Drumbeats

Stardate 44765.55

(Saturday, 7 October 2367, 10:17 hours, ship's time)

The ship was dead in space. Well, not dead-dead. Power, air, food replicators - those things were all perfectly functional, but we were, apparently, limited to the slow crawl of impulse power. As a result, everyone was on edge.

"So, who is the admiral who's coming?" I asked Data as he drilled me on scales and arpeggios. He called this 'going back to the foundations of technique.' I called it 'being stupid enough to ask an android to be my music teacher.'

"Admiral Norah Satie," he answered. "Relax your left hand; you are straining unnecessarily."

"Everyone's really tense about her visit. Lt. Nguyen in the aquatics lab said one of the med-techs has been coming in every two hours just to watch the fish."

"Drop your right shoulder and use your entire arm in your bow stroke." I glared at him because Seth had made similar comments and I was annoyed that someone so creepy had been right, but he ignored my look and asked. "Is there something beneficial about watching fish?"

"It's supposed to be calming, or something."

"Ah! So, if this medical technician is making frequent visits to the aquatics laboratory…"

"…then he must be really nervous about something," I finished for him. I played the last scale again, paying attention to the position of my shoulder. "Like that?" I asked.

"Yes," he said. "Please repeat that scale, using the same arm position."

"Remind me again why I wanted you to be my only cello teacher?"

"I will happily do so," he said, "after you repeat the scale."

Grudgingly, I played the scale again, and then, when he made a repeat request, I played it a third time. "Happy now?" I asked.

"I believe 'satisfied' would be a more accurate assessment. I will now remind you that you were uncomfortable continuing to work on your music with Lt. Starker because you felt that his behavior toward you was 'skeevy.' As well, there is no one else among the Enterprise personnel who is qualified to teach a musician of your caliber, and – "

"Data…"

"I am aware you meant the original question rhetorically." He didn't explain why he'd chosen to answer it anyway.

"Actually, I was going to ask you if Admiral Satie knew about this." I stuck my tongue out, displaying the metal tongue-stud I'd had Dr. Crusher insert in the hole that had been vacated when we'd removed the one Lore had inserted. "Or rather, does she know about… about what happened at Starbase Twelve?"

"A report was filed, and therefore it is possible that the admiral is aware of the incident, but it is not typical for a flag officer to investigate such an event."

"Oh." I waited a beat. "Do you know why she's coming?"

"That information has not been provided to me."

"Would you tell me, if you did know?"

"That would depend on the whether the reason for the admiral's visit was subject to security protocols," he said. "Zoe, it is unlike you to ask about Starfleet business."

I shrugged. "As I said, everyone is tense. Me, included."

"I do not believe you have cause for concern," he said.

I chose not to argue with him, and refocused on my lesson, bur in my head, I kept hearing the chord progression that always means doom in a horror movie.

(=A=)

Stardate 44778.72

(Thursday, 12 October 2367, 05:37 hours, ship's time)

"Would you like me to repeat the question, Ms. Harris?"

I was sitting in the same conference room where, five weeks before, I'd been telling Captain Picard and the rest of the senior officers of the Enterprise what had happened to me at Starbase Twelve, but this time, instead of sharing the space with people who cared about my well-being, I was across the table from Admiral Satie, the woman who'd been terrorizing the ship for the better part of a week.

Well, actually, I was across from Admiral Satie and her Betazoid assistant, a civilian 'consultant' named Sabin Genestra. Rumors on the ship said he was either her lover or her illegitimate son, but whatever else he might have been, he was seriously creepy.

"Yes, please," I said.

"How did you and Commander Data remove Lore's data solid from your tongue?"

I kissed him, I didn't tell her. I kissed him, and he didn't stop me. I kissed him, and he kissed me back and then I ran, and all I can think of now is that I want to kiss him again.

Out loud, I said, "Through a process of experimentation, we determined that the release mechanism would respond to the chemicals present in Da – in Commander Data's saliva. He…applied some to the stud in my mouth."

"And the data solid was released?"

"It took a second or so. I spit it into my hand and gave it to him."

"What did Commander Data do with the data solid?"

"Excuse me?"

"Do you know where Commander Data put the data solid that was retrieved from your mouth?"

