tom was finding it somewhat amusing. For what seemed ages now, Tom Riker had been masquerading as Will Riker, hoping not to be found out His impersonation had been so perfect that he had convinced the Romulans he was, in fact, Will Riker. Yet now he had to pass himself off as Tom Riker ... which should have been simple, considering that he was Tom Riker, but even that was going to be slightly tricky since he had to remember to answer only to the name of Tom rather than Will... even though Will wasn't really his name ... except it was.