Author's Note: This story contains elements of Michael Chabon's Romulan mythology for the Picard series. I lied. I said this would be three parts. This will now be a five-part story.

Thank you for sticking with it!

AU Yesterday's Enterprise. Data/Tasha.

C/W: This story depicts the destruction of the Enterprise, Romulan prison, major character deaths, abuse, sexual assault, and all-around pretty heavy subject matter. You've been warned.

Chapter Three | Dancing In the Moonlight

Ferrock watches them from a window that overlooks the garden below as his daughter toddles about next to his wife and her android.

He saw her very first steps from this spot – tentative, shaky steps as her short, wobbly legs had carried her into the waiting arms of Data who had watched with awe.

He's stood at the edge of the nursery listening to her babble, little triangles and squares clutched between chubby fingers, pushing them into a shape sorting box as her mother encourages her.

Every day she grows increasingly curious about the world around her.

And every day she grows farther and farther from her Romulan father and closer to the android.

For over a year he's watched them from a distance.

It's a self-imposed exile.

He wants to love this child, but he cannot find the capacity within himself to do so.

Weeks earlier, Tasha had finally worked up the nerve to question him on this.

"Are you happy?" she asks honestly.

Ferrock doesn't answer.

"Ferrock?" Tasha presses.

"Are you?" Ferrock asks in response.

Tasha isn't sure what to say. His voice is cold. It has been since his return.

"Ferrock, since you've returned you've hardly seen her," Tasha says. "I thought you wanted a child?"

"I thought I did too," Ferrock responds without looking up from his work.

Tasha's throat grows tight. Since Sela's birth, she's sensed a tension from Ferrock. It's as if their daughter has only driven a further wedge between their Trust Bond.

"Aren't you pleased?" Tasha inquires.

She has to know, to confront this before it goes any further.

"You have an heir. That's what you-" Tasha begins to say.

She stops as Ferrock slams his fist down on the surface of his desk.

"Am I happy?" Ferrock snarls.

Tasha instantly regrets that she has come alone. But she's come on behalf of her daughter. Their daughter. And she's not leaving without some answers.

Tasha squares her shoulders and pulls herself up to her full height.

"I want to understand why-" Tasha tries.

"Look at her!" Ferrock barks wildly.

He never wanted it to come to this. But this woman has pushed him to his limit.

"You are as infuriating as you are beautiful, you know that?" Ferrock says bitterly.

Tasha hates when says things like this. She hates that he can't seem to move past his infatuation.

"Why can't you love your daughter?" Tasha asks.

Her face is burning, her cheeks warm as hot tears threaten to start up.

Tasha Yar never would have cried before in his presence, but motherhood has changed her. She cries more nights than not about their situation.

"Why can't you make time for her?" Tasha insists. "Why can't you be happy?"

Ferrock laughs darkly.

"Happy?" he scoffs.

For the first time since she stepped into his office, Ferrock makes eye contact.

"She's revolting. She's a digusting little...thing," Ferrock says in disbelief.

Tasha is aghast.

"She's our daughter," Tasha reminds him.

"An embarassment," Ferrock asserts. "A reminder of my weakness."

He's disgusted with himself. Ferrock feels that he's made a grave mistake in bringing Tasha to his compound. But he is enamoured with her and cannot shake her no matter how hard he's tried.

"She's just...she's just a little girl," Tasha sobs.

"She's an abomination," Ferrock says in a cold, unwavering voice.

Tasha thumbs away the tears, feeling ashamed that she's broken down like this in front of Ferrock.

"If you spent some time with her, maybe you could-" she chokes out.

"Get out of my office," Ferrock orders.

He pulls his work back out and resumes scanning through a series of reports.

"Maybe you could stop by before her bedtime and-" Tasha tries again.

She's nothing if not tenacious.

"Get out of my office," Ferrock repeats slowly.

Tasha doesn't move.

Ferrock gets up from his chair and descends on her. For the first time, Tasha feels physically threatened by this man.

"Get out of my office. And do not come back," Ferrock barks. "I will stay in here and protect you so you can go back and play house with your fucking android and that repugnant little goblin that crawled out of your womb."

Tasha is terrified as he leers down at her.

She turns to go but Ferrock grips her bicep to stop her.

"I've grown weary of you walking around my compound, tempting me, taunting me as you flaunt your feelings for that machine," Ferrock growls. "Mind yourself, Natasha."

There's genuine fear in her eyes.

Tasha leaves feeling completely broken inside.

And Ferrock hates himself even more for being the reason she's scared.

He does not give her a family name.

Ferrock had planned to call her 'Nelka.' It had belonged to his mother- but he cannot bear the shame of it and refuses to bestow it on the child.

So, they continue to call her 'Sela.'

Data has tried repeatedly to nurture a relationship between Sela and Ferrock. He keeps a detailed record of her child development stored in his memory engrams and is eager to discuss it with Ferrock.

He has catalogued her every word, their first use, and subsequent frequency.

But despite Data's best efforts to foster a relationship between the two, it is in vain.

Sela fusses whenever Ferrock holds her, whining with her arms outstretched as she reaches for Data.

She cries and refuses to sleep when Ferrock tells her stories of the stars above Romulus but falls asleep easily whenever Data puts her to bed with a story or a lullaby.

Data suggests that Ferrock just needs to keep at it- eventually Sela will come around.

What hurts the most is that she calls Ferrock "Frock", but Data is "dada."

Data can see this hurts Ferrock. To ease the tension, he suggests it is possible that she is merely trying to say his name rather than referring to him as "daddy."

He reminds Ferrock that she only has a vocabulary of approximately fifty words.

But in his heart, Ferrock knows he's losing his daughter.

His plan to bring Tasha closer to him has been an utter failure.

And now that he's lost both of them to this mechanical man, it hurts twice as much.

The four of them are seated around Ferrock's table – Tasha and Ferrock eating dinner and Data feeding Sela.

"I have formulated a new mixture of foods specifically designed for your highly selective tastes," Data says as Sela picks up a fistful of the food he's placed in front of her.

She has a finicky appetite. Tasha's not too particular- insisting that she's just happy she eats - but Data is determined to find an appropriate meal that meets both the nutritional requirements of her growing body and choosy palate.

To Data's disappointment it soon becomes apparent she is more interested in playing with it rather than consuming it.

"I find it extremely difficult to predict what you will find acceptable," Data sighs as he watches her push her meal back and forth.

"She should be eating viinerine," Ferrock says seriously.

"She does not seem to enjoy it," Data states.

"Most Romulan children don't," Ferrock replied. "But she needs to learn."

"Perhaps if we were to reintroduce it to her along with the bantaran tubers?" Data suggests.

"You liked those, didn't you sweetheart?" Tasha says smiling at Sela as she strokes her daughter's hair.

Ferrock watches them as they continue discussing the mundane details of his daughter's food.

He hates this.

He despises their little conversations about what she's eating, what time she woke up, if she's warm enough, and every one of the android's stupid developmental milestone updates.

Mostly, he hates that they've taken a child that was supposed to be his and turned her into something so un-Romulan.

He vows he will be absent in her development no longer.

Ferrock drops his fork, frustrated.

"She will eat viinerine starting tomorrow," Ferrock announces. "And if she doesn't like it, perhaps hunger will entice her to try it again."

To Ferrock's displeasure, Tasha looks to Data.

"She is two," Data says.

"You do not need to remind me of my child's age. I am aware," Ferrock sneers. "She's well past the age where she should be out of the nursery and in the care of an instructor."

It's a Romulan tradition for children between the ages of 1 and 2 to be placed in the care of an instructor. Part nanny, part teacher, the instructor functions as the primary caregiver as they prepare a child for life in the education house.

They've danced around the idea for months with Tasha insisting she doesn't want someone else caring for Sela.

Data has read extensively on Romulan child development and they have spoken at length about the matter - Ferrock on one side of the issue, Tasha adamantly opposed, and Data in the middle but always taking Tasha's side in the end.

She doesn't want her daughter subjected to traditional Romulan parenting techniques. She feels they are too harsh, too focused on raising a conqueror and not a child, and much too fast.

Tasha had to grow up too fast on Turkana.

She wants Sela to be softer than she had to be, to grow up surrounded by love and encouragement.

She doesn't want her daughter thrust into the conspiracy-riddled world of Romulan politics as a child.

"You know my feelings on that," Tasha says.

"I've made my decision, I am bringing an instructor in by the end of the week," Ferrock informs her.

"Excuse me?" Tasha snaps angrily.

At the sound of her mother's raised voice, Sela is frightened and starts to cry.

Data scoops her up, shushing her.

"We need to talk about this," Tasha says to Ferrock.

"Put the child to bed," Ferrock orders Data.

"It may take some time as she needs a bath before bed," Data informs him. "Should we plan to meet in the study in an hour?"

"I need to speak to my wife. Take the child and leave," Ferrock says, irritated.

Data has anticipated this. He has suspected for some time that Ferrock does not consider him to be an equal partner in parenting their child.

"There are three people in this marriage," Tasha states.