I shook my head. "I don't know. Why would I know?"

"Isn't it true that you and Commander Data spend a significant amount of time together? Isn't it true that you are the only one of his students to be included on his notification list? Isn't it true that you have access to his quarters?"

She was battering me with questions, and I couldn't think fast enough to give appropriate answers, so I responded to the last one, first, "Only so I can feed his cat," I said. "No one else can get close to her." I had been in the room with them for two hours, and I was tired, hungry, and punchy. Even worse, I was alone: my mother had been refused entry on the grounds that I'd been declared a competent minor the previous January, and that she would receive a transcript of the session. "And I have no idea who is or isn't on his notify list. Why would I? He's my tutor."

"Do you deny your earlier statement that the two of you are friends?"

"No. I'm just saying, I have no reason to know where he put the data solid. Why don't you ask him?"

"Watch your tone, young woman," the Admiral said. She and Genestra exchanged looks, and then she held a brief whispered conversation with him. When they turned back to me, she had returned to the simpering woman she'd pretended to be when I first walked into the room. "What makes you think we haven't asked Commander Data about you, Ms. Harris? What makes you think he didn't tell us everything?"

"If you had you wouldn't be asking me!" I shouted.

"Calm down, Ms. Harris." Genestra said the words this time and fixed me with his black-eyed gaze. "You will calm down," he instructed, and I could feel my brain turning inside out. "What was on the data solid, Ms. Harris? Zoe? Zoe, tell us the message Lore sent to Commander Data."

"I don't know."

"You do know."

"I don't," I said. "I swear I don't."

"How did Commander Data administer his saliva?"

"He… I…"

"Tell us, Zoe! Tell us everything!"

"No. No, no, no. No! NO!"

Those black eyes came closer, his hands reached for me. I tried to get out of the chair and tripped over something, over nothing and landed on the carpeted surface of the deck.

The impact of my body on the floor broke me out of my dream, but it was the sudden flare of light and my mother's worried voice that truly brought me back to myself. "Mom?"'

She crossed my room in two steps and crouched near me on the floor. "You were screaming, and then there was a thud."

I looked around, finally realizing I wasn't actually in my bed. "I was dreaming," I said. "Nightmaring, really. That's not a word, is it?"

"No," my mother said. "It's not."

"Well, it should be. That man… the admiral's aide? Mr. Genestra? He was rolling my mind, and then he tried to grab me, and I fell."

"Looks like you fell out of bed, as well."

I blinked at her, my brain still not entirely awake. "Um… yeah. Looks like."

"I should never have let them question you," said Mom. "Can you get up?"

I looked down, saw myself tangled in blankets. "Um…"

"Give it a moment," she said. "Zoe, I'm worried about your dreams – your nightmares. I hoped if I let you keep the piercing in your tongue it might help, but they're getting worse. I was with you when Admiral Satie talked to you. No one grabbed you and Sabin Genestra barely glanced at you. All they asked about was whether Simon Tarses had ever spoken to you when he visited the aquatics lab."

"I know," I said. "It's just…"

"What is it?" She reached out and smoothed my hair away from my forehead. "Zoe, honey, whatever it is… you know you can tell me."

"Can I?" I asked her. "And if I do, will you promise not to judge? Not to get angry?"

"Zoe, sweetie, whatever you did, it can't be that bad."

I kissed Data, Mom, I thought to myself. I wanted to tell her, wanted the mom-advice that would be so different from the counselor's, not that Counselor Troi wasn't sympathetic. I just don't think she knew how messed up I was. I kissed Data, and he kissed me back, and now I'm obsessing over when I might get to kiss him again, and I'm scared as much because he never did tell me what Lore's message was, as because I might never get the chance.

"Could you… could you come with me to my counseling session today? I think… I think maybe there's some stuff you need to know."

"I can do that," she said.

"Could you also call me out of my morning classes?" I asked. "I wasn't sleeping well before I had that nightmare, and now I'm all tired and wired and weird."

She peered at me as if trying to decide if I was just trying to avoid class, or if I really meant it, and whatever she saw in my face seemed to convince her that staying home would be a good idea. "I will, if you promise to rest. No music. No vids. No reading."

