By planning her days down to the minute, Tasha could divine a way to surmount the last hurdles facing her. She sat with Bobby in the guest lounge as the starship warped out of the solar system.

"Listen, I can't hang out until after finals next week. I don't have a millisecond to spare. So don't ask, and don't take it personally."

"All right." He put on an exaggerated pout. "I'll miss you."

"You'll live."

"Seriously, thanks for telling me ahead of time, instead of telling me to piss off later."

"You're welcome." She half-smiled. "See, I can be nice."

"I never doubted it for a second."

Tasha threw each item of gear into the metal locker as hard as she could, hearing a satisfying crash as they clanged off the surface: first, her shoes, then her pads, and lastly, her ion mallet.

"Hey." Peg sat down on the bench beside her. "You'll ruin the calibration."

Tasha was wriggling out of her uniform. She balled it up and threw it into the locker with all the force she could muster, but it didn't make a sound. "Don't care."

"Hey…" Peg put an arm around one sweaty shoulder. "We can't win 'em all."

"It was the last game. I wanted to end the season right."

"We're all too tired to play our best. Limping into the finish line, as it were." Peg squeezed her and bent to unfasten her shoes. "Just wait until the postseason. We'll be unstoppable."

Tasha pulled out a towel. "Right now, all I feel is guilt. Guilty for losing. Guilty for being here instead of back on campus finishing my papers. Guilty for wanting to explode. Guilt, guilt, guilt." She slammed the locker shut with her foot.

"You've got to relax. There's no reason to compound stress by stressing out about being stressed out."

Tasha gave a short laugh and got up. "Well, when you put it that way…." She headed off to the showers.

Back on campus the next week, Tasha emerged from the simulation center, high on elation. Her feet barely touched the ground. Across the quad, she spotted a tall, dark cadet.

"Worf!" She took off running, welcoming the excuse to burn off some of her pent-up energy.

He waited for her as she hurtled toward him, almost as if she planned to run straight into him. When he realized that was indeed her intention, he neatly sidestepped her.

She laughed breathlessly and wheeled around. "Ha! I wanted to tackle you. I'm done, I'm done!"

"You've completed your final exams?"

"Yes. Yes!" Her head dropped out of sight as she turned a cartwheel.

The corner of Worf's mouth quirked. "I envy you. I still have one exam on the last day."

"Aw, too bad. Can't believe I survived. Even Fujihito's killer final." In a blink, she'd grabbed Worf's arms and was trying to force him down. Two quick countermoves, and she was on her back in the grass, giggling. "Uncle! Uncle!"

He released her, but she didn't rise. She put her hands behind her head and closed her eyes.

"You will stain your uniform, Cadet Yar."

"Who cares?" No inspections 'til next year." She opened one eye a crack. "Did I just channel Nikolai?"

Worf squatted down, frowning. Tasha propped herself up on her elbows. "Sorry… I shouldn't joke about it. How's he doing?"

Worf shook his head. "I've seen very little of my brother this week. He has spent most of his time at the study center."

"Better late than never."

"Perhaps. Have you received your scores yet?"

"Some of them. I passed quantum math – that's the one I was really sweating. You?"

"High marks in all my classes so far."

"Congratulations." Tasha sat up as a thought struck her. "You know, I dealt with a lot of pressure this week, but I made it through. No panic attacks. No nervous breakdown." She looked up at Worf. "I couldn't have said that a year ago. It's kind of a big deal."

"Congratulations."

"No, I'm serious."

"So am I. You should be proud." He took her forearm in his hand and squeezed hard. "I'm proud of you."

She tried to hold back her bashful smile. "Thanks, Worf. That means a lot to me."

Tasha was walking through the quad aimlessly, a bit dazed, feeling like a balloon floating up to the sky, its string trailing behind. It had been so long since she'd had a moment to think about anything but schoolwork, she wasn't sure what to do with herself.

She tapped her combadge. "Yar to Roberts."

"Well... hello, stranger."

"Where are you?"

"In my room. Why? Are you done?"

"Affirmative, cadet. Can I come over?"

"Yes, yes, a thousand times yes."

Tasha giggled. "Yar out."

The cloudy sky and the mist hugging the trees might as well have been bright sunshine, for the lightheartedness she felt. She wanted to skip or turn more cartwheels. She did neither, but jounced along swinging her arms, reveling in the feeling of freedom.

When she reached Feynman Hall, Bobby kept his distance. The lobby was filled with students hauling bags and saying goodbye. He waited until they were in his dorm room with the door locked and a sock tied around the handle outside before planting a kiss on her lips.

"Are you done?" Tasha asked.

"I have a paper due tomorrow, a comparative study of Terran lichen and Andorian sporealgae for introducing microbial fauna to a biosphere."

"Ah."

"Scintillating, I know. It's done – I'm just going to give it one last read-through before I turn it in. What about you? Did you get your scores yet?"

"Most of them. I came out okay."

"Get outta here. You're probably at the top of the standings."

"They're not posted yet – how do you know?"

"You're too competitive not to be." He ran a hand over the shaved hair at the back of her head. "You still mad about the last game?"

"No. Seems like that was ages ago."

"You're telling me." He grazed her earlobe with his fingers and wrapped his free arm around her waist, pulling her flush to him.

She felt the warm, familiar sensation rise up in her belly, and the chemical energy he drew out of her sparked and fizzed. "When do you go home?"

"That depends." His fingers were traveling over her jaw now.

"On what?"

"On whether or not I can convince you to spend the day with me tomorrow."

He was tracing her lips. She bit the end of his forefinger playfully. "Maybe."

He let her go. "Another ringing vote of confidence from cadet third class Natasha Yar."

"What do you want me to say?"