"No, there are two people in this marriage – you and your android," Ferrock retorts.

"My name is Data," Data asserts. "And when I entered into this arrangement it was on the agreement that the three of us were equals in this trust bond."

He's trying to keep his voice steady. He doesn't want to scare his daughter, nor does he want Ferrock to see how upset he actually is by his continued dehumanisation.

"Ferrock, if we are to discuss key decisions regarding our child then I will be present. May I remind you that-" Data says, maintaining his calm demeanour but refusing backing down.

He is cut off by Ferrock.

"OUR CHILD!" Ferrock snaps as he points between himself and Tasha.

Data is about to counter Ferrock's statement with a reminder about Romulan law and the nature of a trust bond, but Tasha speaks first.

"Our child?" Tasha says, tears welling up in the corner of her eyes, stinging as her vision starts to blur. "You refuse to help with her. You've never fed her. You never got up with her. You wonder why she doesn't run to you, yet you keep her at arm's length."

Her words cut into him – because he knows it is true.

"You won't name her," Tasha says as the tears start to fall. "You can't even look at her."

Data wants to pull her close, but his arms are already occupied by Sela.

He settles for trying to calm the child- still wailing, unsure and afraid of what's happening around her.

Data's afraid too. He's not supposed to be capable of feeling fear, but he's experiencing something.

"You're envious that she calls him daddy, but he is the only father she knows," Tasha says heatedly as she points to Data.

"Because he's the only one you let near you," Ferrock shouts as he brings his fist down on the table.

There's a brief pause.

Sela buries her face in her daddy's shoulder as Data pats her back.

"Shhh, shh," he says gently as he reaches his other arm around Tasha to pull her close.

"That's what this is for?" Tasha says in disbelief. "That's what this has all been about?"

A part of her has suspected this – that despite his words, Ferrock had really never moved past his feelings for her.

Now that it is out in the open like this, it is as if they had reopened an old wound to find it had festered more than they'd ever realised.

"All I have ever wanted to do is love you," Ferrock says sadly before falling back on a line that Tasha has come to hate. "I had hoped that in time you would come to feel the same way about me. And when that failed, I thought that having a child would bring us closer together."

"But I don't. And I never will," she reminds him.

"I rescued you from the Tal Shiar. Can you even begin to comprehend what Velius would have done to you? I opened my home to you, and I will not stand by while a machine takes my place in this marriage," Ferrock roars.

She's heard enough.

"And at that time, you knew my feelings. We are grateful for your protection, but if you can't accept us then please let us go," Tasha says.

"You would never make it off Romulus," Ferrock says bitterly.

He's considered this possibility – not that he's ever told them.

There is nowhere safe for them alone in Romulan space and they would never survive a trip on a Romulan vessel into Federation territory.

"I have grown tired of the two of you making all the decisions surrounding my child," Ferrock explains. "I have made my decision. She will have a Romulan instructor by the week's end."

Tasha takes Sela from Data's arms.

Right now, she needs to hold her. She's not letting go of her little girl.

"I'm not handing her over," Tasha replies defiantly.

Tasha clutches onto her wailing daughter, trying to calm her as she holds the back of her head.

"Mummy's got you," she sniffles as she kisses the top of her head.

"Tasha, please," Ferrock says desperately.

He's a man who has reached the breaking point.

"She needs Romulan influence," Ferrock adds.

"She has a Romulan father," Tasha replies through gritted teeth. "Who could be that influence if he were bothered enough to care."

Sela is inconsolable.

She hasn't stopped crying since the argument began. She's trying to wiggle out of her mom's arms, calling out for her daddy as she reaches for Data, which only adds to the tension in the room.

Tasha hands her back to Data but its evident he needs to get her out of this room.

"I believe it would be in everyone's best interest if we were to resume this discussion at another time," Data suggests as he rocks her back and forth.

"Take her, I'll be fine," Tasha assures him as she indicates to the corridor with a nod of her head.

Data doesn't want to leave her alone with Ferrock, but the crying toddler on his shoulder decides for him.

"You have to move on," Tasha says to Ferrock.

He's still furious. As a Romulan, his emotions are something he hates to love.

In part – he's angry at his wife. But he's also angry with himself.

He's embarrassed that he was ever fool enough to fall for this human.

"I should have left you in that prison," Ferrock says darkly.

"But you didn't," Tasha reminds him.

He had rescued her and agreed to bring Data along with them. She has spent many nights thinking about what could have been had she died on the Enterprise-C.

He has given them a home, protection, and Sela.

Prior to Sela, Tasha felt like every moment she was living on was borrowed time. Although she relishes each moment with Data, she feels like she has a new reason to live now.

Every moment with her little one feels like sunshine.

"You have to realise I can't give you what you want. You need to find someone else that can love you the way you deserve," Tasha says.

"I don't want someone else," he replies simply.

Tasha realises they have reached a stalemate and decides to try a different tactic.

She steps to him and takes his hand in her own.

"I meant what I said," she tells him. "You are a good person. And our daughter has a Romulan father that can teach her. Things don't have to be this way."

He welcomes her touch. It has been ages since he has experienced any physical contact from her.

He reaches out to pull her against him, but she recoils.

The moment is over.

"Why is it so hard for you to find someone else?" she asks angrily.

"Because of you. You aren't exactly a secret anymore. No one else will touch me," Ferrock spits. "Not now that I've ruined my House and bloodline with a human wife."

Tasha is taken aback.

Ferrock has never spoken of this before.

She can see in his body language that he's not lying.

"I'm going to be gone for a few weeks," he says suddenly. "On assignment. Not that you'd notice one way or another."

"Ferrock I-" she starts to say but he waves her off.

"Go. Go to your android," Ferrock says bitterly.

"And Sela?" she asks.

She's not leaving until she has his assurance that her daughter will remain in her care.

Ferrock admires her determination. She refuses to give up, still willing to fight for her daugther in spite of her position.

She has no real power in his home.

And yet she fights on.

Unbreakable. He muses to himself.

For a moment, Ferrock is reminded of why he first fell in love her.

Despite the tension of the last year, Ferrock still longs to change the nature of their relationship.

It's his hope that one day she will look upon him with love rather than disdain.

"We'll discuss it when I get back," Ferrock replies.

Tasha recognises that he's made a huge concession for her.

She is truly grateful, and she wants to convey to him that the act does not go unnoticed.

But she knows that right now he's in a mood.

"Thank you," she says as she places a chaste kiss on his cheek.

He stares back at her, eyes wide at her response to his compromise.

She hopes it demonstrates that she is grateful for his willingness to negotiate with her and Data on a plan for their child.

What she doesn't realise has that she has actually just planted an idea in his head – he threatened a unilateral decision and when he didn't back down, she responded with capitulation.

Instead of asserting that within the trio they were equal partners, she has confirmed the words of his former superior General Velius – that force is necessary when dealing with humans.

She's demonstrated that he can weaponise her child to shift the power dynamic of their trust bond.

When Tasha reaches her quarters, Data is standing over Sela's cot.

Tasha pads lightly across the floor as she slips between Data and the cot.

Data puts his arms around her and plants a kiss on the top of her head.

"She was very well behaved once we got back," he tells her.

Lately, Sela is often noncooperative at bedtime.

Tasha stares down into the cot and sees their little girl asleep – her fingers curled into tiny fists, mouth open and drooling onto the blanket below.

They stay like that for a moment watching the rise and fall of their child's tummy, while Ferrock watches them from the shadows at the edge of the nursery.

"He's leaving in the morning," Tasha says.

Ferrock can hear the relief in her voice.

It breaks his heart.

"And the Romulan instructor?" Data inquires.

"He said we will discuss it when he returns," Tasha explains.

"I believe he will listen to our concerns," Data explains.

He is aware Ferrock is likely watching them and hopes that his words will help Ferrock realise he has been – and can still be – a good man.

"What if he doesn't?" Tasha asks.

"We will have to trust that he is an honourable man," Data replies.

"Her fever has come down," Data says as he steps into the nursery with Sela asleep in his arms.

He's cleaned her up and settled her back down while Tasha has stripped and replaced another set of bedsheets from Sela's cot.

She feels helpless. The Terothka virus has attacked her daughter's small body for the last three days. It's a common illness in Romulan children. Data was the first to notice the marked rise in her temperature after Sela had complained about being hot and he had quickly set to work on treating it.

"She's so red," Tasha says as she touches her cheek with the back of her hand.

"I believe it is from mostly from crying," Data says. "The hypospray appears to have helped with the rash."

Tasha pulls back the blanket and Data gently tucks her in. They've transitioned her to a bed now and she's taken to it with aplomb.

"She had a hard time staying awake for her bath. However, that made it much easier to get her jimjams on," Data comments as he tucks her favourite softie in next to her.

"I couldn't have done this without you," she tells him.

She's grateful that he's been by her side during all of this – and that he's not commented nor flinched once about the fact she has vomit in her hair and shite on her shirt.

"You've taken such good care of her," Tasha adds.

