Author's Note: Whelp…here's another one.
I've been feeling down lately and really needed a pick me up. I'm hoping it gives you the same.
*SPOILERS FOR THE COMPLICATION SERIES*
Proceed at your own risk!
This is set at the start of The Choice shortly after The Best of Both Worlds and before Night Terrors. Once again, the name of our wee girl is not directly revealed. If you've been reading The Complication, you likely have an idea why. (It's a plot point in The Course We Set!)
Tasha Yar rolled to the side. She stretched her arm out under the covers and frowned. Edging closer to the side, she found Data's side of the bed empty.
Not only was it empty – it was cold, indicating he'd been gone for some time.
As her alertness increased, Tasha became aware that someone was crying.
Not crying.
Wailing.
Tasha sighed and rolled over onto her back.
She reached up and massaged her temples as she groaned internally.
The witching hour.
Tasha glanced over to the timepiece on her nightstand. They had almost made it eight hours.
It had been an agonising week. For the last nine days, Data and Tasha had watched with great concern as Tarsus fever had wrecked their girl's wee body.
Worst of all, there was nothing they could do but ride it out.
Tarsus fever was considered eradicated within the Federation. It had been almost seventy-five years since the last recorded case among Federation medical records.
In the late 2290s, vaccination efforts had nearly eliminated the virus. Children vaccinated passed on a genetic immunity to their offspring and so forth – providing generations of humans with the immunity necessary in order to avoid the nasty fever.
But such a vaccine had been developed decades after Turkana had become a failed colony. Her people had long since been abandoned and future generations did not carry the genetic immunity their human counterparts in Federation space did.
Tasha Yar had no genetic immunity to pass along to her daughter.
And the same DNA that had given their tiny, blonde Shinebug her powerful lungs had also lacked the genetic immunity.
By the time the vaccine had been developed, Noonian Soong had already been well past the age susceptible to Tarsus fever.
Gassy, red-faced, and covered in an uncomfortable rash, their girl had screamed until she was hoarse. It had been an exhausting cycle of topical ointments, nasal aspirators, warm bathes, and soothing words.
Massage, swaddle, rock, rinse, repeat.
Their Shinebug was unhappy. This meant she was cluster feeding. And that was making both mum and dad unhappy too.
It wasn't that Tasha minded – she'd do anything for her girl.
But the frequent, tiny feeding sessions were starting to take their toll. It left her feeling emotionally and physically drained.
It took ages for their daughter to settle. Once she did, it was typically a short feed. They spent so much time getting her calm and prepared, it felt like the end result wasn't worth it.
Tasha had fifteen, twenty minutes at most before they would have to repeat the whole process.
Guinan and Beverly had assured her this would pass and that, in no small way, her daughter found it soothing (even if she didn't always show it).
But it felt like this latest stage of development was dragging on and Tasha only hoped her sore breasts could hold out. Increased feedings meant extra time at the breast, and it took every ounce of Tasha's determination to grit her teeth and smile whenever her girl needed to feed.
Fortunately, they were now on the tail-end of it.
At least, according to Beverly they were coming out of it.
And Data and Tasha were clinging to that tiny sliver of hope.
Tasha smiled. She could hear Data singing softly through the door. He was so patient and unflappable. Tasha wasn't sure how she could ever have navigated parenthood without him.
"I love you, baby. And if it is quite alright, I need you, baby, to warm the lonely nights," Data sang.
Oh no. Tasha grimaced.
If Data was already on that song, it meant he'd been up for at least an hour.
In fact, he had been trying to soothe his Shinebug for the last ninety minutes. When she had first woken up in tears, Data had promptly gone to the nursery.
When she was first born, Data had been tempted by the fact that he could theoretically stay up and watch her every night – always on call for overnight feedings, armed with lullabies and fresh nappies.
Tasha had promptly squashed that idea.
Just because he could stay up didn't make it right.
Tasha firmly felt that they had an obligation to share parenting duties including getting up at night with the baby.
I don't want to miss out on this. Tasha had insisted.
While Data respected that, he had been disappointed. It had been Data's hope that in offering to handle the overnight feedings would both give Tasha a respite and provide him with an opportunity to participate in feeding his girl.
