Author's Note: Happy holidays Trek fam! I sincerely cannae begin to thank you enough for all your support on this series. You all are simply the most wonderful readers.
From the bottom of my heart, thank you. 3
I must apologise – I promised a holiday daily drop and then life and a wretched migraine got in the way. So, there will be a number of drops this week (along with some updates to And Then There Was Fun and The Classified Incident). Enjoy and thank you for your patience!
As always, if you like to chat about writing or the fandom join me on Trek Twitter TheTartanTart.
It was hours before sunup when the storm finally abated.
Data had been carefully monitoring the situation and waiting for the rain to stop.
"Tasha?" he said quietly.
He didn't want to wake the children quite yet.
"Tasha?" he repeated slightly louder.
She stirred, adjusting her back for the first time in hours and realising just how sore she would be from sitting against the rocks.
"Hmmm?" she replied in a hazy voice.
"I believe the storm has passed," Data informed her.
Tasha breathed a sigh of relief.
"Thank goodness," she said. "Not a moment too soon."
Carefully, she lifted Georgie's head off her leg and tried to wiggle her foot.
"I can't feel my leg," she explained. "Or my arse for that matter."
She hissed as the blood began to return to her limb accompanied by the unwelcome tingling sensation.
Data was alarmed.
"Are you alright?" he asked in an urgent whisper.
Tasha chuckled.
"It just fell asleep," Tasha clarified.
She grimaced as she rubbed her leg, trying to suppress the icky, stinging as the blood hit her toes.
"Accessing," Data whispered as he tapped into his research on human idioms.
Data scowled as he grasped the meaning of the phrase. Tasha had sounded completely relaxed about the situation, as if it were nothing more than a minor inconvenience. However, the more Data learned about Obdormition and Paraesthesia, the more disturbed he was by the concept.
The thought of losing feeling in a limb without noticing followed by subsequent pain was a disconcerting thought. For Data, the closest thing he could compare it to was when one his limbs was detached – although he did not experience pain in such instances.
"I suppose, we might as well get them up and get moving," Tasha suggested.
Data gently shook Henry and Bertie.
"It is time to wake up," he said.
"It's still dark," Henry protested as he wiped the sleep from his eyes.
The boys grumbled and growled about having to get up.
"It's cold," Lucy said as she sat up and looked around.
Frankie shivered and pulled her jacket tight around herself.
"It's going to be alright," Tasha said.
Tasha tried to rouse wee Georgie, but he was having none of it. There was no way she could carry him back to the village.
Well, theoretically she could. But it wasn't really necessary to strain herself like that if he could walk.
"That's it. Stay together," Tasha said as they walked back toward the edge of the cave.
"Why do we have to hold hands?" Henry complained.
Although the storm was over, Data and Tasha were still worried about them wandering off. Instead of tying everyone together, they'd agreed to a compromise of holding hands. Tasha led the pack.
Data took up the rear with George riding on his back.
Though his acting skills left a lot to be desired.
It seemed that George's efforts to pretend to sleep didn't extend to not being able to grasp things. George had scrambled onto Data's back before he stood up and then pretended to fall asleep, clutching tightly at Data's shoulders and giving a large, melodramatic yawn in an effort to really sell it.
"Are you alright back there, Georgie?" Data asked.
"Uh huh," George responded.
"Oh, you are awake now then?" Data pressed.
There was a brief pause followed by the sound of loud, theatrical snoring.
Tasha glanced back over her shoulder at Data, and they shared a grin.
The ground was completely saturated. As they walked along, the line formed a chorus of squishy boots. Tasha had to remind herself that there was a fire and warm socks waiting back at the farm – although her poor feet would likely be blistered by then.
"Are we going to be in trouble?" Lucy asked as she looked back at Data.
Data was reluctant to answer. He surmised that their parents would likely just be happy to have them back safely. However, he didn't want to presume.
"Truthfully, I do not know," Data answered. "That is up to your parents."
"Da's gonna have me behind," George whispered. "A real dog's dinner."
Data frowned.
Surely, Data had misunderstood.
He certainly hoped he had misunderstood.
"Your father intends to serve you as a meal for a canine?" Data inquired.
"What's a canine?" George asked.
"A dog," Data explained.
"Oh," George replied. "What about a dog?"
Data smirked.
"He means we're going to be in for it," Bertie clarified.
"In for what?" Data questioned.
Bertie stopped. He turned and gave Data a funny look as he scratched his head.
"Didn't you ever get in trouble as a child?" Bertie asked.
"I was never a child," Data answered.
Internally, Data felt responsible for any trouble the children might be in for. He had planted the idea in Henry's mind to go to the cave and Data didn't want to see them punished for it.
"This is your fault," Lucy said to Henry.
