Crush III: Sostenuto

by MissMelysse

Starting a relationship is easy; maintaining one takes work. This is the 3rd novel-length book in the CRUSHverse. Strong T over all, individual chapters may be M. ***This is a close-canon AU.*** Follows CRUSH II: Ostenato, UNACCOMPANIED: A Suite for Actress & Android, and Bedtime Story. Data/Zoe.

12. The Stormy Present

The Stormy Present

Stardate 46445.19

(Thursday, 12 June 2369, 11:53 AM local time)

Crystal Theatre, Fogg City, Winter

"'He took me by the wrist and held me hard;

Then goes he to the length of all his arm;

And, with his other hand thus o'er his brow,

He falls to such perusal of my face

As he would draw it. Long stay'd he so;

At last, a little –' Line!" It was the fourth time I'd stumbled on the speech that morning, and I was frustrated because I knew the lines – I'd spent hours at home, on DS9, and on the various transports I'd taken to get to the Cairo memorizing them, and then spent a lovely evening running them with Captain Jellico and his wife – my friend – Deborah. And yet, once I'd stood on the stage, facing the actor who was playing Polonius, something about this scene, this speech, had me jumpy in the wrong way, and disconnected from the torn madness in the character.

"At last, a little shaking of mine arm…" Our director, Wrenn Hagen provided the line for me.

I continued the speech:

"At last, a little shaking of mine arm

And thrice his head thus waving up and down,

He raised a sigh so piteous and profound

As it did seem to shatter all his bulk

And end his being: that done, he lets me go:

And, with his head over his shoulder turn'd,

He seem'd to find his way without his eyes;

For out o' doors he went without their helps,

And, to the last, bended their light on me."

Polonius was about to respond to me, but Wrenn called a halt. "Let's stop for now. I'm hungry; I'm sure you're all hungry, too. Chaz," he addressed the actor playing Polonius, "good work today. Zoe, you like udon noodles?"

"Yes?" I wasn't sure why she was asking.

"Come to lunch with me." Shemade it an order, rather than an invitation, but she paused, and added in a warmer tone. "Don't forget your coat. We're walking." She ran her fingers through her close-cropped white hair. "Might want warmer footwear, also."

I'd been on Winter for less than a week and I'd already learned how brutally cold it could be when you weren't in the sun. I grabbed my coat and changed to the warm fur-lined boots I'd bought a couple of days before.

Twenty brisk minutes later I was sitting across from Wrenn in a cozy Japanese restaurant. Typically, I would have chosen a sushi or sashimi bento box, but my companion had mentioned udon, specifically, and honestly, with the cold weather hot broth and noodles seemed like a wise choice.

"So," she asked after we'd put in our orders and been served cups of jasmine tea, "I have to be honest, Zoe. Your rehearsals have been a little rocky."

I wanted to avert my eyes, but I forced myself to meet her gaze. "I know," I said softly. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I know the lines, I spent a lot of my travel time reading about the play, and working out my own interpretation, and then I got here, and…"

"Things fell apart?" Her tone wasn't unkind.

"Yeah. And it's weird. I spent six months with Idyllwild last year and I was fine. Nervous before performances, but anticipatory nervousness, you know?"

"Most actors get that way." Our food was delivered, and I took the opportunity to fiddle with my spoon. Wrenn continued. "Zoe, I've seen you perform Miranda – it's why I wanted you for Ophelia. I still want you for Ophelia, but we have a very short rehearsal period and I need to have you at a hundred percent."

"I know," I said. "I don't know why I'm fumbling, Wrenn. I really don't." I hesitated, using the time to eat some of my noodles. Finally, I asked, "Are you going to replace me with Dafna?"

"I don't want to," the older woman answered. "She knows the lines, but she doesn't have the presence I've seen from you. Do me a favor?"

"A favor?"

"Yes. The speech you were fumbling in rehearsal this morning… can you do it for me right now?"

"What, here?"

"Here," she said, her eyes sparkling with challenge, "and now."

