In the Shadow of Two Gunmen
Stardate 46239.57
(Saturday, 29 March 2369, 10:38 hours, ship's time)
U.S.S. Enterprise
Three downward strokes of my bow across the strings. Three dark, angry chords. Roughly a meter away, separated from me by two music stands and the space between them, Data lifted his eyebrows in silent commentary.
"What?" I demanded, snapping at him despite the fact that he really wasn't the target of my annoyance.
"I do not believe I have ever heard an 'attack' on the strings that was quite so literal. I am not certain Dvořák meant there to be quite so much… intensity."
I shook my head and rolled my eyes at him, but at the same time, I was trying not to laugh, because laughter would make my black mood dissipate and there was something so satisfying about having a really good angry spell.
"Is it really necessary for you to be right before I've had coffee?"
"You were offered coffee when I arrived home," he pointed out helpfully. "As well, no one has stopped you from replicating your own. I realize that you are anxious for an official confrontation with Ensign Sutter, but the captain was away, and now he is indisposed."
"Can't you and Lt. Worf 'confront' him and tell the captain later?"
Data set down his violin, and moved his music stand aside. Stepping forward, he moved my music stand as well, and then he gently took my cello and bow from my hands and put them in the corner.
"I am certain that your understanding of ship's hierarchy is deep enough that you comprehend why we cannot do as you suggest. Lt. Worf has documented off-ship communications through an encrypted array and has also pinpointed the times when Ensign Sutter was in the cargo bay and the quartermaster's office without authorization. There is little more evidence to be found; we must simply wait until the captain can accommodate us."
"I know," the words came out as a huffy sigh. "I'm sorry, I just… I want it resolved. I want to know why someone I don't even know would want to hurt me."
"Zoe, it is very likely that Ensign Sutter is unaware of the harm Lore's birds are doing to your psyche. Letting your anger rule your emotional state is not healthy for you, or your instrument. Perhaps we should engage in a more physical activity this morning."
I'd really wanted to spend the morning on music, but Data had a point. "Again, with the being-right," I grumbled. "What did you have in mind? I mean, there's physical and there's physical." I said the last word in a flirtatious tone.
Data didn't precisely roll his eyes, but he did quirk his brows at me, and tilt his head in a manner meant to be affectionately admonishing. "While the prospect of sexual intimacy with you is always appealing, Dearest, it is already approaching eleven-hundred hours, and we are both due in the auditorium at thirteen hundred to learn the results of Dr. Crusher's 'stealth casting.'"
"The man with super-speed thinks it will take more than two hours to satisfy his girlfriend?" I scoffed, but I was teasing. Mostly. Maybe it was the clock ticking away in the back of my head, reminding me that every day was one day closer to leaving the ship, or maybe it was just a mood, but my libido was suddenly in a state of overdrive.
"You have never expressed a desire for a 'quickie' before," he pointed out in a tone that was just a little bit too reasonable.
"I didn't think it was something you were into," I admitted, though I also added, "I mean, I like slow. I like tender. I love the way you touch me, and the way we talk and cuddle after, but sometimes… Sometimes quick and dirty can be nice, too."
"'Quick and dirty?'"
"Spontaneous. Unmeasured. Raw."
"You want passion." Data's voice had never seemed flatter when talking to me.
"That's not what I said."
"But it is what you meant, is it not? You have expressed desire for a joining that is fast and without constraint."
"I meant a quickie, Data. I meant having sex on the couch like we've done several times before. I wasn't complaining about past performance and I wasn't asking you to be someone you're not. Can you honestly tell me that none of your 'multiple techniques' include having a 'nooner' with your partner?" I was beginning to feel irritated with him, and I didn't want to be. Breathe, Zoe, I reminded myself. Take a mental step back and breathe.
He was silent for a long moment. Well, long for him. "I have that programming, yes, but…" He seemed reluctant to continue.
"Data, whatever it is, just tell me."
"The last time I engaged that subroutine, the result was not… optimal."
Optimal. The word cut through me like a finely tuned phaser beam. Optimal was the word he modified for the worst of his personal experiences. Separation is sub-optimal, he had said to me while I was away with Idyllwild the previous summer. It was heart-breaking to hear him use that word with me. So, if he was using that word in relation to sex...
"Tasha." I wasn't entirely certain I'd spoken the dead woman's name aloud until Data reacted.
And react he did, with that subtle-to-anyone-else pulling-back that he did when he was hurt, even as he denied that he could be hurt. With his arms folded across his chest, so that one hand gripped the opposite forearm (where had he picked up that gesture?) there was a rarely-seen vulnerability about him. "Yes."
I left my chair, closed the little distance between us, and touched his arm. He accepted the contact, so I pulled a little, using both hands and tugging on each of his forearms, so that he'd unfold them, and let me hug him. "I'm not Tasha," I reminded him. "I've never rejected you; I've never attempted to erase one second of our relationship, and I never will."
It was a few seconds before he released his protective stance and let me step closer. It was a little longer before his arms came around me. Once they did, I rested my head against his chest. "I love you," I said. "I'm sorry if my suggestion pushed you out of your comfort zone." He'd brought up that rejection almost a year before, after the first time we'd made love, but it hadn't occurred to me that there was still an open wound there. "I just…"
Data interrupted me, saying only, "I understand." He nuzzled the top of my head. I felt the warmth of his breath on my scalp. When I looked up, he had that tiny smile curving his mouth upward at the corners, the smile that wasn't put on just because such an expression was expected of him, and there seemed to be more depth than usual in his sunshine-yellow eyes.
I lifted my hand to trace that smile with a finger, and he caught the tip in his mouth and sucked gently, then let go. "Data?"
"There is still time," he said, "if you are still inte –"
I cut him off. "Always. I'm always interested."
He touched his lips to mine, his kiss at first gentle, then more demanding, and I opened my mouth to give him access. Our tongues danced until I was nearly breathless. He swung me into his arms and took me to our bedroom, to our bed.
It wasn't the kind of wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am quickie you see in videos, but he was a little bit more dominant than usual that day, and our joining was intense in a way that wasn't better or worse than usual, just different – less talking, more touching and kissing and licking - focusing on the physical.
It wasn't as tender, as slow, as I'd become accustomed to.
But it was deeply satisfying – even more so than indulging my angry mood had been.
When we were finished, we lingered in bed, so that it really was more of a proper nooner than an actual quickie. Data's fingers roamed across my skin, apparently randomly. Softly, he said, "I cannot give you passion, Zoe, but you will always have my devotion. If it is ever 'not enough,' I will…"
I stopped him with a kiss, then pulled back to tell him, "Don't say it. Don't you dare even think it. Data, you are enough. You are more than enough. Never doubt that." I fixed my gaze on him, daring him to look away.
He didn't.
Instead, he pulled me closer for one more heated kiss, then let me go. "We will be late if we do not leave bed immediately," he informed me in a tone that seemed to hold a hint of reluctance. "You may use the shower first."
I almost suggested that we use it together, but it wasn't really big enough, and it would have been more of a distraction than a time-saver. Instead, I just said, "Thank you." I might have also put a little bit of wiggle in my walk knowing he'd be watching as I padded, naked, to the bathroom.
(=A=)
Stardate 46244.89
(Monday, 31 March 2369, 09:18 hours, ship's time)
"Zoe, we can hold the launch if you want to change your mind and come with us." Dana set her duffle down on the deck so we could share a hug. "It's your last spring break of high school."
We'd all been invited to spend a week on Risa, along with other graduating seniors from a few other ships. When I'd mentioned it to Data, he'd encouraged me to go if I wanted to, but after thinking about it for most of the weekend, I'd realized that I didn't want to.