"Come," Data says as he takes her hand. "She needs rest and so do you."

He guides her to the lavvy where he's run the tap and left a soft, fresh set of towels out.

Tasha strips off the clothing that's soiled with the signs of her daughter's sick and throws them into a garment reprocessor.

She hisses as she steps into the hot water. She knows it's hot enough that it will turn her skin beet red, but she welcomes the relief on her sore neck and back.

One of the things Tasha actually enjoys about their circumstances is the large stone tub in her quarters.

Aboard the Enterprise, water was a scarce resource. The war had ensured that luxuries like that were in short supply. In no way did it make up for everything else they had experienced, but she'd take the small victories where she could.

Data slips into the water and sits behind her.

"Mmm that's nice," she smiles as his fingers work to wash away the vomit in her hair.

She dips into the water and washes the product away before re-emerging to lean back against his chest.

Ferrock has been gone for almost twelve weeks and recently he sent word his trip has been extended. It's a great relief to both Data and Tasha as it gives them more time before they have to discuss the instructor.

They know Sela is growing up quickly and they aren't ready to face what that means on Romulus.

So, for now, they enjoy the moments like this.

"My research indicates that the Terothka virus will typically run its course in four to seven days," Data advises. "I will administer another hypospray in a few hours to ensure she sleeps through the night."

"And we finally get some time alone," Tasha says.

"That is correct," Data states. "But if I may make a suggestion, I believe you should use this time to rest."

"I'd rather spend it in here with you," she replies.

"If that is your wish," Data says.

He rubs her shoulders and Tasha responds with a lazy affirmative as she closes her eyes and lets his hands set to work at removing the knots of the last few demanding days.

"The Vedeta meteor shower will be visible in three days. I would like to take Sela out to the gardens to observe it. It will be past her designated bedtime, but I believe the event warrants an exception," Data says as he kisses the side of her neck.

There is no response.

"Tasha?" Data asks as he looks down at the woman asleep in his arms.

He lifts her out of the water, towels her off, and tucks her into her bed.

The next morning, she wakes to the feeling of tiny hands pressing on her face and a weight on her chest.

Opening her eyes, she finds an identical pair of light blue eyes staring back at her.

"Good morning, sweetheart," Tasha says as she brushes her daughter's blonde hair back out of her eyes.

It's early.

Tasha can tell by the angle of the sunlight streaming across the floor.

"Mum, mum, mum," Sela says as her little feet dig into her mother as she scrambles to climb on top of her.

Tasha doesn't have long in pain as Data scoops Sela up. He presses his hand to her forehead and quickly assesses her temperature, heart rate, and breathing.

He looks to Tasha and gives her a short nod indicating that Sela is better.

Data extends his arms and lifts Sela up into the air above them and holds her there.

"I believe someone is feeling better," Data says as she squirms above him.

"Papa, can we see Ceres now?" Sela asks, swinging her arms back and forth as they dangle down above her parents' heads.

Although Romulan childhoods are typically quite solitary, both Tasha and Data share the same concern.

Sela has never had any contact with other children. The circumstances of their situation mean there are no other children to play with or trips outside of the grounds to interact with kids her age.

Three weeks earlier, Data had arranged for a carrak. A small, domesticated feline not unlike a housecat, and Data hopes that providing Sela with interaction aside from her parents will fulfil some of that developmental need.

However, Data is not prepared to allow Ceres to roam free yet. He's been keeping it in his quarters until it is better trained to ease the tension when Ferrock returns.

"After you eat. Your body requires nutritional intake," Data replies.

"Not hungry," Sela protests.

The sound of her stomach rumbling disputes that statement.

"I think somebody is hungry," Tasha says as she reaches up and tickles her daughter's side.

"Nuh-uh," Sela says defiantly.

It's been her go-to phrase lately, much to Tasha's frustration. Data states it is a normal developmental phase and claims he cannot experience emotion, but Tasha can read the weariness in his body language at each instance of Sela's stubbornness.

Another growl from her stomach and Tasha insists Sela must be hungry. She's hardly eaten anything since getting sick.

"Not my tummy," Sela insists, shaking her head. "It's angry clouds."

"It is not the season for rain," Data replies with a serious look.

He lowers her down and she snuggles between the two of them, her tiny hands clutching at Data's shirt.

"Please, Papa?" she asks.

Despite his alleged inability to be swayed by emotion, he has found his neural net experiences the same hesitation in decision-making when both Sela and her mother give him this look.

She blinks her blue eyes at her father and Data feels the tug on his metaphorical heartstrings.

"I will make an agreement with you," Data tells her. "If you will get dressed and eat first meal, then you may feed Ceres."

Her eyes light up.

"And play with her?" Sela asks.

"You may play with her after she has eaten. Like you, she must also consume nutrition," Data explains.

She climbs over Data and slides down off the side of the bed. In a flash she is off, scampering across the floor back to her own room as fast as her tiny feet will carry her over the carpet.

She's nearly to the arch that separates the two when she trips and falls.

Both Data and Tasha freeze as they await to see if the response will be tears or triumph.

"I'm OK!" she shouts as she picks herself back up and hurries off to change her clothes.

Tasha breathes a sigh of relief, turns to Data, and nuzzles into his shoulder.

"What happened?" Tasha asks, inquiring about the night before.

"I believe the phrase 'like mother, like daughter' would be apropos," Data replies.

Tasha stops and sits up on her arm to look at him.

"I'm not sick," she says shaking her head.

"I did not mean to imply that you were," Data responds. "You fell asleep in the bath."

"I'm so sorry," she says.

She hadn't meant to.

"It is quite alright," Data assures her.

He wraps his arms around her and pulls her on top of him.

"I will make an agreement with you," he tells her, "If you get dressed and eat first meal then you may play with me later."

She falls back laughing against her pillow. She's never believed he has no sense of humour – not when he can make her laugh like this.

Data and Tasha are sitting in the study off her quarters. She's been learning Monteroka, a Romulan physical fitness system consisting of controlled movements and stretches. It's been slow going. Like Vulcans, Romulans are more physically adept than humans and Tasha can't deny that having Sela has changed her body in ways she hadn't expected.

Chasing her motivated and highly active toddler is certainly a workout, but it's exhausting in ways that don't give her the same high as a run on the holodeck or an hour of aikido.

Data's taken up playing the Viorn. It's a string instrument common on Romulus and not unlike a human cello. He's learned to play in hopes of teaching Sela someday.

There's a loud crash from the room next door where Sela has been playing.

Data and Tasha look at each other.

A second later a cry follows and they're up in a flash.

Data reaches her first. She's on the ground in a fit of tears, green blood coming faster than Tasha is comfortable with.

Data pinches her nose and properly calculates the amount of pressure necessary to stop the bleeding. However, Sela is squirming. Data's quick reflexes and android strength are put to the test daily by his child.

Tasha's back in a flash with a flannel and soothing words.

"The amount of blood is not indicative of the extent of the injury," Data advises. "She has sustained minimal injury. Her reaction is a response to some pain but mostly shock."

"Are you saying it looks worse than it is?" Tasha asks as she rubs up and down on Sela's back.

"Correct," Data replies.

The tears begin to slow and devolve into hiccups as Sela lays her head down on Data's shoulder.

"What happened?" he asks her as he rocks back and forth.

"I fell Papa," she sniffles.

"Were you climbing?" Tasha asks.

Sela nods mournfully. She knows she isn't supposed to climb the shelves, but her curiosity had gotten the better of her.

Tasha asks Sela if she has learned not to climb anymore and Sela nods that she understands.

"I believe the consequence of falling has been sufficient stimulus to ensure the behaviour will not be repeated," Data states.

Tasha notices Sela has been clenching her fist since they found her.

"What's in your hand, sweetie?" Tasha asks.

Sela sits back in Data's arms and shows them the object she has discovered on her climb.

Tasha's breath hitches as she sees her daughter unclench her tiny hands to reveal a Starfleet combadge.

She had long since forgotten the object. Years earlier on their arrival at Ferrock's compound she had been unable to destroy it. Her uniform was long gone, but she had kept the badge.

"That's mummy's," Tasha says as she holds her hand out for Sela to hand it over.

But her daughter is fascinated by the shiny object.

"What is it?" Sela asks as she touches it, running a small finger across the smooth surface.

Before Tasha can formulate an answer, Data steps in.

"That is the symbol of Starfleet," Data tells her.

"Starfleet?" Sela asks.

"Explorers. Scientists. Peacekeepers," Data says fondly.

"Exploders?" she says as she wipes her nose with her hand.

Data has told her many stories of famous explorers or 'exploders' as Sela calls them. Her bedtime stories are full of the exploits of James Clarke Ross, Marco Polo, Helas the Andorian that discovered the Trendarrian system, and Petros the Romulan famous for exploring the outer regions of Romulan space.

"Mummy, are you an exploder?" Sela asks as she turns the badge over in her wee hands.

Tasha doesn't know what to say.

She had never anticipated Sela would ask these questions this early.

She knew that someday she would have to answer to Sela about her origins, but she'd thought that would come at a time when she was older and more capable of understanding.