To Data, this was an important form of bonding that he wanted to experience.
So, Data and Tasha had agreed on a compromise.
In the morning before work, Data was present and would talk to their Shinebug during her breakfast.
At night, Data and Tasha would lie down with their girl between them. Mum provided dinner while Data read a bedtime story.
For overnight feedings, Data always brought baby to mum so she could stay in bed.
And three nights a week, Data got up alone to bottle feed their bairn.
Beverly had warned that mixing a bottle in might make their daughter less keen to breastfeed, but seven months in there were no problems.
In fact, Tasha and Data joked that their wee girl could care less where her milk was coming from - she was always hungry.
They had begun introducing solid foods recently. Well, as solid as cooked and mashed veg could be. Pureed uttaberries were a favourite. Mushed peas had a tendency to wind up in mum's hair. And Data had quipped that his daughter had turned banana into an art medium with her work on the wall.
Another loud wail from the main room was enough to spur Tasha to kick off the covers.
"Sorry," she apologised aloud.
Spot had lifted her head and glared at Tasha for the loss of body heat.
Spot got up, stretched, and then pawed the bed before settling back in.
Tasha shivered as she threw on her dressing gown. She padded across the carpet to the door. As it slid open, she was grateful the lights were off.
There in the dark, Data was rocking back and forth as their wee lass continued to sob. She wasn't hungry. She was dry.
She was just miserable.
Tasha's heart felt heavy as she saw her squirm and wiggle, her tiny fists clenched in frustration at the virus she was too small to understand.
Her face was a mess – beet red from both the rash and the tears. Her wispy hair was askew, sticking up in all directions. Tasha could only imagine how difficult it must have been to wake up feeling so wretched.
Tarsus fever left one feeling itchy, bloated, and stuck in a loop of temperature swings as hot flashes and chills alternated in an uncomfortable and unpredictable pattern.
Data was at a loss.
His usual repertoire of gentle songs was doing little to comfort her.
Data cocked his head to the side as he was struck with an idea.
Perhaps a change of pace would surprise her? Shake things up, even if only for a moment. If it turned out to be too much sensory overload, then he could always resume the lullabies.
"Is she not lovely? Is she not wonderful?" Data sang in a more up-tempo pace.
Tasha grinned and crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe as she watched Data spin around, singing with his daughter.
Her girl's eyes went wide with surprise at the change in music and energy from dad. This was no lullaby. She was completely fixated on the sound of Data's voice and smile.
And it had the effect of stopping the tears.
"I never thought through love we would be, making one as lovely as she," Data went on. "But is she not lovely made from love?"
He lifted her up and nuzzled against her nose as he hummed the instrumental part of the music.
His Shinebug was covered in mucus and tears. Her hair was all over the place. The corners of her eyes were full of crusties.
And yet she was the one the dearest and loveliest things Data had ever known.
Holding her in his arms, he continued to serenade his tiny, fussy offspring.
Data was rewarded with a small noise and sharp arm movement of approval as his daughter lifted her arms and then brought them back down again quickly.
"Is she not lovely? My girl, my Shinebug. My ray of sunshine, the meaning of her name," Data continued to croon.
She was kicking now, tiny feet going hard and fast accompanied by hoarse babbling.
Data had heard the door slide open. He turned to face Tasha, rocking and dancing gently – just enough to keep their daughter entertained as he continued to hum.
As soon as she spotted mum she reached for her.
"Oh, come here," Tasha said.
Data handed his daughter over. She quickly buried her face in mum's chest and sniffled as Tasha kissed the top of her unruly mop of blonde hair.
Tasha could see a brief look of pain flash in Data's face as he handed her off.
"You did the hard part," Tasha assured him.
"I am just pleased she is no longer crying. Her throat is quite sore," Data said.
Her daughter was nuzzling now, rooting, and trying to find her target.
Data registered the change in Tasha's expression.
"I have a bottle ready," Data offered, indicating to one that was sitting on the table.
He had previously pulled out a pouch of milk and prepared it, placing it in a temperature-controlled statis field on the table. In the last ninety minutes, his daughter had done two quick feeds before pushing it away.