"You wanted to come," Henry retorted.
"This is all your fault, Henry," Bertie said.
Henry shoved Bertie and both boys slipped in the wet muck.
"Now look what you've done!" Henry complained as he took stock of his now muddy clothing.
Laundry was a big to-do. Without the use of modern garment reprocessors, everything had to be done by hand. It was typically an all-day affair of washing, scrubbing, beating, and ringing to get clean clothes.
Tasha was all too familiar with the problem – washing clothes on Turkana had been a nightmare.
"If I'm going to be in for it with my old man, you are too," Henry shouted as he lunged at Bertie.
Henry collided with Bertie, and they wrestled in the mud for a while, flinging it at one another without regard for who or what they struck. The two boys rolled into Lucy, pushing her over and causing her to fall.
Bertie dodged Henry at the last second and he tackled Rupert instead.
"Oi! Leave him alone!" Frankie shouted before flinging a fistful of mud at the feuding boys.
"Alright, everybody take a step back and-"
Splat.
A wad of cold, wet mud impacted Data's face.
Everyone stopped.
Data wiped the mud from his eyes.
"Please do not do that again," Data said in a polite, but firm voice.
Henry and Bertie let go of one another.
Frankie dropped a fistful of mud.
Lucy handed Rupert his glasses.
"You guys are gonna get it now," Georgie said over Data's shoulder.
Tasha wasn't sure who started crying first, but it was evident the emotional toll of having been stranded and cold and wet had finally reached the boiling point. The tears were falling freely now. And if one crying child weren't enough – it seemed everyone was feeling equally as yucky about the situation.
"No one is getting anything except for maybe a nice cuppa and a bath," Tasha said.
She was using her security voice – one that she'd mastered after years of diffusing tense situations. As luck would have it, it seemed to work just as well with unruly children as it did with drunk Starfleet officers.
It was nearly 03:00 hours. Tasha had a feeling that the storm had meant search efforts had been called off. However, with the storm passing, it was highly likely that a search would resume shortly.
They wouldn't have much time.
The kettle was on.
The coal stove was kicking out a welcome relief of heat.
And the water was warm.
"Why do they get to be in the kitchen?" George asked.
"Because I am capable of carrying water faster," Data said.
The four boys were squished into a variety of tubs and a barrel that Data had found in the barn. Lacking replicators, Tasha had rummaged through their luggage to try and find something to dress the kids until they could see to their laundry.
"But it's colder in here," Bertie complained.
"If you hadn't started a fight, we wouldn't have to be in here in the first place," Henry grumbled.
"And if you hadn't led us to the cave, then we never would have gotten lost," Bertie argued.
"Will the two of you belt up already?" Rupert said.
Henry and Bertie stopped.
It was unusual for Rupert to stick up for himself like that.
In part, Rupert was expecting to get a fist to the face or a splash of water. He braced himself, took a deep breath, and continued on.
"We all chose to go," Rupert explained. "So we all need to accept the consequences."
Rupert put his glasses back on and slid them up the bridge of his nose.
"And hope we don't get sick," Rupert added.
"Whatever you say, mother," Henry said as he rolled his eyes.
"If you hadn't pushed Lucy, this never would have gotten out of hand," Rupert replied, feeling a bravery he hadn't felt before.
But there was something about being in the presence of Data that made Rupert feel confident enough to voice his own opinion. He was so used to being unheard and overlooked – his intelligence often lost on the other children in the classroom – that he preferred solitude.
Yet, here was an android that shared his gentle, inquisitive nature and was the strongest, fastest, greatest person they had ever met.
Rupert just hoped that someday he would be that great too.
"You're just lucky your little boyfriend was there to stick up for you or-" Bertie began to say.
"She's not my boyfriend," Rupert hissed.
Data's eyebrows shot up as he felt he now had a grasp on the situation.
For a moment, he was temporarily enthralled observing the children interacting with one another. Having never experienced childhood, it was fascinating to see the social hierarchy he'd read of play out in front of his very eyes.
"Well, she acts like a boy," Bertie contended as he emerged from the water and shook his head, sending droplets of water flying all over the room.
"Why?" Data inquired.
Bertie's face scrunched up and he looked at Data as if he'd said something funny.
"She wears trousers," Bertie replied.
"So?" Rupert pressed.
Bertie looked at a loss for an answer.
"And she plays hockey," Bertie went on.
"You're just jealous because she's better than you," Rupert retorted.
Bertie scoffed and looked over to Henry for support. To his dismay, Henry shrugged.
"He's got a point," Henry said.
Data's curiosity was in overdrive. Antiquated gender stereotypes were such a foreign concept to Data – not just because of his android nature but also due to his own lack of personal experience in the matter. During the Academy, most of his colleagues were Vulcans, Betazeds, and Andorians – individuals with rather different gender experiences than his human classmates.
