Evidence of Things Not Seen

Stardate 46307.24

(Wednesday, 23 April 2369, 03:27 hours, ship's time)

U.S.S. Enterprise

Geordi was waiting for us in the shuttle bay when Data piloted the Descartes to a perfect landing right between the yellow lines painted on the deck, and he came to the ramp to greet us as soon as the entire space had been re-pressurized and the force-fields had been deactivated.

"Hey, Zoe," the affable engineer said to me. "Data. Welcome home. Good thing you decided to leave Hamal IV ahead of schedule. We've been called to the Tyrus system, and you almost didn't make the rendezvous."

Impulsively, I gave our friend a quick hug. "It's good to be back," I said. "Loving your beard, by the way." He'd started growing it a couple of weeks before, but in the time Data and I had been away it had become less of a really intense five o'clock shadow, and more of a respectable beard, and it really did look good on him.

Geordi grinned. "Thanks."

"It was Zoe's idea to cut our trip short," Data shared. He was pulling our luggage, but the three of us fell into step even so. "She said we had 'accomplished our mission,' and I had to concur."

"We accomplished a lot more than that," I teased my partner. To both men, I continued, "Am I allowed to ask what's significant about the Tyrus system, or is it some super-secret Starfleet thing that I'm supposed to pretend I heard nothing about?" It was a valid question. More than once I'd been privy to information that, while not exactly classified, was certainly sensitive. I'd been getting better about learning to balance my own curiosity with the need to respect official channels. I'd also been getting better about knowing when I should ask about what Data was working on, but it was an ongoing learning curve.

"It's not secret, Zo'," Geordi answered, chuckling. "There's a science team that's developed a new mining technique that uses a particle fountain, and we've – well, I've – been asked to review it and recommend it for Starfleet use."

"Then, the team believes it is ready for use?" Data clarified. "I have been following their reports, and if the fountain works as intended it may revolutionize mining throughout the Federation."

"They've already completed the first set of field trials," Geordi explained. "Dr. Farallon is really pushing to have it evaluated as quickly as possible."

"Farallon?" I asked. "Like the islands?"

"I do not believe there is a connection, Zoe," Data answered, his voice devoid of any judgement, "as the doctor is not from Earth." To Geordi he queried, "When are we due to arrive at Tyrus VII?"

Geordi yawned his answer as we entered the turbo-lift. "Ohhhhhhhhh – sorry. Oh-nine hundred hours. Captain Picard asked me to have you report to the bridge at oh-eight hundred, so you've got time to settle."

The lift doors opened on deck eight, and Data and I exited, but not before my boyfriend said, "Thank you, Geordi. I will see you in a few hours." After the doors had closed again, and we'd started the walk to our quarters, he asked me, "Zoe, does Lasso expect you to report in today?"

I shook my head. "I have to let him know we're back, but he gave me the entire week. It's kind of slow in Protocol. Although, if the particle fountain is approved, the JAG officer might be doing something with patents and licensing." I wrinkled my nose and added. "Contract law is not my thing."

"And yet it is often the key to commerce, trade, and successful diplomatic relations between cultures," he pointed out.

"So, it is," I agreed, refraining from pointing out that he wasn't required to be right about things before the ship's day watch actually started.

We entered our quarters and were promptly greeted by an orange ball of angry fur, teeth, and claws. "Spot!" Data's greeting to his cat (he insisted the creature was actually ours, but I kept denying it on principle) brightened his entire face and made me grin, too. "We have missed you."

"Speak for yourself, lover-mine," I teased lightly. "Do you need me for anything, because I'd kill for a few more hours of sleep."

"I do not understand why you refused to sleep in the shuttle on the way home."

"It's not so much that I refused as that I couldn't," I explained. "First I was wired from everything that happened during the conference, and then I was watching you." I'd already moved through to our bedroom, and was skinning off clothes, so my words were called back to him. "Your hands are very graceful on keyboards… and control pads… and violin strings… and…"

Reeeeeiaaaaoooowww! Spot streaked through our quarters and took up a position behind the pillows on our bed.

"… you." Unfazed by the cat's temporary defection, Data completed my sentence and joined me in the bedroom. "If you are still too 'wired' to sleep, I would be happy to demonstrate exactly what my hands can do to help soothe your mood."

I turned to consider his face and found myself staring into the yellow eyes I loved so much. His pupils were dilated despite the fact that our room was brightly lit. "Oh, my god. You're still feeling it, aren't you?"

"Desire for you?" he confirmed. After I nodded, he explained, "It is not as… urgent… as it was when we were dancing, or even when we were in our hotel room, but it is still… I am still experiencing the... feeling." He reached for me, caressing my shoulders with those elegant fingers of his, sliding my bra straps down and then reaching behind me to undo the hooks, and remove it completely. He kept one hand on my back as his other pulled my hair out of the ponytail I'd stuck it in for travel. "You are beautiful, Zoe," he said, and kissed me.

Data's 'demonstration' was thorough. By the time he had finished, I was sated and sleepy, and drifting off to sleep with my head on the chest of one incredibly smug android. The subtle thrum of his internal systems was better than a lullaby, and when he finally left our bed a few minutes before he had to be on the bridge, I was barely awake enough to enjoy his goodbye kiss.

(=A=)

Stardate 46311.24

(Thursday, 24 April 2369, 14:28 hours, ship's time)

With Data monitoring the Tyran particle beam project from the bridge, and nothing going on in the Protocol office, I found myself with a little too much down time.

Fortunately, it was a slow time for Counselor Troi as well, so we were indulging in a mid-afternoon break in Ten-Forward.

"… and now I'm terrified," I told her between bites of chocolate orange mousse and sips of cappuccino. "I mean, I'm thrilled that he's feeling, but what if it causes a cascade failure like what happened with Lal? What if it's another 'gift' from Lore? What if – "

"What if Data has simply reached a point in his own development where organic emotions are beginning to emerge?"

"Is that even possible?"

"You never actually met Lal, did you?"

I shook my head. "Data made… he took a bunch of his memories and video from common areas of the ship and sort of cobbled together his version of home movies for me, but we never met, no. I only know bits and pieces of what happened"

Troi sat back in her chair. "You should probably be asking Data about it…" she began. "And I'm probably the worst person to help you understand, but I'll try."

"Thank you."

"Data didn't tell any of us he was creating Lal. He came back from a conference and locked himself in his lab every minute he wasn't on duty. When we finally learned what he had been doing, it was the day he brought Lal to the holodeck to choose a permanent appearance."

"I knew he let her choose," I said. "What am I missing?"

