Bedtime Rituals

Stardate 44673.47

(Sunday, 3 September 2367, 19:38 hours, ship's time)

Dinner had been light and fun, which was exactly what I needed that night. The doctor and the counselor had insisted we use their first names, at least for the duration of the meal, and while I usually had no problem with that practice – Data had always been just 'Data' to me, Geordi was 'Geordi,' and Professor Benoit had been 'Ed' even before he'd started dating my mother – for some reason, with these two women, I felt as though I hadn't earned the right.

Annette had no such compunction, and, oddly, neither did the usually conservative Dana, so I forced myself to push through the awkwardness, and ultimately enjoyed the evening. We talked about Annette's college plans, and whether Dana and I had chosen schools yet. We talked about first loves and how relationships change over time.

At one point Dr. Crusher – Beverly – said that as much as she had loved her late husband Jack, a part of her wished she'd waited longer to get married.

"How old were you?" I asked.

"In my early twenties," she answered. "That's pretty early these days."

"Gran – my father's mother, Irene Harris – has this theory that women shouldn't marry before they turn thirty. Well, human women, anyway."

Everyone was suddenly very attentive. "Your grandmother sounds like she has a lot of opinions about marriage," Counselor Troi – Deanna – commented.

"Oh, she does," I said. "She has this letter she writes to all the girls in the family when they turn sixteen, with a sort of checklist."

"A checklist," Dana asked. "You never mentioned a checklist. Did you get a letter?"

"I did," I said. "Although, I had to ask for mine."

"How come?" Annette wanted to know.

"I guess she figured I'd been around to read enough of the letters my cousins had received, and I lived with her, when my dad stopped taking me on tour with him, to have sort of… osmosed …all her advice; but it's not all about marriage, it's sort of… about life."

"So," Deanna asked, "what's the checklist, Zoe?"

I rolled my eyes, "You really want to know?"

"Yes!" chorused my two friends and our adult companions.

I began ticking items off on my fingers. "Never trust your partner to be responsible for birth control. Always know how to please yourself so you can tell your partner. You don't have to marry the first person you sleep with, or, for that matter, at all. You shouldn't get married before you turn thirty. Whatever age you get married, even if it's just a limited contract marriage, make sure you've finished your education, lived independently for at least a year, traveled, and had at least one truly tragic love affair."

"That's very good advice," the counselor observed. "Anything else?"

I thought about it. "Not about that, but… she's an activist from a long line of activists, so she's always pushed being well-read, well-informed, and having opinions. When my cousin Vanessa turned eighteen, Gran took her on a special weekend trip that included making sure she registered to vote. And of course, she taught all of us that music is one of the most vital forms of communication."

"Sounds like a very wise woman," the doctor observed.

"She taught at Starfleet Academy for a while," I said. "As a civilian guest lecturer, I think. I know that's how Mom and Dad met… and I think Commander Riker mentioned taking her class."

"I'd forgotten his time at the Academy overlapped with your mother's," said Deanna. Then she glanced at Dana and Annette, "What advice did your mothers or grandmothers pass down to you?" she asked.

Annette spoke first. "Always bring something when you're invited to someone's house, even if it's just a plant. Always leave a place better than you found it, clean up after yourself, and offer to help with the dishes."

"Also good advice," Deanna pronounced. "Dana?"

"It's going to sound really silly," she warned. "But the thing I remember her saying most – other than that it never costs a thing to be polite – is 'always wear clean underwear.'"

For a moment, we were all silent, and then we burst into collective laughter. We were so boisterous that we drew Guinan's attention, and she stopped by our table, hovering between Dana's chair and mine, with hand resting on the back of each. "You are all having too much fun over here," she said by way of a greeting. "I came to see if I could join in."

"We're sharing sage advice," the doctor said. "Got any for us?" Amusement made her voice sound musical.

"Yes," she said, "and I see you've already taken it: share a meal with friends whenever possible, support other women, and never be afraid to laugh." She glanced at the remains of the meal we'd shared – an array of pasta dishes in deference to my still-slightly-sore tongue. "I can see you've finished your meal. Do you want dessert?"