Data locks eyes with Tasha.

"Yes. Your mum was an explorer. One of the best. And she lived in the stars on a great ship, exploring the universe," Data tells their daughter.

"Papa was too," Tasha adds as she maintains eye contact with Data. "He was smart and strong. But most of all, he was kind. He took care of everyone."

"Are you going to leave?" Sela asks, suddenly worried. "Will you go back?"

"No, sweetheart," Tasha assures her. "We're not going to leave."

"Why?" Sela questions.

"Because we're not explorers anymore," Tasha responds.

Her voice is upbeat as she tries not to let on how her daughter's questions have resurfaced feelings she thought were long buried. Data's watching her micro expressions and he can tell how much this hurts her.

Truth be told, it hurts him too.

There are times he misses their life aboard the Enterprise. He didn't have many friends, but he misses the adventure and serving the Federation.

"Why?" Sela presses.

"Because we have you," Data says as he kisses Sela's cheek.

"If I lived in the stars, I wouldn't want to come home," Sela says wistfully.

"Not even to see us?" Data asks uncharacteristically.

"You would come live with me," Sela replies.

For a moment, none of them say anything. Both Data and Tasha are trying to figure out how to explain to Sela that it is important she does not mention Starfleet again – especially in the presence of Ferrock.

However, she is so captivated by the combadge that neither parent can find it within themselves to take it away yet.

"Can I be a Starfleet too?" Sela asks hopefully.

She whines when Tasha takes the badge from her.

"No, Sela," Tasha tells her. "No more talk of Starfleet."

Sela turns over the little badge in her hand, completely mesmerised by the object.

"Someday, I'm gonna live in the stars," she whispers with a smile.

Sela gasps and Data watches her face as the light from the meteor shower dances in his daughter's eyes as it streaks across the night's sky.

Data is grateful they kept her up to watch the Vedeta meteor show.

The three of them are sitting on a blanket that they've spread out on the grass on a hill near the conservatory.

"On Turkana we call it fire rain," Tasha says as she watches the falling stars. "It's said to be an omen of good or bad things to come."

As excited as she is, Sela is fighting a losing battle against her own tired little body. It's well past her usual bedtime and the exhaustion that comes from being a rambunctious toddler has taken its toll.

Sela yawns and lays her head down in her mother's lap.

Data watches her with amusement as she struggles to keep her heavy eyelids from closing. She's tiny, but she's mighty.

"I'm going to live in the stars," Sela says as her mother strokes her hair.

It's all Sela has talked about since finding her mother's combadge.

Sela closes her eyes.

"Someday," Sela says.

"Are you ready for bed?" Data asks.

"No, Papa," Sela protests in a sleepy voice.

Data and Tasha look at each other and Tasha smiles.

"Does the moon sleep, Papa?" Sela asks as she snuggles into her mother's lap.

"The moon never sleeps," Data tells her as he rubs her back.

"Just like you, Papa," Sela mumbles as sleep overtakes her.

Tasha leans back against Data and rests her head on his chest as they watch the rest of the meteor shower.

It's rare they get moments like this.

Data feels an unusual sense of fulfilment as he sits there with both of his girls in his arms.

After some time, Data feels Tasha shiver against him.

It's past midnight and there's a chill in the air. It's nearing the close of the year on Romulus. It means the afternoons grow sweltering hot while the nights are long and cold.

"We should get back," Data suggests.

Data scoops up his sleeping daughter and tenderly cradles her.

Hand in hand, Data and Tasha carry her back down the moonlit path.

When they reach Sela's bedroom, Tasha delicately removes her daughter's tiny shoes.

Sela squirms as Tasha tries to remove her socks – burying her face into Data's shoulder.

She whines but working as a team Data and Tasha are able to slip her into a pair of suitable jimjams.

Romulan compounds get cold at night. They do so intentionally to promote good sleep.

But Data has long been concerned that Sela's unique human-Romulan physiology is not designed for such temperatures at this young of an age.

"She is quite chilled," Data comments as he presses the back of his hand to her cheek.

Tasha feels her hands and nods in agreement.

"Perhaps it would be best if we were to keep her with us tonight," Data suggests.

When they settle into bed, Data's thoughts remain on how lucky he is to have the two them snuggled against him – both the woman he followed off the Enterprise and the miniature version of her, this wee ball of sunshine that has captured his heart.

Tasha can barely contain the relief that has overcome her as she listens to Ferrock. They are communicating via live feed from his ship in orbit.

His duties with the Tal-Shiar require him to remain away for another several months. He sends his regrets and wishes them well.

"As the third anniversary of her birth is approaching, I have sent for a gift that should arrive in advance of the date and a suitable video communication message," Ferrock explains in their comm channel. "Please show her the message on the appropriate date."

"Thank you," Tasha smiles. "We will."

"May I see her?" Ferrock requests.

"How much time do you have? She's at the conservatory," Tasha explains.

Data has taken her to the conservatory on the grounds. He's been teaching her to paint there as he explains the various flowers, shrubs, and trees that Ferrock grows on his grounds.

Unfortunately, the conservatory is at the edge of the grounds and is nearly a twenty-minute walk one way.

"I see," Ferrock nods.

He understands, but his disappointment is obvious.

"I will be out of communication for many weeks. Natasha, if there are any disturbances during my absence it is vital that you trust only Nireem," Ferrock states.

Nireem is Ferrock's closest ally. He's a Tal Shiar clerk that has worked under Ferrock for years and lives within Ferrock's compound.

Tasha looks at him curiously.

"Is there something you aren't telling me?" she asks.

"There have been some disturbances within the Romulan senate. A party known as the Te'Rar are making a play for power," Ferrock advises.

"What do you think is going to happen?" Tasha questions, concerned by this news.

She doesn't have the same depth of knowledge about Romulan politics as Data, but she knows enough to grasp the seriousness of the situation. Romulan political power grabs often involve hostile takeovers with little room for mercy for the allies or families of opposing parties.

"I have doubled the guard around the complex, and it is unlikely they would travel so far outside of the capital city," Ferrock assures her. "I am not considered a major player."

For once, Tasha is slightly unnerved that Ferrock will not be coming home.

As soon as the conversation is done, she heads out of the main compound structure and up the path to the observatory. It's a hot day and Tasha is uncomfortable trekking through the heat when the sun is at the height of midday.

Stepping into the conservatory, she is grateful for the climate-controlled atmosphere.

At the far end, Data has set up an easel for Sela with a step stool for her to stand on. It's a little too big for her, but she is eager to follow in Data's footsteps and Sela is quite a quick study.

Tasha stops and observes the pair.

"Now mix the yellow ochre with the red," Data instructs her.

Her hands are still a bit too small for the brushes. Gripping it carefully in her wee fist she furrows her brow and sticks her tongue out, concentrating on holding it steady.

She lacks the fine motor skills to do it with the ease and flourish of her father, but with her tool in hand she carefully blends the two colours on her palette.

"And what colour did you make, Sela?" Data asks her encouragingly.

"Orange," Sela answers.

Sela gasps.

"Red-orange," Sela corrects herself.

"Very good," he tells her.

They've been working on colours. Tasha has tried to explain that humans aren't capable of identifying colours as proficiently as Data. Yet, he is eager to try and educate her on the subtle differences between various shades.

He's immensely proud of what he calls her "big brain" and believes that with proper tutelage she will learn more than the average humanoid.

"Papa why is my blood green?" Sela asks suddenly as she plays with the orange paint.

Data looks at her strangely.

"Because that is the colour of your blood," he replies simply.

He knows that she is too young to comprehend the difference between the copper levels in Romulan blood in comparison to other humanoid species.

"But the yellow and the red make orange," Sela says, confused.

Data nods to her but he knows that he doesn't understand her line of thought. He knows she is a child, and he is familiar with her occasionally odd statements.

But this time she seems genuinely distressed by his response.

"Sela, why are you upset?" he asks in an attempt to come at the problem from another angle.

"My blood is green!" she insists.

"Your blood is green because you are a Romulan," Data says, trying to reassure her that this is normal.

"How?" she says as she starts to cry.

"Why does that upset you?" he asks.

"But mummy's blood is red," Sela asserts. "And yours is yellow, Papa."

Data's internal processor begins to fire rapidly. Sela had gotten hold of a garden shear in the conservatory the other afternoon and sliced the bioplast on his arm. She hadn't meant to. It had been an accident.

But the incident had caused some of his biofluid to leak out.

Sela had felt horrible and scared by the amber liquid oozing from her father's arm. Data wasn't about to try and explain the function of the biofluid as a lubricant for his systems to a toddler.

So, when she had asked if he was bleeding, he had simply replied 'yes' as it had seemed like the most acceptable answer for her to comprehend.

"Papa, if you're yellow and mummy is red, why am I green?" Sela asks again.

She's on the verge of tears, confused and feeling very small.

He can see her determined little brow is wrinkled, trying to comprehend the situation. He knows that she's an intelligent child, but the complexity of their circumstance is too intricate to try and explain to a child.

