Chapter One: Cracks
*Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness…It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a body-hurt…-Rose Walker*
A loud crash echoed in the hallway outside the first officer’s quarters. Passing crewmembers stopped and stared at the door as if it had made the noise on purpose. A few raised their eyebrows before continuing on their path. The others left quickly and quietly. Everyone on the ship knew what was really going on in those quarters. Had a Klingon lived there, they would have smiled knowingly at each other since throwing large objects at each other was a form of foreplay to Klingons; however, the first officer and his young wife were not Klingons. He was human, from Earth, and she also human, but from Betazed, and what was going on in their quarters was no foreplay ritual. Instead, it was the beginning of the end for their marriage.
She stared at their closed bedroom door through tear blurred eyes. Shards of crystal adorned the floor in front of the door, the remnants of a wedding present. When he had stormed out of their bedroom, she had thrown at defiantly at the door. It shattered and now lay in ruin. She knew he was still somewhere in their quarters. She could feel his presence, and his boiling anger. "I’m angry too," she whispered, as a tear slid down her cheek. Then, she took her anger and flung it, telepathically, at her husband. Seconds later she felt his shock, and then she felt his disappointment. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, that she knew. They were supposed to be happy. After all, they loved each other, didn’t they? She did love him, and she meant every word of the vows they had taken on their wedding day. What a memorable day…Her father had married them, and until six months ago everything had been wonderful. The day he accepted the promotion to first officer, their marriage had begun to unravel. She didn’t understand, but she knew she had tried. Now, she was tired of trying. It was time to put things in perspective. She took a deep breath, wiped the tears from her large blue eyes, flipped a lock of curly brown hair behind her shoulder, and rose to her feet. Carefully, she walked over the shards of crystal, the door opened, and she stepped out. He was not in the living room, but instead, he was waiting for her in his office. She walked quietly in there.
"Chris," she said to get his attention, although she knew he knew she was there.
"What?" He asked curtly without looking up.
She took a deep breath, expelled it, and said, "I want a divorce."
Chris laughed, a great, gusty laugh, deep from his lungs. When he stopped, his eyes were glistening. "Seriously, what is it, Marissa?" He asked, looking up at his wife with the hint of a smile. The smile faded when he saw the somber look on her face. He sucked in a deep breath and leaned back in his chair. "My God…you’re serious," he observed, linking his hands on his desk.
"Yes, I am," she said quietly, leaning against the door. "We’re miserable, Chris. We have been for nearly a year, and things aren’t getting any better. It’s time we just made a clean break."
A vise seemed to squeeze at Chris’ heart. "I love you, Marissa," he said quietly, standing up.
"I love you, too," she admitted, holding up her hands as he moved closer. "But, I can’t live like this anymore, and no amount of love is going to fix our problems, Chris."
"Our problems are not that bad," he said, stopping just in front of her hands. He longed to take those hands in his, but he knew she would flinch away from him.
She chuckled and felt tears sting her eyes. "That’s just it, Chris. Our problems are that bad. You just can’t see them because you’re never around."
"We are not doing this again." He turned his back and walked to his desk. "You know I have obligations to this ship and her crew."
"And, you have obligations here, in these rooms, to me and our marriage," she argued. "Somewhere along the line, the obligations you think you have to this ship and her crew became more important than the vows you made to me." With his back to her, she didn’t see the flinch he made when the word vows hit his ears. He winced, and she felt his chagrin. Then, in a softer voice she said, "Chris, I know you have a duty to the ship and the crew, but you have a more important duty to me and our marriage. You let the ship become more important than me, and you let the crew become more important than our marriage. You are so concerned about the welfare of the crew that you’ve forgotten our marriage needs care, too, for it to flourish. You stopped working on our marriage when you were promoted, and I can’t hold it together on my own. In fact, I refuse to do this on my own anymore. You won’t try, and I’m tired of trying. I want a divorce, Chris."
"I don’t," he said softly, bracing his hands on his desk with his back still to her. "I don’t want to lose you."
"You haven’t lost me. You let me go," she said simply, turning away from him, and then left their quarters. He waited a few minutes, and then he slammed his fist on the hard surface of his desk as tears stung his eyes. Everything she had said was true. He had allowed the duty to Starfleet become more important than his duty to her, but he didn’t know how to fix it and he honestly hadn’t been sure he wanted to fix it. Now, presented with the real fact of losing his wife, he knew he wanted to fix it, but the problem now was, she didn’t and he couldn’t do it alone.