Aside from literature, Data had rarely seen such ancient stereotypes play out in his own life. It wasn't until he began going on missions as a member of Starfleet that he began to understand how these stereotypes and gendered roles played out in various cultures.
And as he interacted more with humans, he began to realise just how heavily human culture had been impacted by such ancient notions about gender.
"Forgive me," Data said, realising he should have stepped in sooner. "Such one-dimensional generalisations are rare to see in Starfleet."
"She's not a general," George said absentmindedly as he played in the water.
The three older boys and Data glanced at George briefly – who was completely lost in his own world - before turning back to their conversation.
"Da says that's what's wrong with the world," Bertie huffed. "People like you."
"Do you believe that?" Data asked Bertie honestly.
Bertie blinked.
"No," he replied, shaking his head in earnest. "You're alright. Tasha too."
"Tasha wears trousers," Data said, attempting to get Bertie to understand.
"Sometimes da wears a dress," George said.
"No he doesn't, Georgie. You don't know what you're saying," Bertie snapped.
George frowned.
"I've seen him," George argued.
The two brothers began to argue. George was adamant that he had seen his father wearing a dress on numerous occasions when he thought no one else knew. Bertie insisted his brother was making up the story.
Bertie's face was bright red with embarrassment. He crossed his arms and hid his face, bemoaning that everyone was going to make fun of them now because of George's revelation.
"Well now you all know," Bertie sniffled. "So have a great big laugh."
But no one laughed.
"It is quite alright," Data assured him. "There is no need to be embarrassed."
Bertie snivelled, wiping away his tears with the back of his fist.
"Who cares," Henry shrugged, nonchalant to a fault. "If your da feels comfortable in all that frilly stuff, let him."
"We aren't going to laugh at you or your father," Rupert explained.
Bertie looked up over the brim of his barrel hesitantly. Children could be cruel. Hell, he'd been cruel enough to Rupert for years.
"You're not?" Bertie asked.
"People are more than their clothes, you know," Rupert said.
"Your friend Rupert is wise beyond his years," Data said, stepping in.
He could empathise with the child. Although having never experienced youth in the same manner as humans, Data had shared his own awkward phase during his years at Starfleet Academy. He had always been the smartest one in the room, the target of the joke, and the one left out of social gatherings.
From what he had observed in the last few days, it seemed young Rupert was also a bit of a loner when it came to being left out of the circle by the other children.
"Sometimes I get flies behind my ears too," George said, completely oblivious to Data's comment as he scrubbed his own ears with a flannel. "That's why mummy's always making me do 'em twice."
Data cocked his head to the side.
He did not want to insult the boy or discourage him.
But the degree to which this child misunderstood information was amusing. Data was grateful that he had better control over his facial muscles than most lest he make the wee boy feel bad.
"So you're really going to have our clothes all washed and dried?" Henry asked.
"That is correct," Data told him.
In fact, it was Data's next step. While the process of scrubbing, beating, and ringing out clothing was a full day's work for most Victorians, Data's android speed and strength meant that he could complete the task in a fraction of the time.
He'd get the clothing taken care of and then head into town to inform the search party that the children were safe and sound.
"I'm hungry," Henry said all of a sudden. "When do we get that cuppa?"
Data couldn't help but find this notion entertaining. Only a few hours earlier, they had managed to convince the children to follow them out of the cave passage by bribing them with food. Once again, food had been the element needed to ensure compliance.
Data had read enough of parenting theory to understand that most humanoids did not believe bribing children with food or other rewards was a successful long-term tactic.
But technically these weren't his children.
And Data knew they had been through quite an ordeal.
In the next room over Tasha was doing her best to manage to do something that had her feeling entirely out of her element.
She'd really put her foot in her mouth and wasn't sure how to backpedal out of it.
"But it's a dress!" Frankie protested.
"It's not a dress, it's a shirt," Tasha assured her.
"But you said it looked like a dress!" Frankie argued.
She put her hands on her hips and Tasha could see just how distressed the young girl was at the prospect of being forced to wear a dress. Her voice was angry, but her lip was beginning to quiver.
"Frankie, I know this is hard for you," Tasha said as she took hold of Frankie's hands. "But it's just until your clothes are dry."
With no way to replicate new clothing for the children, Tasha had rummaged through their luggage – finding shirts long enough to give them something to wear while their clothes dried near the fire. Tasha understood exactly what it felt like to be forced to wear something that made one feel uncomfortable and vulnerable.
"You know the boys are wearing the same thing too," Tasha said as she rolled up the sleeves.
Lucy looked scandalised.
"But you said it was a dress," Lucy sniffled. "You told me I looked pretty."