"Only if it's chocolate," Deanna and I said together.

"And kind of mushy," Dana added, making a face at me. "Zoe's got a tongue piercing."

"Dana!"

"What? It's not like you can hide it. It sort of… sparkles… every time you open your mouth."

"Let me see?" Guinan asked, so I turned my head and opened my mouth to show her. "Hmm. Not what I would have picked for you, but not bad. Removing it will be interesting."

I stared into her fathomless black eyes for a long moment, wondering exactly what she knew.

"I may decide to keep it," I hedged.

"No, I don't think so," was her response. "I'll send someone to clear your dishes and bring out some chocolate mousse." Her hand grazed my shoulder as she left, and I'm sure it was on purpose. Oddly, that brief contact left me feeling a little more settled.

After dessert, I handed out the presents. The counselor, was delighted by the box of chocolate cable cars. "Kitschy, I know," I said, "but how could I resist?"

"I'm glad you didn't."

The doctor's gift was the one from Wes that I'd forgotten to bring to sickbay: a hand painted silk scarf. Just as Annette had, earlier, the red-haired woman said, "Zoe, you helped pick this out, didn't you?"

"I might have nudged Wes in the right direction," I hedged.

"I'm glad you two spent time together."

"Actually," I deadpanned, "He, Theo, and I have formed a support group for teens and young adults with Starfleet parents. I'm the president."

The doctor laughed and the counselor asked if she could be an honorary member, which Dana, Annette, and I pretended to consider until our chocolate mousse arrived. As we dug into the creamy goodness, Annette observed, "Commander Data has been watching our table awfully carefully."

"Considering that the bulk of his math class is at this table, he's probably just considering how much mathier our tutorial can be," I joked.

"'Mathier?' Zoe, really?"

I shrugged. "That or he's enjoying a chance to observe multiple generations of women at once." I used the nature-film narration voice I'd once used with Data himself. "Observation has shown that humanoid females have a marked fondness for chocolate-based confections, especially when a group of them congregates…"

"Zoe!" the doctor exclaimed. "That's unfair." She took a beat. "Accurate, but unfair." She was laughing when she said it.

"Why do I get the feeling that sending you off to a summer drama program created a monster?" Dana joked.

"Why would you think I wasn't a monster before?" I shot back, offering her my sweetest smile.

(=A=)

By ten p.m. – or rather, twenty-two hundred hours – our dinner party had broken up. Dana was meeting Josh for a bit before her curfew, Annette had a scheduled vid-call with Wesley, some ensign named Ezekiel had broken his ankle 'again,' which required Dr. Crusher's attention, and the counselor… "Zoe, it's getting late. Mind if I walk you back to quarters?"

I suspected that it wouldn't have mattered if I did mind. "Sure," I said. "Why not."

We left the table, but she didn't start talking to me again until we were in the turbolift heading down to the officers' decks.

"You had quite an adventure yesterday," she said. "How are you holding up?"

I shrugged. "You tell me," I said. And then, because I knew how that must have sounded, I added quickly, "I'm not being flippant this time. I woke up in the middle of the night in Data's bed, and since then, except for napping again for a few hours, I've been going nonstop. I should be exhausted, but I haven't had a moment to really feel anything, and my tongue hurts, a little, which means it's time for more painkiller, but… otherwise? I really don't know."

She touched my hand. "Slow down," she suggested quietly. "Breathe."

"Sorry. I was edging toward hysteria there, wasn't I?"

"A little," she agreed, but there was a smile in her voice.

I took a deep breath, as the turbolift doors opened onto an empty corridor. "Honestly," I said, "I know at some point everything's going to hit me and I'll be a basket case, but right now I'm just pissed off. I feel stupid and… and used… and I feel like I want to punch him in the nose."

We both knew the 'him' in question was Lore.

"You'd break your hand," she pointed out helpfully.

"Probably," I agreed. "But it would be so…satisfying…at least until the pain set in. Anyway, my mother's going to kill me when she finds out I have a tongue piercing, and then she'll kill me again when she finds out why, so it doesn't really matter."

"You haven't told her?"