I set down my spoon and took a minute or so to center myself. Ophelia, in the scene I'd been having trouble with, is telling Polonius that her cousin Hamlet seemed to be about to declare himself to her, but instead just stared at her for a long time, and then left. Her whole arc is an I want him/I can't have him battle with her own subconscious until she finally snaps. People know the 'mad' scene – the 'rosemary for remembrance' speech – but it's the earlier interactions that pay off in that speech.

"Don't act it," Wrenn added before I began to speak. "Just tell it."

Her words echoed something Lachlan Meade had told me more than once when I'd been doing Miranda in The Tempest the previous summer. People always think Shakespeare is fussy because of the language. 'Tisn't true. If anythin' he was aerthy, he'd said, his brogue making the last word have more weight than even his emphasis had given it. Find the rhythm o'the words, lassling, and let them sing… the character will be there if you just listen to the words.

Ophelia, is, at this point, confiding in her father. Sure, he's an aging blowhard, and his advice is all in dated aphorisms, but he means well. I thought about my own father, who had always been more of a playboy than a blowhard, but who also gave well-meaning advice.

With those things in mind, and cognizant that Wrenn was waiting for me, and that my job was on the line, I began to speak the words I'd kept messing up in rehearsal, relaying them to her as if I was telling my grandmother.

"He took me by the wrist and held me hard;

Then goes he to the length of all his arm;

And, with his other hand thus o'er his brow,

He falls to such perusal of my face

As he would draw it. Long stay'd he so;

At last, a little shaking of mine arm

And thrice his head thus waving up and down,

He raised a sigh so piteous and profound

As it did seem to shatter all his bulk

And end his being: that done, he lets me go:

And, with his head over his shoulder turn'd,

He seem'd to find his way without his eyes;

For out o' doors he went without their helps,

And, to the last, bended their light on me."

A slow smile spread across the director's weathered skin, and her ice blue eyes crinkled as the expression broadened. "Well, Miss Ophelia, I see you've finally shown up for work."

I gave her a sheepish grin. "I didn't mean to be late," I said.

"It happens," Wrenn assured me. "It happens once," she clarified, her tone taking on a stern note. "Now, I'm going back to rehearsal, but I want you to take the afternoon off. Go for a walk along the waterfront or go back to your inn and curl up by the fire – or maybe one, and then the other – if you go back today, you'll be self-conscious, and I don't want that."

I didn't bother to argue that I'd likely be fine, because I wasn't sure I would be. Instead, I accepted her instruction, but confirmed, "If you're sure…?"

"I want you fresh and eager in the morning, Zoe. Go. Relax. And whatever you do…" I was already standing and putting my coat back on.

"Yes?"

"Don't rehearse."

I laughed at that. "I promise," I said. "Thank you." I think she knew I meant for the second chance as well as for lunch. Feeling slightly less rocky, I left the warmth of the restaurant to face the brisk cold outside.

(=A=)

There's an old saying: when the going gets tough, the tough get going. There's a slightly updated version that amends that to the tough go shopping, which is what I did after I left the noodle house, with Wrenn's order not to rehearse still ringing in my brain.

Wrenn and I may have walked the block or so from the rehearsal studio to lunch, but I had a rental flitter for a reason. I collected my belongings and did what everyone my age does when given free time.

I hit the shopping district.

I had a pretty good time, too. I found a black knit dress with a cowl neck that would be perfect (and warm) for the opening night gala for Hamlet, and a second dress in deep teal for the closing night party, as well as a few sweaters and some pants that were warmer than what I'd brought. I knew Connecticut, on Earth, would have cold weather, so it wasn't as though I was wasting credits.

Late in the afternoon, I bought a coffee from a kiosk on the waterfront and found a bench to sit on. The ocean was painted in grays and blues, cold, deep colors, but almost as smooth as ice. The hot coffee and the chill air combined to refresh my mood, but a pang of homesickness ran through me. The thought that I wanted Data to share this moment with me, followed on its heels.

