The hotel restaurant offered a continental breakfast at a do-it-yourself bar, though Data wondered what continent and why it signified. Still, the fresh coffee and rolls matched Tasha's usual breakfast fare. He had left her sleeping in her room not long after sunrise. The thought of her lying naked in bed stopped him for a moment. It had been a memorable night – she had been loving, candid, passionate . . . He hoped it wasn't due solely to the alcohol.

He was ready to take away the breakfast tray when a curious machine caught his eye. It was a large, clear, Rube Goldberg-esque contraption filled with fruit, and at the push of a button, the colorful spheres began to tumble through a series of slicers and squeezers. Data put his nose up to the surface for a closer look.

"Hi, Commander."

He turned at the despondent voice behind him. "Good morning, Wesley."

The juice was being expressed into a dainty glass. Wesley looked from it, to the breakfast tray in Data's hands, to Data himself.

"Is that for Lt. Yar?"

The android's heuristic programs made a mad scramble for an appropriate answer. He was bound by a promise to tell no one of his secret relationship, save Geordi. He was incapable of lying, but evasion was a tactic that presented itself as acceptable. "You have arisen early."

"They give surfing lessons in fifteen minutes." Wesley was dressed to surf in a knee-length wetsuit.

"Have you surfed before?"

"Mr. Data, I . . . I saw you two last night. On the balcony."

Data put the breakfast tray down on the bar. "Ah."

"I wasn't spying, I swear! At least, I didn't mean to spy." Wesley's voice dropped lower. "I wish I hadn't seen anything."

"As do I," Data agreed softly. He saw the distress in the boy's expression, and put aside his own dilemma. "Wesley, you look troubled. In my experience, humans can alleviate their troubles by talking about them."

"I'm sorry, it's just – I don't want to say that my illusions of you were shattered, but . . . it was unexpected. You're all my heroes . . . I look up to you," Wesley stammered glumly.

"A flattering thought, but none of us is infallible. You are an acting ensign now, Wesley – a member of Starfleet yourself. No one expects you to be perfect, either."

Wesley looked miserable. "I shouldn't have been spying."

"I believe you when you say it was unintentionally done," Data replied without accusation.

"Still, you deserve to have privacy. It was none of my business," the young man muttered. "I just thought you were above all that."

Data cocked his head. "Above the need to connect with another person? I consider myself fortunate that it is part of my programming. Without that need, I would not be able to make friends, and my existence would be lonely indeed."

"But it's a secret, right? No one's ever talked about it to me."

Data didn't answer. He felt bound by his word of honor to follow his promise to the letter.

Wesley thought he saw a silent appeal in the second officer's eyes. He straightened to his full height. "We don't spread rumors in Starfleet, sir. I won't say anything to anyone – trust me. It's your personal life. If I liked a girl, I wouldn't want it all over the ship, either."

Data stuck out his hand in a gesture of acceptance, and Wesley shook it, a smile breaking out on his face. "Thank you, Ensign."

A sliver of sun pierced through a chink in the blackout curtains and drove a shard of light into Tasha's closed eyes. She stirred and was immediately assaulted by pounding in her head and desperate thirst.

"Ow." She pinched the bridge of her nose, willing her head to stop throbbing.

The door opened, and Data came through and dropped the keycard on the entryway table. "You are awake," he said brightly.

"Mmph."

"I have brought you breakfast."

Tasha squinted at the tray as Data put it on the nightstand. She smelled coffee, but the thought of it turned her stomach. "Water…"

"Certainly." Data disappeared and returned with a glass filled from the faucet.

Tasha sat up, pulling the covers to her chin, and drank the whole thing down. She flopped back against the pillow and yanked the covers over her head.

Data examined the lump in the blanket with curiosity. "Are you going back to sleep?"

The answer was indistinct.

"I thought we could discuss our vacation plans. There is a propulsion conference on Beth Delta that might be of interest to both of us, and the volcanic rock island where it will take place is purported to be quite picturesque."

Tasha pushed the blanket back from one half-closed eye. "What?"

"The conference is in two months, but registration is still open," Data went on blithely, "Unless you would prefer to go somewhere without an agenda; however, I find it beneficial to structure one's time away."

She rubbed her bleary eyes. "What are you going on about?"

Data darted his head in two quick motions. "A vacation. Alone together. You and me."

A short, mirthless laugh escaped her. "Don't be ridiculous – we can't go away together."

"I do not understand."

"Too obvious. What are you thinking?" She groaned and got out of bed, searched the dresser until she found a robe, and tied it on. "God, my head! I think I went overboard last night."

Data's puzzlement increased. "We were not in a boat at any time."

Tasha closed her eyes with a sigh. "I mean, I think I had too much to drink." She crossed into the bathroom and splashed her face. "Damn that Riker."