Tasha cringed inside.
She had told Lucy that. Lucy had been sceptical about wearing a button-up men's shirt. Tasha had snagged some ribbon from one of her own costumes and fashioned a makeshift belt.
Tasha had frozen when Lucy had asked her to fix her hair 'like mummy does.'
She had absolutely no clue where to begin.
Lucy had been less than satisfied with Tasha's attempt to braid her hair. But Tasha clipped some leftover ribbon and tied it around the end of the braid.
"You're not very good at this," Lucy had said honestly.
"No, I'm sorry," Tasha had replied.
"I feel like an ugly duckling," Lucy had lamented upon seeing herself in the mirror.
Tasha had spun her around.
"You look so very pretty that even my haphazard attempt at your hair can't hide it," Tasha had assured her, hoping to instil some confidence in the girl.
Tasha had done her best to sell the idea to Lucy – ensuring her that the shirt looked just like a dress and that she shouldn't feel embarrassed to wear it for a short time.
And now she'd made the mistake of offering a complete one-eighty with Frankie.
"But you told Lucy it looked like a dress!" Frankie cried.
The two girls – despite being polar opposites – were united in their concern.
"It can't be both," Frankie insisted.
Tasha had backed herself into a corner and knew it was going to take a miracle of creativity and try to soothe the situation.
Tasha bit her lip, not quite sure what to say.
"But they are," Tasha said suddenly.
Frankie and Lucy scowled at her.
Tasha snagged her waistcoat off the hook by the door and threw it on Frankie, making quick work of the buttons.
"See? And you wear it differently," Tasha said, doing her best to channel her inner Deanna. "It's all about how you make it your own."
The two girls weren't buying it.
"You don't need clothes or ribbons to be beautiful," Tasha said to Lucy as she took hold of her hand.
She turned to Frankie.
"And you don't need clothes or boots to be powerful," Tasha assured her as she took hold of Frankie's hand. "You both already are."
She let go of their hands and tickled them, earning a smile and giggle from both girls.
Next, she threw her Ivy cap on Frankie. It was a wee bit big for the girl, but she welcomed it. Frankie set to work tucking her ginger hair up under the cap.
Suddenly, Frankie's eyes went wide with excitement.
"Seeing as how you're lousy at braiding anyways, can you cut my hair instead?" Frankie asked. "I want to look like you."
"I don't think your mother would appreciate that," Tasha replied quickly.
Frankie's shoulders slumped as she sat down at the table.
Tasha decided it would be best to change the topic of conversation.
"Can you girls help me set the table?" Tasha asked.
The two girls set to work laying out plates and spoons, saucers, and teacups. Tasha turned back to the range where she'd been heating up the leftover stew. She threw the pie into the oven and surmised it would be done by the time they were finished eating.
They worked in silence and Tasha was grateful for a short reprieve from the endless questions.
"What was it like?" Lucy asked
"What was it like?" Tasha asked as she stirred the contents of the pot.
"Oh, not you," Lucy said. "Well, I suppose you could answer what it was like."
Tasha stopped stirring and returned the lid to the pot. She picked up a large, copper serving bowl from the shelf and carried it back over to the range to dish up their meal.
"I want to know what it's like to be kissed," Lucy explained.
Tasha dropped the bowl. It fell with a loud clang that shook the whole house.
Data poked his head in from the next room to ask if everything was alright.
"We're fine," Tasha squeaked. "Just a few more minutes."
She put her hand up and wordlessly conveyed that now was not a good time.
Four heads poked round the corner as the boys sniffed at the air, curious as to what they were going to eat.
Data nodded in understanding and pulled the kids back into the living room.
Once the door was shut, Tasha picked up the bowl and steadied her nerves.
"I'm not really sure that's a question I should answer," Tasha replied. "I think it may be better to ask your mummy."
She was dreading these questions. They were far beyond the kind of thing she was prepared to start answering for these kids. Tasha had already raised one child through puberty – her younger sister, Ishara.
And there had been plenty of other orphaned, abandoned, and runaway children that had crossed paths with the unusually responsible Tasha Yar.
But it had been so different on Turkana. While some things about human development were the same everywhere, cultural expectations and traditions were so different world to world, colony to colony, and even among different families.
Tasha knew it wasn't her place to start lecturing these girls on relationships. The last thing she wanted to do was step on toes.
The Prime Directive. Tasha mused to herself.
"What was it like, Frankie?" Lucy asked.
Frankie shrugged, feigning ignorance.
"Don't know," Frankie replied. "Never been kissed."
"I saw you and Rupert in the cave," Lucy countered. "You were snogging."
"It was one kiss!" Frankie objected.
Tasha's eyes went wide with surprise. She also bit back a grin. This information certainly put a new spin on Frankie's statement the other day about her mother not wanting her to spend time with Rupert alone.