I sighed. "I sent her a message that I was safely on the ship, and unharmed by the explosions, but the rest… she shouldn't have to hear that via subspace. All it would do is wreck her vacation, and honestly, the grounding she'll give me - for my own protection, no doubt – will probably last longer than six lifetimes, so I'm going to enjoy what little relative freedom I have left."

We were at my door by then, and I invited her in, but she declined. "I think a little alone-time is the best thing for you right now. Change to pajamas, take your painkiller, read a good book or something. You can call me or Data at any time if you need anything, even if it's just a bad dream."

"Speaking of Data…" I began. Then I stopped. "Actually, never mind. It's not that important."

She stared at me as if she didn't quite believe me, but she didn't push. "Alright. I would like you to check in with me sometime tomorrow, though."

"I will," I said. "I promise. Thank you."

"Goodnight, Zoe." She turned and left, her dark curls bouncing as she walked. Sometimes, I envied the bounciness of her hair. Mostly, I wondered how many hours it took to detangle it every day.

I went to the bathroom to wash my face, and rinse my mouth out, taking time to examine the stud in my tongue. It clicked against my teeth sometimes, but the pain was no longer as bad as it had been even a few hours before. I changed into the same tank top and sweats I'd worn in Data's quarters. There was stray cat hair on the top, and I picked it off, then curled up on my bed to read.

Only then did I realize I'd left my padd with Data.

A part of me wanted to call him and ask if I could come get it, and watch him open his present. A part of me knew that I shouldn't bother him unnecessarily.

I padded out to the main room, and replicated the shot-glass of painkiller I'd promised to take, and asked the computer for the time. It wasn't even twenty-three hundred hours, and I was half convinced the day would never actually end. I went back to my room, stripped the quilt from my bed, and wrapped it around myself, not as much for warmth as for comfort. I accessed the entertainment system, flipping through menus until I found a romantic comedy that was well-written enough to not be annoying, and curled up on the couch to watch it.

(=A=)

Stardate 44674.05

(Monday 4 September 2367, 00:42 hours, ship's time)

I don't remember falling asleep, but I know I woke up to the end-credits of the video and a purring cat batting at my hair. "Spot?" I asked, confused. "How did you get in here?"

The cat did not deign to answer.

I asked the computer for the time, and learned that a mere two or so hours had gone by, but that while I'd dozed through my video, the 'calendar page' had flipped. September 3rd was finally over, after all. I asked the computer for Data's location, learned he was on the bridge, and sent a text message offering to trade his cat for my padd, once his duty-shift was over.

I was tired, but not really in the mood to sleep – I knew there would be nightmares – but I also knew that falling asleep in front of another vid wasn't the best plan either. Since Spot seemed disinclined to get off my quilt, I scooped her up with it, set the lock code on the door, and went to rinse my mouth out one more time before bed.

It had only been two nights, but this extra oral hygiene was already becoming a new bedtime ritual. I realized that whether I still had a piercing or not, my next dental checkup would likely be fantastic.

As I slid into my bed, I instituted another bedtime ritual: I grabbed the hated comm-badge I'd been blissfully separated from all summer, and slid it under my pillow, keeping my hand loosely around it. Between that and Spot's soft, sleepy, breathing, I soon fell asleep.

(=A=)

Meeeeeoooowwwwrrrrrrrrr! Spot's screech, and the following thud as she leaped from my bed and landed on the floor woke me from a dream that had been surprisingly not-horrible.

My own scream rivaled hers in both pitch and volume, because when I sat up in bed Lore was standing in front of my door.

"Well, Zoe," he mocked. "Didn't figure you for a screamer. All of our other encounters have been so…quietly intense." He pulled a face. "Did I wake you?" His chuckle was low, menacing, and totally stage-y. "Oh, wait, do I care? I don't think I do."

I threw one of my pillows at him. Not the smartest thing to do, I know, but at least it wasn't passive. Also, when it went through him I realized he was a hologram – or some kind of projection, anyway. My other hand was still under the other pillow, still holding the comm-badge. I pressed it with my thumb, but nothing happened.