"Deal." I said. Well, I meant to say it, but it came out as a yawn.

"Let's get you back into bed."

She helped me untangle my sheets and blankets and looked away when I asked her to, so she wouldn't see how awkward I was when I got up – I was never graceful when I was tired – and then she waited while I changed into a fresh tank top and pajama pants because my original pair was sweaty and gross.

"All set?"

"Yeah." I slid down into the sheets and let her tuck me in as if I were a five-year-old.

She must have caught my thought – the way mothers do – because she grinned down at me. "You're so mature and independent most of the time, kiddo. I forget sometimes that you're still so young."

"Counselor Troi says half my problems are just from being sixteen."

"She has a point."

"She also says that getting my own flitter for Christmas or my birthday would help me improve."

Laughing, my mother leaned down to kiss my forehead. "Nice try, Zoificus. I'm pretty sure the counselor said nothing of the kind."

"Well… no. But it still might help."

"Christmas is ten weeks away, Zoe, and your birthday's a month past that. If you're so keen to worry about the future, consider that you have college entrance exams in two weeks."

"Gee thanks," I grumbled. "Now I really won't be able to sleep. Whoever decided to schedule college boards for Halloween is completely evil."

She laughed again, and then got up from the edge of my bed. "And on that note, dear child-of-mine, I will leave you to your slumber." She paused at the door, "Computer, lights out. Goodnight, Zoe. I love you."

I smiled into the darkness in her general direction. "Love you, too, Mom."

(=A=)

"Commander Harris – may I call you Emily?" Counselor Troi greeted my mother as warmly as she typically spoke to me.

"Of course, Counselor."

"Deanna," Troi corrected. "I keep telling Zoe to use my first name; perhaps it will help her if you lead by example."

"Deanna, then," Mom said. "Zoe had another violent nightmare early this morning. This time she fell out of bed."

"Zoe has a powerful imagination," Deanna agreed. "Her dreams are quite vivid, and she is more adept than most humans her age at remembering them." She turned to me, "Can you tell me what you dreamed last night?"

I relayed as much of the dream-interrogation as I could, focusing on their questions about the tongue stud. While I talked, the counselor replicated a mocha for me, hot chocolate for herself, and plain coffee for my mother, who seemed faintly amused that counseling sessions were a mix of clinical psychology and coffee klatsch.

"I was with Zoe when she did talk with the admiral," Mom said. "Nothing she described actually happened."

"Except for the simpering," I put in.

"Zoe…" Mom said in her warning tone, but she glanced at the counselor and allowed. "Alright. The admiral did… simper."

"I suspect," Deanna said, "that Zoe would have dreamed about being questioned by the admiral and her assistants even if she hadn't met them at all. The entire crew has been anxious since the warp drive failed, and Admiral Satie's presence here has only exacerbated that."

"Her dream last night wasn't a reaction to speaking with the admiral?"

"It was… and it wasn't." Way to be vague, Counselor. "What I mean is, her visit with Admiral Satie and Mr. Genestra gave her the characters for her dream, but the real subject isn't the interrogation itself, it's -" She stopped herself. "Zoe, perhaps you should explain."

I met the counselor's eyes and she gave me an encouraging nod and a warm smile. "Okay," I said to her. "Mom, my dreams… they're not really about the admiral or the Borg or anything else I keep telling you about." I saw her look of confusion. "I mean they are, on the surface, but really, they're not." I could tell she was getting impatient. "They're about Lore. And Data. Mostly Data, actually."

"I don't understand …"

"We didn't… I didn't… I never told you the specifics of how Data and I got Lore's tongue stud out of my mouth." I paused to swig some of my coffee-drink. Strength in sugar and caffeine, and all that. "I told you it was keyed to Data's saliva, but I didn't tell you… I never told you how we… applied it."

"Zoe, whatever it is, it's alright…" She stretched out her hand, and I took it with my free one. "Just tell me."

I gave her the rundown of the time in Data's lab, the fact that Lore had basically told us how to release it, the fact that we'd both come to the same conclusion, but that Data had been unwilling to act on it without first exhausting every other option. "…and you were going to be home soon," I said. "So, I kissed him. I kissed him, and he didn't stop me, and I ran from him."