I was about to assure my best friend for the thousandth time (well, it felt like a thousand) that I was good with my decision to skip the trip, but she added one more wheedling comment. "T'vek will be there."
I knew she meant it as an enticement, but even though Tev and I were still friends, spending time in close proximity was a little awkward. One day, hopefully, we'd grow beyond it, but for the moment, it was just one more reason not to go.
"Give him a hug for me, and tell him I'm good, and don't forget to send me a postcard," I said.
But Dana wasn't quite done. "I don't get it, Zoe," she said. "You love the beach, you've been to Risa and know the area where we'll be, and, I mean, it's the last time we'll all be together just having fun. Even Serena is coming, and she's about to pop!"
I shrugged, not really sure how to explain. "Look, you're my friends, and I love you all, but… the break doesn't even really apply to me, because I'm not in regular classes, and I'm just not in the mood." I gave her my sunniest smile. "I want you all to have an awesome time. Find a hot guy who will dance with you and make Ethan jealous." She was still dating Ensign Lovejoy, but their romance was showing signs of fizzling out.
Dana laughed. "Right, I'll do that."
"Good, now scoot. Shuttle's waiting."
I waited for her to disappear up the ramp, and then I left the shuttle bay and headed toward the JAG officer's office to check in. Lasso was still my supervisor, but he wanted me to hang out with the lawyers and ombudsmen for the week.
In retrospect, I should have gone on the trip, because the Ferengi arrived two hours later.
(=A=)
Stardate 46245.63
(Monday, 31 March 2369, 15:47 hours, ship's time)
Mining Facility, Ligos VII
"Tell me this isn't some kind of sick April Fool's joke?" I grumbled to Geordi. Data, standing not far off from us, was in conversation with a phaser rifle-wielding Ferengi who had identified himself (to call it an introduction would be far too generous) as Sub-commander Krek.
"April Fool's isn't until tomorrow," the engineer pointed out. "Not that the Ferengi are likely to know anything about Earth's calendar."
"There is that," I replied. "How are you and Data even down here? I mean… even with the captain… indisposed, shouldn't he and Lt. Worf have been able to defend the bridge?"
"You'd think so, wouldn't you? Sometimes even the best-prepared people can still be taken by surprise."
"Evidently."
"How did you manage to be taken with the first group, Zo'?" Geordi asked after a few seconds silence.
"I walked Data to the bridge after he joined me for lunch, and I was on my way back, but still on that level when they… well, it was kind of a swarm."
The noise level in the room – basically a ground-based shuttle bay or flitter hangar – increased as another group from the Enterprise arrived, all of them equally confused.
"Commander Data, what's going on?" The voice shouting the question was familiar, but I couldn't quite place it.
Data broke off his conversation, lifting a hand – a hand that still had a pair of magna-cuffs hanging from it. "Everyone please remain calm. Sub-commander Krek and his… colleagues… will be assigning us to dormitories. For now, please comply with their… requests."
I heard the note of distaste in my partner's voice at the word 'colleague,' and I could tell he had plan after plan spinning in his brain, but I was also aware that seeing him cuffed caused a murmur of surprise to move through everyone from the ship, and I wasn't the only person who had registered the perimeter of armed Ferengi surrounding us.
"I am Krek!" The little man with the big lobes stepped forward. "Married couples will be housed together! It is considered cruel to deprive men of the company of their fee-males!" Everything he said felt as though he was shouting, even though he was actually wearing a throat mic, and every sentence was a declaration.
The officers, crew, and civilians milling around began separating themselves into groups of single people and couples, whispering things to one another until the room became a sea of hushed conversation. It was bothering my ears; I couldn't imagine what it was doing to our captors' auditory systems, but I hoped it hurt. A lot.
"Zoe," Data's quiet voice uttered my name, and I turned away from the crowd to find him – escorted by another armed Ferengi – standing in front of me. "Cren," he said in his normal voice, "this woman is my mate."
"So, you say, Ann-droid, but I wish to hear this from the fee-male's own lips!" He was looking at me as though I were a tasty dessert and I really didn't like it. I glanced at Geordi, who gave a slight nod, and then I met Data's eyes, and let their familiar yellow warmth assure me. "Tell me, huu-mon fee-male, do you belong to this… man?" I could tell he was using the term grudgingly.
"Commander Data doesn't lie," I pointed out, as if even some Ferengi should know that. I wasn't keen on claiming to be anyone's property, but on the other hand, I knew being with Data was likely better than being on my own. "I am his mate."
I heard a few comments from the Enterprise contingent, mostly things like So that's the girl they call 'Mrs. Data?' or Commander Data's got it going on, but I kept my focus on the men in front of me.
"Exx-cell-ent! Follow me!"
He grabbed me by the arm and pulled just enough that I over-balanced and Data reached out to catch me, the cuff still on his wrist swinging against my hip. It was embarrassing, but I managed to bite back my cry of pain.
Cren marched us through a set of double doors, across a breezeway, and into a long hallway of what amounted to cheap, prefab, bed-n-head rooms. "You will stay here!" he said, nudging us into one of them. "Further instructions will be issued shortly!"
He left the room, and I heard the door lock behind him.
Data's first act was to remove the cuff from his wrist and stow it under one of the thin pillows on our bunk. "I did not intend to cause you pain," he said. "Are you alright?"
"It wasn't anything. It was more startling than actually painful. It probably won't even bruise." I hesitated for less than a heartbeat then asked. "Data, what's going on. What happened?"
"The Ferengi arrived on the bridge not long after you left me. We were not expecting a direct assault, and Lt. Worf was injured. I attempted to stop them but did not succeed. A further attempt would have led to loss of life, as they were armed, and I was… not."
His honesty made me realize what a horrible position he'd been put in. "It must have been incredibly frustrating for you, not being able to do anything effective."
"It is also frustrating, being here, with no apparent way to effect an escape."
"Where is here, exactly?" I sat on the bunk. "I mean, I know we were in the Ligos system…"
"We are on Ligos VIII," Data informed me. "The Ferengi have already taken control of the science colony here and are adapting their equipment for mining. I suspect we will all be put to use as miners."
"As in hard hats and canaries?" I had abstract knowledge that certain things – dilithium, for example – were mined, but had no idea of the process.
"Unlikely. The technology here allows for core samples and transporter based drilling. I suspect we will be given shifts with the machinery, as well as being assigned to support positions."
"But you're working on a plan, right?"
He gave me a look that telegraphed how very much he was unimpressed by my question. "I have already considered and discarded seventeen distinct plans. At present, I do not have sufficient data to proceed further, but I am continuously… assessing."
"And in the meantime, the entire population of the ship is now clued in on our relationship. Not that we were ever a secret, but… I feel weird getting special treatment."
"I suspect the only thing 'special' given to couples is shared semi-private housing instead of a bunk in a communal dormitory."
"Is this the part where you tell me I have to step up and set an example?"
"You do not require such a reminder, as you have just demonstrated."
"Am I allowed to ask for a hug?" He answered by sitting down next to me on the bunk and pulling me close. "Data?" I spoke his name against his neck.
"Dearest?"
"I'm scared."
He nuzzled the top of my head, placing a kiss there. "We will be o-kay," he promised.
I chose to believe him.
(=A=)
It was at that first evening meal that it happened, that I realized I'd changed. It wasn't a physical alteration. I didn't morph into some other kind of being. Instead, it was something far more subtle, and more profound: I realized that when Data had called me his mate so the Ferengi would quarter us together, it had changed the way I was perceived by the crew and civilian compliment of the Enterprise - especially the civilians.
No longer was I just 'Commander Data's girlfriend.' No more was calling me 'Mrs. Data' just an affectionate jest. In their eyes, I had become Data's counterpart. It was a heavy concept, but I wouldn't have time to process it for days.