"Her brain was essentially a copy of his own. When Admiral Haftel threatened to take her away she began manifesting fear…" She let the rest of the story unwind, giving me details I'd never thought to ask from Data, or that it hadn't occurred to him to share with me.

"Wait a minute," I said, interrupting. "Dee, if Lal's neural net was a copy of Data's, and she could experience emotion, how come Data can't? Or… couldn't… I guess?"

Troi's already-dark eyes seemed blacker than I'd ever seen them. "I have no idea, Zoe. I'm a psychologist, not a cyberneticist." She smiled, then, and forced a brighter mood. "So, what else happened at the conference? Did you manage to have some fun?"

"You think having my android lover experiencing intense desire for the first time wasn't fun?" I asked, indulging in a truly wicked smile. "But… aside from that? I met a bunch of really interesting people who weren't at all the socially awkward science nerds I'd been expecting." I let my smile soften a bit. "Data's been holding out on us. He has friends. In fact, he has friends that include talking housecats, giant glass spiders, and Vulcan-Orion femme-fatales. Or is that femmes fatale? I'm never sure."

"It's 'femmes fatale,'" Deanna confirmed in an off-handed manner, but she was really stuck on the first part of my statement. "Talking housecats?"

"Oh. Yes. One of his cohorts is an Eeiauoan. Whiskers. Well, Professor Wire-whiskers. He teaches at Yale, actually, and I think I managed to impress him enough to get into his class."

Deanna laughed. "I assume the 'giant glass spider' was Hamalki?"

"Yes. Chimes. It sounds like a duo from a fantasy novel, doesn't it? 'Whiskers and Chimes, Purveyors of Obscure Artifacts and Providers of Deep Wisdom.'" Letting my snarkier side out to play a little made me feel a bit more settled, as if I'd been on good behavior for too long and was finally released from restraint.

"Whiskers and Chimes," she repeated. "It sounds like you've made friends as well."

"I think I have," I said. I leaned across the table to stage whisper, "I even joined their poker game. Don't tell Will."

I could tell that she was fighting not to laugh, but she swallowed the urge and matched my tone as Deanna promised with mock gravity. "I won't breathe a word."

We talked about other things for the next half hour – current fashion trends on Betazed and Earth, among the topics – and then the counselor excused herself to meet a patient, and I went to the one formal class I still had since technically finishing high school almost ten days before: private lessons in Vulcan language and culture. If I'd known that there would be a tea ceremony, I probably would have limited myself to only one cappuccino.

(=A=)

Data was still out when I finally returned to our quarters, so I fed Spot and played with her for a few minutes while I considered the events of the previous weekend, and my conversation with Deanna. Moving behind Data's workstation – the workstation he kept reminding me I was welcome to use - I opened the drawer where he stored data-solids, all of which were neatly labeled in his precise, angular script.

Most of the labels were stardate and time indices, and would make sense only to him, but one was labeled with the stardate that corresponded with January 2368, and a single word: Lal. I removed it from its slot in the drawer and just held it in my hand for a minute or two, considering.

When Data had initially shown me these files – the 'home movies' I'd mentioned to Troi – he'd projected them through the entertainment system. I didn't need to see life-sized reproductions of the man I loved and the daughter he'd lost – not that day – so I inserted it into the appropriate port on the computer, and let it play on the monitor, instead.

Most of the images were familiar to me from my initial viewing, but I felt like I was seeing them with new eyes. I paid more attention to Data and Lal were saying – to other people and between themselves. I noticed that Wesley Crusher had been invited to help her develop hand-eye coordination and felt a pang of something like jealousy. But you weren't even friends then, I reminded myself. You didn't even properly introduce yourself to Data until after she'd already died.

When I'd watched these video clips with my partner over a year before, it had made me see him in a new light. I'd recognized that parental part of him, but I'd also perceived him as being older – being truly adult- in ways even his colleagues never seemed to acknowledge.

On second viewing, solo viewing, I was reminded of those initial observations, but I also realized that Data's urge to procreate hadn't been entirely about continuing his father's work, but about being less isolated, less… lonely. (I resolved to figure out a way to make him realize he was no longer alone.)

I indulged myself in a brief fantasy of how things might have been if I had been in Data's sphere at that time. He would still have been my teacher, but that's likely all he would have been. If Lal hadn't suffered catastrophic cascade failure, if she hadn't died, Data wouldn't have been available to give me private music theory lessons. I wouldn't have been the one to coax him out of solitude when he'd realized he'd wanted Kivas Fajo to die, and I wouldn't have spent all night in the cockpit of a shuttlecraft sipping tea and chatting with him while my classmates and our chaperones slept in the aft compartment.

I replayed the video, watching their interaction again, and noticing the way their mannerisms were the same, and also where Lal's physicality differed from that of her father. His head-tilt was absolutely his own, for example, but their 'processing' expressions were eerily similar.)

I'd recently confessed to my mother that I had thought about Data and me having a family of our own someday, and for the first time I thought about it as an eventual reality and not an abstract possibility. Would our children be organic, either adopted, or created from donated sperm, or would Data build another android child? And if he did, could I be a mother to such a being? Would an android even need a second parent? Would I be of any use?

It was a lot to think about.

I was about a third of the way through my fourth viewing when Data came home. "Computer, pause playback," I instructed, and the sound and images froze. "Hey, love. Glad you're home."

Data gave me one of his trademark appraising looks. "Thank you, Zoe," he replied. He leaned over the workstation and greeted me with a kiss. "Am I interrupti – oh." He had registered what was on the monitor, and his tone flattened slightly.

"It's okay that I'm watching this, isn't it? I asked. "I mean, you initially made the videos to show me, but… I feel like I should have asked you first." I searched his face for some – any – reaction.

"There is no need for you to seek permission, Zoe. The videos are as much yours as they are mine. If you wish, I will let you finish…"

I ended the playback and ejected the data-solid, returning it to the drawer. "I'm actually done," I said. "I mean, I saw what I needed to see. I'm glad you're home though; I was half-expecting you to comm and tell me we had to reschedule date night because you were tied up with this mission."

"My chief responsibility has been to monitor the status of the work on the fountain," Data explained. "As everything is going well, there is no need for me to put in extra hours."

I left his chair and moved around the console to claim a less perfunctory kiss. "So, do you have anything exciting planned for date night, or are we just going to wing it?"

"I did not plan anything specific. Is there something you would particularly enjoy?"