Her hand stayed firmly wrapped around mine. Her expression only grew softer. The counselor, on the other hand, said, "There's more."

"Yeah," I said. "There's more… there's not knowing what was on that data solid, and not knowing why he kissed me back, and both wanting and not wanting to know why, and being cheated out of a proper first kiss with him." I was close to ranting again, and I was covering ground I'd already walked with the counselor (all of it) and with Data himself (some of it) but it felt good to release it to my mother.

"Oh, Zoificus," she said softly. "I should have guessed something had changed between you two."

"But it hasn't, Mom… not really… because whatever that kiss was or wasn't – hey!" I interrupted myself, giggling, "It's Schrodinger's Kiss!"

"Zoe, focus." The counselor's calming tones brought me back to a sort of mental 'center.'

"Right, sorry. Whatever it did or didn't mean, I'm still a student, and under age. And he's my…" I started to say tutor, but while that was technically true, that wasn't how I thought of Data any more, and hadn't been, really, for a long time. "He's my friend."

My mother was silent for a long time. Then she released my hand, but it was only so she could pick up her coffee cup. She sipped some of the beverage and grimaced, probably because it was no longer hot. Then she looked from me to the counselor and back, settling on me, her fond expression the one I generally referred to as her 'gushy Mom look.'

"Data must have been very confused when you ran away mid-kiss," she said.

"It wasn't quite… I mean, I pulled away as soon as the stud came loose."

"Still," she said. I watched her take a breath. Notice everything, Lachlan Meade had kept telling us. In that moment I noticed how many of my mannerisms I shared with her. And I noticed something else… she wasn't angry or disappointed or weirded out. If anything, she seemed… relieved. Or maybe resigned. Or maybe… a bit of both.

"Mom?"

Again, she made sure to include Counselor Troi in her statement. "I suppose I should be angry. You are only a student; Data is a line officer, as well as your tutor. But… I'm not surprised something happened between you two. I spent the summer getting to know him better," she reminded us. "I wouldn't say he pined for you, or anything close to that…"

"No," Deanna agreed. "Pining would be a stretch."

"But he definitely missed you," Mom continued. "Zoe, none of us are blind. I'm sure Deanna here isn't the first person to notice the connection between you. I'm not a counselor, but it seems to me that you have two choices. You either give your relationship with Data time to mature, and see what happens, or you back away, and keep things professional."

"There are other options," Troi pointed out. "Most of which are inappropriate as Zoe is still young."

"I'm over the age of consent," I interjected.

"True. But we all know that consent laws are about protection, not permission. And I think you need to share your other fears with your mother, Zoe."

I nodded. "The other viable option is to drop his class, drop cello lessons, quit the quartet, and just ignore the fact that Data even exists, but I don't want to do that. The thing is, though, there've been rumors… I know you've heard them… and there's the other reason I keep having bad dreams…"

I paused again, this time to collect myself. "Mom, I'm terrified that Lore wants Data with him." I glanced at the counselor. We hadn't discussed that point yet. "And I'm scared he'll come after me again. But Mom, the thing that scares me more than anything is the thought that someone will decide his friendship with me is wrong, and they'll… and they'll take him apart."

"Oh, Zoe…" my mother left her chair and pulled me out of mine and into a solid hug. Oh, baby-girl. That's not something you should ever have to worry about."

I didn't answer her. I didn't have the words. I just let her hold me a bit longer. Then the counselor suggested we end the session, and I agreed, as did Mom, although I had to ask, "Am I done with nightmares now?"

"Perhaps," Deanna said. "But perhaps not. You still have some unresolved issues. We'll talk about it next week, alright?"

I nodded. "Alright."

"And, Emily… call me if you have any questions?"

"I'll do that," my mother agreed.

We left Counselor Troi's office together. Outside the door, Mom said, "I'm glad you finally told me everything that happened between you."

"Me, too," I said. "But I'm sure you think I'm crazy, reacting this way over a kiss, when Tev and I were – "

"No," she said softly. "This is different. T'vek is a lovely boy, and I know he treated you very well, but he was – and still his – very much a boy, and the pair of you were little more than children. You're not a child anymore, Zoe. And Data is…"

"…definitely not a boy," I finished for her, and we shared a mother-daughter grin, but mine faded quickly. "Are you going to make me stop hanging out with him? We usually do vid night after quartet rehearsal and that's tonight…"

"No," she said.