And to think it began with a simple question.
Data had elected to forego actual food and had staked out a table in the middle of the room where we'd initially waited to be processed. They'd filled it with cafeteria tables, and I could see little groups here and there, scientists in one corner, weaponless security officers looking very stern in another. I was in line for the replicator when someone nudged me.
"You're her, aren't you? Commander Data's partner?"
I turned to meet the eyes of the woman who had spoken. She was a lieutenant in science blue, and her soft green eyes showed signs that she'd been crying. "I'm Zoe," I said. "I'm sorry, I don't know your name."
"Siobhan," she answered. "Siobhan O'Roarke. My specialty is astrometrics." She managed a weak grin. "I think I chased you and your friends out of the lab a couple of years ago."
I laughed softly. "Josh wanted to play Galactic Incursion on the dome screen. I remember. What's wrong – do you prefer Lieutenant O'Roarke, or Siobhan?" I really wasn't sure what she wanted or why she was asking me, but it couldn't hurt to be polite and find out. And it wasn't like there wasn't time, there were still ten people ahead of us in the replicator line.
"Siobhan, please. My daughter, Aisling. She's seven. She was in school when the Ferengi came through, but I haven't seen her. Can you find out if she's alright?"
I couldn't remember seeing any children when I'd been in this room earlier, and I didn't see any now. "The Ferengi haven't harmed anyone," I said. "And I doubt they'd hurt a child, even so, but I'll see what I can learn. Do you see that table over there?" I turned and pointed to where Data was waiting for me, and I noticed he'd been joined by Geordi and Reg and Dana's father. "Find me when you're done eating, okay?"
"Thank you, I'll do that."
She turned away but our conversation seemed to open the door for others to ask questions as well. I wish I'd had answers for them, but most of them - mainly scientists and civilians – seemed just to want reassurance that they weren't alone, and that Data and the other officers present were working on a plan.
It might have been a white lie to promise that they were, but I was certain Data was working on something – or would be once he'd acquired enough information.
Finally, it was my turn to collect food – nothing fancy, but nothing scary either – and join Data and the others, but I hesitated before taking the seat Data had saved for me. "I don't want to interrupt if you're talking shop," I explained when he questioned my reluctance.
"You would not be interrupting regardless of the subject of conversation, Zoe," Data said in a tone that was meant to be reassuring to me, but also to make a point to some of the officers who had gathered at our table – officers whom I hadn't actually met yet.
He was holding my gaze with his own, so I nodded, and took the open spot. Then I asked, "Can anyone confirm whether or not the kids who were in school are okay? They're not here, are they? Someone approached me to see if I knew anything, and I'd hate to leave her worrying."
For a moment, everyone was at a loss, until a lieutenant, j.g. whom I didn't recognize mentioned, "I saw the school children being herd – gathered into a single schoolroom."
"Are you certain of that, Lieutenant?" Data asked, in full-on officer mode.
"Yes, sir. My girlfriend's son is one of those kids."
"Thank you, Lieutenant Rivera," Data said, using the man's name that time.
When Siobhan came toward me about half an hour later, Data allowed me to give her the news that her daughter was safe aboard the Enterprise.
Was it weird that being able to give someone good news (well, good-ish) made me feel… proud? Was it wrong that after more people began to approach me, I began to feel completely inadequate?
(=A=)
Stardate 46257.14
(Friday, 4 April 2369, 20:35 hours, ship's time)
U.S.S. Enterprise
"…Zoe?" The muffled sound of my name penetrated my self-induced bubble.
I was lying in the bathtub, almost entirely submerged in the lavender-scented water. My hair was loose, floating around my head in reddish-brown tendrils. My ears were beneath the surface. My hands and feet had long since gone pruney. My eyes were closed.
"Zoe," Data's voice repeated. "I am certain you can hear me."
I opened my eyes, saw my lover's face hovering above me, and closed them again.
"May I remind you, dearest, that no matter how long you remain submerged, you will not develop gills, fins, or a mermaid's tail? You have been soaking for nearly two hours – one hour, fifty-three minutes, seventeen-point-nine-six seconds, when I walked through the door. I believe it is time to return to dry land."
Why did he always have to be right?
I used my toe to trigger the water release and sat up in the rapidly draining water. "Hand me my towel?" I requested.
He retrieved one of the fluffy bath sheets I loved, but instead of handing it to me, he extended a hand to help me from the tub, then wrapped it around me. Then he got a second, smaller towel and deftly twisted it into a turban to hold my wet hair. "Come," he said, leading me out of the bathroom. "Sit."
I let him guide me to our bed, but I didn't sit on the edge. Instead I moved to the middle, with my back against the pillows, and I pulled my knees up to my chest, and wrapped my arms around them. "I don't know how to… Everything from the last week is hitting me pretty hard."
"Spending three days working as miners on Ligos VIII was not an ideal situation for any of us, Zoe, but no one was harmed, and we have been home since early this morning. I do not understand why you are having this reaction now."
I remained huddled, but I met his eyes as I said, "It wasn't the mining, Data. I mean, that wasn't exactly fun, but it was the way people looked at me… treated me. Asking me questions as if I had a clue what was going on. 'Do you know if my little girl is safe? Is Commander Data working on a plan?' From the moment you told that Ferengi I was your mate, I stopped being just Zoe and started being your…" I trailed off, not sure what word to use. "I became an extension of you, and I'm not… I know that civilian spouses of ranking officers often take on a lot of unofficial responsibilities – acting as co-hosts for events, bonding with the partners and families of visiting dignitaries – but I'm eighteen years old. I'm barely certain of who I am, never mind representing you."
Data had been sitting on the end of the bed, facing me. He got up, then, and retrieved a clean t-shirt and a pair of sweats for me. "You will find these more comfortable than damp towels," he said, sitting back down, and leaving the clothes next to me. "Last fall, when we began to speak of marriage as an eventual evolution of our relationship, you referred to needing 'more time in rank.' At the time, I understood you to mean that you required an adjustment period to settle into sharing a home."
I unwrapped the towel on my head and shook out my hair. It was still wet, and when it touched my back and shoulders, I shivered and reached for the t-shirt – one of Data's uniform tees that was starting to lose its color and shape – and pulled it on over the towel I was wearing. "I also told you I was still learning how to be with an officer."
"I remember," he managed not to make it sound like a reminder that he remembered everything. "But I now believe I misunderstood what you meant."
I stood up to pull the towel out from under my t-shirt and step into the sweatpants. "There was a bit of an adjustment when I got home from tour," I confirmed as I took my towels to the bathroom, and then returned, pausing in front of him. "Can we move this conversation to the couch? I'm ready for tea now, I think."
"You have not had an evening meal," Data pointed out. "Perhaps you should consider eating something." It was typical of him to monitor my eating habits. Sometimes it annoyed me, but usually I found it sweet.
"I will if you insist, but I'm not really hungry."
"Make yourself comfortable on the couch," he said. "I will replicate a… light snack for you."
I bent to give him a darting kiss, then ran my hands down his shoulders and the length of his arms to his hands, which I grabbed, and tugged on, pulling him to his feet, though he hesitated at my unfamiliar behavior, and seemed a bit thrown by my shifting mood.
Ten minutes later, we were on the couch, not cuddled but in the same positions we'd often taken during our very first times sharing tea. Then, I had referred to it as a ritual, a term which Data had embraced. It was even more of a ritual two-and-a-half years later, one that was sometimes a source of comfort, and other times a way to ease difficult conversations.