I grinned up at him. "A walk on the beach of Erisia IV might be fun, but you're not really 'beach guy.' Lasso recommended that we try one of the Concert in the Park scenarios. Maybe Central Park in New York, followed by a carriage ride?" I stepped closer, invading his personal space and pressing against him. "We could do naughty things under the lap blanket…" I teased.

Data's arms came around me and he nuzzled my hair. "We do not need a holodeck program to do 'naughty' things, dearest, but I am amenable to the rest of your suggestion."

I laughed and kissed the tip of his nose. "I need a few minutes to freshen up."

(=A=)

The concert we chose was a twenty-first century quartet called Bond that played a mix of classical and contemporary-for-them music on electric versions of the typical Terran strings. I was most intrigued by the fact that the cellist had a harness for her instrument, which she played standing up, and even dancing.

"Think I could do that?" I asked "If I had a carbon-fiber cello. Maybe we should reimagine our quartet as something a little more avant-garde." I was only half teasing.

Data, looking surprisingly comfortable on the replicated beach blanket that separated us from the cool grass. "You are quite capable of playing that style of cello, should you choose to attempt it, but I think our quartet is better suited to a purely classical aesthetic."

"Spoilsport," I teased, throwing a few blades of grass at him.

His response was to tilt his head slightly, as if he were considering an appropriate response. Finally, he said, "Perhaps." Then he gestured to the picnic I'd asked him to program. "You have not eaten enough."

I rolled my eyes at him but picked up a container of pasta salad and ate a few forkfuls, turning my attention back to the musicians on the stage. When the concert ended, we packed the remains of our picnic back into the basket, layering our blanket on top. Data carried it out of the amphitheater to where horse-drawn carriages were waiting.

"We don't have to do this part, if you don't want to," I said. "I just wanted something easy and romantic tonight."

"I have never been on such a ride," Data told me. "I am looking forward to the experience."

I smiled at him, "Alright then."

I climbed into the carriage and accepted the picnic basket, placing it on the seat across from mine, while Data negotiated with the driver for an hour-long ride. In reality, of course, the program we were using would interpret the 'negotiation' as instructions to the computer to provide the appropriate route and length of simulation but growing up in theatre made me an expert on the willful suspension of disbelief. Once we were settled against the velvet cushions, with the lap blanket keeping away the evening chill, and my partner's arm around my shoulders, it felt like a real carriage in a real city.

We were both quiet for the first several minutes of our starlit tour of old New York, but I knew Data had been quietly stewing about the video I'd been watching earlier, and it didn't take long for him to ask, "Zoe, may I know what you were looking for in the 'home movies' of my daughter?"

He rarely referred to Lal by anything other than her name. That he was highlighting the relationship was both heartwarming and worrisome. "I don't suppose you'd believe that I just like watching you be all paternal?" I wasn't being very snarky, really.

"Is that what you were doing?"

I sighed and snuggled closer to him for reassurance. "No, not really. I mean… I do enjoy seeing that aspect of your personality, but… I was looking to see if I could recognize the early signs of cascade failure."

"This is a reaction to our weekend." It wasn't a question.

"Yes," I admitted. "As I said, I'm thrilled for you – for us, really – because you experiencing desire, or any emotion, is a gift to me, too, but I'm also terrified. You said you would do a self-diagnostic when we got home, and we've been home for a week now and…"

"There were no faults found," he interrupted softly.

"So, you ran it and didn't tell me?"

His answer came after a brief hesitation. "I… yes."

"Hmph." I looked away from him.

"Zoe, I would have informed you if there had been anything wrong. I assumed you understood that."

I looked back at him. "I assumed you understood that I needed to know." More quietly, I added, "I would have liked to be there." I waited a beat then continued at a more normal volume. "You and Geordi both have this misconception that seeing your machine-y insides or observing you doing something specific to your android nature bothers me, and that's not at all true. The first time I saw the inside of your arm during my lesson – what was it? Two years ago? – I was uncomfortable because I felt like it was an intimacy I hadn't earned. I thought I'd explained that." But as soon as I said it, I realized that I'd explained it to Deanna and to Geordi but never to him. "Oh… I guess I never explained it to you."

"No," he matched my earlier quiet tone. "You did not."

"I love you," I reminded him. "Data, I love all of you. Android. Officer. Musician. Painter. Lover. Cat-owner. They're all just parts of the whole. If I didn't, do you think I'd be sharing your bed, or seriously discussing marriage, or dreaming about someday having a family of our own?"

For a long moment, the only sounds were the muted noises of the city around us, and the rhythmic clip-clop of the black Percheron pulling our carriage.

Data broke the silence with a question, softly asked: "I did not know you had been considering our future children."

"Well, I have. You want a family, don't you?"

He used the arm draped around my shoulders to pull me even closer to him and nuzzled my hair before he spoke. "I have also considered this, but… you are aware I cannot sire biological children with you?"

"I know."

"I would never wish to deny you the experience of motherhood, Zoe. While we could adopt, if you wished to actually give birth, I would have no objection to using a sperm bank or requesting that one of our friends donate – "

I cut him off, "I was actually assuming that you'd be ready to try again, with another android child one day."

Data's response came in a tone tinged with wonder. "You would be willing to mother an android child?"

"Would I be any use to one?"

"I believe you would. Lal had support from Counselor Troi, but it was not the same as having a human parent who could guide her emotional awakening. A future android child would benefit from having both of us."

"Then, of course I'd be willing. Didn't you just imply you'd be willing to father an organic child?"

"Yes, of course, Zoe."

I lifted my free hand to rest it on his chest. "We don't have to make these decisions tonight, Data. It's just something to think about. I mean… we're years away from becoming parents. But built or born, what matters is that we'd be raising them together."

We could have continued talking; it was rare, after all, for either of us to be at a loss for words, but it seemed more appropriate to settle back against the plush seat of the carriage, rest my head against my partner's shoulder, and enjoy the gentle pace of the horse, the music of the city, and the starlight on a spring evening.

(=A=)

Stardate 46314.04

(Friday, 25 April 2369, 15:02 hours, ship's time)

"Zoe, thank you so much!" Keiko gushed when I arrived at her quarters on Friday afternoon. "Are you sure you don't mind helping out?"

"Hey, I volunteered, remember? What do you need me to do?"

"You volunteered to watch her while we packed, not to give us an evening off."

"I'm pretty sure it was both," I said.

"But I hate to take a night away from you and Data."

"It's really not a problem," I said. "We typically do date night on Thursdays, anyway."

Keiko grinned. "Date night?"

"Originally… before we admitted we were actually dating we would hang out in his quarters after quartet rehearsal and sip tea and watch videos. We still do that most weeks, but every so often we do something a little more festive, and we – well he – started calling it 'date night.'"