"Is seven bottles of ale over four hours too much?" Data inquired.

She poked her head out to fix him with a glare. "You were keeping track?"

"Tasha, if I could direct your attention to the subject at hand, you did not think the idea ridiculous last night."

"What idea?"

"Of going away on vacation."

"Don't be absurd."

Data fortified his expression with a hint of firmness. "It was your idea."

She snorted. "No way."

"It is true."

"I don't remember that." She walked back into the room and stood facing him, her hands on her hips.

Data detected the impending danger, but held his ground nonetheless. "I cannot lie to you."

"There's no way I would've suggested that we go on vacation together. It contradicts everything we've talked about," Tasha said evenly.

Data took a moment to find the file in his memory records. Tasha's beer-soaked, breathy voice issued forth from the android's lips, repeating the conversation from the night before.

Tasha's blue eyes turned steely. Her jaw worked as she attempted to get her anger under control. When she finally spoke, her voice was clipped and harsh. "Data, I didn't say I didn't say that, I said I don't remember saying it. Has it occurred to you that I might say things I don't mean when I'm drunk? And that the last thing I want is for my own words to be thrown in my face?"

He listened to her with a deepening frown. She left no opening for a response.

"Normal people don't do that, you know. If you truly want to be more human, why don't you act more humanely? So I was talking out of my ass last night – great. Thanks for pointing it out to me. Thanks for showing me that I sound like a bimbo when I'm drunk, and I don't know what's good for me. I hope you're proud of yourself. I was wrong, and you were right. Happy now?" She wound herself up to a shouting climax.

"No," he replied succinctly.

"Oh, you . . ." Her hands balled into fists at her sides. "Do me a favor and just leave. Just leave. I don't need anyone's help to feel bad about myself."

Data weighed the advantages and disadvantages of trying to stay and fight her. Experience told him it would be futile. He obeyed silently, shutting the door noiselessly behind him.

He continued down the hall and around the corner, hesitating a moment before knocking on the door. It was still very early.

A sleepy Geordi opened the door a crack. "Data . . . what can I do for you, friend?"

The android looked at him forlornly. "I thought perhaps you might like to go for a walk on the beach with me."

Deanna sat in the stern of the two-person dinghy, watching Will manhandle the oars against the current. He was tanned and shirtless, and his muscles bunched as he fought to propel the boat over the waves.

"Hold the rudder steady, Deanna."

Even with a crew of two, he was relentlessly in control. "Aye, sir," she replied sardonically.

He winked at her and corrected their direction, jabbing the oar into the green water.

"I thought you said this was going to be dangerous. Seems pretty tame to me," Deanna teased.

Will looked at her without levity. "There's a submerged reef about 50 meters out from the cove. If we don't catch the tide just right, it'll rip the hull apart. We wouldn't last more than a few minutes in the water before hypothermia took us. Unless we drowned first."

Deanna's black eyes widened. "Don't play games with me, Will. You're scaring me."

"I told you it was dangerous. You came anyway."

Her lashes fluttered. "I trust you to keep me safe."

He grinned at her, his teeth brilliantly white in contrast to his tanned skin. "I will, Imzadi. I promise."

The hotel restaurant was surrounded by glazed windows that let onto a veranda above the slope of the beach. It was early for vacationers that enjoyed sleeping in, but late for two officers who maintained an air of dignity and poise, even out of uniform and dressed for the beach.

Jean-Luc took the jam Beverly proffered. "Thank you. It's an exciting time for us, an unprecedented time. Fifty years ago, who would've imagined that a Klingon would serve aboard a Federation starship? Or that we would be free of warmongering and able to explore, simply explore, and give disparate people a chance to come together, like this next diplomatic mission." The captain paused. "I'm not boring you, am I?"

Beverly's blue eyes were dark with warmth. "I have a 15-year-old that likes to talk about warp theory, Jean-Luc. You're fine."

"How is Wesley?"

"He's good, he's surfing. I hope that shakes him out of the little funk he was in this morning."

"A funk? Why?"

Beverly leaned forward conspiratorially. "Did I mention he's 15?" She sat back and took a sip of coffee. "Adolescence is a morass all its own. I know what I suffered when I was his age – the awkwardness, the need to disconnect from childish games, new feelings, new dreams – but I can't know if it's the same for boys. They mature differently. One minute, he's demanding to be treated like a grown-up, the next, he's asking for extra helpings of dessert before bedtime."

Jean-Luc shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "A father might have helped, or he might have been a lightning rod for trouble. I was very much at odds with my own father at that age, and with my older brother. I turned to my friends to help me work out my issues."

"Hmmm." Beverly was not keen to follow up the thread. She knew Jean-Luc felt responsible for depriving Wesley of his father – he'd said as much. But it was ten years ago. How long would he continue to think of her as the sainted widow of his best friend?