I saw a plume of water from the ocean, the spout of one of this planet's oceanic mammals. They weren't quite whales, but they were similar. I wondered if Winter had something analogous to mermaids.

The afternoon light thinned into early evening, and, my coffee long since gone, I headed back to the inn.

(=A=)

"Miss Harris, hello. Susannah was just asking for a head count for dinner. Are you joining us?" Doug Williams was the innkeeper at the Goose & Turrets in Foggville, a coastal village just outside the Fogg City limits. He was about fifty-five years old, with strawberry hair that was starting to turn gray, and an Irish lilt reminded me of Miles O'Brien. That alone made me feel at home, but Doug and his wife were also two of the kindest people I've ever met and staying at their place was more like visiting long-lost family than staying in a hotel.

"It's just Zoe," I corrected for at least the seventeenth time since my arrival. "And I don't want to put you out." Dinner wasn't technically included in the room rate, but Susannah enjoyed cooking, and, as far as I could tell, happily served whomever was about, as long as they helped with setting the table and clearing up after. Most nights since my stay, I'd had dinner with one or more of my cast-mates, but that night, a meal that didn't involve theatre people seemed just the thing.

"I'd love to," I said. "Let me just drop my bags in my room, and I'll be back."

"Feel free to change to lounge-wear," Doug encouraged. "We're informal here, in the evenings."

I grinned. "Don't tempt me," I called as I headed toward the lift that would take me to my room at the top of inn. "I'll be back in a bit."

My room had been refreshed while I was at rehearsal: the bed had been made and the curtains opened. They'd even re-stocked the tea I'd been drinking since my arrival, an orange spice blend that was both soothing and warming. Outside, beyond my window, the sun was setting over an ocean that was still placid, and the air was cooling rapidly. I took a moment to enjoy the view, then splashed my face with water, changed into a pair of leggings and a baggy sweater, and went back down to the common area of the inn.

This time it was Susannah who ran into me – literally. As I exited the lift, she came around the corner from the kitchen, and we crashed into each other.

"Oh… Zoe… I'm so sorry," the older woman apologized. "I'm so used to coming around that corner at speed, I forgot to look and see who was there. Are you alright?"

I was only a bit surprised, and I said so, adding, "Doug invited me to join everyone for dinner; I hope that's okay?"

Susannah pushed her ash blonde and gray braid over her shoulder. "Okay? I'd say it's about time you joined us for a meal, missy." She paused then, and a worried look crossed her face. "Only, I've heard you starship types don't eat meat, and I'd planned a roast for tonight. There's a local ovine - they're not quite sheep, but they're very similar – and it's going to storm tonight, so I thought…."

I put a gentle hand out to touch her arm. "I may live on a starship, but I'm not a 'starship type,' and I promise, I eat meat. In fact, I've been known to commit social atrocities just for bacon." A memory flashed through me, of waiting to be out of Data's sight before running after Charlie Simmons on Melona… before…. So many of my memories from that trip were dark ones; there was something refreshing in a relatively happy memory for a change. I'd have to find Charlie a souvenir of Winter and send it to him.

Susannah laughed softly. "I'll have to make sure we have bacon for breakfast, then. Go join the others by the fire. Doug mulled some wine, and there's a tray of nibbles."

"I was going to offer to help with dinner," I countered. "I used to spend a lot of time at my grandmother's farm, and I'm no stranger to chopping vegetables. Actually, I find it sort of… cathartic."

The older woman gave me an appraising look. "Perhaps it's just what you need, after all. Come this way."

I followed her down the back hallway into a cozy kitchen that made me feel like I was back on my grandmother's farm. There was even a red enamel tea-kettle on the back burner of the stove. "You said you were doing a roast?"

"It's already in the oven, but we need to do the vegetables to go with it. Mind chopping onions and carrots?"

I shook my head. "Just tell me where to stand."

The carrots she gave me were purple rather than the orange I was accustomed to, but when I tasted one, the flavor was the familiar sweet crunch I'd known my entire life. I scrubbed them and diced them as Susannah had directed, and then went to work on the onions.