"Please don't tell anyone," Frankie pleaded, realising she'd been caught.
Tasha set the stew down on the table and waved both girls over.
"Do you really want to know?" Tasha asked. "And you promise you will keep Frankie's secret?"
Lucy nodded eagerly.
Frankie breathed a sigh of relief.
Tasha took a deep breath and tried to find a way to discuss the matter without infringing on anything the two had been taught at home.
"It's lovely," Tasha said. "And it's a very nice way to show someone that you care about them."
Lucy grinned.
Frankie blushed.
"But you should only ever kiss someone when you feel comfortable, and you want to. And you have to make sure they want to as well," Tasha explained. "Not everybody likes to be kissed. Do you understand?"
The girls nodded.
"Can I put the sugar out now?" Frankie asked.
Tasha nodded. Frankie raced off but Lucy looked like she still had a question.
"Everything alright?" Tasha asked.
Lucy looked around to ensure Frankie was on the other side of the room and then wondered aloud if it would be alright to ask Tasha another question.
Tasha nodded and Lucy leaned in close.
"Do you have to kiss boys?" she asked, her eyes wide with fear.
"No," Tasha replied, her voice full of concern. "You shouldn't have to kiss anyone if you don't want to. Do you understand? You can say no. You should say no if you don't want to kiss someone."
Lucy's face fell.
She waited until Frankie was past and then worked up the courage to clarify the meaning behind her question.
"I mean, can you kiss people that aren't boys?" Lucy whispered frantically. "Like girls?"
Lucy looked down at the floor, feeling entirely embarrassed by having asked a practical stranger such a deeply personal question – one that had been burning in the back of her mind for ages and one that she felt she couldn't ask her parents.
"It's just, I don't think I really like boys," Lucy said nervously. "There so germy and gross and stupid."
Lucy made a disgusted face and shuddered.
"I don't want to marry a boy," Lucy confessed. "I don't think I could live with them. Not when they're so awful and girls are so pretty."
Tasha smiled.
"Is there something wrong with me?" Lucy asked, her wee face full of worry.
Tasha was briefly struck with a memory of her own experience at coming to that revelation, the awkwardness of it all, and the strange sense of clarity that had followed.
Tasha wasn't exactly sure what to say.
So, she thought of what she had wished someone would have said to her when she had asked that question years earlier.
"Not at all," Tasha replied warmly.
She pulled Lucy into a hug and assured her there was nothing wrong with her.
"You won't tell anyone, will you?" Lucy whispered.
"No sweetheart," Tasha promised. "You can do that when you want to, if you want to."
"Thank you," Lucy said as she gave her a squeeze.
A knock at the door from Data signalled it was likely time for some food. With bottomless stomachs, the kids were starving.
Data and the boys poured into the kitchen and Tasha couldn't help but grin.
They all looked so tiny wearing oversized shirts.
"Come here," she said as she waved them over.
"I will head into town and alert the search party that the children are safe," Data said.
He was the faster of the two.
"We'll be here," Tasha replied as she folded the cuffs on George's sleeves so he could use his hands better.
And so he'd stop wiping his nose all over the cuffs.
Data's damn long arms. Tasha chuckled to herself.
Data set off for town as the children tucked into some breakfast, grateful to be warm and clean – even if it meant roughing it in mismatched, baggy shirts.
Shortly after 05:00 hours, Tasha was sitting in the kitchen by herself reading a book. The kids were all dressed in their own (now mud-free clothes) and had been sleepy after eating. Having spent most of the night split between a freezing cave and trekking across the landscape, they were exhausted.
Tasha had let them climb into the bed upstairs, pulling out the trundle so they could all fit.
There was a soft knock at the door and Data stepped in a moment later followed by Oswalt and a line of concerned parents.
"We were told the children were here," a man said loudly.
It was the same man they had seen earlier on the horse – Bertie and George's father.
He stepped into the kitchen and looked around frantically.
"Are they injured?" one woman asked.
"Why aren't they here?" another man asked.
"What happened?" a third cried.
"They're safe. They're all safe. And they're fine," Tasha said as she stood up. "They're sleeping upstairs."
She pointed up to the ladder.
The large man that was Bertie and George's father made a sour face and then stepped over to Tasha.
"Why didn't you bring them back immediately?" he demanded.
Data explained that the storm had been violent, and they were worried about traversing the area on foot in such dangerous weather. However, Bertie and George's father did not seem interested in discussing the matter with an android.
"Then why not straight to the village?" he questioned.
"They were cold, exhausted, and frightened," Tasha informed him.
It was a bit of a jaunt between the farm and the village. It had seemed like the right thing to do at the time.
"We did not mean to cause you any additional alarm," Data apologised.