"So, last night…?" she let the question trail off suggestively.

I laughed. "Concert in New York's Central Park and then a ride in a horse-drawn carriage."

"Your idea, no doubt."

"Mmm. This time, yes, but Data's suggestions can be surprisingly romantic. He has this program of an intimate club in Paris that he used to teach me to tango last year."

"Data taught you to…. Was he any good?"

"Oh, I never tango and tell. Now, you have a sleeping daughter and a date night of your own to get ready for. Do you have a bathtub?" She nodded, and I continued, "Good. Go soak for half an hour, and then we'll find you an outfit that will make Miles's eyes pop out of his head and his curly hair turn straight."

"You have no idea how much I appreciate this," my friend again. "I can't remember the last time I could take a bath without being interrupted."

"Oh, I can imagine," I assured her. "Now scoot. I'll keep an ear out for Molly."

But the baby – though at fourteen months old she was almost a proper toddler - slept for the entire two hours it took us to get ready, waking just when Keiko was preparing her dinner. At eighteen hundred hours, Miles and Data arrived together, and after the doting parents gave us the rundown of how playtime and bath time and bedtime should go, made us promise to comm if there was any problem 'no matter how insignificant,' and kissed their daughter goodbye no fewer than fifteen times, my boyfriend and I settled in for an evening of babysitting.

A round of ball, a bath that saw Data and me getting as wet as the baby – if not wetter – and two stories later (they were short – mostly pictures) Molly was asleep again, and Data and I were sharing replicated vegetarian moussaka at the O'Briens' table.

"I had not realized that one small human could be so much work," he observed.

"I used to babysit Charlie Simmons, but mostly I was helping Gran do it, not actually doing all the hard work," I remembered. "Molly was actually pretty good, but she's known you all her life and me most of it… she accepts us as family. You are her honorary uncle, after all."

"I am fairly certain some of her babbling included the words 'Auntie Zoe,' as well," Data countered. "Still, most of my experience with babysitting her – with or without you – has been limited to listening in case she woke from a nap."

"And?" I asked, half-teasing. "Did tonight make you change your mind about being a father to a human child of our own someday?"

But if his thoughts on the matter had changed, I didn't hear about it that night, because just as we'd relocated to the couch to kill the remaining time until Keiko and Miles were due home, Data was called to the bridge to monitor an issue with the particle fountain.

"Will you be alright?" he asked.

"I'm good," I said. "Promise." We shared a brief kiss, and he left. Good thing Starfleet uniforms were made of wicking fabric. He didn't even look damp.

(=A=)

Stardate 46315.31

(Saturday, 26 April 2369, 02:07 hours, ship's time)

I was still awake and reading in bed when Data got home only because I'd ended up napping while I was still watching Molly.

"Everything okay?" I asked, as he came through to our bedroom.

"There was a problem with the power grid on the particle fountain, but it has been repaired. Dr. Farallon has apparently created a device that helps facilitate such repairs. Geordi has asked me to join them in the lab to review that part of the project."

"Now?" I asked.

"No. Everyone is taking several hours to rest, and I will be transporting to the lab with Geordi at zero eight hundred." He paused. "I was not expecting you to be awake."

"If you have things to do it's fine," I said. "If you want to join me, I think I'm tired enough to sleep now."

He stripped and slid into bed, waiting for me to settle against him before he ordered the computer to extinguish the lights, and his presence was just what I needed to slide into a restful sleep.

I was still asleep when Data left again in the morning, but he'd left a message reminding me that I likely wouldn't see him until late that evening.

(=A=)

Stardate 46316.98

(Saturday, 26 April 2369, 16:47 hours, ship's time)

"I cannot believe you managed that dive," I said to Dana as we walked into my quarters. With my high school days behind me, I was no longer meeting Ray Barnett for swimming every Sunday afternoon, and my best friend and I had spent one of our last free Saturdays at the pool for pure recreation.

All too soon, she and her father would be leaving to visit family before she started classes at the Rhode Island School of Design, and at some point during the next few months, Data and I would also be taking a vacation, one that would end with him dropping me at Yale.

"I'm surprised you didn't," she shot back. "Aren't you supposed to be the queen of the waves?" She was teasing me, of course.

"Only when it comes to surfing and sailing. With diving, I'm just okay."

"Actually," Dana said, "it's sort of reassuring that you don't do everything well."

"Oh, please." I rolled my eyes at her. "I can't draw to save my life and you're an artist. I live with a man who can create photo-realistic paintings at the drop of a hat, and your Lit scores were always just a little bit better than mine." I took a breath. "Okay, let's go find a dress for you."

Dana had recently rekindled her relationship with Ethan "Loverboy" Lovejoy, and he'd planned a special date for her that night. "I love that red dress of yours, but I'm concerned it's too severe for my coloring."

My friend was a classic Nordic blonde, and she was probably correct about the red not going well with her coloring. "Mmm. How do you feel about deep blue or eggplant?"

"Eggplant… the vegetable?"

"The color. Aubergine. Eggplant. That deep earthy purple…"

"You have a dress that color?"

"Hi, have you met me? I live for clothes."

"You live for jeans," Dana corrected.

In truth, my wardrobe had morphed over the past two years. While I still had a healthy collection of jeans and vintage t-shirts, I'd embraced the need for a more sophisticated style, first while I'd been with Idyllwild, and since then, because of things like the conference Data and I had recently attended.

"Confession?" I asked, and after the other woman nodded, I shared, "When I was in San Francisco last summer, my agent made me work with a stylist. I might have enjoyed the process a little too much." I was already sorting through my side of the closet, looking for the eggplant dress I'd worn on Hamal IV; I knew I'd had it cleaned.

Dana laughed, "Of course you did." She hesitated a moment, then asked, a bit shyly, "You really have an agent?"

"Oh, yeah. And a manager and a publicist. And I'm not even working until summer – if then – Data and I still haven't discussed it. Although, I took the equivalency test, so technically I could take a job if it was the right one."

"But you don't want to leave the ship until you have to," she said, with her typical insight.

"No," I agreed. "I really don't. Aha! Found it." I pulled out the aubergine dress. "Here, try this on. You can go into the bathroom if you're feeling modest."

"Into Data's bathroom?" she asked, squeaking slightly.

I rolled my eyes at her. "It's my bathroom too, and seriously, Dana, it's just a bathroom. Data showers and brushes his teeth just like the rest of us."

"So did not need the image of my math teacher in the shower." But she disappeared into the other room, anyway.