"You really have spent time in a kitchen," she observed. Casually, she added, "Wrenn and I grew up together. She contacted me earlier today, warned me you'd had a challenging time of it. Need an ear?"

I hesitated. My issues in rehearsal were something I'd normally wait and talk to Data about, but he was half a quadrant away, and this woman was in the same room.

"I – "

"One moment." She set the carrots and onions I'd chopped into a sauté pan and set them aside, then pulled two small green glasses out of a cupboard. "Come, sit," she invited, gesturing to the small table tucked in the corner. She picked up a bottle of wine and brought it with her. "You don't have a problem with alcohol, do you?"

"No."

"Good. This is a local winery. If you have time, you should visit their shop while you're here." She poured a healthy amount of the red liquid into each glass. "You're probably used to stemware, but these have been in my family for centuries, and we've always used them for table wine. It'll warm you, but it'll relax you a bit also. Now… tell me, Miss Ophelia… what's wrong."

I smiled at her use of my character's name but obeyed her first instruction – to taste the wine – before I answered. It was smoky with a hint of sweetness, and I reached for the bottle to read the label, stalling for time while I gathered my thoughts. "I know the lines," I said softly. "I knew them cold before I arrived here. But in the rehearsal studio, I keep stumbling. It's like, I can't connect to the character I'm supposed to be playing."

"Hmm." Susannah took a thoughtful sip from her own glass. "How did you get the part?"

I echoed my partner's usual statement, though I used the contraction he never did. "I don't understand."

"You live on a starship. You're – what? - twenty?"

"Eighteen," I corrected.

"Eighteen. I knew you were young…"

"I'm legal," I reminded her.

"Of course, you are. Still young to be so far from home, though."

"I spent half of last year working with the Idyllwild Troupe," I said. "Mostly on tour. That's how I got the part. Wrenn saw video of me playing Miranda in The Tempest and contacted my agent."

Susannah's expression turned into something I interpreted as a mix of amusement and being impressed. "Your agent, hmm? So, you didn't audition?"

I lowered my eyes. "No."

"Maybe you feel like you didn't really earn it."

I kept my attention on the tabletop, which had been painted a cheery cherry red, in contrast with the white legs. I was silent for what seemed like five minutes but was probably only one, and then I raised my head to meet my host's eyes once more. "How did you know?"

Her smile was gentle. "Because I have a daughter your age. Because I was your age once. Because it's human nature to want to deserve the things we get."

"Okay, that's fair." I chuckled softly. "So, what do I do about it?"

Susannah grinned. "You drink more wine. You have a lovely dinner with new friends. And tomorrow, when you go in, you remember that you don't need to keep auditioning. You're not here on trial. You have the job. Now you just have to do it."

"You sound like you're speaking from experience," I observed.

The older woman smiled. "Maybe a little." She paused long enough to drain her wine glass, which she set down, empty, with a heavy thunk. "Drink up. Then if you're still willing to chop things, you can make a salad."

I didn't drain my glass quite as quickly, but within a few minutes I was back at the counter, shredding greens and mixing in a variety of Terran and local vegetables.

(=A=)

Dinner was a warm and pleasant affair. Doug and Susannah didn't pick and choose their guests, but they might as well have, as our group included a pair of businessmen who were friendly rivals, a couple who had met while visiting the inn separately ten years before and were on a pre-baby vacation (the wife was very pregnant), a sculptor from Nueva Espanola who usually worked with glass but was on Winter to experiment with ice, and a science teacher who was giving herself a couple of days of relative luxury before boarding a sailboat for a five day yacht race.

The conversation was as diverse as the company. We discussed each of our careers, of course, but also literature, travel, and politics, though we tread lightly on the latter topic. Finally, the food was gone, Doug, Pablo and Nordon drew cleanup duty, while Sariel (Nordon's wife) chose to go up to bed, but the rest of us moved to the hearth-warmed parlor off the lobby for after-dinner drinks, and a bit more socialization.