I had my hands wrapped around a mug of my favorite lemon-mint concoction, and there was a plate of sliced apples and sharp cheddar cheese within easy reach, and I dutifully ate about half of what was there before we resumed our conversation.
"You handled yourself most ably while were on Ligos VIII," Data began, at the same time that I spoke.
"I guess things got a little too real for me this week."
We both stopped, realizing that overlapping sentences would only be confusing, and even though the overall mood was still serious, I had to chuckle. We were both so eager to fix everything. It was another way we were alike, I supposed.
"May I speak first?" Data asked. After my confirming nod, he continued. "I did not realize that you were unsettled by the way members of the Enterprise crew were treating you, while we were off the ship. If I had recognized any discomfort beyond that of being where you did not wish to be, I would have addressed it. As I said, you handled everything most ably. You were poised and gracious, and it is my assessment that you helped to ease the worries of many people."
I reached out to touch his hand, and he immediately turned his hand in mine and curled his fingers around my palm. "I'm glad you think so," I told him. "But inside I was frightened about what was happening, and about the answers I was giving. What if I'd said the wrong thing? I felt unprepared and uncomfortable, and our relationship – the fact of it, the way people see us – got too real."
"I see," he said. "Then… you believe our relationship was not real until this week?"
"NO!" I didn't quite shout it. "I don't mean… God, I love you, but sometimes I feel like I'll never be ready to be the partner you need."
"You are already the partner I need, Zoe. You are also the partner I want," he countered. "I do not understand how our relationship could be any more or less real than it has always been."
I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to still my thoughts enough to express them. I could see from the slight tightening around Data's eyes, and feel in the way he clutched my hand, that I had distressed him.
"We've talked about the way we change personas, depending on the people or situations we're facing. I've seen you in officer-mode more than once – "
"You told me you thought I was 'hot' - "
I grinned. "I do. It is. When you're all take-charge guy, it's one of the most reassuring things I can think of, but it's also a little bit intimidating. And… usually your authority is - it's almost like you downplay your rank, so people don't perceive you as a threat. Captain Picard's got the weight of decades of service. Will Riker's more casual. He's gregarious until he has to be something stronger. But you… you wear your authority with quiet strength and subtle dignity. The thing is, though, even though you're so low key about it, there's a clear difference between Data the officer, and Data, my boyfriend who sometimes lets his vulnerability show."
"I did not realize you had analyzed me in such detail."
"Like you haven't done the same to me?" The subtle change in his facial features told me I was correct. "I know how to be around Boyfriend-Data, who is warm and accessible. You were Boyfriend-Data most of the time in San Francisco, and about half the time on Terlina. You are that softer, cuddlier version of you most of the time when we're at home."
"No one has ever described me as 'cuddly,'" he observed.
"That's probably because no one else has seen you shirtless and frowsy in pajama bottoms, with your hair mussed because you spent the night with your sleeping lover in your arms." I didn't mean to snark at him, really.
"Forgive me, Zoe. Please continue."
I nodded. Then I sipped some of my tea. After that, I continued. "So, the whole time on Ligos VIII you were the ranking officer present, and everyone heard you use the word mate, and once you did, it didn't matter that I'm only eighteen, or that we're not actually married. I was your other half.
"I knew – I know – intellectually I mean – that officers' partners have certain things expected of them, certain unofficial responsibilities. I understand that as second officer you're pretty visible, and that there will be situations when I'll have to take on that role. I even understand that there will be more and more situations like this, where I have to be an example, or step up and be involved in things, especially as your career progresses. I mean, I can't imagine you want to be second officer forever? I just thought – I just assumed – "
" - that you would have the 'more time in rank' we discussed earlier." Data finished the thought for me.
I wrinkled my nose as I said, "Well, yeah. Data… what if I can't do this? What if I embarrass you, or do something to hold you back? What if…?"
He was still holding my hand, but the tightness around his eyes had lessened considerably. "What if you bring balance to the equation?"
"Data?"
"I am an android; you are human. I am a Starfleet officer; you are a civilian."
"You forgot 'I am male; you are female,'" I teased.
He gave me a look and continued his thought, "Your presence at my side these past few days made people more comfortable approaching me, and your insight has already helped to 'soften' my approach to certain situations. You may not feel 'ready' for the role you were thrust into on Ligos VIII, but I am confident that you are capable of fulfilling it, should you wish to."
"'Wish to?'"
"The recent events were unplanned, and unwelcome. We had few choices, and I made what I believed was the best choice for both of us."
"'Separation is sub-optimal,'" I quoted him.
"Indeed. As future situations arise, if you do not wish to be involved, I would never require it."
"Oh, and the optics of that would so favorable."
"I have little interest in optics, Zoe. I have a great deal of interest in allowing you to find your own way in this."
"I wouldn't mind a little guidance."
"Then I will point out that you are still assigned to the protocol officer as his intern. Perhaps there are resources that you have not yet discovered."
"Great," I muttered, but I was half-teasing. "Now my boyfriend is giving me homework."
"Not at all, Zoe. Your partner is recognizing that you respond best when challenged to solve your own problems."
"And the second officer of the ship? What does he say?"
Data took a beat to recognize what I was really asking. "If he were here," he began, teasing me just a little. "He would recommend that you ask Lt. Prerr about the history of officers' spouses in Starfleet and that you consider asking him about the other resources your boyfriend suggested. "
"Okay, that's fair. But in the meantime, since the second officer isn't here, do you think my affectionate, kind, doting boyfriend could fetch a comb and help de-tangle my hair?"
"I am certain he would be pleased to do so."
(=A=)
Stardate 46267.87
(Tuesday, 8 April 2369, 18:35 hours, ship's time)
Tuesday evening, I arrived home to hear the comm-unit signaling an incoming call, which I answered even before I was seated in Data's chair.
"There you are, daughter-of-mine. I was starting to believe you were a figment of my imagination. You don't call; you don't write… is everything alright?"
I had to chuckle. My mother's melodrama was a bit – one I'd have likely done if I'd been making the call – but it had been a while since we'd had a real-time conversation. "I write!" I protested. "I sent a letter last week."
"You look tired."
"Do I? Things have been… there were Ferengi, and ninety percent of the crew was conscripted to be miners, but it only lasted a few days. By the time Data and Geordi came up with an escape plan, the captain and Will had already taken back control of the ship."
"You were on the planet?"
"I was. And you'll be pleased to know that if this acting thing doesn't work out, I'm now 'quite proficient with a laser drill.'" I was quoting Data on those last few words, and she smiled, hearing me imitate his inflection.
"Well, that's a relief," she teased. But she seemed to be studying my image, because her tone grew more serious and she asked. "Really, Zoe… I can tell there's something wrong. Talk to me?"
"It's stupid," I told her. "I mean… on the planet the Ferengi were separating couples from single people. Something about it being considered cruel to deprive men of female companionship. Incidentally, I don't know how they handled Lt. Hodges and his husband. I'll have to ask Lasso about Ferengi social norms."
"Zoe…"
She said it in much the same exasperated tone in which I sometimes uttered my partner's name. "Sorry. Anyway, Data told the one in charge – Krek – that I was his mate so we'd be quartered together, and… and it wasn't like our relationship was ever a secret, but it's also – I mean we don't go around canoodling in turbo-lifts, you know?"
"I know. Go on?"
"The crew heard… and they started treating me differently. Like… like I was…"
"As if you were Data's wife?" Mom had always been amazing at guessing games.
"Yeah, something like that. No…. exactly that."
"And it made you uncomfortable?"
"It didn't really hit me until we were home… and it's not that… I mean we've been talking about marriage 'someday,' but suddenly 'someday' started to feel a little too close, and I freaked out a bit, and…"
"Did you talk to Data about it?"