They sat in an easy silence, nibbling their croissants, watching the vacationers stake their claims on the pink sand.

Jean-Luc brushed away invisible crumbs from his bare legs. "This is quite nice, Beverly. I've always felt . . . comfortable talking to you."

"As do I."

"We should do this more often on the ship. Have breakfast together. When our schedules permit."

Beverly smiled at him, holding his grey eyes with a long look. "I'd like that."

Geordi and Data walked side by side, away from the main strip that was slowly filling up with blankets and umbrellas and vacationing families. "It's beautiful here, but I miss the ship already – isn't that funny? It's only been a couple of days," Geordi said.

"Perhaps it is the familiarity of routine that you miss."

"No, it's her. I find myself wondering if she's okay, thinking about who's manning the helm, if he's treating her right . . ."

"Indeed," Data said with a raised eyebrow.

"I know it sounds crazy, but I do. It's how I know I'm in the right place – there's nowhere else I'd rather be than posted to the Enterprise."

They walked on, listening to the surging waves and the cries of seabirds. "What about you, Data? Do you think you'll always be in Starfleet?"

The android considered. "'Always' has the potential to be a very long time for me. I do not know what the future holds, but Starfleet has the advantage of providing an infinite variety of experiences."

"What if you went smaller? An infinite variety could get too big, too empty after a while. Do you ever think about making a home in some corner of a world somewhere, and staying put?"

Geordi thought his friend looked wistful. "I have. I do – it is a future I hope to attain someday, with a companion."

"Someone like you – another android?"

"Alas, there are no other androids like me. If I knew more about my own origins, I could endeavor to create another being like me, but any such android would be new to the world, an infant. I would hope to have a companion who is a partner – an equal."

Geordi laid an arm over Data's shoulder. "I don't think you'll find your equal anywhere in the universe, my friend."

"Hold on, Deanna!" Will paddled furiously as they neared the cove.

Her knuckles turned white from gripping the seat. "Are we going to make it?"

"I think we'll just – listen, grab that oar and help me paddle. We need to catch this next swell."

Deanna released her grip and bent down to retrieve the oar below, when she was suddenly hit flat in the back by a wave. She held her breath instinctively and fought to open her eyes, a wall of green-blue silence suddenly engulfing her. The silence was terrifying, as was the fear she could sense pouring off Will. In another instant, her life vest shot her to the surface and Will was dragging her back into the boat, her legs painfully scraping the sides. She coughed and gasped.

"Just hold on – we're almost there!" Will cried. She lay on the bottom of the boat between his knees as he paddled for all he was worth.

A rush as they rode the crest of a wave, and the boat was ashore, spraying sand from the force of the sliding bow.

Deanna was shaking uncontrollably. Will jumped out and dragged the boat further in, and then lifted her out. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…"

"I could've been killed!" Deanna couldn't stop herself from shaking. She went limp in Will's arms.

"I was never going to let anything happen to you."

A completely unrefined expletive escaped the counselor. She thumped him with her fist. "Why did I listen to you? I could be back at the hotel getting my nails done!"

He laughed rather helplessly at this, still throwing off fear and concern and relief. Deanna bonked him again with her little fist. "I mean it!" She couldn't hold back a giggle that turned Will's laughter into guffaws. "Oh, put me down. Let's explore this blasted cove of yours."

He set her on her feet but quickly crushed her to him in a hug. "Anything you say."

Data and Geordi had walked far from the resort, and the beach was becoming less sandy, more pebbled, the ocean wilder, with black rocks jutting out of the surf and pools of bright sea life in the eddies. It was low tide, and a long sandbar struck a bridge through the ocean. They could both see a lone runner at the outmost tip.

"I think that's Tasha," Geordi hazarded.

"Affirmative."

The navigator looked back in the direction of the resort. "I skipped breakfast, and I'm starting to regret it. Mind if I head back?"

Data gave him a look of gratitude. "Not at all."

Geordi walked away with a wave, as Data stooped and rolled the cuffs of his trousers above his white-gold ankles. He headed out for the sandbar, his footprints perfectly outlined in the wet sand.

Ahead, Tasha slowed to a walk. She had gone out as far as she could without swimming, and she couldn't very well pretend not to see him. He'd trapped her, and there was nothing she could do but slow her approach.

He didn't hurry either. They came inexorably closer, the ocean now and then throwing swells over the long strip of sand. As they drew nearer, Data could see that she was wearing old clothes: a battered tee over an athletic singlet. Her hair was held back with a band, and she had no makeup on.

They got close enough to hear each other. "I came out here to be alone," Tasha began, shouting over the boom of the surf.

Data didn't answer. There was nothing he could say that would be suitable, and he was not disposed to placate her by turning away in defeat.