The door to our quarters opened while Dana was changing, and I went out to the living room to greet my partner. "You're home earl – " I began, but I noticed the problem-solving expression on his face, and that he was carrying a device about the size of a medium dog. "What's with K-9?"

Despite his preoccupation with his project, Data brushed a kiss across my lips. He'd known me long enough, by then, to understand the reference I'd made. "This is not a cybernetic pet," he explained as he moved behind his workstation and set it down on the desk. "It is an exocomp." At my blank look he elaborated, "It is the device Dr. Farallon created to assist with repairs and construction of the particle fountain."

"Is there something wrong with it?" I asked.

"I am uncertain. It appears to be defective, however…"

"… you think something else is going on. Just so you know, Dana's here borrowing an outfit from me for a date tonight, but she'll be leaving in a few minutes. If you want me to leave also, I can make myself scarce."

"That is unnecessary, Zoe. This is our home, and I would not have brought the exocomp here if I wished to keep my theory confidential."

"Theory?"

"I will explain after I run a few tests."

"Gotcha. I'm going to go check on Dana."

"Very well."

I returned to the bedroom, making sure the door closed behind me. Dana was just emerging, and I had a moment of satisfaction: she looked amazing in that purple dress. Possibly better than I had.

"Oh, my god, Zoe! This is fantastic!" The blonde woman was positively gushing. "Are you sure you don't mind me borrowing it?"

I shook my head. "I wouldn't have offered in the first place if I minded. Do you have jewelry and shoes? You look gorgeous, by the way. Ethan's eyes may pop out of their sockets."

She spun in front of the full-length mirror that was in the corner of the room. "I love it," she said. "I absolutely love it." Then she pulled me into an impulsive embrace. "Thank you times a million."

"You're welcome," I said. "Are you wearing it home, or…?"

"No, I'm afraid if I do, I'll get it dirty."

I grinned. "I know the feeling. Well, just so you know, Data's back, and working, but he's aware you're here, so don't worry that he'll walk in, or anything."

"Hmph," my friend responded, albeit with good humor. Then she returned to the bathroom to change.

We kept our voices low as we left the bedroom, and walked toward the door, even though we were both aware Data could hear every word we were saying. In fact, he surprised us by looking up, and offering my friend a brief nod. "Zoe informed me that you had a date tonight. I hope you enjoy your evening."

Blushing faintly, Dana said, "Thank you, sir." As the door to the corridor opened, she whispered to me, "Lunch Monday?"

"Definitely," I said. "I expect a detailed report."

We both giggled as she left, and the door swooshed closed again. "Sorry about that," I said to Data. "Will I be in the way if I watch what you're doing?"

"Not at all," came his prompt answer, even though his attention was mostly on the readouts on his screen.

Asking to watch was partly my way of expressing interest in his work, and partly my offer to serve as a sounding board, should one be needed. I replicated a mug of tea and a plate of fruit, cheese, and crackers, and made myself comfortable on the couch. In between commands to the computer, Data explained a bit more about what he was doing.

"Computer, perform a level one diagnostic of this exocomp's command module," he instructed. To me, he said, "Last night, the exocomps were able to complete repairs to the particle fountain's power grid in less time than a team of engineers would have needed to correct the same error. Since then, we have put them through a battery of tests, at Dr. Farallon's request."

- The command pathways are functioning normally.

"How can that be, if the interface circuitry is burned out?" Data asked, addressing the computer again.

"So, Dr. Farallon wants Starfleet to approve her exocomps so that she can continue to use them for the more delicate aspects of her work with the fountain?"

"More delicate, and more dangerous," Data confirmed, with a troubled note in his voice. He was about to say more when the computer spit out its result.

- The interface circuitry has been repaired.

"Curious." I wasn't certain if Data's response was meant for the computer or me, or if he was talking to himself, something he did from time to time. "Computer, access the exocomp's sensor logs. Confirm that there was a failure of the interface circuitry within the last twelve hours."

"You seem bothered by the way they're being used. Why?"

- Confirmed. Interface failure occurred at eleven hundred fifty hours today, when the exocomp produced a power surge that burned out the linkage.

"One moment," Data said to me. "Computer, how and when was the interface repaired?"

- The exocomp activated a self-repair program at thirteen hundred forty hours.

"Why would the exocomp burn out its own interface circuitry and repair it two hours later?" I could tell Data's question was rhetorical that time, but it made me smile when the computer answered anyway.

- Unknown.

Data was silent for several seconds, scanning readouts, and then disengaging the connections from the exocomp to his console. I picked up my padd and started reading a novel to give him the space he apparently needed. I didn't even realize he'd moved until the couch shifted slightly as he sat down.

"Zoe?"

Even though he'd only uttered the two syllables of my name, there was something in his tone that went right to my heart. "What is it? What's troubling you?"

His brow wrinkled slightly, and his face seemed, not young, exactly, but vulnerable somehow. "You accept that I am more than just a… a tool – that I am alive – do you not?"

I put the padd aside and changed my position slightly on the couch so I could meet his eyes. "There is no question. You're a person, and you're alive. Why do you ask?"

"If that is so, then, with the exception of Lore, I am alone in the universe. Or… that is what I have always believed."

"You don't believe that anymore." I made it a statement.

"No, Zoe. I do not. I believe the exocomps may be alive, but I am not certain."

"Wow," I said. "Data, that's big." I was quiet, digesting what he'd said. "But… how do you determine what is or isn't alive, when it comes to something someone built?"

"I am uncertain of that as well."

I reached for his hand, squeezed it, and let it go. "Maybe you should check with someone whose whole business is life and death."

"I do not understand."

"Ask a doctor."

"Ah… I believe I will do that. Thank you, Zoe." He got up to leave, but I called his name before he left our quarters. "Yes?"

I left the couch, crossed the room, and cupped his face in my hands. "You may be a rare creature, Data, but you are not alone. You have me. Always." I kissed him, trying to make him perceive the love for him, and faith in him, that I was feeling. His arms encircled my waist and he matched my kiss, then pulled away, and touched his forehead to mine. We remained in that position for several seconds, and then we broke apart. "Let me know what you determine?"

"I will. Thank you, Zoe."

Spot came out of wherever she'd been hiding and mewed at the door Data had just gone through.

"Well, Catling, it's just you and me tonight," I told her, as I returned to the replicator to get her food. I placed her dish in her preferred location, and she ate it, then looked at me with an expression that conveyed just how unimpressive she thought I was.

I just laughed and went to take a bath.

