#❝ you are safe here ❞ — threads {deanna troi}

[halfwayinlight]

Title: Just a Baby Rating: PG, maybe 13 for one word Fandom: Star Trek TNG Pairing: loosely Deanna Troi/Will Riker

For @cleverdistraction who agrees that The Child had a massive lack of dad!Riker. This has a funny moment, but lots of angst and comfort and more angst. and some softness

It seemed simple enough in his mind: Will Riker wasn’t about to let Deanna deal with her first night as a parent, as a single parent, alone. He waited several long moments outside her new family quarters, waiting to be let in. But when it felt like it had been a minute or longer, he finally went with his gut and used his override code. There were advantages to being First Officer.

He’d missed her on the bridge today. He’d wanted, more than anything in the galaxy, to be with her in delivery. But she’d chosen Data, and he deserved it for the way he’d reacted in front of not only her but also the entire senior staff. But she’d forgiven him, and it made his heart clench and turn into liquid when she’d smiled at him with her son in her arms.

He found her in her lounge, curled up on her sofa and asleep with a child that somehow looked like he was five months old instead of a handful of hours. Dark eyes blinked up at Will, and Ian squirmed a little and pouted.

“Hey there,” Will murmured, gut clenching as his mind tried to calculate this growth rate. He wasn’t really sure what the curve was on this rate of growth. Pushing it from his mind, he scooped up the child and cuddled him close.

Ian stared up at him, uncoordinated fingers grasping and reaching for his com badge.

“Sorry, buddy,” he apologized, removing the badge and setting it on a nearby table. “Let’s let your mom sleep, hmm?”

“’s gonna be hungry,” came a drowsy voice, and Deanna was giving him a small smile. “Hi, Will.”

He nodded toward the bedroom. “You need some sleep.”

“You do, too,” she protested, pushing herself up and pushing back stray locks of hair that had come loose from the ponytail she sported these days. “And he’s going to need to be changed.”

Will shook his head, bouncing the boy in his arms gently when the boy’s pout grew. “Deanna, please go sleep. You had a child today. All I did was oversee a cargo transfer. I don’t care what Pulaski says about how easy it was and how fast you’re recovering. You need to sleep.”

Her arms crossed and she gave him a leveling gaze as Ian began to cry. “Exactly how do you plan to change that diaper, Commander Riker?”

He cast about for a surface to use, suddenly aware of the smell starting to come from the baby. “I’m sure I can figure it out,” Will countered. Shifting his hold on the baby, he moved toward the replicator and began fumbling through a menu. “What… size does he wear?”

“Either a two or a three by now,” she sighed, clearly aware his growth was still fast but not wanting to talk about it at the moment. “Will, I really should –”

“I’ve got this,” he argued, grimacing to himself over the crying baby because this wasn’t how he thought it would go. He didn’t have ulterior motives here, but he didn’t expect her to be annoyed with him. Or for him to feel defensive about it. Or for a baby to be so complicated.

Her head tilted to the far corner where he finally spotted an area clearly designated for taking care of a baby. It was padded, and he only fiddled slightly with the lid before he opened it and found something like tissues and realized they were damp.

“Will,” she sighed, though amusement was definitely there, too. “Use the strap to make sure he doesn’t roll over—”

Before she could finish the sentence, the boy twisted around and was now on his belly and rocking on his knees. Will started to reach to turn him around when it all got worse… so much worse.  “Oh shit,” the words slipped out before he could process the fact that he named the very thing he was seeing. There was… so much of it. “How is it… how does he even have that much in him?”

Her laugh bubbled up, and Ian, who had been perfectly happy rocking was now loudly protesting being turned back over.

“I don’t know… if I take it off, it’s gonna go everywhere,” he stepped back, not wanting it on his hands and completely at a loss for where to start. He was definitely not prepared for this. He winced as the baby’s protest was suddenly louder. “okay… okay…” Turning his head to the side, he took a quick breath and decided it was better to do this as fast as possible and get it over with.

He managed to open the sides of the diaper, Deanna directing him to use it to remove what he could. A few moments on, Will realized he’d forgotten the buckle again, and one hand steadied the small shoulder keeping the protesting Ian from rolling to his belly again. Snagging a wad of the wipes, he tried to clean as fast as he could and dropping it into the reclaimator immediately after.

It wasn’t the worst tactic. But he didn’t realize it wasn’t the best approach, either. Will was gaining ground until suddenly his top was getting wet, and he cursed roundly while Deanna let out another tired laugh and moved to join him.

