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She's mortified. After seeing Bill Riker again and swearing to herself that she would play it cool, it took less than a month for her to end up in his arms, begging and panting for him like she used to when they... Deanna forces herself not to think about that. It's only going to make matters worse - and they're hard enough already. Being pressed against him again, even overcome as she was by illness and emotion, had hit her hard, and she needs every ounce of her impressive Betazoid training to keep her walls up high and tight around her feelings if she's going to work with him.
Her feet have taken her to Ten Forward without her brain really registering where she's going. Following Bill. Following their bond. She considers simply turning around and returning to her quarters, but she owes him an apology, and it's probably a good idea to clear the air and set some boundaries. She takes a long, grounding breath and then pushes into the bar. The emotions of the patrons wash over her and she clenches her fists to beat back the cacophony of sound. Five hundred souls, living, working, playing, and loving all in a concentrated space. No wonder she couldn't control herself when the infection hit. She can barely stave it off to a dull whisper now. She feels everything - the people around her are feeling awkward and uncomfortable now that they're in the right minds again. Some are hopeful that the feelings they explored will grow into something, some are worried about the conversations they now have to have with co-workers and friends, and some are just processing and internally groaning at the whole mess. She empathizes with them all.
One more deep breath before she allows herself to approach him, forcing her face to remain aloof and her emotions to project nothing but cool professionalism. A quick surface read of his emotions when he catches sight of her indicates none of the overconfident gloating that she's been dreading, for which she is grateful. Mostly, he seems happy to see her and concerned for her well-being - and underneath it all, he still loves her. She's known that from the moment she met his eyes on the Bridge when he arrived. It's a realization that isn't helping matters.
"Deanna," he greets, pushing the chair across from her out with his foot. "Would you like to join me?"
"Only for a moment, if you don't mind," she accepts, sitting down. "I thought we should - clear the air."
He nods. "Probably for the best." They sit in silence for a spell, Deanna trying desperately to push down the feeling that she's home again for the first time in more than two years. Bill clears his throat. "How are you feeling?"
"Fine, now. All back to normal." She gives him a small, tight smile. "You?"
"Same," he assures her. "It was uncomfortable enough for me, without... I can't imagine what it must have felt like, with the whole ship losing their cool like that."
He's giving her an out, and she accepts it gratefully. "It was awful," she confesses, her fingers clutching the table. "It's loud enough here on a normal day. But when everyone let themselves go," she shudders. "I felt like I was drowning in desire that wasn't mine. That's why -" She swallows hard. "I think that's why I came to you. I knew you'd help me. And that you wouldn't - take advantage."
His jaw is tight and his eyes are filled with sympathy and horror. "Of course I wouldn't - Gods Deanna it didn't even occur to me what might have happened if - If it hadn't been me." He chokes out the last words.
She smiles. "I won't insult your honour by thanking you for doing the right thing, though I do want to apologize for putting you in that position. It must have been uncomfortable." He blushes and she laughs - the first genuine laugh he's heard from her since they've been together again. A spike of sheer joy at the sound runs through him, and Deanna can feel it. She chooses not to mention it. "Thank you for taking care of me, Bill. I'm - I'm glad you were here."
"I'm always here for you, Dee - Deanna." He corrects himself, unsure if he's still allowed to use her nickname after everything that's happened. "If you need anything, I'm here."
She nods. "Dee is fine, Bill. Not when we're at work but - I always liked Dee."
"I uh, I go by Will, now. But if you want to call me Bill, it's alright."
"Which do you prefer?"
It's such a sensitive, kind, Deanna question that he can't help the smile that spreads across his face. "Either," he shrugs. "But it's been long enough that I don't always realize that Bill refers to me. I don't really hear it as my name anymore. But I don't dislike it." He doesn't say anything else, but Deanna can hear the unspoken thoughts clearly in her head - though he obviously doesn't intend for her to. Bill reminds him of only two people: his father, and her. Either way...
She sticks her hand out. "I look forward to getting to know you, Will Riker."
"And I you, Deanna Troi,"