"No, we're not doing vid night?"

"No, I'm not going to stop you. In this, at least, you need to make your own choices. I trust you Zoe. I also trust Data not to harm you."

"He would never!"

"I know."

"Mom?" I asked as we entered the 'lift that would take her to the deck where she worked, and me to my afternoon classes. "Is it normal? To change so much in a year? I feel like I'm not even the same person I was when you first – when I first came here."

She reached out to ruffle my hair, but stopped herself, and gave me a less intense version of her 'gushy Mom look' instead. "In some ways, you're not the same person," she said. "But in most ways, you're still you, just… older, and more experienced, and maybe even a little wiser."

I laughed. "Maybe?"

"Mmm. A very little bit."

"One more thing…" The lift was approaching my deck. "Data… Data doesn't know I'm still having bad dreams, and he really doesn't know I'm… you know…"

"Not to worry, kiddo. My lips are sealed."

The turbolift came to a halt. "See you at dinner?" I asked.

"Count on it," she answered.

(=A=)

Stardate 44780.50

(Thursday, 12 October 2367, 21:15 hours, ship's time)

Quartet rehearsal had, for once, started and ended exactly on time, and for the first time in a week, the tension that had pervaded the ship was gone. Admiral Satie had declared her mission successful, or at least over – I wasn't privy to the details – but whatever they were, she was set to depart early the next morning.

Good rehearsals always jazzed me, and the four of us had really clicked that night, so it wasn't unusual that I was practically bouncing as Data and I walked toward his quarters for video night. What was unusual was that when we ran into Jenna D'Sora coming out of the turbo-lift we were about to enter, I didn't let her brief disdainful glance in my direction phase me at all.

"Data!" she exclaimed. "Just the man I hoped I'd see." She laid her hand on his arm, and I saw him glance at it before meeting her eyes.

"Do you require my assistance with something, Jenna?"

"Actually, I was hoping you'd be up for an impromptu gathering in the forward observation lounge. It's Lt. Salazar's birthday." She lifted her other hand, waggling the instrument case she held. "Maria said I had to bring my clarinet. I'm sure an oboe would only improve things."

I half-expected him to take her up on the offer. After all, they'd dated the year before, and while I was never certain which of them had ended their relationship, her recent behavior toward me made it pretty obvious that she, at least, wanted a second chance.

"Thank you for the invitation," he said in his usual mild tone. I saw him move slightly, but I couldn't tell if he'd shrugged off her hand or if she'd withdrawn it on her own. "However, Zoe and I have plans this evening, and Spot is waiting for her evening snack. Please wish Lt. Salazar a happy birthday on my behalf."

"I'll do that," she said, deflating slightly. "Perhaps we could do something another night?"

"Perhaps," he answered, with the faintest cool tone in his voice, and then stepped into the 'lift. "Zoe, may I take your cello?"

Ordinarily, I would have thanked him for asking, but declined the offer. That night, I handed it over to him. "Sure," I said. "Thanks." I joined him in the lift and the doors closed just as Jenna turned away and headed down the corridor. Even though I knew she couldn't hear me, I waited the length of time it took to move three decks before I said, "You could have gone with her; I would have understood."

"I am certain that you would have," he said. "However, we do have plans, and Spot is awaiting her treat. As well, I am looking forward to learning what video you believe 'reminds you' of me.'"

I could feel myself blushing. "Oh. That. Actually, it's based on a novella by Isaac Asimov."

"You have read Asimov?"

"I read lot, actually. But yes, I've read Asimov. Or… I've been reading Asimov. Lately. Well, his fiction, anyway."

"Ah. What else do you read?"