Nor is she old enough to comprehend the scientific answer regarding why Romulan blood is green.

But as she stares up at him, eyes welling up with tears and her lip beginning to quiver he finds himself torn and knows he needs to give her a reason.

Data falls back on an old human custom of lying to children.

"I have yellow eyes and mummy has blue eyes," he lies.

He watches as her eyes grow wide with wonder.

"And you know what colour yellow and blue make," he reminds her.

"Green," she replies breathlessly as her mouth hangs open at this 'revelation.'

From behind, Tasha smiles to herself at Data's ingenuity.

"You're smart, Papa," Sela says as Data picks her up, rocking her until the tears have stopped.

It's late in the year and their location in the northern hemisphere of Romulus means that the grounds of Ferrock's compound will be covered with a blanket of snow any day now.

But the snow has not yet fallen and Sela is eager to spend another day outside.

"You know she's going to be cranky later?" Tasha asks as she looks up at Data.

"Is it not human custom for one to consume exorbitant amounts of sugar on one's birthday?" Data replies without taking his eyes off the scene before him.

Earlier Data prepared her favourite breakfast and was keen to disregard his typical nutritional standards for their growing girl.

"You'll spoil her," Tasha adds.

"Occasional indulgence is alright," Data replies. "Besides, she will tire herself out."

They are standing at the edge of the garden. The two parents watch as Sela runs – giggling and squealing – as she chases her pet Ceres on the grass.

"Kitty, wait!" Sela cries as she races after the feline.

"Sela, Ceres is not felis catus," Data says, correcting her. "He is a carrak."

"Mum says kitty," Sela shouts as she runs past them.

She's three today and an increasing handful.

To both Data and Tasha's chagrin, she seems to have embraced the stubborn personality of her mother and her father's inquisitive nature.

Small, but mighty.

Data looks over to Tasha who shrugs, knowing she's been caught.

Data believes Sela is old enough to grasp the difference between the two felines and has corrected her on this fact eighteen times in the last few weeks.

His efforts have been undercut as Tasha frequently slips and calls the animal a 'kitty kat.'

"She's three, Data," Tasha reminds him.

"And based on my study of human and Romulan childhood development, well advanced beyond her age," Data retorts.

They smile at one another.

The last few weeks have been wonderful – just the three of them with no Ferrock.

"You can't catch me!" Sela laughs as she runs back across the grass.

Her wee legs carry her into the hedge maze that lines the compound.

Sela knows she isn't to play in it – but there's so much adrenaline and sugar in her system that she can't resist her own curiosity.

"No, Sela," Data calls out.

Tasha sighs as they hear the pitter patter of her tiny feet on the stone path in the maze.

"I'll go," Tasha says as she races off after her daughter.

Data takes off in the opposite direction, knowing that he can cut her off several rows deep in case Tasha doesn't catch her in time.

Sela can hear her mother calling out for her to stop, but she's having fun.

She turns a corner too fast and runs into someone's legs.

Sela bounces back from the impact.

She's stunned but does not cry.

"Owie," Sela says as she rubs her head.

She looks up at the person standing over her.

He bends down and scoops her up.

"Did you come for my birthday?" she asks.

"Sela, honey?" Tasha calls out as she searches for her daughter.

The hedge maze encircles the compound. Aside from shuttlecraft, it is the only way in or out of the facility.

It's long and full of twists and turns designed to throw off any possible intruders.

Tasha rounds the corner and freezes.

There's a Romulan man holding her daughter in his arms.

Tasha can tell from his uniform that he is Romulan military – the rank of Commander.

She doesn't know what to say. Tasha's throat is tight as she tries to formulate a plan to diffuse the situation. Knowing what she does of Romulan life, Tasha understands that her daughter is in grave danger.

"And how old are you today, Sela?" the man asks.

"Fwree," Sela grins as she holds up three of her fingers.

"My, my," he comments. "Growing like the weed that you are."

His tone is sweet, but his words are not lost on Tasha.

"Put her down," Tasha demands.

"So this is the whore," the man says as he turns to Tasha.

To Tasha's fear, Sela cannot contain her curiosity. She grabs his nose and runs her tiny hands across his forehead ridges.

"You look like Frock," Sela tells him.

She still refers to Ferrock as 'Frock' and Tasha can't deny there is a resemblance.

Sela then pulls up her bangs and touches her own forehead.

"I look like mummy," Sela goes on.

As much as she has tried to shelter her child from it, Sela has picked up on the conversations her parents have had regarding her appearance.

She is too little to understand it, but she has heard enough to know that she looks like her mother rather than the Romulans in the compound.

And she knows the adults think it's bad.

"Put her down," Tasha repeats.

"And what is it that you want for your birthday?" the man asks.

Sela's eyes light up.

"I wanna be a Starfleet like Mum," Sela confesses.

The Romulan man smirks.

"Let go of my daughter," Tasha says in a firm voice.

"What's your name?" Sela asks him.

"Tomalak," he replies, introducing himself for the first time.

"Tomalak," Tasha says, addressing him. "Give me my daughter."

He hands Sela a piece of Romulan hard candy.

Before Tasha can say anything, Sela has placed it in her mouth.

"It's not poison," Tomalak assures Tasha.

Tasha's had enough of this. She demands to know who he is and what he is doing here.

"You certainly are feisty. Not backing down," Tomalak drawls. "I can see why my brother would be enticed. There's something very Romulan about it."

He turns to Sela and brushes her bangs out of her face.

"Maybe it's not entirely hopeless," Tomalak says.

"Unhand my daughter," Data orders as he emerges from the maze.

He comes up behind Tasha.

Tomalak cannot hide his surprise.

"It speaks!" he exclaims.

He had heard only limited reports of the strange android.

Seemingly more interested in Data, Tomalak releases Sela.

Tomalak knows his brother has been hiding this android at his compound for the last four years. He speculates the android could provide a wealth of information.

Sela stands in front of Tomalak, staring up at the man in awe.

"Come here, Sela," Data instructs.

Instead, Sela tugs on the edge of Tomalak's uniform.

"Are you going to stay for evening meal?" Sela asks.

She has never seen anyone other than her parents and the Romulan staff that serve in their compound.

"Sela," Data warns.

She can hear the tone of her father's voice and does not wish to be put in timeout.

Sela slowly backs toward her father as she stares at the mysterious man that has entered their compound.

The minute she is within grasp, Data snatches her.

Sela doesn't understand why her parents are so upset, but she can sense something is wrong.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" Data inquires.

Tomalak snaps his fingers and a five-person team of Romulan soldiers appear from around the corner.

Data and Tasha both know that Romulan political takeovers are typically violent and swift. It's been a few weeks since Ferrock has contacted them – advising there was a disturbance in the Senate.

As much as they despise Ferrock, they both know that he is the only thing protecting them.

"My name is Commander Tomalak," he informs them. "And as Lord Protector of my family's estate I have a responsibility to conduct the Celebration of Invatarii."

He takes several steps forward and brushes Sela's cheek.

"And to see to the heir," Tomalak finishes.

Tomalak does indeed stay for their evening meal.

Before dinner, Data explains that Invatarii is the Romulan Age of Learning when the heir of a Romulan family begins their formal educational training.

Typically on the third birthday, a Romulan heir has completed a year of education under the direction of a Romulan instructor.

Data is concerned that Tasha's resistance to this will make a poor impression on Tomalak. He does not believe Tomalak will be satisfied with their own efforts to educate Sela.

As the oldest brother, Ferrock is considered head of the family. However, as the younger brother, Tomalak is responsible for filling the role of Lord Protector.

Data explains the role is similar to the concept of a godparent or guardian.

Either way, it sends a chill through Tasha.

Sela is chatty at dinner – babbling on about Ceres and painting with her father.

Tomalak listens politely enough, occasionally asking questions.

Data can tell that Tomalak's questions are designed to test her intelligence, judge her personality, and evaluate her fitness as heir.

When she is finished with her meal, Sela does not want to sleep.

"Can you go pick out your jimjams and stories?" Tasha asks her daughter.

Sela ignores her mother.

"Are you going to stay here too?" Sela asks.

"For a time," Tomalak answers.

"Sela, your mother asked you a question," Data prompts.

Sela turns back to her parents. She cocks her head to the side in the same manner as Data.

"Papa, I am talking. Dis is a cov-ver-tace-un for me and um," Sela says.

Her air of authority fails as it is evident she is struggling with Tomalak's name.

"Um," she scrunches up her face as she tries to get her mouth around the strange, Romulan name.

"Tommock," she tries.

Tasha wants to laugh because it's a line that Data has used numerous times on his daughter.

"Sela, this is a conversation between your mother and I."

Data has said this countless times over the last year in an attempt to teach her patience.

But at the moment, Tasha feels uneasy.

She dislikes this Tomalak and his sudden appearance during Ferrock's absence.

"The sooner you select your jimjams, the sooner we may begin story time," Data reminds her.

Like Data, Sela has a love for literature.