"Did I talk…? Oh, there was talking. There was a lot of talking, and I think he understands what I was feeling – he kept insisting I handled myself 'most ably' – but I feel like there's something unresolved. And I'm… Mom, I'm eighteen. Dancing with him at a ship's function, I'm equipped to do, but being involved in his work, even tangentially, isn't something I'm ready for, and I'm not explaining this right."
I took a breath and started over. "Intellectually, I know that when you marry an officer you marry the whole fleet. I saw it with you and Dad, but…"
"But I'm a scientist, not a line officer, and Data may very well command his own ship one day." My mother's words were matter of fact, but her tone was gentle.
"Yeah."
"Zoe, you always distanced yourself from anything Starfleet related when you were growing up – "
" – because Starfleet kept taking my mother away from me – "
" – and I understand it, but you're at a point now where you have to do some soul-searching. I'm certain Data doesn't expect you to make being a fleet spouse your entire life..."
"No, of course he doesn't." I was irritated by the very notion.
"But you need to make peace with the fact that this is part of the deal, and if you can't do that, you need to tell Data before the two of you make irrevocable decisions."
"You say that as though you expect him to propose to me tomorrow," I accused.
Mom laughed. "Oh, I hope not. It is a little too soon."
"A little? Aren't you supposed to be reminding me that no one should get married before they've finished their education, traveled, had a career…?"
"Would it matter if I did? Zoe, you and Data aren't a typical couple, and the standard guidelines don't apply. Would I prefer it if you wait until you're done with college? Of course. But the two of you have to choose your own path. I've seen his devotion to you. I've seen your deep love for him. Time and patience will give you the experience and confidence you're lacking now."
"I don't want to disappoint him."
"Oh, sweetie. I don't think there's anything you can do that would disappoint Data, as long as you're honest with him."
"I'm trying to be… but it's difficult, when half the time I'm not sure I'm being honest with myself."
"So, tell him that. He may not be any more experienced than you are when it comes to romantic relationships, but he has decades of experience navigating Starfleet culture – much more than he probably realizes - and in some ways his rank will protect you both. It gives you some shelter while you figure things out."
"Is that what you'd tell a cadet asking you for advice?"
"Hell no! I'd tell a cadet they had no business dating an officer. But you're not a cadet, you're the great and powerful Zoificus, and I suspect you do know what you want."
"I want Data."
My mother arched a brow, "Dirty…" she teased.
"Mom!" That exasperated tone ran in the family. "I meant, I want a life with Data. I want… I want to be there when he gets promotions, and I want to come home to him after a play, and I want… someday in the future – far, far, in the future – I can see us with a family."
My mother's expression had softened into something like tender nostalgia. I half-expected a gushy-Mom sentence, but instead she said, "Honey, if you want all those things, you need to accept that Data, the officer, and Data, your partner, are aspects of the whole, and not the separate entities you've carved out in your head."
"Yeah," I answered.
"Yeah," she repeated. Then she seemed to backtrack. "Wait. Why were you on the ship? I thought you and your friends were going to Risa?"
"I chose not to go."
"Chose?" She seemed dubious.
"Partying on Risa didn't really sound all that appealing, and I had obligations here that my friends didn't."
"Data didn't – "
"Honestly, Mom. He's not my boss or my keeper. Actually, he encouraged me to go. I didn't want to."
The look on her face was telling. "Sounds like your heart knows more than your head right now, kiddo."
"I guess my head has some catching up to do." I sighed, and then I shifted slightly in the chair. "So, how are you? How's Ed? Do you still love teaching?"
Mom laughed. "Graceful segue, sweetie."
We talked for another half an hour or so, about her life in San Francisco, her teaching, what it was like being on the Academy campus again after so many years off-world. It was a good talk, and it left me feeling much more settled than I had been.
(=A=)
Stardate 46272.26
(Thursday, 10 April 2369, 09:02 hours, ship's time)
I nearly spit out the coffee I'd just sipped; instead, I swallowed it in an air-filled gulp, before asking, incredulously, "You're going to do what?"
The Enterprise was in orbit around a really unappealing planet – a gas giant called Deinonychus VII – waiting to rendezvous with the Biko, a cargo ship, but she'd been delayed so we were here with nothing to do but wait, and that meant skeleton crews on the bridge and all the command staff got to indulge in some downtime.
I'd been hoping for serious music time with Data. A few weeks before, I'd found a file full of sheet music I'd brought home from the summer I'd spent at Suzuki, I'd we'd been playing through them for the last little while. Something about the work, specifically one of the cello concerti, had struck a chord with my partner, and he'd been spending significant amounts of time analyzing everything the composer had ever written.
I didn't mind it so much; except he'd taken to humming it at me while I was trying to sleep. On one level, it was sort of adorable seeing him so fascinated by something that he wasn't keeping it inside his own head, but on another…
"Geordi and I are going to attempt to use my neural net as a backup for the ship's essential systems." His statement brought me back to the present.
"And you do this, how?" I asked, banishing all thoughts of music and focusing on the conversation at hand.
"We will be inserting two optical cables into my cranial unit and then creating an interlink between myself and the ship's computer."
"Wait, you're going to plug something new into your head?"
"It is not new, Zoe. In fact, the procedure is not dissimilar from the way I use an optical cable to connect to my workstation here in our quarters when I wish to work in bed."
"Except your workstation doesn't have anything close to the power of the whole ship." I had a bad feeling about this plan. "Does it?"
"It does not."
"What happens if there's a feedback loop and you get fried?"
"Then my neural net would likely suffer cascade failure if key systems could not be rerouted."
Most of the time, Data's calm, rational delivery was soothing to me. Just then, it was infuriating. The hand that wasn't wrapped around a coffee mug balled into a fist, but I refrained from actually punching anything. "Oh, is that all? And what's the likelihood that something will go wrong? I mean you have such a great track record when it comes to sticking things into your head."
"I am sorry that you disapprove of this project, but Commander LaForge and I feel it is a concept that has merit, and as there is nothing else pressing that either of us – "
It was never good when he used Geordi's rank. It meant he was in full-on officer mode.
"Do I get a say?"
"Zoe?"
"You're sitting here telling me about a planned project that you had to know would alarm me. So, are you telling me just so I'll know where to find the body when you melt your circuits into goo, or are you telling me because you want my opinion?"
A flicker of something akin to guilt crossed Data's features and disappeared. "It is… the former," he admitted. "Although, I believe you are aware that the odds of anything 'melting my circuits into goo' are extremely low." He softened his tone a little, making it more personal, and less professional. "I am sorry that you do not support what Geordi and I wish to try, but if the captain agrees, we will be performing the experiment later this morning."
It wasn't worth picking a fight with him. I let out a long breath. "Okay, fine. Thank you for telling me, at least. You'll let me know when you're finished?"
"If you wish, you may come to engineering and observe the process."
"Lasso wants me to sit in on the video conference with State. He says it's never too early to start honing the skills necessary to navigate groups of diplomats and bureaucrats."
"I am certain he would excuse you, if – " Data began.
I cut him off, "I'm sure he would, too, but Ambassador Uhura is supposed to be part of this comm and I don't want to miss that."
"Very well," he responded, retreating (at least, it felt like a retreat) into his officer persona. "I will inform you when we have completed our tests."
He began to rise from the table, but I darted out my hand to grab his. "Data, wait." He halted his movements. "Please be safe?" I implored.
"All safety precautions will be followed," he assured me.
I closed my eyes and nodded, then opened them, and managed to smile at him. "Are we still having date night tonight?"
"Of course, Zoe. Is there a particular activity you have in mind?"
My smile was real that time. "Actually," I began, "I was thinking we could bring our instruments to one of the observation lounges and play some Dvořák."