I gave him a quizzical look. "Since when do you ask about my reading habits?" I asked. "No, don't answer that… I read lots of things. Mostly fiction, though I have a thing for memoirs and essays." The lift doors opened on the officer's deck and we left it together, heading for his quarters. "Mom used to read to me when I was very little – a chapter a night and she did all the voices – remember that for the future. When I was about… six, I guess… she was posted back on a starship for an extended mission, and she left before we finished Anne of Green Gables. I got impatient to know how the story ended. I waited as long as I could – about ten days, which, trust me, is impressive for a six-year-old girl – and then I picked up the book and finished it on my own."

While I'd been talking we'd arrived at his quarters, and by the time I finished my story he'd given Spot her evening treat – he was still doling out the catnip chews I'd brought him - and I had replicated tea and snacks for the two of us and had taken my place on his couch. "It was the last book we read together. Although, now we fight over library books and who gets to read new bestsellers first."

Data came to sit next to me. "Is having a parent read to you a typical childhood experience?"

Shrugging, I answered, "I guess so. I mean… I'm pretty sure all my friends had similar experiences. Why? Are you planning to read bedtime stories to Spot?"

He glanced at the cat, who was in the middle of the floor, playing with her catnip chew. "No," he said. "I do not believe she would appreciate such an activity." He turned back to me and cocked his head slightly. "Even if I 'did all the voices.'"

I laughed. "Maybe not. But I'd give anything to see you try."

"Perhaps I will make an attempt after our video," he said. "If we delay much longer, it is likely that you will be unable to function at peak efficiency in class tomorrow."

"Yeah," I teased. "You're right. And my math tutor is really strict about people not sleeping through his class. Get the lights?"

"Computer, dim lights by seventy percent. Engage entertainment system. Play video…" He paused. "You have not told me the title of this week's 'movie.'"

I smiled in the semi-darkness and told him the name of the video I'd chosen.

He continued his instructions as if he'd known the title all along. "Play video Bicentennial Man."

Sometimes during video night, we talked during the film, creating our own running commentary of observations. That night, we watched in silence. I'd seen it before when I was seven or eight, in a hotel, while on tour with my father – it had been the only non-porn offering in a language we both understood – but I'd forgotten that the filmmakers had added a romantic subplot.

After the credits rolled and we'd finished our tea and the vegetables and dip I'd chosen as an alternative to popcorn, I turned to Data intending to ask him what he thought, but even though his eyes weren't flickering back and forth, he was wearing his 'processing' expression.

When he still hadn't spoken after a full minute, I reached out and touched his shoulder. "Data? Are you alright?"

"I am sorry, Zoe. Yes. I am… fine."

"I should have checked with you before I picked this film," I said. "Andrew's attempts to understand humor are what reminded me of you… I didn't think about the rest."

"It was not a poor choice," he assured. "I, too, have read the novella. The creators of this presentation took many liberties with the original story."

"Yeah, they did."

"The romance between Andrew and Portia was not part of the novella."

"No, it wasn't. I thought they did a good job of integrating it, though. The performances were good."

"It is… a different experience seeing it played out on a screen, as opposed to merely absorbing the text."

"I always feel that way about vids that are based on books."

"Does it make the story seem more 'real' to you?"

"Yeah kind of. Although sometimes the way plots are compressed is a little annoying. I read somewhere that it's best to think of most vids as though they were the result of the main character selling their story to a tabloid."

His eyebrows quirked at that. "An interesting perspective." He took a beat, then asked in a voice that was uncharacteristically tentative, especially for him, "Do you believe it is possible for a romantic relationship between an android and an organic being to be successful?"

It crossed my mind to remind him that we'd been watching a movie – a story – but I realized that for him, it really wasn't just a story. Not that it mattered, because I was confident in my answer. "I think if it's the right android and the right 'organic being,' it could happen," I said. "I mean, even human/human relationships take work, so I'm guessing that kind of relationship would require more work, but why wouldn't it be possible?"

"My 'track record' with romantic relationships has hardly been successful thus far."

"I'm not sure I'm the best person to help you with this one, Data," I said softly. "You seemed to do okay with Jenna last year."

"I did… until I did not," he said, and I had to suppress a grin at his use of my phrasing.

"You could always try again. You've changed a lot in the last year, and she's clearly still into you… at least at the moment."

"No." He said the word as if there were a lot of weight behind it.

"No… what?"