It is a regular part of her bedtime routine and something Sela has come to look forward to.

Climbing down from her chair, Sela says goodnight to Tomalak before scurrying off to her bedroom.

"She seems bright," Tomalak comments.

"Because she is," Tasha replies.

"Bright enough for a half breed," Tomalak adds.

Tasha is furious.

Under the table, Data grips her knee in an effort to warn her to remain calm.

For being allegedly unfeeling, Data is struck by Tomalak's comment. It is a sensation that can best be described as a metaphorical slap in the face.

He is disturbed by Tomalak's statement – both because he fears what it means for young Sela and because someone has displayed prejudice toward his daughter.

Data decides it is best to proceed by redirecting the conversation.

He inquires as to the length of Tomalak's stay. He also wants to know if Tomalak will provide them with more information about their family so that Sela may know her ancestors.

The conversation continues – polite but undercut with an unmistakable tension.

Several minutes later, the familiar sound of tiny feet can be heard racing back down the corridor that leads to the dining hall.

Sela bursts in with a pile of antique books that Data has replicated for her.

She enjoys the tactile sensation of turning pages and Data has been eager to produce a never-ending supply of literary classics for her to enjoy.

She climbs on top of Data to show him her selections.

"A Scandal in Bohemia," Data comments as he looks at the first one.

"Em-doob-ly," Sela says as she flips to the next one.

It's one of her favourites and Data suspected that she would be eager to read it again on her birthday.

She's brought as many books as she can carry. As an imaginative child, literature has proven to be an escape from the limitations of her reclusive surroundings.

Data glances at Tasha as he looks at the next one on the pile – The Tiniest Tribble.

They've read it so many times in the last week that Tasha can recite it in her sleep.

"You may pick one more book," Data says.

Sela chews on her lip for a moment as she tries to decide.

"Papa, can you tell me about Starfleet?" Sela asks as she plays with her fingers.

"No, Sela," Data replies.

It's the worst possible time for her to mention Starfleet – and now she has done so twice in the presence of Tomalak.

"Please," Sela begs.

"No. As we have told you before, no more talk of Starfleet," Data warns.

Sela isn't taking no for an answer. She's crashing from the sugar in her system and is now cranky.

"But it's my birthday," she fusses.

From the other end of the table, Tomalak observes them carefully. Discipline among Romulan families is usually swift and strict. Children learn at an early age that disobedience is a weakness.

Most of all, Romulan children are conditioned not to cry.

Data wants to keep Sela calm. He's concerned that if she grows too emotional, Tomalak will demand more Romulan influence.

"Papa, please," Sela says with a sniffle.

"No, Sela," Data replies. "But I will tell you the story of a Romulan Empress named Sela."

This has piqued her interest.

"She was an explorer," Data went on. "And she lived in the stars."

Despite their best efforts to temper her questions about Starfleet, Sela is fascinated by the idea of living on a ship in space. It is growing increasingly difficult to stamp out her fixation on the subject.

"This one too," Sela demands as she holds up another book.

Data reminds her that she may only choose three.

"You say three books, Papa," Sela reminds him. "Your story isn't a book."

Data frowns, slightly unnerved that he has been outwitted by his toddler.

"You are correct," Data admits. "Next time I will be more careful in my wording."

From across the table, Tomalak is impressed.

"Very bright," Tomalak remarks. "It certainly makes it easier to look past the fact that she's such a repulsive little thing."

Tasha drops her fork and stares at Tomalak.

"The child is an abomination," Tomalak continues as if he's not just insulted her child. "But there are ways we can hide some of the more unseemly human characteristics before she begins her formal education."

Tasha swallows hard.

She knows she needs to keep her cool, but she's absolutely infuriated that this man is talking about a child in such a manner.

"She's a child," Tasha snaps.

Tomalak gets up from his chair and saunters over to Sela.

He grips her chin and forces her head from side to side. Next, he brushes her hair back so he can examine her ears.

"At least there's that," Tomalak states as he runs his finger across the pointed shell of her ear.

He looks at Sela's face again and shakes his head as he clucks his tongue.

Tasha has heard enough.

She scoops Sela out of Data's arms.

"Bath time," Tasha says as she clutches Sela tightly.

As she rounds the corner, Sela can hear Data address Tomalak.

"Please do not speak to my daughter that way again, Commander," Data says simply.

Contrary to her earlier behaviour, Sela is unusually quiet as her mother washes her hair.

Typically during bath time, Sela is either argumentative about having to get in or eager to play in the water.

Tasha surmises that her toddler has finally knackered herself out after a day of excitement.

"Mum, why am I ugly?" Sela asks suddenly.

Tasha stops scrubbing her daughter's hair.

She pulls Sela's head back to look at her.

"Why would you say that?" Tasha asks as she looks down at her daughter.

Tasha's head is reeling.

She had always anticipated that there would be questions from Sela – someday. Every child went through a process of learning self-love.

And Tasha has spent many nights lying awake as she contemplates how it will be more difficult for her child given Romulan prejudice.

But Sela is three.

And Tasha never expected this question so early.

"Tommok said I was re-re-um," Sela trails off.

She's struggling with the word, but she's heard her father use it in stories enough times to know it means ugly.

Tasha closes her eyes and tries to regain her composure.

"And you and Papa talk about it," Sela comments. "That I'm different."

Her hands are covered in lather, so Tasha wipes her eyes on her bicep.

Tasha grabs a pitcher of fresh water.

She instructs Sela to close her eyes and lean her head back as she rinses her hair.

"You're different because you are special," Tasha tells her.

Sela wipes the water from her eyes.

"Is that why I look ugly?" Sela asks.

Aside from her mother and Data, everyone else around her has dark hair, dark eyes, and the signature forehead ridges that denote their Romulan heritage.

Tasha scoops Sela out of the tub and wraps her in a fluffy flannel.

"No sweetheart, you're beautiful," she assures her daughter.

Tasha doesn't know what else she can say. Her heart goes out to her daughter.

Sela rests her chin on her mother's shoulder.

"But why-" Sela starts to say.

"Shhh," Tasha says in a soothing voice as she holds her child tight.

She rubs her back and Tasha isn't sure if it is to assure her child or herself.

"You are beautiful," Tasha repeats. "And so smart. You make me so proud."

She kisses the top of Sela's head.

Tasha blinks and the tears start up again.

"Why are you crying, mummy?" Sela asks.

"Because I love you so much," Tasha replies truthfully.

She can't see Data behind her.

He's been watching them in silence from the doorway for the last few moments and has picked up on enough of the conversation to get the gist.

A part of him is fascinated by Sela's perceptive ability to pick up on Romulan prejudice at such a young age – especially given their efforts to shelter her from it.

At the same time, he is devastated that his child has been made to feel this way. Data knows all about feeling like the odd one out. He knows exactly what kind of mental toll it takes to be the 'ugly' one in the room, the one that is different.

"Can we read a story now, Papa?" Sela asks.

She's too small to properly identify her feelings – but she is uncomfortable and tired.

She wants to escape into an adventure.

Tasha turns to see Data.

He approaches the two of them. For a moment, they hold Sela between the two of them.

"How many times have I told you that you look like your mother?" Data asks his child.

Sela shrugs shyly.

"Since your birth, three hundred and eighteen times," Data says.

It is a larger number than she can comprehend at this age, but she knows it means a lot. He tells her often.

Tasha hands Sela over to Data before thumbing away the tears.

Data informs his daughter that he is capable of identifying and cataloguing the distinct differences between every individual.

"And I think your mother is the most beautiful person I have ever seen," Data says as he looks at his daughter. "Do you think your mother is beautiful?"

Sela nods.

"Mummy's pretty," she smiles.

"Then it is illogical for you to think otherwise about yourself," Data tells her.

He carries out of the lavvy and into her bedroom.

"Now, I'm going to tell you the story of the Romulan Empress Sela," Data began. "She lived on a ship in the stars and led her people to greatness. And just like you, she had golden hair."

When Ferrock learns of his brother's presence, he is disturbed – and openly shares this with Data.

Data is in his quarters on a video link communication with Ferrock when the man makes a most unusual request.

Ferrock knows that Data has studied the finer points of Romulan family structure and law. Relationships between siblings are often a balancing game of power and control. As the eldest sibling, Ferrock is the head of the family and holds the power to make all decisions regarding the family, its business, and its members.

He controls the family compound and the family seat on the Romulan Senate.

As the second oldest, Tomalak is next in line.

Although the two are currently allied with one another against a growing faction of revolutionaries, their relationship has always been undercut by a fear that Tomalak has significant motivation to oust his brother.

It is not uncommon for younger siblings to assassinate their older siblings to eliminate any competition.

Sela is currently the only heir to their family.

And he who controls the heir, controls the future.

"I know that I have not always treated you kindly," Ferrock confesses. "But I must ask you to keep my child safe. Do not let Tomalak take her."

Data cocks his head to the side.

"Do you believe he will make an attempt to do so?" Data inquires.

"I cannot be certain," Ferrock confesses. "But it is likely he will try."