Chapter Two: The sting of splinters
*Love is a grand and complicated scheme that hardens, like coal hardens into a diamond. A diamond is the only thing that can cut glass, and love is the only thing that can shatter a heart..*
In the private area of the conference lounge, Marissa let loose the tears that demanded release. She cried quietly for the loss of her marriage and in anger at the one person she loved more than herself. She cried while waiting for a communications link to be established to the starbase where her parents now served. When the computer beeped, she hastily wiped her eyes. When the small viewscreen flickered to life, she put a watery smile on her lips. The face of her father appeared and her lip began to tremble. He smiled broadly at his daughter and affectionately said, "Hey Firefly."
The childhood nickname, so startlingly family, from the lips of the father she had only known for six years brought fresh tears to her eyes and a flush to her skin. "Hi Dad," she said in a quivering voice. She tried to hide her turmoil from her father, but Will Riker was no fool. He leaned in closer to his own computer and said, "What’s wrong, Marissa?"
"I…We…Things…" A tear trickled down her face as she grasped for the right word. Her father bit his lip and waited for her to calm down. After a moment or two, she began again. "Chris and I had a fight."
"Another one?" Will’s brow wrinkled. It seemed as if all the recent communications he or Deanna had with Marissa began with the words, ‘Chris and I had a fight.’
Marissa nodded, her long hair spilling over her shoulders. "This one was bad, Dad." She stopped and took a deep breath. "I told him I want a divorce."
The reaction she knew was coming played across her father’s face. First, there was the look of shock, then regret, anger, and finally sympathy for his daughter. "Oh baby," he sighed, pressing his hand against the viewscreen as if trying to touch his daughter’s face. "Are you sure this is what you want?"
"No," she answered as another tear made its way down her face. "But, it’s the only thing left."
"Do you still love him?"
"Yes," she answered without hesitation.
"Does he still love you?"
"He says he does," she answered with a snort.
"Then, a divorce is not the best idea, Marissa. Divorce means you don’t love each other anymore," he chided. "Things may be bad right now, but they have to get better eventually."
"This has been going on for six months," she replied wearily. "This fighting, this arguing, all of it for over half a year. He gave up our marriage for this ship and her crew. I’m tired of playing second fiddle to something I can’t compete with."
His daughter’s words struck him deeply. Will had heard those words before, those exact words, from the mouth of her mother the day he had left her the second time. He shuddered and sought out his wife with his mind. He found her, where he knew she would be, in the middle of a session. However, this was more important. It had taken him years to learn, but Will had finally learned that family always came first.
Marissa watched a faraway look appear on her father’s face, and she knew he was communicating with her mother telepathically. She sighed softly, wishing Chris had that kind of dedication to her. He had never taken the time to learn how to use their telepathic link.
When Will looked back to his daughter, he found her grinning wryly. "What?"
"You told Mom," she said knowingly. "Is she on her way?"
Will chuckled and nodded his head. "Yes, she is."
Marissa sighed again and said, "You know, that’s something else Chris and I don’t have."
"What?"
"A link as strong as yours and Mom’s."
"Baby, that comes from years of work and learning."
"Which Chris doesn’t have the time or inclination to do," she returned.
Now, it was Will’s turn to sign. "I think you’re being a little too hard on him, Firefly."
"You don’t know what you’re talking about, Dad," she said with a long suffering sigh.
"Are you sure you really want this divorce, Marissa?" He asked, suddenly refocusing their topic. She halted briefly before nodding her head. "You better make damned sure you’re doing the right thing before you do permanent damage to your relationship. I know you love him and he loves you. Things are hard right now, but no one ever said that marriage was easy. Giving up when the going gets hard isn’t like you."
"I’m not giving up. I’m giving in. This is what Chris wants. This is what he needs. He doesn’t need to be tied down anymore," she said sadly.
"Make damned sure of that, Marissa, because I think you’re making a grave mistake." She watched him glance back over his shoulder. "Your mother is here, now. I’ll talk to you later." He got up, the screen went blank for a moment, and then her mother’s face filled the screen. "Hello Little One."