Bertie and George's father opened his mouth to protest, but a woman stepped forward.
"Ignore him," she said, stepping forward to shake Data's hand. "Thank you so very much."
"Mummy?" George said, poking his head down from the loft above.
He tried to scramble down the ladder. He was moving too fast because of the excitement. Georgie lost his footing and fell backwards.
Data caught him but his ankle, his face inches above the hard, wooden floor.
"Whoa," Georgie said as he hung there.
Data picked him up and set him upright.
Twenty minutes later, thank you's and goodbyes had been said and sleepy children had been loaded into a cart to make the journey home. As Data and Tasha had predicted, their parents were mostly just pleased to have them returned safely. And while there would be some extra chores, a grounding, and some penance in the form of helping weed the community garden next spring – no one had gotten a tongue lashing.
Data and Tasha flopped down at the table across from one another.
For a moment, neither of them said anything.
It was unusually quiet.
"I must confess I am experiencing a strange feeling," Data said. "While I am glad to finally get time with you alone, the absence of the others has left me feeling conflicted."
"The house sure is empty without them," Tasha said.
Data nodded.
It wasn't that they were ungrateful for the chance to be alone.
Hell, they'd been looking forward to getting some time to themselves.
But it was such a strange shift to go from busy and packed to silence.
"We never did finish that pie," Tasha said with a wicked gleam in her eye.
The kids had been far too sleepy to wait up for the pie to finish in the oven. Unfortunately, they'd had to leave before they'd gotten a chance to have some.
"Are you suggesting pie for breakfast?" Data asked.
"Why not?" Tasha responded.
She flashed him a smile and retrieved the pie from the shelf where she'd set it to cool. She set it down in the middle of the table and handed Data a fork.
Tasha didn't bother with plates, content to simply eat it straight from the stone on which they'd baked it.
Data couldn't help but feel good about the situation as he watched her.
Chaos indeed. He mused.
Humans had a strange way of enjoying themselves by tossing aside all decorum in favour of 'living in the moment.'
"We'll need to be at Grenvold Crossing by 09:00," Tasha informed him.
It was a nearby road crossing that he recalled seeing on a map. Approximately twenty minutes outside of the village, it was a necessary coming and going point for many.
With a touch of sadness, Data recalled that Tasha had planned a final surprise for him for the day. Although he had been eagerly awaiting the surprise, Data understood that Tasha had been up for nearly twenty-four hours and suspected she was fatigued.
"Perhaps it would be prudent to remain here," Data suggested.
Tasha stopped, her fork halfway to her mouth.
"Why?" she asked, her eyes narrowing as she studied Data.
She suspected he was proposing a change in itinerary because of their late-night rescue. However, she didn't want to put him off if the reason was something else.
If he'd rather spend the day in town or exploring the area, she would be fine with that.
"You have not slept-" Data began to say.
Tasha dropped her fork.
"Stop," she said, putting her finger up.
"But, Tasha," Data protested.
"Yes, I'm knackered," she admitted. "But we're not missing this."
She was beaming.
A few hours later, Tasha was upstairs getting ready for their trip. Data had already dressed hours ago and was downstairs. Taking one last look in the mirror, she exhaled and steadied her nerves.
She glanced over at Data's sketchbook in the corner of the room.
Tasha hadn't given him any hints about their destination, so he had no inkling what they were in store to see. She didn't know if Data would even want to sketch but figured it couldn't hurt to suggest bringing it.
After all, she would rather have to haul it around all day than have him regret not bringing it along for the ride.
Tasha picked up the book and grabbed a leather pouch that housed his charcoal pencils.
She flipped open the sketchbook and found the image of the kingfisher he had worked on the day before at the pond.
It was truly astounding how talented he was. And Tasha knew it wasn't just because of his android abilities. In her eyes, Data had a real talent and passion for the arts. She loved to view his work – even if he was incredibly critical of his own work.
Flipping the page, Tasha grinned as she saw the landscape portrait he'd drawn of the pond area. He'd truly captured the beauty of the scenery. As she stared at the still water, she wondered if Data would consider displaying this one in his quarters as a reminder of such a perfect day.
Tasha flipped to the next page and stopped.
She sat down on the edge of the bed as she studied the sketch.
It was a drawing of her.
Data had asked for permission to paint her before, and Tasha had always declined. She didn't feel comfortable with the idea of someone stumbling upon a painting of her in Data's storage.
Truth be told, she'd never much felt like something worth looking at.
Not that any of that mattered to Data.
As she stared back at the smiling face on the paper, she couldn't find it in herself to be mad at him.
It really was a perfect likeness and she surmised he must have sketched it when she'd dozed off.
Tasha closed the sketchbook and sighed.