(=A=)

Stardate 46318.28

(Sunday, 27 April 2369, 04:13 hours, ship's time)

Data had returned to our quarters to collect the exocomp while I was in the bathtub, promising to keep me in the loop as much as he could. He'd contacted me every two hours between eight pm and midnight with updates: a meeting of the senior staff, a meeting of the senior staff with Dr. Farallon, a trip back to the particle fountain lab to run an experiment with an exocomp, which it failed, a request for more time, and then he'd retreated to the engineering test lab, determined to prove his theory.

"Data, are you sure – are you really sure – this is worth the effort you're putting in?" I'd asked him during that last comm call.

- "I do not know how to measure the 'worth' of a possibility. I only know that I believe my hypothesis is correct, despite the earlier failure, and I must continue."

"Can I help?"

- "There is little to do but wait, at this time. I am reassessing the parameters of the test scenario and will inform you if anything changes. In the meantime, I suggest you get some rest."

"I'm actually in bed with tea and a book, though Spot thinks she should be the one to turn the pages. I'll go to sleep soon. Promise."

- "I will endeavor not to wake you, unless there is definitive news."

"That's fair. I love you."

- "And I am devoted to you, Zoe. Good night."

He'd cut the comm signal right after that, and I'd tried to refocus on my book, but had finally given up and turned out the lights.

I woke up four hours later, to find that Data still wasn't home. "Computer, tell me the location of Lt. Commander Data," I called into the air. I remembered finding such things weird, or at least novel, when I'd first come aboard the Enterprise. Three years later, asking a disembodied voice for information had become commonplace.

- Lieutenant Commander Data is in Engineering Test Laboratory Two.

So, he was still working, then. I knew I shouldn't interrupt him, but I felt like he might need me there. Also, I was curious about the tests he was doing. I got out of bed, pulled on jeans and a Yale sweatshirt and slid my feet into my trusty purple combat boots while twisting my hair into a messy knot at the base of my skull. "Be good," I said to Spot. Then I left.

Main Engineering was dimly lit and sparsely populated during the night watch, but I knew it would be bright and bustling in an hour or two. I saw a tired looking Robin Lefler, who gave me a slight wave. I returned the gesture and moved down the corridor to the test lab. As I approached, I heard my lover's voice in conversation with someone else who sounded familiar.

"… not the molecular fuser it had when it entered the Jeffries tube," Data was saying. "Doctor, the exocomp not only completed the repairs, it also deactivated the overload signal."

The voice I now recognized as Beverly Crusher's responded, "I thought this was just a simulation."

I moved closer but waited for them to finish their conversation.

"It was, and the exocomp must have realized that. It saw that there was no real danger, and completed the repairs…"

"… and then replicated the correct tool to eliminate the false overload signal."

"I see no other possible explanation." Data's voice had the slight note of satisfaction I'd learned he often exhibited when he'd successfully completed a project.

Dr. Crusher's tone was laced with something else – something like surprise or wonder. "The exocomp didn't fail the test, it saw right through it." I must have moved or made a noise because both officers turned toward me. "Late night, Zoe?" The doctor seemed slightly amused.

"Well, I heard there was a party in test lab two, and I didn't want to miss it," I snarked. "Did I hear what I think I heard? Did you prove your theory, Data?"

"Yes, Zoe; I believe I have."

"So, what's the appropriate response? Shouting 'it's alive!' a la Dr. Frankenstein seems a bit over the top. And while 'congratulations, it's an exocomp' is better, I neglected to bring balloons or cigars."

The doctor laughed. "On that note," she said, "I'm heading to bed. Data, I'm sure I'll see you in a few hours. Zoe… try to get some sleep? Just because you're dating an android, doesn't mean you are one." She patted my shoulder on her way out of the lab.

I refocused on my partner. "Before you go all officer-y on me, I know civilians aren't supposed to be in engineering without permission. I haven't disrupted anyone's work, and I'll leave in a minute if you tell me to, but I wanted – no - I needed to be here."

"That restriction is a discretionary one, Zoe, meant as a safety measure. You are welcome here any time, unless there is an emergent situation."

"Good to know," I smiled. "So, what exactly does it mean that they're alive?"

"It means that I cannot allow them to be used in ways that will lead to their destruction," Data said.

I had a feeling he was talking about the mission, but I didn't ask for details. Instead, I corrected him. "Death. Not Destruction. Things that are alive aren't 'destroyed,' they die." I think he realized that I was referring to him, more than the exocomps.

"As you say, Zoe," he agreed, but there was something off about his tone.

"I'm guessing that a concluded experiment doesn't mean you're coming home for a few hours?" I made it a question.

"No, I am afraid not."

I nodded. "Okay. Well, come home when you can."

"Of course, Zoe." He leaned close, nuzzled my hair for a moment – something he would never have done if engineering hadn't been essentially deserted - and kissed me gently. "Please try to sleep?"

"I'll try," I promised. I turned away and left him there in the engineering test lab.

(=A=)

Stardate 46319.52

(Sunday, 27 April 2369, 15:04 hours, ship's time)

Late afternoon found me antsy and worried, and inventing scenario after scenario in my head. I'd kept my promise to Data and gone back to bed after leaving him in engineering, but Spot had no respect for my lack of sleep and woke me at eight demanding breakfast. Then I'd had a subspace call from my father, and another from Annette.

At ten-thirty, I set the comm-system to hold all calls, turned off all the lights, and went back to bed again, because I'd developed a headache. I managed to sleep – albeit fitfully – until thirteen hundred hours, and then I'd chugged a large glass of water with a replicated analgesic, taken a shower, dressed in something I'd more likely wear for a day in the Protocol office than on a lazy Sunday, and wandered to Ten-Forward with a novel.

I ordered a salmon and spinach omelet a pot of mint tea and tried to read, but all around me, people were talking about there being a power surge with the particle fountain, and that Captain Picard had joined Geordi at the lab to see things for himself.

Data, I knew, was on the bridge. He'd called me to check in just before I'd left our quarters. Unasked, was the question about whether I'd slept. Unspoken, was that he was as worried about me as I was about him.

"You look like a woman who needs company." Guinan had appeared near my table, seemingly manifesting out of air.

"You're probably right," I admitted. "I mean, people don't really come here to be alone, do they?"

"No, they don't. Your tea smells delicious. Do you mind if I join you?"

I shook my head. "Not at all." She signaled one of her staff, who arrived with an empty mug and left with my empty plate. "Shall I pour?" I asked.

"Please do." I filled her mug and topped off my own. "This mission is troubling you."

I signed. "Yeah, a little. Not so much the particle fountain but… have you actually met Dr. Farallon, the Tyran scientist in charge of the project?"