"Can you not order him to leave?" Data asks.

Surely it is within his power.

Ferrock shares that he has considered ordering Tomalak to vacate his home. However, the situation in the Senate is growing increasingly unstable. Several prominent Senators have fallen victim to assassination and abduction.

"Tomalak's presence will ensure that you are protected," Ferrock explains. "They will not make an attempt on the compound with both of our forces guarding the area."

To their dismay, Tomalak stays through the winter overseeing Sela's development under Data and Tasha's tutelage. He takes every moment available to deride the child in Tasha's presence and it has become a source of tension between Tasha and Tomalak.

Tomalak has high expectations, and he believes that being hard on the child is necessary in order to reach success.

Like her mother, Sela is unflappable.

But Tasha can recognise the signs of social withdrawal in her daughter. She becomes increasingly fixated on learning and grows agitated at any failure.

It breaks Tasha's heart to see her wee lass put through this struggle.

It's late afternoon. Tasha and Sela are in the study with Tomalak.

Data stepped out an hour earlier. He said he would be down the corridor in the library watching the latest developments from the Romulan Senate.

Tomalak has Sela sorting memory cards on the floor.

He is timing her.

When she completes the game, she sits back and smiles.

"All done!" she announces.

"Did you have fun?" Tasha asks.

Sela nods and then points to one of the stacks of cards.

"Dis one looks like Ceres," Sela says as she points to the carrak on one of the cards.

"It does, doesn't it?" Tasha replies.

Tomalak stops the clock and glances down at her work.

"Next time I think you can do better," Tomalak drawls.

He rises from his seat and gets down next to Sela and Tasha.

Tomalak makes a comment about how the cards should be arranged in neat piles from left to right.

She doesn't fully comprehend, but she knows enough to pick up on the fact she's done something wrong.

"No, no," Tomalak repeats. "Like this."

Sela tries to stack the cards again, but her rows aren't as neat as Tomalak's. She tries to copy her uncle's work, but her motor skills aren't quite as refined at this age.

Tomalak shakes his head and demands she do it again.

After her next attempt, she looks up at him for approval only to be greeted with rejection.

"We will practice again," Tomalak says. "In time, you will learn to do it correctly."

Sela knows Tomalak will be angry if she cries.

But she can't help it.

She feels like in everything she does, it is not enough to please him.

That she's not enough to please him.

Sela sniffles.

When her mother pulls her into an embrace, Sela welcomes it.

"Enough," Tasha snaps.

"You will never succeed if you waste your time crying," Tomalak warns. "Because while you are crying, there are other children learning."

"I'm sorry," Sela sobs.

"You did great, sweetheart," Tasha says trying to soothe her child.

She glares at Tomalak.

She's tired of the way he treats her daughter. She's sick of seeing it.

And she's exhausted from months of trying to build back her daughter's confidence every night after Tomalak's 'guidance' only for him to break her down the next day.

"Can we read a story?" Sela asks.

Stories have become a refuge. A place where she can escape from her uncle's incessant beratement and focus on the characters and places she adores.

"Of course we can," Tasha replies.

"The child must learn to control herself," Tomalak sneers. "These emotional outbursts will be punished much more severely at the education house."

Tasha doesn't care what Tomalak or Ferrock say – she's not sending Sela to a Romulan education house.

She knows that a typical Romulan child is expected to enrol in such an institution by the age of five.

However, Data has extensively researched the concept. He's hesitant to pass judgement on the model because it is the Romulan custom.

Tasha, on the other hand, has no such reservations.

She knows that children are subjected to strict routines and even harsher living conditions – cold temperature dormitories, no recreational activities, and physical punishment for any infraction.

They believe that the model is necessary to mould their children into conquerors. It is their method to weed out the weaker children before they reach the Age of Siitamant where they will be evaluated for service in either the Romulan military, the Tal Shiar, or the Senate.

Service in one of those three branches is compulsory.

Those who fail to qualify are outcasts. They lose their rights of citizenship.

Among Ferrock's family, no member has ever failed.

In fact, the expectations for Sela are high. Both Ferrock and Tomalak were exemplary graduates of a prestigious education house.

In Tasha's opinion, it's far too much to put on the shoulders of a three-year-old.

"You are doing her no favour," Tomalak advises as he watches mother and daughter.

Tasha clutches her daughter protectively.

Internally, she promises that she won't let the cruel conditions of Romulan culture change her tender-hearted, imaginative daughter.

When Data arrives, he can sense something is wrong.

Data informs them that Ferrock will be returning tomorrow.

For the first time, Tasha welcomes this news.

Ferrock's return means Tomalak's departure.

Data takes Sela into his arms as he and Tasha share a look. Wordlessly, he understands that he needs to take Sela out of this atmosphere.

"Would you like to help me, Sela?" Data asks. "In the conservatory?"

It is nearly the end of winter and Data has planned a series of projects for Sela in the spring. It is his intention that she will assist him maintain the garden more thoroughly this cycle. He uses it like a classroom – where she learns everything from counting and colours to biology and compassion.

With a nod, he exits and carries Sela out of the study.

Tasha hurriedly picks up the cards and replaces them in a storage container on the shelf.

She makes a move to go, but Tomalak clutches her wrist.

"Your pathetic human insistence on raising her this way will only make life more difficult for the child," Tomalak warns.

Tasha doesn't respond.

"You cannot fathom the weight of responsibility she must bear," Tomalak goes on. "There can be no weakness. You know nothing of-"

"No, you don't understand," Tasha replies, cutting him off. "She's a child. My child. And I'm not going to let you or anyone else change my little girl into something different."

Tomalak is not phased by her reaction.

In fact, he welcomes it.

For the last few months, Tomalak has studied and evaluated his brother's wife.

When he first heard of his brother's unusual selection, Tomalak had been sceptical. Ferrock had insisted there was something different about her, something cold and intense – something almost Romulan.

Although she is mostly warm and affectionate with her child and the android, Tomalak has caught occasional glimpses of this side of Natasha Yar.

And he knows it goes deeper than her ridiculous Starfleet training.

"Did your parents treat you as softly as you treat your own daughter?" Tomalak asks.

He can see he has touched a nerve.

"I wouldn't know," Tasha replies before adding. "Let go of me."

She's not about to rehash the horrors of her own childhood for Tomalak's entertainment.

"You're either very brave or very foolish to make such a demand in your position," Tomalak cautions.

He grins.

"When my brother first informed me of your existence, he claimed that you were the most courageous woman he had ever seen," Tomalak explains. "I sense that you once did possess such strength."

Without warning, Tomalak grips her throat.

"But motherhood and the safety of this domestic Trust Bond have weakened you," Tomalak hisses.

It's a challenge.

A taunt.

And Tasha recognises it for it is.

"Let us hope for all our sakes that my brother has not misplaced that trust," Tomalak finishes.

He releases her and takes his leave.

As soon as he is gone, Tasha makes for her quarters.

Sela's bedroom is just off her own and she can hear the young girl sounding out a word with Data's encouragement in another room.

She stops in the doorway as she watches them.

Data has heard her approach. When she doesn't come in to join them, he looks up in curiosity.

He can read the expression on her face and knows something has happened.

"Sela, I need to talk with your mother. Can you continue reading on your own?" Data asks.

He sets Sela on the floor and approaches Tasha with concern.

Tasha is aware of her daughter's perceptive nature. After the incident with Tomalak, she is hesitant to break down in front of the girl.

They step into the other room.

"What has happened?" Data inquires.

Tasha doesn't reply.

Right now, she just wants to be held.

As she cries, she hates that Tomalak is right – motherhood has made her emotionally vulnerable.

Tasha would do anything to protect Sela.

For a brief moment, her thoughts drift back to her earliest days on Romulus. She allowed General Velius to exploit her compassion and it resulted in the deaths of the survivors of the Enterprise-C.

At the time, Tasha didn't care. She was living on borrowed time and would have welcomed death.

But now she has Sela.

Taking a deep breath, Tasha is overcome by a wave of fear.

Tomalak's words from earlier echo in her mind.

"You're either very brave or very foolish to make such a demand in your position."

Tasha realises she has to keep her temper in check when it comes to Sela's development. She cannot let anything happen to her.

Sela will need her mother.

Data pulls Tasha onto the bed and curls up next to her.

He knows the last few months have been hard on them. It seems there are aspects of Sela's childhood that are out of their control.

Data can see how much it hurts both Tasha and Sela.

And he feels powerless to stop it.

The sound of tiny feet foretells the appearance of their daughter.

Curious to a fault, she cannot resist investigating just what her parents have been up to.

She tries to climb onto the bed and falls.

Undeterred, she makes a second attempt. Data grabs the back of her jumpsuit and hoists her up.

Sela crawls over him and snuggles in next to her mother.

"Mummy, why are you sad?" she asks.

She can see Tasha's been crying and Sela wants to understand why.

Sela reaches up and touches her mother's cheek, wet from the tears she's shed.

"Is it because of me?" Sela questions.

"No," Tasha sobs as she squeezes her daughter in a tight embrace.