"An excellent idea. I will see you this evening." He did get up then, but so did I meeting him for a kiss. He lingered for a moment, twisting one of the loose strands of my hair between his fingers. "Please do not worry; everything will be fine."
(=A=)
Stardate 46272.88
(Thursday, 10 April 2369, 14:26 hours, ship's time)
After the video conference, Lasso had nothing else for me to do, so he ordered me to take the afternoon off. My friends were in class, Data was tied up in engineering, and I wasn't in the mood for Ten-Forward, so I went to the one place that was always welcoming: the arboretum.
I wasn't looking for Keiko, specifically, but when I turned a corner and found her planting bulbs, I couldn't resist asking, "Need a hand?"
"Actually, this is the last set. They're from Relva VII, and they've been in cryo for the last five years. If I'm lucky, I'll be here to see them come up."
"Lucky?" I wasn't sure what she meant.
"Come sit with me?"
"Sure."
I followed Keiko, not to one of the benches that were placed on the paths that wandered through the space, but under a fairly sturdy tree, on incredibly soft grass. "This is my favorite spot," she said. "The tree and the grass are from Earth, but all the flowers in this section are from different worlds. Somehow, though, they all harmonize."
I tried to see the space through her expert eyes, but all I could tell was that, "It's very relaxing. I like it."
"I'm going to miss it. I've never had this much space to work with. Most botanists don't, and they don't even have a position for me on Deep Space Nine."
"You're leaving the Enterprise?" I asked.
"Miles has been offered a promotion – Chief of Operations on the space station – and we've pretty much decided to take it. The new commander there doesn't mind that he's non-commissioned; just cares about his talent."
"That's wonderful for him, but I'll miss you. We'll miss you."
"You'll just have to come visit. Molly loves it when you come over."
"We'll have to do dinner again before you go." I took a beat. "When are you going?"
Keiko's expression shifted slightly. "We have to report by the end of next month… I don't know how we'll get everything packed and ready for transfer in time."
"Well, if it will help, Data and I would be glad to babysit Molly for a few evenings, so you can focus."
Her answering smile was so grateful. "Thank you, Zoe. That would help a lot."
A shadow fell over us, and I looked up to see my partner standing there. "Are your ears burning?" I asked him, teasing. "I just volunteered us to babysit Molly so Keiko and Miles could have some kid-free packing nights. Hope you don't mind?"
"Not at all," Data answered. "We're glad to hep y'all out." The last few words were uttered in a sort of hick accent of the type you typically only heard on cheesy cowboy vids.
Keiko and I shared a look as we both got to our feet. "Which of us were you looking for?" I asked. It wasn't unlike Data to seek the botanist out for professional advice, or, I'd learned over time, relationship pointers when he and I weren't communicating well.
"I came to find you, little darlin'," he responded, again with that accent popping up on the last two words. "Would you mind comin' along with me?"
"Sure," I said. "Comm me," I reminded Keiko, and then I slipped my hand into Data's and we walked back to the doors that would return us to the corridor. "Okay," I asked him. "What's with the accent?"
"I do not recall employing an accent," he responded. "That is actually why I came to find you."
I waited until we were alone in the turbo-lift before I dropped his hand and turned to face him. "There was a glitch, wasn't there? You stuck something in your head, and something went wrong."
"As far as we can tell, it is only a minor problem. Some of my personal files have been comingled with the ship's library, recreation, and replicator systems. For example, several of the padds containing the script for Something for Breakfast have been replaced with my poetry." He took a beat, then added, "And I am apparently 'talking like a cowboy' with no memory or record of having done so."
"Oh, that's not good."
"No, ma'am it ain't good."
"Data!"
"Zoe?" He looked as confused as I'd ever seen him.
"You really don't know you're doing this? You just called me 'ma'am,' and then you used the word 'ain't.'" I imitated his accent to make a point.
"Intriguing," he breathed. "Not only am I unaware of using an accent, but I have apparently also used a verbal contraction."
"Yes, well, before you turn completely into Cowboy Bob, can you tell me why you were looking for me? I'm guessing it's not so we can head to the holodeck and ride the range?"
"No," he said. "It is not."
The turbo-lift opened, and we stepped onto the engineering deck, where his lab was. I hadn't been paying attention when he'd specified our destination. "We're going to your lab?"
"Yes," he answered as we walked down the hall, and entered the room that I sometimes thought of as his bat-cave. "I am about to perform a self-diagnostic, and I will be unavailable for quite a spell."
The accent thing was getting old fast, but I ignored it and asked. "Because of the glitches?"
"Yes. I wished to inform you 'in person' of what was happening. I am aware you dislike 'waiting, wondering, and worrying.'"
I nodded. "I hate the waiting part," I agreed. "You're going to be okay, right? Do you want me to stay?"
He ducked his head to brush a kiss across my lips. "Ain't no need for that darlin'. I'll be right as rain before you know it."
I wasn't entirely certain of that, but I wrapped my arms around him, and claimed another, deeper kiss. "Let me know when you're done?"
"I will certainly do so." I started to pull away, but he surprised me with a slap to my buttocks – not at full strength, but enough that I'd be feeling it for a few minutes - and the words, "Git along, now, filly. I'll be home in time fer supper."
I was too shocked to be mad at him, but I was definitely going to tease him about it later. Possibly forever
(=A=)
Stardate 46273.08
(Thursday, 10 April 2369, 16:11 hours, ship's time)
There was no way I was going to do anything productive while I waited to hear from Data, so when he sent me away from his lab, I returned to our quarters to cuddle Spot and watch a vid.
I should have known it was a bad idea. After all, I'd heard Data tell me there were glitches in the library and recreation systems. But somehow, I didn't connect that with the entertainment video, and the computer didn't give me any reason to expect that I wouldn't be seeing the movie I'd picked, a romantic drama about a Vulcan boy and Terran girl who were both competing in a piano festival, and ended up falling for each other.
I'd seen it many times before – it was one of my favorite 'comfort' vids – so I thought nothing about going to the bathroom while the opening credits rolled and the first few scenes played. I was a little confused when I was done, and thought I heard Data and someone else talking, but I knew there was no way he'd be finished with his diagnostic that quickly; the fastest version took an hour.
I returned to the living area of our quarters and froze, because on the screen was Data's image, and the words he was speaking sounded like a letter.
Recently, however, I have learned that there is a great deal of difference between hosting poker night when one has a child who has a room of their own in which they may spend their time, and hosting it when one shares their quarters with a romantic partner who is not part of the circle of players.
Prior to Zoe moving in with me, the nights when it was my turn to host the game were generally disrupted only by the presence of my cat, Spot, and her enthusiasm for lying in the middle of the poker table, heedless of any admonishments to 'get down' or 'go to bed.' (My friends and colleagues frequently remind me that 'if I had wanted a pet that would listen to me, I should have acquired a dog.')
"Computer, hold playback. Identify."
The video paused, but the computer was less than helpful, simply spitting out the name of the video I'd actually requested.
"Replay from beginning," I ordered, and the video restarted.
Dear Commander Maddox:
First, let me congratulate you on the successful creation of a working, if rudimentary, prototype of a positronic network. I have reviewed the material you sent and am curious about your decision to keep your creation in a virtual environment, rather than constructing a 'body' of some type.
Commander Maddox. I knew that name. He was the man who had wanted to take Data apart a few years before. I'd never met him – hadn't even known Data when he'd had to go to court to defend his personhood – but everyone knew the story. It was part of Enterprise lore.
I let the letter play to the end.
Is it possible that I am 'fooling myself' into believing that our relationship is sustainable, when I cannot give my lover the emotional responses she professes not to need, but undoubtedly deserves?