"How 'bout yes?" He took her chin in hand and moved it up and down like a puppet. "Yesh, Bobby, I'd love to shpend the day in carnal congress with you."

"Stop." She pushed his hand away.

He took a step back. "Or I could turn in my paper and go home tonight. Whatever. At least my mom'll be happy to see me."

Pressure. Pressure of a different type, a push to breach her defenses, to uncover what lay beneath the silence. It was unlike the pressure from her schoolwork, but no less oppressive. Still, she felt too free to let it bother her overmuch. "No, don't leave tonight."

"Then you'll spend the day with me? I was just kidding – we can do stuff. Go into town, see a holo-vid…"

"Oh, I don't know." She took his upper arms in her hands. Like everyone on the team, he was a model of physical fitness at this point. He was lanky, but his arms felt good and hard to the touch. "Your first idea wasn't so bad."

"Not so bad, huh?" He swept his hands down her arms and pinned her wrists behind her back. "We'll see who's bad."

Casually, almost negligently, Tasha flicked her wrist and twisted his arm, bringing him down to his knees. He waved the other in surrender. "Okay, okay, okay, stop!"

She let him go and he gave her a rueful smile. "I wish you'd come home with me. My brothers would have a field day trying to ambush you."

"No can do. Already signed up for a winter internship on the Drake. Besides…" She joined him on the floor, pushing him down on his back. "They train us to handle multiple attackers."

He put his arms around her and drew her down, wedging his legs between hers. "Wish you would."

"What would you tell your parents?"

"The truth – that you're a friend." He rolled them over and half-rose to his knees, balancing her weight in his arms. "You'd love it; we have horses, a huge garden, an orchard, it might snow…"

"Sounds lovely. But I can't."

"Just for Christmas." He kissed one eye closed, the apple of her cheek.

"I can't. I'm sorry."

"Me too." He held her tightly and kissed her mouth, a consolation. He'd seen enough of her mercurial mood swings to know when to back off. It wasn't often that she seemed happy. Focused, serious, guarded, yes. Often. Carefree – almost never. He wanted to preserve her mood, maybe even lighten it further, and set about doing so using the simplest, most basic of methods.

"It's dark out."

"Mmmmm." Half asleep, the breathy voice in his ear was as jarring as an alarm.

"Hey, get up. I'm hungry."

A groan as the dream state faded and several sensations converged on the muzzy, sandy-haired head. "I think we overdid it." He realized his arm was asleep, Tasha's head firmly on his shoulder. He pulled it out from under her, wincing as pins and needles shot down the length.

She jabbed a thumb into his ribs. "Up, Roberts. Food."

"Ugh."

"C'mon. We have to get out of this bed."

Bobby stretched and massaged his arm. "But it's such a good little bed."

Tasha tried to untangle herself from the sheets. He watched her long, pale legs kick and scissor. She turned and crawled over him on hands and knees.

"There's a full moon out tonight," he quipped.

She resisted the urge to pinch him and got her feet to the floor. "I want a shower."

"Thought you wanted food."

"Shower, then food."

He pushed the blanket down with one foot. "Shower, huh?"

"Don't get any ideas. Enough is enough. You just said we overdid it."

"There's a perk to having my own private shower. And maybe I'm getting my second wind. Make that third wind. Or is it fourth wind?" He got out of bed, too slowly – Tasha had already ducked into the head and locked the door.

Spending the day with Bobby was not the tiresome exercise Tasha had feared. In a group, he often clowned and vied for the spotlight; with just the two of them, he was content to be quiet. She hoped it was because he felt at ease, and not because they had nothing to say to each other.

Deep down, she knew that they had little in common. Like most humans, Bobby had lived a life free from want, free from trouble, with a family that loved him. If she had any desire to open up to him, where would she start? They had no common ground, save for the love of a popular sport and membership in Starfleet. And an irresistible attraction that was largely physical. She wasn't sure if that was enough for the basis of a relationship – she had no frame of reference.

They had decided to be tourists for a day. For all the years they'd both lived in the bay area, neither one had taken advantage of the sights people traveled from all over to see. First on the list was a ferry ride to the ancient ruins of Alcatraz. Then renting hoverbikes and zooming up mountain trails to Muir Woods to see trees older and taller than all the towers in the city. He took her hand as they walked through the cool, spicy forest, and she let him. Her reticence felt unnecessary in such a sheltered place.

It was dinnertime when they got back to the ferry building. They ate soup in a sourdough bread bowl and watched people pass by.

"I think we can call this our first official date," Bobby remarked.

"You can."

"So stubborn."

They ate without talking, then, "I wish I could add just a few hours to this day."

Tasha smiled. "I think there are still open seats in Temporal Mechanics next semester."

"You know what would make it perfect?"

"I don't know – it's been a pretty great day."

He locked on to her clear blue eyes. "Tell me something."

"What?"

"Something about yourself. Something I don't know."

She let out a sigh and dug out a soggy hunk of bread with her spoon.

"Why not, Tasha? Don't you trust me?"

Her voice was soft. "Bobby, please don't spoil this."

His green eyes turned serious. "Forget I said anything."

But neither of them could forget, and the mood was perceptibly darkened. The ride back home on the high-speed train was marred by Bobby's attempts to recapture their earlier vibe with silly antics, when even he could feel that he was trying too hard.

In the courtyard of Feynman Hall, Tasha made a conscious effort to let go. She didn't blame him for trying. She knew it wasn't his intention to pry. "Do you want me to come up?"

"Only if you want to."

"I do." She took his hand. "Listen, I'm sorry… I'm sorry I can't give you more. Not to be clichéd, but it's not you. It's me."

He brought her hand up and kissed her knuckles. "I'll take what you can give."