The Picture

On his way back to his quarters he found his mind drawn to the upcoming wedding and he wondered if it was what he really wanted. Of course it was what honor demanded of him, but he had long since learned that honor was not always the right way. He loved Jadzia without a doubt, but there were times when she annoyed and humiliated him, so the question was really whether or not he loved her enough to spend the rest of his live with her.

At his approach the doors slid open and he stepped inside his quarters, only to be confronted with the sight of his fiancée sitting on his couch. "Jadzia," he greeted her and disappeared into the bathroom where he changed his uniform for a less constricting set of clothes. When he returned to the living area he saw that Dax hadn't moved a muscle and that she was holding something in her hands. "Jadzia?"

She raised her eyes from whatever she was holding to look up at him, no apparent emotion showing. "I found this in one of your drawers." She raised the object and he became painfully aware of what it was. One of his most valuable possessions; a picture frame carefully guarding a picture of the woman who stole his heard several years earlier. "What is it?"

"A picture." He answered coldly, unsure of what to say. In fact, he was unsure of what to feel. Looking at the picture brought back feelings he thought had long since died and his previous doubts over his joining with Dax returned with a vengeance.

"Yes, I can see that." She snapped. "But who is *on* the picture?"

"Does it matter?" For some reason he found himself unwilling to reveal the identity of the person on the picture, he felt as if he was supposed to keep the remembrance of their love hidden in his heart to be cherished by him and him alone.

"Of course it matters. You don't have any pictures, except for this one, which you've kept hidden. And even now you pay more attention to that picture than to me!" It was true, he could not help but look at the all to familiar face. Even from this distance the portrayal of deep black eyes captivated him, just like the real ones had.

Worf swallowed and approached the Trill. Quickly he grabbed the frame from her hands, feeling silly for needing to make sure the picture was safe. He could try and lie to her. Tell her that the picture was Alexander's and nothing more than a picture a boy might have of his mother --or as in this case his surrogate-mother-- but she would never buy it and lying was not honorable...even so it was tempting. "Deanna Troi." His voice wasn't as steady, or as strong, as he would've wanted it to be, but he spared it no more than a single thought. To say her name again after so long was like singing Aktuh and Maylota in full force.

Noting the tenderness with which he spoke Jadzia dropped her head for a brief second. "Who is she?" She prodded, having a gut feeling she would not like the answer.

Taking another deep breath he decided to stick to the facts. "She was--is," he corrected himself, "Ship's Counselor on the Enterprise."

"And of course you keep pictures of every counselor you meet hidden between your clothes." Jadzia remarked dryly.

Worf didn't know whether to be relieved or worried by her joke, but found his attention soon drawn back to the picture he was holding. "Deanna and I were...close." He spared his fiancée a glance. "She is Alexander's Soh-ChIm." Her blue eyes widened slightly, so reminisced of Deanna's and yet so different.

She got up from the couch, her long legs gracefully stretching and bending as she walked. Once she reached him she took back the picture. "She is beautiful." He thought that maybe it was Dax speaking instead of the symbiont's mortal host, but decided not to question it. "Do you still love her?"

The question took him by surprise and allowed only one answer. "Yes."

"I guess that settles matters then." She remarked and he thought he could hear the slightest trace of relief in her voice.

"Jadzia," he grabbed her upper arm in reflex, tightly holding on to the picture with his other hand; quite literally torn between two women. Both exquisite and passionate, intelligent and strong. "I do love you. We are mated, the wedding..."

"Is off. I cannot marry you Worf, nor can you marry me. Honor may demand it of you, but the way you look at that picture, the way you speak her name tells me that your heart is already married to her and per Klingon tradition you cannot divorce her if she does not divorce you."

She spoke the truth, as she did most of the time, but even so he found himself wondering if Deanna hadn't moved on. It had been a long time since he'd seen or spoken to her and by the way they left things he would not be surprised if she had moved on. No, he wouldn't be surprised, just sorry.

Besides him Jadzia reached for his ridges and bode him farewell with a tender kiss and caress. "Be well Worf, son of Mogh. You will be remembered with honor." He watched her as she left with feelings of both relief and regret. "A Klingon and a Betazoid, that I'd ever see the day!" Jadzia exclaimed under her breath. And just before the doors closed he heard her erupt in deep laughter...yes, Jadzia would be all right and his own happiness was up to him.

Drawing a number of deep and slow breaths Worf sat down in front of his monitor. "Computer; set up commlink with the Starship Enterprise NCC-1701-E, Counselor Troi's quarters. ID: 265-78DT"

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