I do not expect you to provide these answers. I believe that Counselor Troi and Zoe, herself, are correct that I must find them within myself. I can only trust that when Zoe assures me she does not find me lacking, or perceive anything 'missing' from our relationship, she is speaking the truth.
I sat on the couch staring at the screen. Data was exchanging regular mail with the man who wanted to dissect him like some cybernetic lab rat? Data was talking to this guy about our relationship? Data found more intimacy in pillow talk than sex, but didn't want to give up the latter?
I should have been livid.
I should have felt betrayed.
I should have been wondering if our relationship had been some kind of science experiment for the past two years.
But even though I wasn't thrilled that he was sharing details of our relationship – information about my rape – with a man who I wouldn't trust to care for a bottle of water, there was a part of me that understood it.
"Computer, replay from beginning."
I watched Data's letter again, really paying attention, and I was struck with the urge to know more. What else had he written to Maddox? What had Maddox written back?
Commander Maddox, is it possible that no matter how much growth I have achieved, I am still ill-prepared to provide the woman I care for with the support she requires?
Data, it seemed, had a lot of the same questions I had: Can we maintain our relationship? Am I enough?
"Computer, pause playback." The image of my lover's face froze. I left the couch, stretched, and moved through the space I shared with Data, seeing it with new eyes: My cello in the corner near the shelf where his violin was kept. A favorite sweatshirt of mine on the coat tree with his Sherlock Holmes garb. The vase of sunflowers on the dining table – Data always made sure there were fresh flowers there.
I walked into our bedroom, saw the optical cable coiled neatly on his side of the bed, and the water glass I hadn't remembered to recycle. I saw his folded pajamas, the top I usually wore, the bottoms he did, on our perfectly made bed. Data was the one who did that, part of his routine, and I let him. Was I taking him for granted?
I walked into the bathroom next. His bathrobe and mine, brushing up against each other on hooks. In the medicine cabinet behind the mirror, I knew, were our toothbrushes, side by side in a ceramic holder I'd picked up on tour. It was shaped like a cat, and painted orange like Spot, and it had made me laugh.
"Data brushes his teeth?" Dana had asked me once, not long after my music lessons had been moved to his quarters. "Data has toilet paper in his bathroom?"
"Of course, he does," I'd answered her then, annoyed by the questions.
I splashed water on my face, and then sat down on the edge of the bathtub. My bathtub. The one Data had installed as a birthday present for me because he knew I loved bubble baths. The one where, just a few days earlier, I'd been quietly freaking out over the way our relationship was now being perceived.
He'd had a bathtub put into the master bath in the house on Terlina III, also. For me.
And he worried he wasn't giving enough? Couldn't be enough?
My mother's words came ringing back to me, almost too loud inside my head: I've seen his devotion to you, she had said Later, she'd chided me for compartmentalizing. You need to accept that Data, the officer, and Data, your partner, are aspects of the whole, and not the separate entities you've carved out in your head."
For the better part of a week, I'd been feeling like everything between Data and me was suddenly heavier – more real, and my reaction had confused him.
I do not understand how our relationship could be any more or less real than it has always been, he'd said, but I hadn't really understood what he'd meant, just as he had misinterpreted things I'd said in San Francisco the previous fall.
I went back to the living room, and had the computer play the letter to the end. Then I shut down the system and went to take a shower.
(=A=)
When Data came home a little after nineteen hundred hours, I had candles burning on both the dining table and the coffee table (the coffee table he'd acquired at my request, back when I really had been just his student… when we were still forming a friendship, let alone anything more), and my mother's zucchini casserole ready in stasis, and Dvořák's Cello Concerto in B minor (with Jacqueline du Pré as the soloist) cued on the entertainment system, which had been working correctly for about an hour.
I'd put on my favorite little black dress – one I hadn't worn since Idyllwild's last cast party, done my hair in soft waves, and was wearing the tennis bracelet he'd given me for Valentine's Day and the pearls he'd presented to me almost a year before, as I was leaving the ship to go to Idyllwild.
Dressing up wasn't about seduction. Data was quite literally not wired that way. I guess, it was a visible representation of the choice I'd made, the choice my mother had helped me see I'd already made.
"Zoe, I am… home."
I was curled up on the couch, reading a novel, the backlit screen the only illumination in the room, aside from the candles. I smiled up at him. "No more Cowboy Bob?" I asked, making sure my words were infused with gentle amusement.
"It was necessary for Geordi to deactivate me, in order to purge the corrupted files, but I am 'back to normal' now." He took in the way I'd set the table, the bottle of wine breathing in front of me on the coffee table. "Are we celebrating some occasion with which I am unfamiliar?"
"Not exactly. Come sit with me?"
He did so, lifting his arm to settle it around my shoulders. "Welcome home," I said, and kissed him lightly. "And welcome to date night two-point-oh."
I heard his confusion in his voice. "I do not understand."
"I tried to watch a video earlier."
"When the recreational and library systems were… malfunctioning?"
"Yes. Only instead of a video, I was treated to a piece of your personal correspondence." I'd spent time practicing the carefully neutral tone I used, and managed to maintain it as I said, "I was a little upset to learn that you'd been giving the intimate details of our relationship to a man who wants to take you apart."
I couldn't see his eyes flickering, but I was certain they were. "You found my most recent letter to Commander Maddox."
"I did."
"And you are not angry?" He'd shifted from confusion to trepidation.
"I was," I admitted. "I was angry, and hurt, and confused, and I'm not sure I'm okay with some of what you've shared with him… but I had time to think it through before you got home, and I realized that I've been unfair to you."
"Unfair?"
I shifted slightly so that my body was still resting against his, but I could turn my head and see his face. "Yeah. Unfair. See, I've been so focused on how I feel – worrying we moved too far, too fast; being concerned I couldn't be an equal partner to you; feeling uncertain about the role I'm eventually be expected to play – that I forgot that you're going through all the same things, too. You might not have the emotional context, and I know now that your concerns are not quite the same as mine, but it's still… it's still an adjustment. It's still something you're learning as you go, just like I am."
"There are times I have been uncertain I am doing the 'right thing' with regard to our relationship," Data admitted. "Like you, there are limited people from whom I can seek advice. Geordi is my best friend, but he has never had a successful long-term relationship."
I was tallying something in my head, so there was a delay before I responded. "You're the only one, aren't you? In the command staff, you're the only one in a stable romantic relationship, and your only friends who are even a couple are Keiko and Miles."
"Our only friends," he corrected, putting a slight emphasis on the first word.
"Sorry," I said, "our only friends who are a couple are leaving in a month." I saw his expression shift again. "Which you knew."
"It was my recommendation that 'sealed the deal' for the chief."
"Of course, it was." I leaned forward to pour the wine into glasses. We didn't often drink at home, but I'd felt like it added a grace note to the evening. "Here."
Data took the glass I offered, glancing at it and then back at me. "Zoe?"
"Date night two-point-oh comes with the occasional adult beverage," I teased lightly. "It's nothing fancy. Replicated California chardonnay. The third time through your letter, I realized how lucky I am. I have so many people helping me when I get nervous or scared or feel like I really am too young for you. I mean, I have you, obviously, but also two parents, two stepparents, Tara and Oberlyne, my grandparents… And I didn't realize, I didn't realize until today that while your relationship with your colleagues includes social interaction, they're not really friends the same way, except for Geordi."
His eyebrows lifted the way they often did when he was responding to something. It always amazed me how expressive he truly was. "One of the reasons I included details of my relationship with you in my letters to Commander Maddox is that, despite the fact that his methods are extreme and his bias against my personhood is… distasteful… he is uniquely qualified to… comprehend my psyche."