"Would you like me to?" Data trailed off as he gestured with his hands.
Tasha shook her head and moved for the sofa.
"It's alright," she said as she adjusted her pyjamas to give her daughter access.
Tasha hissed as she latched on.
Fortunately, they seemed to have moved past biting. As if Tarsus fever weren't enough, she'd been teething. Her first two teeth, the bottom incisors, had erupted.
Shortly before the fever had infected her body, she'd been dealing with painful, swollen gums.
Tasha knew her daughter didn't mean any harm. She was simply looking for some kind of relief. But this knowledge didn't make it feel any better when the biting began.
Data made a beeline for the replicator. He was back and sat down next to Tasha a moment later with a glass of water. He offered the straw to Tasha.
"Mmm, thanks," she replied.
Data set it down on the table and then turned back to his girls. He reached up and tucked Tasha's bangs back behind her ear.
There wasn't much Data could do on the physical side to ease her pain, but he was right there with Tasha for morale.
Tag-teaming their night-time and morning routines had benefited all three of them.
As they settled in quietly on the sofa, Tasha felt someone brush against her leg.
Spot was keenly aware that the tiniest human was not feeling well. And she knew mum needed some reassurance.
"Hello, Spot," Data said as their cat leapt up onto his lap.
She rubbed her head against the wee one's leg, providing what affection she could.
For the last several months the infant had undergone a series of unusual transformations, changing from being a noisy, potato-like being into a roly-poly, wiggle worm that was always keen to cuddle with kitty.
Data and Tasha had been hesitant about how the relationship between their child and their beloved, but persnickety pet would play out.
Most of their friends found Spot to be an absolute menace.
Spot had disappeared when she first came home. Yet after a few days of hiding and careful observation, Spot had warmed up to the girl. Their daughter had recently started crawling. To their astonishment, Spot hadn't even blinked when she scooted over and flopped down in Spot's bed.
Spot took happiness and protection of the tiniest member of their clan seriously.
Tasha wasn't sure if it was a full tummy, knowing she was the centre of mum and dad's attention, or the soft touch of Spot, but their daughter finally relaxed a little.
Data reached out to massage her hand and was relieved when her tiny fist began to unclench. When she unlatched, Data took care of burping her.
Beverly had advised they typically wouldn't need to burp her anymore. She had been so fussy and bloated with the fever, Data wanted to be sure they weren't contributing to the wind production.
"There we go," Data cooed as he pat her back.
Once she was done, Data pulled her down off his shoulder so he could cradle her in his lap.
Tasha grabbed her pacifier from the coffee table and fed it into her daughter's mouth.
"She's so red," Tasha said, concerned.
"I believe that is from crying. Her temperature is still elevated, but it has come down," Data advised as he felt her cheeks with the back of his hand.
"Should we give her another round of drops?" Tasha asked.
While there was nothing they could do but ride it out, Beverly had given them a prescription for some drops that would help. They weren't a cure, but they would help their daughter to sleep.
"I gave them to her at 02:38," Data said.
He stroked his daughter's cheek.
"It is fascinating that she has been fighting sleep now for almost two hours," Data said in awe.
None of his extensive research on human development had prepared him for the reality of just how wonderous and occasionally mystifying his infant daughter's behaviour was at times.
"Go to sleep sweetheart," Data said softly.
She was much too small to understand why her body needed rest, but Data knew she would feel better with some more sleep.
Contrary to his instructions, his child pulled her foot up toward her chin, blinking as she sucked away at her favourite pacifier.
"More than you know. More than you know. Girl of my heart, I love you so," Data sang softly as he gently rested his hand on his daughter's torso to encourage her to settle into slumber.
His Shinebug's puffy eyelids had begun to grow heavy as the clear signs of sleep took over.
As Data put their daughter back to bed in her cot, Tasha cleaned up the table.
She yawned and stretched before turning to the bedroom.
"Come on, Spot," Tasha called to her cat.
Spot had no complaints. She was grateful they had finally settled the wee one and could get back to her favourite catnap spot nested between the humans.
Spot padded across the carpet and leapt onto the bed. She circled her place three times before settling down.