"I have considered a second attempt at a romantic liaison with Jenna and I have discarded the idea. I believe the reason it did not 'work' between us last year is less because of what I am and more that I simply do not wish to have a romantic relationship with her."

I couldn't help but clap both my hands together in delight. "Data! You just confirmed what I told you six weeks ago. Not everything has to do with you being an android. I cannot believe it took you this long to get the point."

"I believed you were referring to certain issues with our temporary cohabitation."

If I'd been eating or drinking anything, that sentence would have elicited a perfect spit-take. "Could you maybe not refer to me staying here that way? It makes it seem like…" I trailed off. "Anyway, my point was that it's not an android/organic thing, it's just a… a person/person thing."

"A… 'person/person thing?'"

"Yeah, you know, when you find the right person… the one who makes you aspire to be your best self, supports you when you need it, talks you down off the ledge when you're threatening to jump… the kind of person you always look forward to spending time with, who you can talk to about anything… or just be quiet with… or… just sort of… click with. Like in rehearsal tonight. The way we were all on the same wavelength – we've never played better as a group."

"You are comparing romantic liaisons to music?"

"Hi, have you met me? I compare everything to music."

"Hm." He refilled my teacup from the warming pot, and I picked it up and held it in both hands.

"I have a question for you now, if that's okay."

"Of course, Zoe."

"It's kind of personal," I warned.

His response was just to offer his encouraging look.

"In Bicentennial Man, most of Andrew's 'upgrades' are to make him more human in the physical – no, the physiological – sense. He wants to breathe and bleed and eat and have sex..." I trailed off. "But you already have those functions… don't you?"

"That is correct, but that is also information you already possessed. What is your question?" Sometimes, it seemed like he really did know me too well.

"You've talked about wanting to be human, but… I always thought you meant it in a more… what's the word? Oh! Metaphysical! I thought you meant it in a more metaphysical sense. I thought you meant you wanted emotional context and a thorough understanding of the human condition. Am I wrong… or …?" I grimaced. "I don't think I'm asking this correctly."

"You are 'asking it' very well. And you are not 'wrong.' I do not wish for physical change. However, in both the original novella, and in the video we just watched, Andrew also wished for mortality. In the latter case, he also wished to age, and eventually die, with the woman he loved."

"Do you? Wish to 'age and eventually die?'"

"Do you recall me sharing that I had considered the possibility of marriage someday?"

I nodded. He'd mentioned it in one of the letters he'd sent over the summer. "I remember."

"When I discussed the possibility of marriage with Counselor Troi, she informed me that the ability to grow old together was considered a crucial part of marriages between most humanoids."

"But you won't… oh. But… some humanoids – well, some humans, anyway – engage in contract marriages where that isn't even a factor. Though, I don't see the point in that. If you don't want to commit to some version of forever, why bother getting married at all? It's not like anyone cares who's sleeping with whom as long as it's all consensual. Unless you're marrying a Starfleet officer and notification and benefits are a thing… but that seems really… cold, somehow."

"Nevertheless," he said, gently bringing our conversation back on track, "aging together is an important element of most humanoid marriages."

"Then I guess you're back to… if it's the right person, you figure out a way to make it work. After all, video-Andrew helped Portia to extend her life far beyond what's considered 'normal' for most humans." In the dimmed lighting his features were merely pale, the gold sheen to his skin effectively neutralized. I knew I was staring at him, but I couldn't help imagining what he'd look like with more organic coloring, and the image in my head made me wrinkle my nose in distaste. "Someone who wants you for you will be able to accept everything that comes with the package. And I'm pretty sure you'll figure out the emotional stuff someday."

"I am honored that you have such faith in me," he said softly.

I wanted to reach for his hand and squeeze it. I wanted to kiss him senseless. I did neither. Instead, I snorted and said, in a rueful tone, "Yeah, well, I also have faith that chocolate should count as a vegetable, so… consider the source." I avoided looking at him, and began collecting our used cups and plates, murmuring, "Data, there's something you should know…"

"Computer, increase illumination to eighty percent of normal," he said, before returning his focus to me. "What is it, Zoe?"

"I had a major nightmare last night – this morning, really – about Admiral Satie asking me about you and Lore and the data solid. It was violent… I woke up on the floor."