"Someday," I vowed, "that distinction will be mine."
"Of that, Zoe, I am certain."
I stretched up to kiss his cheek, then sat up properly, and gestured to him with my glass. "To us, Data."
I know he saw the way my brow quirked as I made the toast, because he answered it with the slightest upward curve of his lips. "To us, Zoe."
The sound of the glasses clinking against each other reminded me that dinner was still in stasis, and I pulled away from Data. "I made casserole," I told him, "and I know you're not, but serious conversation makes me hungry. Would you please bring the glasses to the table?"
"Of course."
We relocated to our dining table, and I served our meal.
"So," I said between bites of casserole and sips of wine, "Date night two-point-oh comes with your choice of activities."
"You no longer wish to play Dvořák in an observation lounge?" Data asked.
"We could. I'm not really dressed for playing cello, but if that's really what you want to do, I can change. Alternatively, Will's jazz ensemble is playing in Ten-Forward, and their set starts at twenty-one hundred hours, and we haven't done anything social in a while."
"We have also not played music together as often as we used to," he pointed out.
"No, we haven't." The quartet was on hiatus, and I was no longer studying music, so weekly practice sessions weren't necessary. "I miss that time and I think we should find a way to return to it, but it doesn't necessarily have to be tonight."
"I did promise Commander Riker I would attend his next concert," Data reminded me. "He suggested I bring my oboe."
"I haven't heard you play anything but strings since… since we started dating. I don't mind being your groupie tonight. Play your cards right, you'll even get seduced afterward," I was flirting with him just for the fun of it.
"That is an offer I cannot refuse." Data rose to his feet. "If you do not mind clearing away the remains of our dinner, I will go and change."
"You don't have to," I pointed out.
"I am aware. However, you dressed up for our date night, and I would be remiss if I did not do the same." He paused, then tilted his head in the way that meant he was about to make a point. "Besides, I believe my 'chances will be better' if I am wearing red. My girlfriend believes I look incredibly sexy in that color."
My laughter filled our quarters.
(=A=)
Stardate 46273.80
(Thursday, 10 April 2369, 21:31 hours, ship's time)
Ten-Forward was jumping, but Deanna had saved seats at her table for us. I heard a few people commenting about 'Mrs. Data,' as my partner guided me to our chairs with a hand on my back, but I chose to smile and find it charming.
The counselor hugged me impulsively as I sat down next to her. "Something's changed in you," she whispered in my ear, "Lunch on Monday?" As I nodded a confirmation, she said in a louder voice, "Well, you two look lovely. Data, you should wear red more."
"Mmm, he should; shouldn't he," I agreed, leering openly at the man I loved.
"It would be illogical to argue with either of you," Data said, but I could tell there was a tiny part of him that was pleased by the positive attention. A server came to take our drink orders, and Data asked if I wanted a martini, which was a standing joke between us.
"Actually," I said. "I do. Dirty."
Data gave me a look but ordered a second 'dirty martini' for himself, and we settled back to listen to the music. I leaned closer to him, and he wrapped his arm around my shoulders. "We should do more of this," I whispered in his ear.
"As you wish," he whispered back.
He was invited to join the group during the second set, and I encouraged him to do so.
I'd heard Data play the oboe before, but only classical music. Hearing him - watching him – play more contemporary stuff was educational. He was still completely himself – slightly stiffer than everyone else in the group, and more faithful to the meter of any given piece than jazz musicians typically are – but there was something in the way his eyes met mine, as if he were playing just for me, and something else in the way his long fingers danced on the keys that was completely enthralling.
"You're in lust," Deanna teased, keeping her voice low. Her focus, I noticed, never left Commander Riker.
"Mmhmm," I responded. "Completely and totally."
She laughed again, and said, "He's lucky to have you."
Another time, I would have demurred and said that I was the one who was lucky. That night, I just smiled and said, "We're both lucky."
(=A=)
Even though I hadn't been the one performing, when Data and I left Ten-Forward I was just as wired as if I had. "You were amazing tonight," I told my partner, once we were back at home. "You were on fire."
"Thank you, Zoe. I am glad you enjoyed yourself."
"Didn't you?"
"It is stimulating to play music that does not follow a rigid structure, but I am never certain that I am 'getting it right.'"
"Trust me, you have nothing to worry about," I said. "And even if you did, jazz is pretty forgiving."
"And you, Zoe? Are you forgiving?"
"Data?"
"You said earlier that you were unsure whether or not you were 'okay' with some of the things in my letter to Commander Maddox."
"Oh. That." I sat on the end of our bed and pulled off the heels I'd been wearing. "I'm not thrilled with some of what you revealed, and I don't trust him, but there's nothing to forgive, Data, really. I'm pretty detailed with Tara and Oberlyne."
"If it would ease your concerns, I will provide you a transcript of all of our correspondence since you and I became… involved."
I shook my head. "No, Data. You're allowed to have a confidante who isn't me and isn't part of your circle of friends here. We all need an outside perspective from time to time." Having removed my stockings while we talked, I stood up and presented my back to him. "Could you unzip me, please?"
His hands went immediately to the zipper of my dress, but he observed, "I will never comprehend why humanoid women wear clothing with such inconveniently placed fasteners."
I laughed and turned to face him. "Because we love the way our partners react when we look pretty, and because it's fun to have them help us remove such clothing."
"Ah, then this would be the seduction part of the evening?"
I let the dress drop to the floor and stepped out of it, standing in front of him in my black lace bra and panties. "Well, you know it drives me wild when you wear red, Data."
"I am aware," he said softly, and kissed me.
Our lovemaking that night was tender and sweet and incredibly satisfying.
(=A=)
Stardate 46274.38
(Friday, 11 April 2369, 03:37 hours, ship's time)
I woke up with my head on Data's chest and his hands gently stroking my hair. "Hey," I said softly.
"I did not mean to wake you," he responded in a similar tone.
"You didn't. I'm just… there's something I forgot to say, earlier; it's been niggling at my brain."
He nuzzled the top of my head, and I smiled against his bare chest. "Tell me?"
"First, there's a cybernetics conference at Hamal IV next weekend. Commander Maddox is speaking there, and I think we should go."
"We?"
"I'd like to meet him."
"I will request leave and speak to Lasso on your behalf."
"Thank you. There's more."
"I assumed as much."
"Second… we need to find some new friends. Couples ideally. Both of us."
Data was quiet for about half a second, before he said. "I concur."
"Third, if you ever – and I mean ever – slap my buttocks or call me 'filly' again I'm going to shove a padd so far up your shiny, gold ass – "
"But, Zoe, my ass is not shiny."
"Data!"
"Dearest?" His voice was innocent. Too innocent.
I laughed into the darkness of our room. "I love you," I said, because sometimes those three words really do mean everything.
"I am devoted to you," he responded. And I knew that those words, from his lips, meant everything, as well.
I pushed myself off him, only so that I could claim another kiss. Then I rolled over and went back to sleep.
Notes: Includes the episodes "Rascals" and "A Fistful of Datas." I thought this was going to be a fluffy chapter, and instead it became all about personal growth. References are to Crush II: Ostinato, Unaccompanied: A Suite for Actress & Android, For Auld Lang Syne, and the episode "Measure of a Man." The first two movements of Dvořák's Cello Concerto in B minor are on the Sostenuto YouTube. Special thanks to saya4haji for conversations about ethics, and to the Brain Trust for general awesomeness. Apologies to those who are desperately awaiting follow-up on Ensign Sutter and certain other characters. Those threads will be picked up in time. ***For the full text of Data's correspondence with Bruce Maddox see the oneshot "Correspondence"**** (Revised 24 September 2019)