On the holodeck, Chris indulged in a hobby he rarely had time to indulge in: A fight simulation introduced to him by his father-in-law. He swung viciously with a bat’leth, hacking a hapless Klingon to death. The screams of agony gave him a secret pleasure as he stood over the dying warrior, but there wasn’t time to truly savor the victory for as he swung around another enemy awaited him. This one was stronger, bigger, and much more deadly. It was a combination of the ruthless Cardassian, indifferent Borg, and cruel Jem H'adar. Chris’ bat’leth clanged harshly against the metal rod like object the huge beast used. It advanced on him, pushing him back into the murky jungle where they fought. Chris swung repeatedly to no avail. This time, he could not defeat the combination enemy. In fact, he had never defeated this enemy. It swung the metal rod down and it hit Chris’ head with the touch of a feather, but the holodeck beeped and the simulation shut down. Had the safety guards been deactivated the blow would most likely have bashed his skull in. He hung his head and took a deep breath. His sweat soaked through his uniform and made his hair hang in wet clumps. Still, the anger running through him fueled him to have another go of it. "Computer, reactivate and reset simulation. Level 4."
"Level 4 is a restricted code," the computer sweetly informed him.
"I don’t give a damn," he muttered.
"Unable to comply."
"Computer, authorization Watson-beta-tango-niner-alpha," he said.
"Authorization recognized. Level 4 activated."
The simulation reappeared, and a bat’leth materialized at his feet. Swiftly, he bent down, picked it up, and then turned. He waited for the first enemy to hunt him down. His senses were firmly attuned to the dangers lurking about. He used his heightened sense to hunt down his enemies as they hunted him.
For untold moments, he hunted, attacked, defended, and fought with everything left inside him. He called on the anger deep in his gut and used it for something good instead of bad. His anger had caused so many negative effects lately. First, and most important, was the fights with Marissa. It seemed as if everytime he turned around, they were fighting. What made it all the worse was he knew Marissa was right. She accused him of spending more time with the crew than her and making the ship more important than their marriage. All of that was true and he knew it, but he was clueless on how to stop putting her behind everything else. He knew she deserved to be his top priority. Hell, he loved her. He loved her more than his own life, but after all these years of marriage he was still unsure how to show her how he felt, except when he was angry. Then, his emotions poured forth from the venom he spewed from his mouth. He rationalized that Marissa had to know his feelings. After all, she was empathic. She knew what he was feeling all the time. Still, all she ever heard from him was the anger. It’s no wonder she wants a divorce, he thought.
In his minute of inattention, one of the ferocious beasts attacked, swinging harshly with their rod, hitting Chris solidly in the shoulder. He yelped as he sank to his knees. With the setting on Level 4, the safety guards were lessened. The pain shot through his arm like fire. He grabbed at his discarded bat’leth with his other hand and made a backwards jab, stabbing it firmly into the enemy’s midsection. It released a horrible grunt just before it succumbed to death.
"Computer, end program," Chris rasped, struggling to his feet with the help of a nearby tree. The tree disappeared along with the program and he staggered, almost collapsing again. Somehow, he managed to stay on his feet, and he made his way from the holodeck.
"Marissa, be very, very sure this is what you want," Deanna advised her daughter softly. "Being separated from the one you love is not the easiest road to choose."
"I know, Mother," Marissa said quietly, shoving a lock of hair behind her ear. "I love Chris. I won’t deny that, but I can’t be married to him as long as he continues to make everything else more important that me."
"That’s why your father and I were apart for so long," Deanna said sadly. "Maybe it’s a vicious cycle." The first hint of a smile turned up Marissa’s mouth.
"Perhaps, but never forget the word vicious, my darling. That’s a perfect description of what you’re going to go through," she warned as a pained look came over Marissa’s face. "What is it?"
"Chris is hurt." Marissa glanced over her shoulder as if expecting him to appear from nowhere. "I felt it," she whispered, turning back to face her mother.
"Of course you did. You’re bonded with him. Now, imagine feeling everything he feels, only this time, you’re separated from him. Permanently. Are you sure you can handle that?" Deanna leaned forward and studied her daughter.
"I’m a Riker, mother. I can stand anything," Marissa said with a rueful smile. "I should go check on him."
"Make sure you know what you’re doing, Little One," Deanna said quickly, knowing her daughter was anxious to go.
"Give Dad my love. Bye Mother," Marissa said, quickly deactivating the link. Then, she stood and hurried to Sickbay, knowing that if Chris weren’t already there, he would be shortly.
Chapter Three: A Permanent Ache
Chris stumbled into Sickbay clutching his arm. Their ship’s CMO, Dr. Weiss, glanced up as he entered. She wrinkled her nose and walked over to him. Noticing the grimace and his grip on his shoulder, she whipped out her tricorder and quickly scanned the injured area. "Dislocated shoulder, bone bruise, and a hairline fracture. Nice job, Commander," she said with pointed distaste as she closed her tricorder. "Take a seat over there and I’ll be with you shortly."