When he had initially asked about painting her, Tasha had questioned his motive for doing so. Data's response had always been the same.
"You are special to me."
She may not have been entirely comfortable with the idea of it. However, Tasha understood that Data would never share it with anyone.
It certainly wasn't scandalous – not with her ivy cap, loose trousers, and suspenders.
And unless someone knew her personally, it could really be a sketch of anyone.
Yet that was irrelevant.
It mattered to Data and Data alone.
A moment in time that he had wanted to commit to memory as something more than just an engram. Data had wanted a physical reminder of that moment in time.
He's such a softie. Tasha mused to herself as she headed down the ladder.
On the lower level, Data was in the sitting room scanning through one of the books he had checked out from the library at the start of the week.
He'd gotten little time to read during their journey as events had taken an unexpected turn.
Now, he was flipping through a copy of The Time Machine as he waited for Tasha to finish getting ready.
It was unlike her to spend much time dressing, but Data didn't want to question it. She was exhausted, yet stubbornly insisting upon not breaking their plans for the day.
Data knew better than to try and fight that battle.
A soft knock on the door brought him out of his thoughts.
"All set?" Tasha asked as she poked her head around the door.
"Yes," Data replied.
He set his book down and stepped into the kitchen.
Tasha was facing the table, loading her satchel with snacks as she heard him come through the door.
She bit her lip to suppress a grin as she heard a sharp intake of breath.
Tasha turned around to face him and found Data was at a loss for words.
She was wearing a dress.
Not just any dress – a bustle dress to be precise.
A rather fetching bustle dress.
Data frowned.
"Why are you wearing this?" Data asked in a serious tone.
It took a moment for Data's question to fully register.
Tasha's heart sank and she did her best not to display any outward signs of disappointment. She reminded herself that Data's reactions didn't always come across as intended.
"Is something wrong?" Tasha asked. "Am I wearing it incorrectly?"
She spun around in place and looked to him for an answer.
He was the historical expert. It had taken Tasha nearly ninety minutes to figure out how all the parts and pieces had fit together.
"You have expressed a specific dislike for such garments," Data reminded her.
"Yeah, for mucking about around the farm," Tasha replied as she motioned vaguely to the kitchen.
Data's expression didn't change.
His brow was still wrinkled as he looked her up and down.
"You don't like it," Tasha said.
It wasn't a question but rather a statement of fact.
Tasha didn't feel like she needed his approval – she was going to wear it one way or another. But she'd been hoping he would enjoy getting dressed to the nines and spending the day out of their element.
"Not if you are wearing it for my benefit," Data replied sincerely.
Tasha's face broke out into a coy smile.
"I won't lie. That's a tiny part of why I replicated this for today. I thought you might appreciate it," she confessed. "And this kind of thing isn't really appropriate for most of what we've done here."
Data cocked his head to the side.
"But it feels kind of nice to get done up all flash for a change," Tasha admitted.
"Then in that case, you look quite fetching, my dear," Data said.
"Really?" Tasha asked with an eager smile.
Data nodded.
He stepped over to her and placed a brief kiss on her cheek.
"May we delay our departure for five minutes?" Data requested.
"Yeah," Tasha replied.
Data turned to the ladder that led to the loft.
"I brought your sketchbook and charcoals down," Tasha said, assuming that was the reason for the delay.
Data spied them on the table and turned back to the ladder.
"I find that I am now underdressed," he explained for ascending to the bedroom.
As Data strolled into the village, he felt a surge in his neural net. He was wearing his finest waistcoat, a dark jacket, a fine silk ascot, and a short top hat. Puffing away at his pipe, they made their way through the village. For Data, it was a better experience than any holodeck could provide.
Tasha had her arm looped through his, sporting her own embellished black top hat that complimented the dark grey and muted green tartan pattern of her dress.
At Guinan's suggestion, Tasha had replicated a pair of black gloves and black parasol to accompany the ensemble. While the entire thing had seemed odd to Tasha, Guinan had assured her (as someone who had actually lived through the era) that this was the height of fashion.
Data and Tasha glanced at one another and shared a smile.
Grenvold Crossing wasn't a far journey and they had made good time from the farm.
They rounded the corner to head out of town and passed the schoolhouse.
"Morning!" Henry shouted as he rushed past them.
He explained that even in light of their midnight jaunt to the cave, they hadn't been excused from school for the day.
Bertie and George wandered by on their way to beat the 09:00 school bell. They waved as they walked by - Bertie with an antique lunch pail in hand and George with his finger up his nose.
Lucy skipped by a few seconds later looking happier than she had in ages and flashed them a warm smile.
A few seconds later, Frankie appeared and stopped dead in her tracks.
Tasha waved but Frankie said nothing.
She looked upset as she came closer and stopped in front of them.