Rhona, the science teacher, and I settled onto the loveseat, and she graciously answered all my questions about her sailing. Rollins and Cluney, the businessmen took up a pair of club chairs on either side of a low table and began playing some kind of game that used stones and a board marked with grid-squares.

"But, Zoe, you should join our team," she said, responding to my interest.

"I wish I could," I said. "Hamlet opens on Friday, and we play Thursday through Sunday for five weeks after. I can't risk something happening."

"It's a yacht race, Zoe, not an interstellar war…"

"Leave the girl alone, Rhona." Doug and Susannah came to join us, bringing everyone demitasse cups of drinking chocolate and paper cones with half-moon shaped butter cookies.

"A little something sweet before bed is a tradition here," the innkeeper explained.

"I like this tradition," Pablo appeared behind Doug. "Mil gracias, Douglas."

"Oh, so do I. Thank you," I said. But I continued, asking "What's the game they're playing?"

Susannah and Rhona had started their own conversation, but Doug and Pablo followed my gaze to the men at the gameboard.

"Oh, it's a local game," the former explained. "It's called Tog. I can teach you, if you like."

"Tempting," I said, though it came out as a yawn. "But not tonight. I have a call to make before bed."

"A call? At this hour?" Pablo asked.

"Our young actress has a boyfriend on a starship," Doug explained, though his tone was meant to tease me. "Go on, Zoe. Let your fella know we're taking care of you."

I laughed at the good-natured joshing. "Thanks, I'll do that," I said. "Good night everyone."

(=A=)

Stardate 46446.64

(Friday, 13 June 2369, 12:36 AM local time)

Goose & Turrets Inn, Foggville, Winter

I knew it was only my imagination, but subspace calls to the Enterprise always seemed to take longer when I was tired, or worried, or missed Data a lot. We'd been sending brief recorded messages back and forth daily, but I hadn't spoken to him in real time since the first night I'd arrived.

"Commander Data here. Please go a- Zoe! I have missed you!" His words weren't yelled, so much as uttered in a brighter-than-normal tone.

"I've missed you, too," I said drinking in his image on the screen. "I wish…" I cut myself off, not sure what I really wanted. Me to be home? Him to be with me on Winter? Some new path for both of us where neither of us was away? I sighed, and started over, forcing a smile. "I wish I'd remembered to take pictures today. I spent some time outside, watching the water, and the ocean was beautiful. Did you know they have yacht races here, even in this cold weather?"

"I was not aware of that," Data responded.

"One of the other guests here – Rhona – is on one of the teams. She's spending a few days before and after here at the Inn. She did ask if I wanted to join, but I can't risk an injury or delay… "

My partner remained silent for several seconds, but then he asked, in a somewhat softer tone, "Zoe, is there something you are not telling me?"

I refrained from complaining about his annoying tendency to be right about almost everything. "I've been really rocky in rehearsals. Wrenn actually talked about putting in the understudy… she sent me home early today and told me to spend the afternoon getting my head together."

"You knew your lines when we rehearsed together via subspace during your voyage," he said, puzzlement evident in his tone.

"I do know the lines. It's… I'm not connecting to the part. Something's holding me back. Susannah suggested that my problem might be that I didn't audition, so I'm auditioning in rehearsal instead of just playing the part."

"That is possible," Data agreed. "Do you agree with her?"

"I don't know," I said. "Maybe. I think… I think there's something else. I think… I'm afraid of the mad scene. I'm afraid if I really let myself go into it, I won't come back out."

"I have never known you to be unstable, Zoe. Certainly, I do not believe you have the potential for 'madness.' If you wish, I will ask Counselor Troi to contact you."

"I know. I'm just… I feel like there's something big about to happen."

Realization dawned on my boyfriend's face. "You are anticipating another 'gift' from Lore."

It wasn't until he said it that I knew it was true. "Oh, god." And then. "Yes."

"Zoe?"

I hated it when his features displayed worry (which he would deny he felt) or concern over me. "I'm okay," I said. "Promise."