"But you are uninjured?"

"What? Oh, yeah, I'm fine. But… Mom knew – and I'm guessing you do, too – that all she really asked me was if I'd ever spoken with Simon Tarses when he came to watch the fish."

"I read the transcript of your session with her."

"Anyway, she came to my session with the counselor earlier today, and I told her what the cause of my dreams really was… and how we really got the data solid out of my mouth."

"Ah."

"I just… I thought you should know."

"Was your mother angry?"

"Actually, she was more concerned with the fact that I'm still having nightmares. I mean, she did ask if you were any good…" I trailed off. "I really shouldn't tease you about that, should I?"

"I do not mind."

"Seriously?" I turned to face him.

"When you tease me, you are treating me as you would any other person whom you are close to," he said. "As well, when you tease me about aspects of our relationship, it shows that you trust me, that you trust… us."

"That's… annoyingly accurate and impressively insightful," I said.

"Thank you, Zoe."

I moved back to the couch to retrieve my shoes, because kicking them off had become as much a part of our video night routine as sharing pots of tea was, and the thought struck me. "Data… when you say I'm showing trust in 'us,' what do you mean? I mean… technically you're my tutor, but when it comes to music, lately it feels more like a partnership than a teacher-student dynamic, and, we're friends… but there are different kinds of friendships… and… sometimes it seems like we're on a slow trajectory toward something more… and then… people think we're dating… and… I don't know if things are black and white for you – and if they are, I'm incredibly envious - but… sometimes, I'm so confused."

I finished zipping my second boot – the pair was a favorite of mine: forest green, soft faux suede, mid-calf height but kind of slouchy – and stood up to leave, but he was standing right in front of me. "I am also unable to adequately define our relationship," he admitted. "I believe Counselor Troi's suggestion that we engage in a greater number of public activities had two expected results: one, is that, as we have discussed, we would be seen together engaging in non-romantic activities."

"And the other?"

"I believe she wishes it to be a time for us to 'get to know each other' in a less intense environment than our musical Saturday Sessions."

"Does weekly video night defeat that plan, do you think?"

"Would you prefer to discontinue it?"

"No. Would you?"

"I find the exchanges we have during and after each video to be extremely enlightening," he said. "As well, it is time spent with together that does not require either of us to play an expected role."

We'd discussed that before, as well… the different roles people take on in public, in private, in different situations.

"So, what you're saying is…"

"I am saying that there is no deadline looming over us, Zoe, nor are we in a race. We have ample time to discover – together – what we may or may not be to each other."

"Have you considered taking up counseling as a second career?" I asked. "You're getting really good at the whole talking-around-a-question-without-really-answering-it thing."

His lips curved into something approaching a smirk. "Thank you, Zoe. I have learned from the best."

I laughed, and balled my fist, intending to give him an affectionate punch in the upper arm, but he caught my wrist. "You do not wish to do that," he said. "You would break your hand."

"Even at low impact?" He nodded, and I blushed faintly. "I forgot… I mean… not really… but…"

He seemed to understand my frustration, because he pulled me into a brief embrace and surprised me by dropping a light kiss on my forehead before he let me go. "It is nearly midnight, and I have the bridge overnight. I will escort you home." He picked up my cello before I could and headed out of the room.

In the corridor, I protested, "It's out of your way."

"Not significantly. Please do not argue. You will only cause a delay."

I rolled my eyes, but at the same time I was grumbling I realized Data was, in his own way, expressing a kind of affection. We made the brief journey in companionable silence, and when we got to my door, I took his hand, squeezed it, and let it go. Then I took my cello from him, said, "G'night, Data," and went inside for a night of blissful nightmare-free sleep.

Notes: REVISED 9 March 2018. This chapter is centered around the episode, The Drumhead. Data's letter to Zoe where he mentions thoughts of marriage is in chapter 2 of Hello From Earth. Thank you all for your patience. I actually finished (re) writing this in the dark during a power outage and the power came back on when I wrote the last word of the actual chapter. Bicentennial Man, the movie, was released in 1999. It was directed by Christopher Columbus and starred Robin Williams and Embeth Davidtz. It was based on the novella The Bicentennial Man, by Isaac Asimov.