They got close enough to speak, and for Tasha to see his wind-ruffled hair, the glint of his metallic skin in the sun, and his toes buried in the sand, and to feel drawn to him.

He turned when he overtook her and walked beside her, back to shore. "Are you still upset?"

"Yes," she snapped.

"It would help me if you would tell me why." He took in the stubborn jut of her jaw. "If you are interested in helping me understand."

The waves erased their wet footprints as they walked. Tasha looked straight down at the ground. "I owe Starfleet my life, you know."

He waited for her to go on, watching her with a neutral expression.

"My life – my soul, even. They saved me from a fate worse than death. It's the least I can do, to dedicate my life to serving the people who saved me." She pulled off her headband and twirled it in her hands, her blond bangs blowing across her forehead. "I was Wesley's age when I made the trip that changed me forever. But I wasn't like him – I wasn't curious about the ship or eager to show off how quickly I could learn and become a part of the team. I was living day by day. I was trying to stop screaming in my sleep every night. I was trapped in my own head, the most selfish person you could ever see. And the counselor on board said that I needed to be – I needed to be selfish, and take control of my own recovery, or I'd never make it.

"So I did. I healed, little by little, until I could look outside of myself and realize I have something to give back. The time for selfishness is over.

"And soon enough, I found plenty of opportunities to risk my life to save others who needed my help. And every time, the thought was there to spur me on, no matter what the danger, that I am alive because other people risked their lives to save me. They didn't know me. They could've stayed in orbit and flown away and left me to my fate. Instead, they came down and took in anyone willing to flee, because it was their duty."

She slowed and stopped, facing him. "And what you told me this morning represents a threat to that duty. Can I blame a few drinks and say I've never thought about what it would be like to run away with you? Data, can't you see how tempted I am? I could make things official with you; hell, I could marry you, and then what? What if one of us gets promoted and assigned to another ship? Do we turn it down, and resent the other person for hindering our career? What if I'm forced to choose between what's best for the ship and what's best for us? What if, god forbid, the captain should send one of us on a mission that means certain death – you know it's possible, you've taken all the same sim-tests I have – and I hesitate in that crucial moment, for fear of losing you? What if the temptation to shirk my duty out of love for you is too great?"

Data took Tasha's hands. She was obviously still upset, but anger was no longer the foremost emotion in her tear-filled eyes. "Tasha, many people are able to reconcile a personal relationship with the demands of a Starfleet career."

"But I'm not most people!" She tore her hands away. "I try to be strong, I want to be strong, but what if I'm tested and I fail? How many people might suffer because of my weakness?"

The water level was rising, covering the tops of their feet. "There are some mysteries we cannot solve until the situation is upon us," Data said softly.

"No – not good enough!" Tasha stomped off towards shore again, splashing in the rising tide. "I won't have it – I won't let myself give in to temptation. I won't lose control. We should go back to being friends – just friends. It's safer. Less complicated. It's for the best."

Data was right behind her. "I do not believe that would make you happy." He touched her arm.

She threw him off again. "I'm not happy now!"

In a few strides, he positioned himself in front of her and she blundered straight into him, blinded by tears. She put up her hands to push him away, but instead broke down, her head bowing to fall against his chest. He enfolded her in his arms and held her as she cried, violent sobs that shook her whole body.

When the emotional storm finally passed, she made no move to run away, but stayed leaning her full weight against him, wiping her eyes dry on his shirt.

"Tasha, I think you feel compelled to test me, test our relationship, to see if it can withstand the full brunt of your imagined faults. Then you push me away, sometimes literally as well as figuratively, as if to see whether or not I will come back to you again.

"But, Tasha . . ." She turned her tear-stained face up to his, her breath catching in her throat in shuddering after-sobs. Data went on in his gentle voice. "The only method to test the yield strength of any given thing is to actually break it. It is the only way to prove how much pressure is too much." He brushed her hair from her eyes, where the salt spray was clumping together the fine blond wisps. "I will not let you break the bond between us. It is too precious. You must make a leap of faith, and trust that what we have is real, and good for the both of us."

She said his name brokenly and pulled him to her in a savage kiss, raking her hands through his hair and opening his lips with hers. She kissed him as if she wanted to devour him, and felt him respond in passionate kind, belying what he claimed he could not feel. The kiss went on and on until a swell sucked at Tasha's legs and made her stagger.

"My god, we're underwater."

The tide had turned, and the water was sloshing against their ankles. "Come on!" She grabbed Data's hand and started running to shore. "Unless you're ready to find out if you can swim!"

A/N: If you don't feel the need to review after this behemoth of a chapter that contains the core of the story and several drops of my blood, well, I don't know what to say. You have no heart! So, click the obnoxious blue Review button, for Pete's sake! And I'm going to try to calm down!