"Zoe," he repeated my name more firmly. "Should you receive a gift from Lore you will inform your director, you will call the local authorities, and you will contact me. I do not think it likely that he will bother you on Winter, but if he should, I will come."

Something in the way he said it made me see him differently, and it rocked me, a little. "God, you'd do it, wouldn't you? If I were seriously in need… you'd divert a starship to get to me if you had to."

"I am devoted to you," was his simple reply, but as usual, it said everything. It said even more than those other three words, so recently offered.

"I hope… I hope I never need to ask that of you." I took a deep breath. "So, how are you? How's Spot? What am I missing?"

"I am well," Data answered, taking my questions in order, as usual. "Although your absence has caused my efficiency to drop by two-point-three-seven percent. Spot has been – I think you would call her 'clingy.' Evidently, she also misses you."

"Misses my hair, more like," I grumbled good-naturedly. "But give her some extra cuddles from me, anyway?"

"Of course."

"Where are you right now?"

"We are still engaged in 'the boring parts,' Zoe. Geordi has suggested an equipment reconfiguration that will improve the efficiency of the deflector shields by three-point-two percent, and another that will increase our engine output."

"Go, Geordi! And you? Are you working on anything special?"

"Nothing of which you are not already aware."

I nodded in response and let out another yawn. "Sorry," I said. "It was late before I made this call, but I… I really needed to talk to you in real time. Recordings are great, but…"

"But they are not the same," Data finished for me. "Do you think you will feel more 'connected' in rehearsal in the morning?"

"Yes," I said. "I do. Susannah's chat gave me some perspective and talking with you always helps." I took a beat. "Dad and Gia will be here next week. They've rented a house, and are staying here through September, because he'll be working with the local orchestra. Whatever they rented has a room they've offered to me, but I'm not sure I'll accept. I really like the inn, and I'm not in the mood to be 'Daddy's little girl,' right now. Not while I'm here working."

"I am certain your father will understand if you choose to remain where you are."

"I hope so. I mean, I want to see them but…" But my sentence devolved into another yawn.

"I believe, dearest, that we should re-visit this discussion later in the week. You are tired. Please go do bed, and rest well, knowing that I love you."

Those last three words sent a thrill through me that I would probably never tire of. "I love you, too. Goodnight, Data."

"Goodnight, Zoe. Data out."

The comm system went dark, and I shut down the computer and the desk lights as well and went to complete the quick version of my bedtime routine. Maybe it was silly, but I set my padd to play the mix of songs he'd recorded for me the previous summer and fell asleep to the sound of Data singing.

(=A=)

Stardate 46461.77

(Wednesday, 18 June 2369, 1:07 PM, local time)

Crystal Theatre, Fogg City, Winter

"Zoe, a moment?" Wrenn Hagen called to me as I was heading to my dressing room five days after I'd nearly been fired. I knew she'd been pleased with my work since then, but a flash of worry ran through me anyway.

"Sure," I breezed, pretending I wasn't nervous. "What's up?" I walked over to where she was standing with another woman who had close-cropped black white hair and looked to be at least seventy-five years old.

But Wrenn directed her comment to her companion. "Maggie, may I present Miss Zoe Harris, our young Ophelia?"

The older woman's face stretched into a broad grin. "Zoe! You don't mind if I call you Zoe, do you? You look familiar."

"Yes, Maggie, you saw her in the recordings from Idyllwild's Tempest."

"I know that, Wrenn, I meant… Harris… Harris… You aren't related to Zach Harris, are you?"

"I'm his daughter," I said. "Are you Maggie Jankowski, the artistic director here? Dad told me I met you when I was little."

"One and the same!" she declared. "And I do recall a dark-haired child hovering around il Maestro. How is your father?"

"Divorced," I answered. "And remarried. He and Gia – my stepmother – are arriving on a transport this evening. He's leading the orchestra later this summer."

"Aha! I thought I'd heard he'd be visiting my domain. Too bad he won't be coming to the invited dress; his opinion would be invaluable, and his presence good press."