"Nothing to say to me," holo-Lore asked. "I'm disappointed, little girl."

Anger was starting to replace fear in my sleep-addled brain. "Forgive me for not feeling sorry for you. Is there a point to this late-night social call? Are you really that desperate for attention?"

"Attention? Why, yes… this is about attention. You and my brother haven't been paying any. I gave you a message for him, and it hasn't been delivered yet. Tick-tock, little pigeon. Mad dog's getting closer." He punctuated his last sentence by making a sort of barking, growling sound and gnashing his teeth.

The hologram winked out of existence, and the comm-badge suddenly connected, "Zoe Harris to Lt. Commander Data," I said as loudly and as quickly as I could, while I slid the thing out from under the pillow.

"This is Data. Zoe, what is wrong?"

"I'm sorry," I said. "I know you're on duty, but I just woke up to a holographic visit from Lore."

"I am on my way. Stay where you are, and do not allow anyone in until I arrive."

"Wasn't planning on it," I said. "I mean, okay."

"Data out."

I've never been sure if he ran all the way from the bridge to my mom's quarters, or if he managed to make the turbo-lift move at breakneck speed, or if he used the transporter, but Data was at my door almost before I'd pulled my sweatpants back on under the tank top I'd worn to bed, and dragged my quilt (sans Spot, who was weaving between my ankles) back to the main room.

The annunciator chirped. "Zoe, it is Data. May I enter?"

I released the lock code on the door. "Come in," I called.

He came right to where I was sitting. "Are you unharmed?" he asked, before anything else.

"Physically, I'm fine. Emotionally, the jury's still out. Spot woke up before I did, by the way. Too bad you can't interrogate her."

"I am still uncertain as to how she gained entry to your quarters in the first place. Where did Lore's hologram appear?"

"In my room," I said. "Between the bed and the door."

"What did it say?"

I was momentarily confused by Data's use of the pronoun 'it' in reference to his brother, but then I realized he meant the hologram, not Lore himself. I relayed the conversation as well as I could.

"Do you know when the transmission began?" he asked.

"Um, maybe seven minutes before I comm'd you. I tried a few times during, but it wouldn't go through."

"I am not surprised."

The door chime sounded again, and Data left my side to greet the security detail, led by Lt. Worf. I heard him consult with the latter in voices too low for me to discern what they were saying, and then Worf and the pair of security ensigns whipped out their tricorders, and started scanning everything in my quarters, including my room.

Several minutes later, the three of them returned to the center of the main room. "Sir," Lt. Worf began, addressing Data, "we have scanned the entire cabin. There is no evidence of an intruder, but we did find evidence of an EM spike large enough to account for a holographic signal."

"I expected little else," Data said. "Please send copies of your official report to myself as well as Captain Picard."

"Yes, sir."

"Thank you Lieutenant. You are dismissed."

I waited for several seconds after the trio of security officers had gone before I asked. "Data, is it usual for the head of security to lead details in the middle of the night?"

"As chief of security, protocol dictates that Lt. Worf be notified any time there is an incident requiring a security detail," he informed me matter-of-factly.

I just gave him a look.

"It is not entirely unusual," he allowed. "As well, it is no longer the 'middle' of the night, but shortly before zero five hundred hours. Lt. Worf was likely awake and well into his 'morning routine' already."

"Oh, okay." I waited a beat. "Data?"

"Yes, Zoe?"

"We have to tell my mother what's going on now, don't we?"

"It will not affect the speed of her return home," he said, "but I believe that informing her of recent events would be 'the right thing to do,' if for no other reason than to prepare her for what she may find."

"You say that like you expect to walk in here some morning and find me all…" I couldn't utter the word 'dead.' "…corpsified."

"That will not happen," he said with more intensity than I thought possible. "I will not allow it," he added.

I reached for his hand, finding comfort in the feeling of his palm pressed against mine. "Okay," I said." Again, I let silence stretch between us, though I was pretty sure I could actually hear him thinking. "What happens now?" I asked, my voice coming out smaller than I'd expected.

"Right now, I would like you to gather a change of clothing, and whatever you need to prepare for your day."