"Remind me again, what did I do to earn your dislike?" Chris muttered, walking to the appointed biobed. The doctor muttered an answer that he could not hear. Were they children, he would have stuck his tongue out at her, but they were civilized adults; therefore, they were limited to evil thoughts.
The door to Sickbay opened and before he could glance over to see the new occupant, Marissa’s presence flooded his entire body. He looked over at her and watched her glance around until their gazes collided. Her expression remained impassive as she walked over to him.
His breath caught as she came closer. This was the first time he had seen her since her announcement. He took her coming to Sickbay as a good sign. She obviously still cared about him.
"There’s no doubt that I care about you," she said quietly as she drew closer. "What did you do to yourself?"
"Dislocated shoulder, bone bruise, and a hairline fracture," he reported with a wry smile. "Doc said she’d fix me whenever she felt like it."
"That’s what you get for being on her bad side, " Marissa retorted, glancing to Dr. Weiss’ office. "I’ll go see if I can convince her to tend your injuries."
She turned and he watched her walk off. Her longish hair swung with the elegant movements of her hips. With her long legs encased in black slacks, they looked even longer. He felt a tightening and thought of the part of their marriage that never had a problem. When they were in bed, everything ceased to matter except the way they felt at that moment. He winced from the pain in his shoulder and the ache caused by sexual abstinence. It had been nearly three months, if not more, since they had made love. He was partially convinced that an hour or so in bed would change her mind about divorcing him.
"Erica?" Marissa said, peaking into Dr. Weiss’ office.
"Hey Marissa," she said, looking up with a smile. "I see you’ve come to tend your husband."
"Not exactly. I just wanted to make sure he was getting some medical care."
"I’ll get to him, after I think he’s suffered enough," Erica said with a wry smile. She pointed at the chair across from her. "Have a seat." Marissa did as she was ordered, and then Erica asked, "So, you two must be fighting again."
"You could say that," Marissa grumbled.
"What do you mean?" Erica sank into her own chair and studied her friend. "Marissa, we’ve been friends for years. I can tell something’s very wrong."
"I told Chris I want a divorce," Marissa said quietly. She glanced down at her hands. "In fact, I was telling my parents when I felt him get hurt."
"You felt it?" Erica raised her eyebrows.
"It comes with being linked to him. When we married, we created an empathic bond between each other." Marissa stopped and wrinkled her nose.
"But, you’re already empathic. What is that look about?" Erica grinned at the disgusted expression on Marissa’s face.
"I know when something happens to him. Half the time, I know what he’s thinking, and right now he’s thinking that all we need is sex to overcome our hurdles!"
Erica chuckled. "Marissa, guys always think the solution to any problem in a relationship is sex. Ignore him. Now, what about him?"
"What do you mean?"
"If you know his thoughts and you’re linked to him, can he do the same with you?
"He could do all these things and more if he’d take the time to learn how, but he’s too concerned with the ship and the crew to take time for me or our marriage. It’s not worth it anymore, Erica."
"Do you love him?" She asked quietly.
"Yes."
"Then, it’s always worth it," Erica said wisely, rising to her feet. She paused to touch Marissa’s shoulder as she left her office and said, "Make sure you’re doing the right thing. I’m going to go patch him up." Marissa nodded as Erica disappeared.
"Took you long enough," Chris grumbled as Erica approached him.
"Shut up," she said harshly, yanking out a hypospray. "Hopefully, this will hurt."
"What is your problem?" Chris demanded.
"Just talked to your wife."
"Like that’s something new," Chris returned as she jabbed him with the hypospray. He winced. "Dammit, Erica, that hurt!" He glared at the CMO.
"Good. You deserve it, you bastard."
"You’re this far from getting a court-martial," Chris said, leaping off the biobed.
"How dare you threaten me with a court-martial? You should be hung for what you’re doing to your wife. I have never, never seen Marissa upset before you got promoted. Once you were promoted it’s as if you’ve forgotten how to be the man she married!"
"She’s the one that wants the divorce, Erica, not me," he said, jabbing a finger at his chest.
"Then, why don’t you do something to convince her that you don’t want it? Or, are you too busy taking out your frustrations and making sure the ship runs right?"
"You’re on report, Dr. Weiss," Chris said formally, spinning on his heal and walking out of hypospray.
Erica waited until the door was closed before she chunked her hypospray at it. "Damned arrogant man," she muttered, turning around and coming face to face with an amused Marissa.