She grabbed a towel and managed to contain the latest leak. “Will, it’s very sweet of you to help out,” Deanna finally said, giving his arm a squeeze. “But I think this one is a little above your experience level.”

He wrapped the towel around the baby, and lifted Ian again. “I’m a fast learner. A quick sonic shower, and we’ll both be fine.” He nodded toward the room. “Please go sleep. Take a nap at least?”

Deanna gave a soft sigh but finally turned toward her room, pausing at the doorway. “As soon as it’s finished, cover him up, or you’ll end up wet again. Pulaski warned me about that one. You’ll want to take the nappy with you.”

  Ian hadn’t been happy for a bit after his sonic shower. It baffled Will that he refused his bottle, but he was clean and warm. So Will began walking the corridor, glad the doors and walls were soundproof. And then he shifted the boy against his chest and as though he’d finally hit jackpot, Ian babbled something and rested his head against Will’s heart and fell quiet for the next hour as they walked calmly along dim decks.

Bottles were easier after their walk, and Will was grateful. The replicator produced exactly what was needed. A walked Ian had been far more agreeable, downright cheerful. And only mildly resisted efforts to work him into a little white singlet before his bottle.

And now a small hand rubbed at closed eyes, and Ian’s mouth drooped slightly. Will shifted the baby, who was no longer interested in the bottle he’d almost drained faster than Will thought possible. He remembered something about burping, and it was a relief when this part was easier yet. It was something like twenty three hundred hours with a gummy smile appeared on Ian’s face, his eyes blinking slowly and staying closed as he gave a sigh.

“He’s milk drunk,” came a soft voice from the doorway.

“You’re supposed to be sleeping,” Will countered as he set the nearly empty bottle on a nearby low table.

Deanna’s fingers brushed over the thatch of dark hair that was thickening and now curled slightly. “He changes so quickly,” she breathed, lifting her son and pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. She held him for long moments before easing Ian into the bassinette nearby.

Will joined her, watching the boy falling deep into sleep, and it seemed as natural as breathing to slide an arm around her waist. Before he could pull it back, her hand found his and threaded her fingers through his, holding his arm in place around her.

“He’s so peaceful when he sleeps,” she finally spoke, eyes never leaving the baby as she studied full lips and the small fist that flexed once and relaxed. “And he’s… he’s changing so fast. Too fast, Will.”

It hurt not to have answers. Not to have a way to fix this for her. He hadn’t even heard Pulaski try to offer any solution. Their focus for two days was on the baby’s arrival. If it was even safe for him to joint them on the Enterprise. There hadn’t been much time to consider what would happen he did arrive.

Her tears were welling up now, and he hated to see her cry. More accurately, he hated to see her hurting. She was warmth and kindness and did so much for everyone else. She shouldn’t be going through this at all, and he wished he knew who or what to blame for this torture she was going through. To love this child so deeply, this tiny taste of being a family. And to be painfully aware it couldn’t last. Wouldn’t last.

“I know I need to sleep, but I don’t want to miss a second of it. It’s… it’s too fast.” She gave in to him, letting him pull her to her sofa and into his lap. His hand cupped her head, other arm banding tightly around as she sobbed into his chest. Time slowed around them, and he wasn’t sure how long they spent like that.

He woke some time later to the first cries, Deanna somehow sleeping through it. It was easier this time when he knew how to move the baby to another room and bring a replicated bottle with him. He didn't even need full lights to handle it. This feeding was messier, but Ian was single-minded with the bottle. It took a little longer to burp, but Will managed this diaper change far more successfully than the first. And it was only a few paces along the small corridor in family quarters with Ian against his chest to get the baby back to sleep. Despite how tired he felt, Will took his time, took extra laps across the room because there was something blissful about this small person so at ease with him.  He was surprised at how reluctant he felt to return Ian to the bassinet. And he'd simply shifted Deanna slightly and contorted himself back onto the sofa with her and promptly fallen back to sleep himself.

Will's internal clock woke him at zero seven hundred to a silent room. Ian was still asleep and Deanna curled against Will, head nuzzled into the crook of his neck. Alpha shift was still an hour away, but he needed a new uniform and to change from the casual nightclothes he’d replicated before the sonic shower hours ago. Moving very slowly, he lifted Deanna and arranged a few pillows before easing her back down again and tucking a blanket around her.

