Shifting Sands (A Star Trek: The Next Generation Fan Fiction)

Chapter Seven

I lay in bed, staring out at the darkened quarters. It was late, although how late, I didn't know. Riker had returned from rehearsal some time before, and I had been lying in my bed ever since. I hadn't had the energy to talk to Riker when he had gotten back, so I had copped out and pretended to be asleep. It's easy to fake sleep when you're in a cat form.

The dream kept coming back to me when I slept, so I was trying to ward off sleep. I didn't want to relive that particular part of my childhood. Not after I'd spent so long trying to get away from it. Nine years is a long time, but not long enough to forget something like that.

Suddenly, I stood up, raising my ears. It was dark in the room, but I strained my ears to hear something, anything. I thought that I'd heard a noise from the other room. It had sounded like Riker saying something.

There it was again. Riker was definitely speaking, but I couldn't tell what he was saying. I couldn't even tell if he was saying actual words or just mumbling.

Standing up, I carefully made my way towards the bedroom, shifting as I went.

Tip-toeing over to the bed, I paused and listened. Then, I slowly smiled. Riker was still asleep. He was lying on his bed: eyes closed, breath coming steadily, and a blanket up to his shoulders. He must have been talking in his sleep. I was turning to go when Riker suddenly jerked, causing me to step back. He began to mumble again, incoherently forming words and noises.

"No. Stop. Stop, that's an order!" There were disjointed mutterings, then, "Lieutenant! Tasha!"

Whatever he was dreaming about, it was upsetting him. I had a feeling that it wasn't about me. Quickly climbing partway onto the bed, I placed a hand on Riker's shoulder.

"Riker," I whispered, shaking him gently. I knew what it was like to be trapped in bad dreams that you couldn't escape, and I didn't intend to let Riker stay in his. "Riker, wake up." He didn't. "Will!"

He jerked awake, sitting partway up as he stared at me. His eyes were startled, and didn't focus on my face. I could tell that he was still far away in his dream.

I removed my hand from his shoulder as he slowly came back to reality. He looked around the room, as if looking for whatever demons had been haunting him. Then his gaze returned to me.

"Tasha?" he asked, frowning. I wasn't sure if he recognized me or if he thought that I was the Tasha he was dreaming about.

"Yes, it's me. It's Tasha Lawrence," I clarified. "You were dreaming, so I woke you up."

"Oh." Riker rose into a sitting position, leaning back against the wall. I followed suit, moving back to the other side of the bed and reclining down on my knees and then sitting on my legs.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

He nodded and wiped his face with his hand.

He didn't look okay, though; he looked like hell. His face was covered in a light sheen of sweat, and he was still breathing hard. It didn't feel right leaving him like that.

"Bad dream?" I asked, worried.

"Yeah," Riker answered, absentmindedly running his hand through his hair. He sighed. "I haven't dreamed about that day in a long time."

I didn't answer, waiting for him to continue. When he didn't, I asked, "You dreamed about Tasha?"

Riker nodded. "About the day she died."

I didn't know how to respond.

"She was our chief security officer," Riker continued. "Tasha Yar. She was one of the strongest people I knew. I thought she could survive anything. And then she was gone, just like that."