"He’s serious about putting you on report, Erica," she said with a note of laughter in her voice.
"I don’t care. He deserved every word I said," she said gruffly, walking over to retrieve the hypospray.
"He’s very angry at you right now."
"So what? He’s always angry at me," Erica said, packing the hypospray away.
Marissa chuckled. At least that was the truth. Ever since Erica and Chris had met five years ago, they had continually rubbed each other the wrong way. When Marissa and Erica became best friends, he was forced to endure Erica’s presence far more than he deemed necessary. They continually sparred verbally, and usually succeeded in angering each other everytime they crossed paths.
"Just remember, when you get called up to Captain Wicks office, it’s your fault," Marissa said with a smile. "I gotta go. I go on duty soon."
"Catch you later," Erica said, wagging a few fingers as Marissa left.
Marissa hurried down the corridor after Chris. She caught him as he entered the turbolift. Unwisely, perhaps, she followed him into it and stood beside him like a stranger. "Deck 7," she said in a strangely choked voice.
Chris looked over at her before saying, "Bridge." The turbolift complied with its orders and began its journey to the two different destinations. He cleared his throat and began locking and unlocking his knee. Being totally uncomfortable around his wife was a new sensation. The tension between them was thick enough to touch. He broke it by asking, "When do you go on duty?"
"Next shift," she answered with a hard edge.
"Are you going home right now?"
"Yes." She put as much ice in the word as she possible could.
"Halt lift!" He called out. Then, he spun around and grabbed his irate wife with a tight grip on her upper arms. "You’re mad at me, Marissa. I get that. Stop with the icy attitude!"
"Let go of me," she said in a deadly soft voice. "Or, I will break your arms right here."
Without realizing it, Chris slightly shook her. "This is insane, Marissa. What has happened to you?" He released her and shoved her away from him. "You’ve changed."
"So have you," she shot back. "Before this promotion, you would have rather died than lay a hand on me in anger," she said, rubbing the sore spots on her arms where he had grasped her.
"And, before this promotion, you would rather have died than let our marriage end like this," he shot back, leaning against the wall of the turbolift. "What happened to the girl I met on the Enterprise all those years ago?" He asked softly. "Remember the good times we had there." His voice grew wistful as he thought back. "You needed me then. You wanted me then."
"I still need you, and I still want you," she said, moving away from him. "But, I’m not that girl anymore and you’re not that same man. We’ve grown up a little, and we’ve changed too much."
"I’ve changed too much," he said snidely.
"I didn’t say that."
"You don’t have to!" He raked a hand through his hair. "Everything emanating from you screams what you’re not saying. Admit it, Marissa. You blame me for all of this."
"All of what?" She moved a step closer, taunting him to the breaking point.
"For you wanting a divorce. You think I stopped working on our marriage."
"I don’t think it, Chris. I know it," she said, taking one step too close to him. He reached out and snagged her arm. She raised her other hand and swung, but he blocked the blow as he pulled her unwillingly to his chest. His lips came down on hers with a bruising force. She writhed, trying to get away from him, but he held on all the tighter, and used his lips to his advantage. Finally, she gave in and stood there simply letting the kiss happen, but doing nothing to encourage it or welcome it. When he moved away, she used that second to swing her hand again. This time she caught him full on his face. The sound echoed in the small space. He looked at her in shock and she stared at her hand as if it had a life of its own.
"Resume lift!" She called out in a panicked voice. Chris moved a safe distance away from her. She crossed her arms tightly over her chest and hugged herself. "I’m going to pack my things and move into a guest quarters," she said in a gravely voice. "I’ll be gone when you get off your shift. If you need me, the computer can locate me, but it had better be something damned important. As far as I’m concerned, you had better stay away from me from now on, Chris. I won’t be responsible for my actions if you so much as glance my way again until this divorce is final."
Her words had the effect of a punch to his solar plexus. There didn’t seem to be enough air in the small lift for him to breathe. The world around him spun slightly. There was a finality in her words that scared the hell out of him. When the lift stopped, he reached out to touch her sleeve and beg her not to do this, but she flinched away from him and said, "I mean it, Chris. Stay the hell away from me." Then, she hurried away and the lift doors closed. He knew he should halt the lift, make it return to their deck, go to their quarters, and have things out with her. But, something inside him refused to let him abandon his sworn duty to his posting, and he continued to the bridge all the while damning himself. She was right. He had let her go. (Cont. in Chps. 4-6)