"I'm moving?" I asked.

"Your skin is pale, there is shading beneath your eyes that I believe is referred to as 'dark circles,' and your respiration is uneven," he observed. "You may have been asleep when Lore's latest 'message' arrived, but you clearly require further rest. Unfortunately, I cannot stay here to guard your sleep, as I must have access to the workstation in my quarters."

"Gee, Data, if you want to take me home with you, there are better ways to say it," I joked, forgetting for a moment just who my audience was.

He turned his yellow-eyes on me and deadpanned, "I believe, in that case, the correct question would then be, "Do you wish to 'see my etchings?'"

My laughter was brief and slightly hollow, and I sobered instantly. "You really believe I need to be guarded?"

"I know that you are prone to nightmares, and that a caring presence has been enough to keep them at bay in the past."

I managed not to blush at his implication that he cared about me. "Fifteen minutes," I said. I released his hand, rose from the couch, and went to gather the things I'd need for the morning.

(=A=)

How we'd managed to avoid running into people in the corridors, I will never know, but within half an hour I was tucked into Data's bed, though my quilt was on top of his 'fleet-issue bedspread, and he'd already left a message for Mom and Ed, at the B&B where they were staying, and called Counselor Troi to inform her of my whereabouts.

There wouldn't be a response from my mother for hours yet, but the counselor told Data to let me 'sleep myself out.'

"I will be in the main room," he informed me once I was as settled as I was going to get. "Do you require anything before I resume my work?"

"A glass of water, and my padd?" I asked.

He left the bedroom, only to return a few minutes later with both of my requests. I sipped some of the water, then put my glass on the bedside table, an extension of the built-in headboard, really. He held onto my padd, saying, "I realize that you may not want to sleep immediately, but I would caution you against using this device. The use of electronics directly before sleep has been shown to have minor adverse effects."

I knew that, but, "I just want to read a while," I said. "It's distracting. It'll help me get Lore out of my head, and stave off the nightmares." It should have been weird, having a conversation with him while I was in his bed, but somehow it wasn't. Somehow, it felt like the most natural thing in the universe. "Reading or music are the only things that ever help."

"Music?" he asked, his face brightening into what I now knew was his 'idea face.' "Would you like me to play for you for a few minutes?"

I wasn't in the mood for violin music, but as long as he was offering… "You sing, don't you? I mean, I've heard you singing phrases of our music to me, but you know actual songs, right?"

"Yes," he said. "Do you have a preference?"

"Anything quiet, and anything that's not Gilbert and Sullivan," I requested.

"May I sit?" he gestured to the end of the bed.

"It's your bed," I pointed out. "I'm just borrowing it for the night."

Gingerly, he perched on the edge of his bed, dimmed the lights throughout his quarters, and began to sing. I didn't know if he could see my expression in the low light, but his choice couldn't have been more perfect, because it was the piece I'd played for him the previous spring: Debussy's Clair de Lune.

Smiling, I closed my eyes, and let his warm tenor voice send me toward sleep. I wasn't quite there when he ended his song, but I felt him lift a few strands of my hair and then drop them. "Thank you," I told him. "That was nice."

"You are welcome," he replied. "Goodnight, Zoe."

He got to his feet, and moved away from the bed. "Can you leave the door open?" I asked softly. "At least part-way? I kind of… it's reassuring to know you're there."

"If I keep the illumination at this level, will you be able to sleep?" His voice was also pitched lower than usual, or maybe it was the darkness that made it seem so.

"It won't keep you from working?"

"It will not."

"I'm good if you are."

"Then I will do as you ask."

It turned out that the soft glow of the monitors on his console, combined with softly murmured commands and equally quiet keystrokes, was almost as calming and comforting as his singing.

Notes: "Clair de Lune" by Debussy is one of the pieces Zoe played solo in "Crush," and suggested to Data that they rehearse as a duet. While it's most often heard as an instrumental, it's also a very popular French lullaby. Men rarely sing it, so I've added Natalie Dessay's version to the "Crushing on Cello" YouTube playlist linked in my profile. (Revised, 7 November 2016)