I do not own these characters, and I make no profit from this story.
Seeing
Deanna slumped against the wall. Will lunged towards her, missed, then grabbed her on the second attempt, just before she hit the floor in an ignominious heap.
She giggled. “Oops!”
“Come on,” he said firmly, trying not to grin. “I have to get you to bed.”
“Promise?”
“Very funny, Deanna. You’re hilarious.”
Will slipped an arm under hers, and began to shuffle along the corridor, trying to look like The First Officer Taking A Businesslike Stroll With The Ship’s Counsellor, rather than Will Riker Taking An Extremely Drunk Counsellor To Her Quarters. A pair of Retarians passed them, tinkling softly in their full ceremonial regalia. They cooed amiable greetings. Will nodded and smiled.
“I haven’t been this drunk for a long time,” Deanna confided, then stumbled again.
He picked her up, again. “Yes, you have. When we were on Earth, with Cochrane.”
She thought about that, then smiled triumphantly. “You’re right. But, but, but, that was years of hundreds ago!”
He raised an eyebrow, then sighed thankfully as they reached her quarters. The doors opened with an obliging ‘shhhh’, and they fell inside.
“Besides,” she continued in a composed voice from the floor, “the Retarians like people to get drunk. They were all drunk, too.”
Will pulled himself to his feet, then helped Deanna up, placing her on the bed. The doors whooshed shut. “True,” he grinned. “And that zanki liquor is pretty strong. They fixed up our reception room quickly, didn’t they. Did you like the decorations?”
“There were decorations?”
Will stared. “Just how much of that stuff did you have?!”
She blinked. “No, no, no no no, I remember now. The decorations. Very pretty. Dark, but pretty.”
He walked over to the replicator. “Water, cold.” It materialised. He sat next to her on the bed, and pushed the glass into her hand. “I think you’d better have this.”
She took a dutiful sip. “Captain Luc-Jean won’t be angry, anyway.”
“What do you mean?”
She said proudly, “I got readings from all the Retarians. And he was absolutely right. No malov- no malevol- no naughty thoughts at all.”
“That’s good.”
She waved the glass in the air suddenly. He caught it just after water splashed on his lap. “Deanna!”
“Oops!” she sniggered, then turned serious. “Actually, there was one person I couldn’t read.” He gestured for her to elaborate. “The person sitting opposite me. I couldn’t make out her face. It was all veeeeery mysterious.”
He did a double-take. “Deanna,” he began slowly, feeling his way, “that was a mirror.”
She frowned. “Oh.” Then she started giggling so hard she fell off the bed.