Tasha stepped over to the built-in shelves along the wall to retrieve a much-needed new addition to her night-time routine.
Guinan's infinite parenting knowledge had been a godsend for the newbies both in terms of offering much-needed assurance and because she had tried and tested just about every device, ointment, toy, and binkie made in the last three hundred years.
"Let me," Data said, catching Tasha's wrist as he came up behind her.
"Mmm, you don't have to," Tasha assured him.
"Maybe I want to help?" Data suggested. "Or perhaps I simply wanted an excuse to get my hands on you?"
Tasha tensed as she felt the cool, analgesic ointment make contact with her sore, cracked nipples.
"I am sorry if it is painful," Data said quickly.
"No, you're fine," Tasha replied.
She closed her eyes and took a steadying breath as Data tentatively resumed applying the treatment.
"Soon she should start sleeping through the night," Data said.
"Let's hope so," Tasha replied.
Never in her life had she felt more exhausted.
Data set down the ointment back on the counter. He reached around to hold Tasha's hands as he rested his chin on her shoulder.
"You really are something," Data said as he pressed a soft kiss to the side of her neck.
"Flattery is not going to get you another one," Tasha teased.
"Is she not lovely? Is she not wonderful?" Data sang softly as he swayed her back and forth.
"No more," Tasha groaned with feigned outrage. "I don't even have the energy necessary for the one we have."
"My dear, I am not suggesting we procreate again," Data assured her before quickly adding. "Not right now."
Tasha closed her eyes and relaxed as Data kissed the nape of her neck.
"I am merely saying we could take all of the steps involved without procreating," Data whispered.
Tasha laughed softly.
Their daughter was all of seven months old. And in those seven months Tasha had gone through an emotional whirlwind coping with the physical and hormonal changes to her body.
Changes that were, at times, a reminder of just how strong Tasha could be. They were simultaneously bizarre, awesome, and frustrating.
It was strange because for the duration of her pregnancy, Tasha found that the harder it became to see her feet the harder it was not to flash Data 'fuck me eyes' over breakfast.
Eight months earlier, Tasha had experienced an endless abundance of self-confidence in her own body. She'd never felt as comfortable – or as sexy – in her own skin as she had in the final weeks of her pregnancy.
Since the birth of their daughter, Data and Tasha had grown closer to one another in unexpected ways. However, their sex life had been almost non-existent.
Not that Data had complained.
He understood and respected that things would need to go at her pace.
Tasha had given all of herself to her daughter. Between breastfeeding and bathing, snuggling, nap and playtime, Tasha was struggling to dissociate herself from motherhood.
The one and only time they'd had sex since becoming parents had been carefully planned by Data – surprising Tasha after their reunion following the destruction of the Borg cube and the battle of Wolf 359.
They had been halfway through rediscovering one another when Tasha realised she had started leaking and things had gone on hold.
Data had assured her there was no problem. He wasn't fazed.
But for Tasha, it was enough to pull her back into the headspace of being a mother and made it difficult to connect with her body in a sexual way.
Data was never pushy. He didn't want her to feel pressured. But he was always armed and ready with sweet affirmations, a soft touch, and a gentle reminder that she was the woman he loved.
"She is lovely," Data said in a low voice against Tasha's ear. "She is lovely, and she is all-"
"Data," Tasha said as she chuckled. "It's 04:00. I've got breastmilk and saliva on my clothes, bags under my eyes, and I honestly don't remember the last time I showered."
"You have never looked more beautiful," Data grinned.
Tasha turned and rested her head against his chest.
"You already said that when I was pregnant," Tasha teased, throwing it back at him.
"At that time, I had not yet seen you like this," Data replied without missing a beat. "In any case, I can disable my olfactory receptors."
Tasha lifted her head and looked up at him completely mortified.
"I am only teasing," Data assured her.
A noise from Spot pulled them apart.
She had lifted her head and yelped at them, urging them both to get back into bed. Whether it was because she was cold, tired of hearing them keep her up, or because she understood they needed a nudge to get to sleep, was a matter still up for debate.
Humans. Spot thought fondly.
She honestly didn't know how the humans would make it without her guidance.
"Goodnight, mama," Data whispered as he spooned up behind Tasha.