"I saw a Tyran woman in here with Geordi yesterday," Guinan told me, "but we didn't really meet. Why?"

"I just wondered. I haven't met her either, but I know Data was really intrigued by her project even before we arrived. Now, though, he's become interested in these service robots she designed. Apparently, he's decided they're alive."

"And you doubt him?" The bartender's tone held no judgement, only curiosity.

"That's just it; I don't doubt him. He told me he believes they're alive." Guinan didn't do anything but sip her tea and maintain an air of Listening to me, but I had the distinct impression she knew the weight of that word coming from my partner. "I'm just feeling woefully inadequate. I don't know the right words to say – how to talk to him about this. 'Oh, cool,' isn't exactly a meaningful response, you know?"

"Maybe words aren't what he needs."

"What else can I possibly offer?"

Guinan took another sip of tea, and it was as if she was analyzing every nuance of the peppermint flavor, cataloguing the ratio of sweetness, and memorizing the precise note of green herbal undertones. Inwardly, I shrugged. Maybe she was.

"You and Data are both talkers, so it might seem like words are the obvious means of supporting one another, but your relationship is more than the conversations you have. What about it grounds you?"

Following the other woman's lead, I took a moment to truly appreciate my own next sip of tea before I spoke. I breathed in the sharp mint and let it roll through my senses, then I took the warm liquid – it was no longer truly hot – into my mouth and savored every element. I'd added honey, and it was like drinking a mild, soothing, candy cane.

"The quiet times," I said. "You're right; we are talkers, but what we always come back to is just being together. Nights when he's working at his console and I'm reading on the couch, and we aren't talking, just… sharing space, but, vibrating on the same frequency."

"And right now, you feel out of tune."

"I feel like he's shutting me out. This mission isn't classified, and the exocomp experiments are a side-thing, a personal project. I went down to the engineering test lab this morning just as he was confirming his theory and Dr. Crusher was there, and I… I didn't know what to say to him. He thinks the fact that the exocomps are alive mean he's not alone in the universe, and I don't… I told him he wasn't alone, because he had me, but…"

"But you're realizing that there are nuances to the definitions of 'alone.'"

"Something like that," I admitted.

She opened her mouth to say more but was interrupted by the chirp of a comm-badge. My comm-badge.

"Go for Zoe," I said after tapping it.

- Ms. Harris, please report to the Conference Room One. Commander Riker requires your presence. I recognized the voice as Lt. Worf's. I guess Will knew I wasn't likely to argue with the Klingon security chief.

I shared a look with Guinan, shrugged, then responded, echoing the words I'd heard Data utter more than once. "On my way."

I was suddenly glad I hadn't resorted to my usual weekend attire of a t-shirt and jeans.

(=A=)

Conference Room One was the bridge-level conference room. It was where I'd sat – twice – after encounters with Lore. I was sure that Lore wasn't involved this time, but I couldn't fathom why Will Riker wanted to see me – formally – in the middle of a mission.

The conversation in process when I stepped into the corridor just outside the door gave me some context.

"Data, those are two of your friends out there," I heard Will say, his tone firm, but with a pleading undercurrent. "They've saved your life more times than I can remember. I can't believe you'd be willing to sacrifice them like this."

That Data didn't immediately respond with the precise number of times he'd been rescued by the people Riker was referring to told me how serious the situation was. Instead, his answer was spoken in a measured tone. "Commander, please do not think this is an arbitrary decision. I have considered the ramifications of my actions carefully, and I do not believe it is justifiable to sacrifice one life form for another."

"You don't know that the exocomps are life forms," Riker challenged.

"It is true I am acting on my personal beliefs, but I do not see how I can do otherwise." Data was still calm, still rational. I moved slightly to try and see his expression, his body language, and my breath caught in my throat. To Will, he probably looked normal, but I could see that he'd pulled himself back, made his presence smaller. I wondered if he was aware at how much his vulnerability was showing.

"You're risking a lot on the basis of a belief," Will continued.

Data's next sentences were uttered in a tone that brought me back to the days when I was sitting across from him in his math tutorial. "I have observed that humans often base their judgments on what is referred to as 'instinct' or 'intuition.' Because I am a machine, I lack that particular ability. However, it may be possible that I have insight into other machines that humans lack."

"He has to." I blurted the words without thinking, and both officers turned to me. "I mean, he must have. Insight into other machines. How could you not?" My last four words were directed toward the man I loved.

"Zoe, you should not be here," Data said, a look of concern flitting across his features.

"I asked her here," Will - no, Commander Riker – told him. The first officer addressed me. "You know about his obsession with the exocomps?"

I glanced at my partner and let my worry for him take over my expression. Softly, I said. "I'm not sure obsession is the correct word, sir, but I know Data believes them to be alive."

"Do you also know that Captain Picard and Commander LaForge are at the particle lab, and it's about to blow up?"

"I heard people talking about them being off-ship, Commander, but I didn't know the details about the fountain."

"Well, they are. We can't send a shuttle. We can't risk the ship that close. We cannot safely beam them out of the lab. We can transport the exocomps into the particle stream to interrupt it, but Mr. Data has locked out the transporters. You're my last-ditch effort. Make him see reason."

I bit back the snarky response that would only have made things worse and in my best firm tone I said, "I'm sorry, Commander Riker, I can't do that."

My use of his title caused him to do a double take, but he maintained his 'in charge' demeanor. "Commander Data, give us the room for a moment, please."

"Aye, sir." Data stepped outside and the conference room door slid shut.

"Since when are we back to using titles?" Riker asked. "I asked you to call me 'Will' a year ago."

"And I will, sir, when I'm talking to my honorary uncle, but I'm not, am I, right now? I'm talking to Commander Riker, who asked me here to wheedle something out of my partner."

"Why won't you talk him out of it?"

"Because he's right."

"You go with him to one conference and you're an expert on cybernetics?"

"Hardly," I said. "But I did have an epiphany of sorts, while we were on Hamal IV, and that's how I know Data's right."

"Explain." It was not a request.

I answered slowly, choosing my words with care. "Commander, we – humans, I mean – we use language casually. We use 'think' and 'believe' interchangeably, to mean something we're uncertain of, or something we hypothesize. Data doesn't. He may use words like 'hope' and 'enjoy' and 'wish' in the same colloquial way we do – without any emotional intent – but that's because he's adapted to the language style of the people he most frequently associates with."

I took a breath, checked his expression. He was clearly receptive to what I was saying. "But when Data uses 'believe,' he means it. And he means it with the full force of his intellect and his understanding."