Ian was stretched out like a little starfish. A bigger starfish. Because he’d grown in his sleep, and the singlet was now snug and would be too small in another few hours. So much time lost, so many milestones likely gone all for a few hours of rest. Will wanted to punch something at the unfairness of it.

Instead, he lifted the boy and changed his diaper again. Only wet this time, and managed to get the baby into new, bigger clothing. His fingers stroked through the thicker curls, and he dropped a warm kiss to the baby’s head before slipping from her quarters.

It was still early, not quite shift change. The hallway was nearly at full lights for alpha shift and to keep their circadian rhythms intact. He was infinitely grateful for an empty turbo lift. Somewhere around deck ten, he paused the lift. Hot tears welled up, and Will Riker’s palm smacked the back of the lift as the full depth of Ian Andrew Troi’s rapid growth rushed over him. At this rate, the boy would be an adult in maybe weeks. Or less. Deanna knew it. Pulaski had opted for a compassionate lie with “just a baby.” While he didn’t fear what Ian might be, Will did fear how long the boy would be. This child had upended their lives, and the future was no less uncertain. But the future was arriving far too fast.

Three minutes, he promised himself.  Three minutes to let out all the emotion. Far enough from Deanna not to wake her with the intensity of feelings that left him breathless. Privacy, to be a man hurting for his friend instead of First Officer Will Riker.

“Data to Commander Riker,” his com badge chirped.

He swallowed down the next cry, throat thick with emotion as he tapped his badge. “Riker here.”

“Commander, the computer reports turbo lift one is paused. Are you alright?”

“’m fine,” he replied, rubbing his face and trying to compose himself. “I, ah, needed a minute. I’ll be up to relieve you in twenty six minutes.” He acknowledged the end of the call and reactivated the lift, mind whirling with plans. Maybe a split shift. He’d have to stop for lunch anyway. It would be a good time to check on Deanna and Ian. And as he turned toward his quarters to wash his face and dress in uniform, Will adamantly pushed away all thoughts about how old Ian Troi would be when he saw the boy again.

[lodessa]

Fic Writer Tag Game

tagged by @janiedean, @thank-god-and-you, and @fanoftheknight!

AO3 name: lodessa 

Fandoms:  Okay, I’m splitting this up because I have written in too many!

Major:

Star Trek: Voyager (72)

Game of Thrones / A Song of Ice and Fire (48)

Real Person Fiction (24)

Veronica Mars (24)

Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling (21)

Mid-level:

Buffy the Vampire Slayer /Angel the Series (15)

Star Trek: Discovery (10)

The Office (US) (8)

Doctor Who (6)

Revolution (TV) (6)

Firefly/Serenity (6)

Grey's Anatomy (5)

I Dabbled:

Longmire (TV) (4)

The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher (4)

Arthurian Mythology (3)

Arrow (TV 2012) (3)

His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman (2)

Ancient Greek Religion & Lore (2)

Bones (TV) (2)

Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles (2)

Codex Alera - Jim Butcher (2)

One Offs:

Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries, Dollhouse, Almost Human, Star Trek: The Next Generation, iZombie, Watchmen, Big Love, Babylon 5, Rome Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Journeyman.

Number of fics: 276!

Fic I spent the most time on: Salvation and Rapture For the Lonely (Doctor Who, Martha/Nine), which I started in 2008 and finished in 2018!

Fic I spent the least time on: That is a many way tie.  I used to write a lot of short quick things.

Longest fic: (Discounting my co-authored works) Parameters (Star Trek: Voyager, Janeway/Chakotay) at 46,345 words.

Shortest fic: One Dance (Star Trek: Voyager, Janeway/Chakotay) at 141 words (because I tend to stash drabbles into a work collecting multiple rather than spam the tag)

Most hits: Temptations of the Flesh (A Song of Ice and Fire, Jon Snow/Melisandre, Sansa/Littlefinger) at 15,327 hits (apparently people really like dark fic)

Most kudos: Parameters (Star Trek: Voyager, Janeway/Chakotay) at 507 kudos.

Most comment threads: Dragon Marked (Game of Thrones, Daenerys/Jorah) with 92 comment threads for the 8 currently published chapters... which I really need to continue.

Most bookmarks: No Longer the Maid of Tarth (A Song of Ice and Fire, Jaime/Brienne) with 78 bookmarks

Total word count:  872,893 words

Favourite fic I wrote: I am terrible with favorites... truly. 