"Good morning," Tasha said as she knelt down in front of Frankie.
If Tasha didn't know better, she'd say the girl looked as if she'd just been betrayed.
"What happened?" Tasha asked, concerned. "Did Lucy share your secret?"
Frankie shook her head.
Her eyes began to well up with tears.
"Why?" she asked in a heated voice.
Tasha didn't understand.
"Frankie, what's wrong?" Tasha inquired.
"You were supposed to be different," Frankie cried. "Like me."
She wiped her nose with the sleeve of her shirt.
"Now you're just like the rest of them," Frankie sniffled. "And it's gonna happen to me too. You promised. You promised I could still climb trees."
Tasha closed her eyes and sighed as it all clicked.
"Sometimes I like to dress like this," Tasha tried to explain. "It doesn't change who I am. I can still climb trees and mountains if I want to."
Frankie looked unconvinced.
"It's not an either/or thing," Tasha said.
"But you were a-posed be like m-m-me," Frankie sobbed.
"All these tears," Tasha said soothingly as she tried to thumb them away.
Frankie turned her head indicating she did not want to be comforted.
"You were supposed to be different," Frankie said as she backed away.
"Frankie, I-" Tasha started to say.
"Just get away from me!" Frankie shouted as she ran off into the schoolhouse.
Tasha felt awful.
"Children are highly impressionable," Data said as he put his hand on her shoulder. "But this is not your fault."
Data offered her his hand and pulled Tasha upright to her feet.
Tasha glanced over to the schoolhouse where Frankie was talking with Rupert.
"I should clear this up," Tasha said.
"I believe she is in good hands," Data advised. "Come, or we will be late."
Reluctantly, Tasha let Data lead her away from the school.
Data and Tasha reached Grenvold Crossing with about ten minutes to spare. It was a long building that served as a hub of sorts for most travellers coming to and from the village from other parts of the preserve and the surrounding area.
There was a place to rent horses, carriages, and bicycles.
"Are we going somewhere?" Data inquired.
"Yes," Tasha answered.
Data perked up as the tell-tale sound of an ancient steam train whistle sounded in the distance. Tasha opened her satchel and retrieved two paper train tickets.
She handed one to Data. It may have only been a slip of paper, but to Data it felt like the pass to a day of adventure.
The clickety-clack of the train on the tracks began to slow as it approached the station. According to their tickets, they were on a round trip from Grenvold Crossing to a city in the northeast and then back again. Technically, the train ran out of the bounds of the preserve and through several modern towns before stopping at a historical district in the market town of Richmond.
The preserve maintained an office in Richmond and travel back and forth was relatively common.
The train hissed to a stop as the brakes were released.
An attendant hopped off, opening the door to the passenger accommodations and lowered the kickplate to allow passengers to descend onto the platform.
A short, stout man dressed in a green striped suit hopped off and glanced around.
Data and Tasha were the only ones waiting on the platform. He made a beeline for them.
"Thank you for meeting me," the man said as he shook their hands.
"It is a pleasure to meet you," Data replied. "Who are you?"
The man looked taken aback.
"I'm Doctor Varian," he said as if he expected them to understand.
When they didn't respond, Doctor Varian became concerned there was something amiss.
"You arranged to have me come down and take a look at your lumps and depressions," he added.
Doctor Varian could see they were thoroughly confused.
"From the Department of Historic and Environmental Preservation," Doctor Varian continued with a hint of annoyance.
He scoffed and rolled his eyes.
"You are Doctor Applewhite, are you not?" Varian demanded.
Data and Tasha looked at one another.
"Doctor Applewhite is dead," Data said simply.
Doctor Varian blanched.
"D-d-dead?" he stammered.
"Yes," Data answered.
Doctor Varian was completely shaken by this revelation. He shared with Data and Tasha that he had not been informed of Doctor Applewhite's untimely demise. Varian apologised profusely for the misunderstanding.
He explained that he'd been contacted by Doctor Applewhite recently regarding a project that the late doctor had called a matter of great importance. According to Varian, Applewhite had been reluctant to share too many details in his letters for fear that it would jeopardise the situation.
Data recalled seeing the note scribbled in the corner of Doctor Applewhite's map that read "Scheduled – DHEC" with a date and time. It must have been the details of this appointment with Doctor Varian.
At the very least, Data had now learned the acronym stood for the Department of Historic and Environmental Preservation.
"Did he send you two?" Doctor Varian inquired.
Data and Tasha shook their heads.
"We're on holiday," Tasha said. "We just happened to be in the village when it happened."
Doctor Varian looked disappointed.
"Then I guess I'll head into the village and see if I can figure out what he wanted me to examine. Hopefully, Doctor Applewhite left enough clues to follow the trail."