"I think you'll find Zoe is a decent press draw on her own," Wrenn assured her boss. To me she said, "I didn't want to spook you considering our rocky beginning, but we've been getting calls about you. If you're willing, they'd love to see you on the morning shows early next week."

"I have to clear all press with my agent," I said, feeling kind of snobby and amazingly professional at the same time. "But if she has no objections, I'm happy to do whatever you need."

"I'll have our press rep contact Bernie."

"Okay," I said.

"You and your family must join me for dinner while they're here," Maggie added. "I'm going to go mingle with the press and the donors. Break a leg, Zoe. Wrenn… I'm excited about this."

"Me, too," Wrenn admitted.

I left them and went to change.

(=A=)

Stardate 46462.39

(Wednesday, 18 June 2369, 6:32 PM, local time)

Fogg City Spaceport, Winter

"Dad! Over here!" It was the first time I'd been the one to meet my father at a spaceport, instead of the other way around, and I was enjoying the hell out of it.

"Zoetrope!" My father swung me into his arms but put me down very quickly. "Oof! In my head you're still my little girl, but in reality… I think maybe you should be lifting me."

"Funny, Dad. Very funny." We embraced a little more sedately, and then he stepped back and looked me over from head to toe. "You look good, kiddo. Happy."

"I am, happy, Dad. Really." I saw Gia approaching with David in a stroller and moved so I could greet her. "Gia, it's good to see you." I was only slightly surprised to find that I meant it. Our hug wasn't as intense as the one I'd shared with my father, but it wasn't awkward, either.

"It's good to see you, too, Zoe." She turned her attention toward the baby. "Zekey, do you remember your sister? This is Zoe."

I squatted down so I was at eye-level with him. "Hey, Zeke."

"Zee!" he giggled out the word.

"Yeah," I agreed. "That's right. 'Zee!'" I glanced up at Gia. "I'm guessing that's 'Zeke?'"

"Today, anyway," she agreed, faint amusement in her tone.

"Well, Zeke, I remember you."

He cocked his head at me. "Zooooo!"

I laughed. "That'll do." I stood up again. "So, the rental agent confirmed your house was ready at three this afternoon, and I've got the key cards for you. A family-sized flitter is waiting in the garage for your use. Did you want to grab dinner somewhere, or get take out and go straight there?"

My father laughed. "That's my Zoetrope, always moving. Actually, we're waiting for someone. Her transport came in about the same time ours did, so she should be here any mom – "

"There's my darling family!" My father was cut off by the ringing voice that had been one of my constants for as long as I could remember.

"Gran? What are you doing here?"

"What indeed? I came to see my favorite granddaughter play Ophelia. Come here, child. Give me a proper hug."

Rather than pointing out that I was her only granddaughter, I did as I was bid, stepping into the warmth of the faux fur coat she'd chosen to wear. "I've missed you," I told her. "So much."

"I've missed you, too, child. Now… shall we go somewhere where we can all catch up properly? Zachary said something about a house…?"

"My flitter is in the VIP lot," I said. "You'll need to hand over your luggage chits at the gate, and they'll transport baggage directly to the 'car."

"You're driving an aircar?" My grandmother seemed skeptical.

"I passed my licensing exam almost two years ago, Gran. I've almost qualified for low-warp shuttles, too, but I don't have enough hours accrued."

"I didn't think you were interested in being a pilot," the old woman continued.

"I'm not," I said. "But with the amount of traveling I'm likely to be doing once I start at Yale, Data thought it would be a useful skill to ha-" I trailed off, realizing that Gran, my father, and Gia were all exchanging knowing looks and seemed to be holding back laughter. "What?"

"So, who had twelve minutes?" Dad asked.

"What are you…?" The light dawned. "Wait, you were betting. You were all betting on… what? How long it would be before I mentioned Data?"

Gia reached to put her arm around me. "For years he's been a central figure in everything you've said to us, Zoe. Every call. Every letter. You can't blame us for wondering how long you could go without talking about him."