Understanding dawned on Will Riker's face. "So, when he says he believes the exocomps are alive…."

"Then they're alive," I said simply. "I'm sorry, Commander, I know it breeched every ethical rule there is for you to involve me, but I really can't help you."

"No, no of course you can't." He tapped his comm-badge. "Commander Data, will you rejoin us, please."

"Do you want me to go, sir?" I asked, as the doors opened.

"No, Zoe. I've already involved you; you may as well stay."

Data stepped back into the room, his expression blank, his posture still closed. I wanted to slip my hand into his, but I knew it would be a very bad idea.

Commander Riker's voice was much less harsh when he said, addressing Data. "If there were a way to save the captain and Geordi without destroying the exocomps, I would jump on it, but we have run out of time, and this is the only solution I've got."

"Then let me offer an alternative. Transport me to the station. I will attempt a complete manual shutdown of the particle stream."

My sharp intake of breath was drowned out by Riker's counterargument. "The radiation levels are too high, even for you. Your positronic net would ionize in no time. I can't let you sacrifice yourself."

Data spared a glance at me, but he was resolute. "Commander, if I give my life to save my fellow officers, that is my choice. The exocomps no longer have a choice."

Commander Riker thought for a minute, and I could tell he was wracking his brain for a viable alternative. "Then… what if we re-connect their command pathways and we give them a choice? You've assumed the exocomps would shut down before accepting the mission. What if we ask them if they're willing to proceed?"

It took Data a fraction of a second to consider Will Riker's suggestion. "That sounds reasonable, sir. If they choose to go, I would be willing to release the transporter lockout."

"Fair enough. Have Dr. Farallon meet you in Transporter Room Two."

"Aye, sir."

Data turned on his heel and left the room, and I was alone with Commander Riker once again.

"If you want to observe on the bridge, Zoe, you're welcome to join me. I'm sure you want to know what happens."

I did want to know, but I also had faith that Data's little friends would do the right thing. "I think I'd better go back to quarters, Commander. But thanks for the offer."

"Fair enough," he repeated.

I was half-way out the door when he called me back. "Sir?"

"Uncle? Really? I was hoping for big brother at least."

I chuckled, which is the reaction I assumed he was going for. "You'd better not let my mother hear you say that, Will. She might think you're calling her old."

(=A=)

Stardate 46319.97

(Sunday, 27 April 2369, 19:00 hours, ship's time)

I was curled up on the couch reading a book when Data returned to our quarters at precisely nineteen hundred hours.

"Zoe." He made my name into a greeting. "The exocomps chose another method of shutting down the particle fountain, but ultimately it was their choice," he told me before I could ask. "One of them was… killed… sacrificing itself in favor of the other two."

"I'm sorry you couldn't save them all," I said. "Captain Picard and Geordi?"

"They are unharmed and have returned to the ship."

"Thanks for telling me," I said lightly. "Spot's had dinner, but I haven't yet. Did you want to join me?"

"Be comfortable. I will replicate our meal and we can eat while watching a video if you wish."

I smiled at him. "Sounds lovely. Thank you."

We ended up sharing one serving of ratatouille and a salad and watching one of those romantic comedies that's essentially the same as every other romantic comedy: good for ninety minutes (or so) of enjoyment, and then forgotten.

When our meal was finished, though, and the video had ended, I had to ask. "Did you mean it when you said you'd sacrifice yourself to save the Geordi and the captain?"

Data's answer was succinct. "Yes."

"I see."

"Zoe?"

"Look… no one ever likes the idea of losing the person they love most in the world. Certainly no one wants to watch while that person is lost because of their own choice, and I understand that you have a duty to this ship and her crew." I readjusted my position on the couch so I could face him directly. "But you have a duty to me, as well."

His yellow-eyed gaze met mine. "At the time," he explained, "I believed it was the correct choice. It is possible I was being… hasty."

Believed.

"Okay."

"You still seem… troubled."

"The other day… when you said you were alone in the universe… I've kind of been stewing about that."

He lifted his arm and I moved to nestle against him. "Tell me," Data invited.

"It's easy for me to promise that you'll never be alone again, but it's not the same, is it?"

"Your intent was appreciated, Zoe, but, no. It is not the same."

"I can't ever make that isolation go away," I said. "I wish I could."

Data lowered his face to nuzzle my hair, and then he used his free hand to tilt my chin up. He kissed me, first gently, then coaxingly, until we were kissing the way we usually did, with lips, and teeth, and tongue.

When we broke the kiss, when I needed to breathe, he smoothed my hair away from my face. "My Zoe," he said softly. "You make it… less."

I put my hand flat against his chest and let the reassuring thrum of his internal systems move through me. I supposed 'less' would have to be enough… for a while, anyway. But someday… I closed my eyes and imagined an android with his eyes and my coloring. An android with a younger face, and I smiled.

"Zoe?" Data called my name when I didn't respond. "Are you alright?"

"I'm… I'm good." I said. "Let's go to bed."

And we did.

Notes: This chapter begins slightly before the episode "Quality of Life." Events depicted during the span of that episode take place on the same calendar dates (Earth equivalent) but not the same stardates, as all the canon stardates were in the middle of the ship's night shift. I have not changed where this falls in the actual timeline. (In all of the CRUSHverse, I've "moved" one episode and had the initial Data/Jenna relationship happen in what would be season three, instead of season four, as it actually did. ) While the stardates in TNG are in order, there was really no attempt to match them to calendar dates during the run of the show – conversion was done afterward by fans. This is just one of the reasons (Zoe's existence being the biggest) that this is an AU saga, albeit a close-canon one.

As well, I've added a bit of time in between scenes, and adjusted some things to account for Zoe's presence and let her be at least a little involved in the story.

Percherons are a kind of French draft horse, usually black or grey, commonly used to pull carriages in cities like NYC and Philadelphia where such tours are offered. I have no idea if BOND ever performed in Central Park. It's a holodeck program, not reality, so I suspect you can mix and match venue, artist, weather, era, etc.

Molly O'Brien was born around February 27, 2368 (in the episode "Disaster") but Zoe was only two weeks past her rape at that point, and focused on Data being headless and melty, and I failed to work it into the narrative of that section of Crush II: Ostinato.

K-9 is a Doctor Who reference.

Data's dialogue with the computer is taken from the "Quality of Life" episode transcript, as is his exchange with Dr. Crusher, and the scene between him and Riker in the conference room, although I've altered that scene slightly.

Finally, as so often happens, this chapter ended up being vastly different than what I thought it would be. (Revised 27 September 2019)