Fic you want to rewrite/expand on:

Not counting my WIPs (Stumbling [Star Trek: Voyager, Janeway/Chakotay], k’war’ma’khon [Star Trek: Discovery], and Dragon Marked [Game of Thrones, Dany/Jorah]. ) 

I would say The Smallest Twine (Star Trek: Voyager, Janeway/Chakotay... though the two planned sequels open up into TNG and DS9 as well), which is an AU Prequel for Voyager, but also sets up the possibility of a very different trajectory for the end of the Cardassian War (as explored by all three 24th century Trek series).  Butterfly effect and all that.  

Share a bit of a WIP or a story idea you’re planning on:

Since I was tagged multiple times, I’ll preview a couple things I am (theoretically) working on.

For @janiedean, my ASOIAF book!verse canon compliant Jaime/Brienne, Davos/JonC, Sansa/Aegon someday maybe epic:

“I thought she’d be safe here…” Brienne called out to herself as much as Jaime as their captors shoved her forward away from him, feeling foolish for having thought the wars would have left her home untouched.  “I thought we all would be.”

I should have known, she felt, even as she knew there was no reason for her to have suspected.  Perhaps, if they had lingered longer in White Harbor, they might have heard word of the raids surrounding Cape Wrath.  But how could they have?  They were none of them inconspicuous, even with Sansa’s hair dyed.

The Kingslayer and two women who half of Westeros believed to be the same. A fine catch for mercenaries to sell to the highest bidder.   How could you have been so stupid? she berated herself.

That said, though the Golden Company named Westeros as their home, these men came from Essos, perhaps these soldiers wouldn’t recognize the maimed lion they had captured, wouldn’t see the wolf disguised as a bird.

Brienne, alone, was not worth ransoming to anyone other than her own father, surely.   Assuming he was alive to ransom her to, that was.  Brienne shuddered to think of the alternative, of some mercenary captain who decided he wanted to legitimize his claim to this island, no matter the cost, no matter how her already ugly face had been disfigured.

For @memoir-of-stars and @fanoftheknight, the drunken Dany/Jorah Game of Thrones AU fic I promised someone (I think it was @salzrand) last summer:

“The Donrish seem to have as many vineyards as the Dothraki have horses,” he heard Daenerys remark to Jorah, leaning halfway over him to look out the carriage window, her hand gripping his shoulder for balance.

“You wouldn’t think it, with the price the resulting wine fetches,” Ser Jorah replied, catching Daenerys with surprisingly steady hands as the carriage hit a rock and jostled them all.  

Daenerys allowed herself to be drawn back down onto the cushions beside Mormont, curling herself up against his side and resting her head against his shoulder.   Tyrion wasn’t sure what to make of the tableau they formed, her so slight and blossoming and him solid and weathered.  Mormont, he knew, was devoted to Daenerys beyond any doubt, and in every sense of the word but he was beginning to suspect he’d misjudged the nature Daenerys’ attachment to her bear, as she could so often be overheard calling Ser Jorah.

“Lemon trees!” the queen called out in obvious delight, interrupting Tyrion’s musing and reminding him once again how young the usually composed Daenerys really was.

And one more for good measure (since that was three tags), the Deanna Troi/Jadzia Dax Star Trek: TNG and DS9 crossover PWP I need to finish someday

“I hope I’m not overstepping.”

Standing in her doorway is Deanna Troi, Daughter of the Fifth House of Betazed, all soft curls and soft curves and a gentle unpresuming air that contradicts and heightens the impact of those things.  Jadzia is intrigued… okay she was already intrigued: now she’s closer to enchanted.

“Step all you want,” Jadzia keeps the tone of flirtatiousness in her voice light, knowing that the empathic counselor will be bound to notice it but letting it be something she can choose to react to or not.

Doubtless, she’s here about Worf.   She’s pretty sure everyone from here to the promenade heard their last row and, of course, Troi was there for the start of it.   

That’s okay with Jadzia.  There aren’t that many people who’ve seen certain sides of Worf, who understand him. (Sometimes Jadzia isn’t even sure she’d put herself in that number.)  It would be a relief to talk to someone who gets it.

“I feel like I owe you an apology, Jadzia.  Is it alright if I call you Jadzia?”

You could call me just about anything and I’d like it,  that wicked little Dax voice suggests, but it just brings a smile to her face.

Tagging: @joyful-voyager, @toas-tea, @ghostcat3000, @pixiedane, and @sophia-helix.