"Why?" Sela asks.

It's her favourite question and the last few months have been an endless cycle of 'why.'

Tasha knows it is an old human axiom, but she cannot shake the feeling that she needs to savour this moment, this time in her child's life.

There's an overwhelming sense of urgency to spend time with Sela because she can feel that her time with this sweet, inquisitive girl will be gone too soon.

Because of Romulan tradition. She tells herself.

So she lays there, content to listen to her toddler babble on about Ceres, and a list of the things she can identify that are blue, and her theory about how the moon never sleeps, and everything else that pops into her mind.

The three of them stay that way until Sela's stomach signals it is time for their evening meal.

She rocks back and forth on her knees and looks at Data expectantly.

"Papa! Papa! Can we go eat?" she exclaims.

In spite of Sela's unusual enthusiasm for her evening meal, she announces she is finished after only a few moments.

"I'm done," she says after eating two forkfuls of food.

Tasha watches as her daughter rocks back and forth in her seat, her tiny legs swinging as if in anticipation of something.

Tasha looks over at Data for an explanation.

He's been gone most of the day and Tasha now suspects there must be something going on.

Data looks up casually and raises his eyebrows to feign innocence.

"I'm done," Sela continues to say.

She's singing it now as she pushes her dinner back and forth across her plate.

"Sela, what are you so excited about, honey?" Tasha asks.

Sela's eyes widen as she looks at Data as if she is asking for permission.

Data puts a finger over his lips to signify silence.

Sela repeats the action and then turns back to her mother and shrugs.

"That was not fair," Data says quietly to Tasha.

Tasha knows it is fruitless to try and fight it.

She can snack later - she's not going to deny her daughter whatever surprise they have waiting.

"Well, I think I'm finished too," Tasha says with a smile.

"Can we show mummy now?" Sela asks.

"I believe that would be appropriate," Data replies as he casts a knowing look at Tasha.

"Keep your eyes closed, mummy," Sela instructs.

She's riding on Tasha's shoulders and has her hands over her mother's eyes.

After bundling up, Data has guided them out to the Conservatory on the edge of the grounds. It's not quite spring and there's still a blanket of snow covering the grounds.

It is nearly a twenty-minute walk to the building, but Tasha can tell her daughter is eager for whatever awaits them.

After all of the horrible months they've been cooped up with Tomalak, it's nice to have some time with just the three of them.

Ferrock will be back tomorrow for the first time in nearly a year. Tasha doesn't know what will happen with Sela's education.

For the moment, she's just glad that her wee lass is happy.

Once they are inside, Sela pulls her hands off.

Tasha is stunned.

"We made this for you, mummy," Sela tells her.

Tasha smiles as she takes in the scene around her.

Data has been working to maintain a crop of Romulan glow pants. They bloom only in the late winter and only at night.

It's an incredibly rare plant.

He's replicated a bottle of wine for himself and Tasha and an appropriate, matching bottle of apple cider for Sela complete with her own tiny wineglass.

They've strung fairy lights and brought in greenery.

Data has constructed a system capable of playing music.

And every available inch of the ceiling has been covered with a mix of glass baubles strung up to reflect the glow of the plants, illuminating the Conservatory.

The little girl reaches up and taps one of the seemingly floating baubles and it swings back and forth.

"Papa made these," Sela explains.

"And Sela helped," Data adds.

Sela informs her mother than she chose the colour.

Tasha pulls her down. Clutching her mother's hand, Sela guides her through the conservatory.

She is incredibly proud as she explains each selection – blue for Tasha, yellow for Data, and green for herself.

They toast Sela's accomplishment in growing the glowing plants as they sit on the stone edge of one of the planting boxes.

It's been a learning experience for Sela with Data teaching her all about how to water and tend to the plants.

Data has used this concept to try and teach Sela why it is important that she eat, drink water, and play outside in the sunlight.

"You require nutrition just like a plant," he has said on numerous occasions. "They grow just like you."

Sela recites all of this to her mother, about how they made them grow from tiny bulbs, and how Data has said there will be new bulbs soon.

"The plants grow just like me," Sela says.

Sela stops and her eyes grow wide.

She's been struck by an idea.

Sela jumps onto her mother.

"Can you grow a baby, mummy? For me?" Sela asks. "So I can play with it?"

Tasha is stunned.

She's always pushed away the idea. She has no desire to repeat the process that led to Sela's birth.

As much as she would love to have another child, she knows it's the one thing Data can't give her.

Most of all, Tasha can see how much this hurts Data.

He loves his child. He has always longed for a family – as if it is something built into his programming.

Sela is dejected when her parents don't respond.

"I'll take good care of it," Sela promises. "Just like Ceres."

Tasha laughs. She's crying on the inside.

But for her daughter, she knows she has to laugh.

"I am certain you would," Data replies.

"No, Sela," Tasha says. "Mummy can't have any more babies."

It's a lie. But she is unsure of how else to explain it to her child.

Sela pouts.

She's read stories of other children and wants to experience playing with other kids.

"Why?" she demands.

Although Tasha is struggling, Data knows exactly what to say.

"Why would we want anyone else when we already have you?" Data asks as he pokes his daughter's nose.

Sela giggles, her request temporarily forgotten.

At Sela's insistence, Data turns on the music and the three of them spend the evening dancing under the soft afterglow of the illuminated flowers.

Sela giggles and spins until she's sick to her stomach.

She's back up a moment later – happy to have her parents swing her between their arms.

Long after her bedtime has come and gone, Sela finally begins to tire. She's tuckered out from exerting so much energy and curls up against her father as they talk about the stars.

"She is asleep," Data advises.

"We should probably head back," Tasha suggests.

"In a moment," Data says.

He gently sets Sela down on the bench and turns back to Tasha.

Data takes hold of her hand and grips her waist, pulling her toward him.

He instructs the computer to begin a piece of music Tasha is unfamiliar with.

"We should put her to bed," Tasha protests.

"Captain Picard once told me 'now will never come again'," Data replies.

Tasha rests her head against his chest as Data guides her around the Conservatory.

"There are advantages to this life," Data explains. "We never could have done this on the Enterprise."

He spins her and watches as her face breaks out in a genuine smile.

"Every moment with you is worth the circumstances that led to this," Data says softly.

It has been many years since they have spoken about their decision to leave the Enterprise.

Tasha has never told Data about her conversation with Guinan.

She can't bring herself to – there's a part of her that still feels like they are playing with forces far beyond their control.

But as she looks up at Data, she tells herself that maybe this is how things were meant to be.

Because how can something that is so right possibly be wrong?

"I love you with all of my heart," Tasha whispers.

"I do not have a heart but-" Data begins to say.

He stops as Tasha presses a finger to his lips.

"Shhh," she says. "Yes. You do."

After a moment Tasha laughs softly against his chest.

"You do and she's two feet tall with boundless energy and stubborn as hell," Tasha giggles.

Tasha doesn't know what tomorrow will bring, but she knows that she's going to savour this moment.

Tasha is watching her daughter sleep from the doorway to her bedroom.

She's stretched out on her bed with her beloved pet Ceres curled up at her side.

It is less than twelve hours before Ferrock is expected to return.

Tasha is drained, but she feels happier than she has in months.

Despite her exhaustion, sleep does not come easily.

"You are worried," Data whispers. "You need sleep."

He's watched her observing their daughter for the last twenty minutes.

"I just have a lot on my mind," she replies.

"Ferrock comes back tomorrow," Data says.

"Yeah," she says sadly.

She doesn't hate him – but things are easier when he's not around. Tasha feels like she can breathe.

"He has been amenable in our recent conversations," Data informs her. "He has begun to call me by name."

Tasha doesn't want to think about Ferrock.

"Tonight was wonderful. I don't want to spoil it. Can we not talk about him tonight?" Tasha requests.

Data's comment from earlier drifts back to the forefront of her mind.

Now will never come again.

Tasha turns in his arms. She kisses his neck and runs her hands along his torso.

"You require rest," Data states as he stops her hand.

"Please, Data," she says as she rocks against him. "Just you and me - without him here."

They both know of Ferrock's voyeurism and Ferrock suspects as such.

They've never spoken of it aloud amongst their trust bond.

At first, Ferrock had been curious. Then his intentions changed.

He kept coming to watch them – night after night.

Ferrock's hope was that in doing so it would cause them discomfort, forcing them to stop.

And, for a time, it worked.

But the more Tasha had contemplated this, the more she had grown frustrated by the idea of it. She wasn't going to allow Ferrock to control them that way.

Data had found her logic to be solid.

So they resumed their physical relationship and Ferrock's voyeurism became a routine, expected event.

It serves only to fuel resentment – for all three of them.

Tomalak's presence means they have not had the opportunity to take advantage of making love free of Ferrock's gaze.

"I want to make a memory," Tasha confesses as she sheds her tunic. "Just you and me."

Data permits her to guide him to her bed, illuminated only by the moonlight.

He can hear the need in her voice as she blinks at him.

"Tonight. Before he comes back," she pleads. "For us."