"He's not actually the only thing in my life," I said, caught between being amused and finding it insulting, "but sometimes he's the biggest part." I sighed. "We should get going. It's going to be dark outside, and if I'm hungry, I know you all must be."

"Let's get take-out." My father finally answered the question I'd asked several minutes earlier. "We can grill Zoe in comfort."

(=A=)

Dad had rented a house that was just down the road from the inn, so grabbing Chinese food – every planet with a human population greater than twelve has at least once good Chinese restaurant – and heading to their place for dinner didn't take me off my path at all.

We spent the meal alternately catching up, and cleaning up, the latter mostly involving my little brother's artistic relationship with food.

"I'm really confused, Gran. What made you decide to come here, too?" I asked as we were resting from finishing our first plates, but not quite ready for seconds.

"Is it so odd that I wanted to see you before you take off for Earth? I'm told you won't be visiting home en route."

I had the decency to look slightly ashamed. "No. Data and I have a vacation planned, but taking this gig changed our itinerary, somewhat."

But my grandmother wasn't judging me. "Of course, it did, darling. And none of us are surprised. Just as we're not surprised that you've already planned to spend your winter break with him.

"The Enterprise – our quarters there – they're home to me right now, Gran."

"And that's as it should be. You're a young woman in love, and you and Mr. Data are building a life together. Which is the other reason I came out here to the planet summer forgot. I want to meet him."

"You want to pass judgement," my father accused, bringing cups of hot tea to each of us. Gia had slipped away to put a tired Zeke to bed.

"That's not true…" my grandmother said, but when we both responded by merely staring at her, she amended, "Well, it's not entirely true. But I do need to make sure the man my granddaughter has given her heart to is worthy of the gift."

I rolled my eyes at that. "You make it sound like I'm a crown princess and you're worried I'm marrying a peasant." As soon as I said it, I realized how it sounded.

"Marriage?" My father jumped on the topic. "Zoetrope, you're not even nineteen."

"I wasn't being literal," I said.

"You sure about that?"

I sighed. "We've… discussed it. Vaguely. As a future likelihood. But, Dad, I promise, nothing has been asked or answered." Well, that was technically true. "And nothing will keep me from going to Yale. I need to go. I need to do it for myself."

My father and grandmother shared a look, and something unspoken passed between them. "Zoe, darling," the older woman said, "are you sure you don't want to stay here at the house with us?"

"It's opening weekend, Gran. It's going to be intense and frenetic, and when I'm in the midst of that I like to come home to quiet. I can do that better at the inn than I can here. At least for this week. Once we're open, I'll see how I feel, okay?" I was silent for a moment, but then I added. "I'll be here lots though – so much that you'll all get sick of me."

Gran smiled. "Your father is actually much the same. I'm not sure if you were aware…"

"Dad?" I turned to him.

"We always stayed in hotels away from the theatre district, for just that reason. You complained about it, once you were old enough to care."

Memories came flooding back. "I remember," I said, smiling. "I thought you were trying to keep me out of the public eye, but I guess it was a breather for you, as well." I didn't mention that it had made his habit of sleeping with my au pairs easier to conceal. He wasn't like that anymore.

Gia finally rejoined us, accepting a cup of mint tea from my father. "You know, Zoe, I was never a fan of tea until I met you." It seemed random, but I recognized that she was trying to bond with me.

"Me?"

"Yes. You asked your father to have some around for you that first Christmas, and when you left early, I found myself drinking it in the evenings."

I smiled at my stepmother. "Dad – and Data, for that matter – will tell you that I'm a coffee person, and that's true, but… tea is better for serious conversation. That's actually how Data and I started becoming friends."

"Oh?" She made it clear that she wanted to hear more, and I realized that Dad and Gran didn't know the history of my relationship with my partner, either.

"Yes, three years ago, Data took our math class to Serenity V – that was when Dad sprung you on me—"

"I remember," Gia interjected. "That wasn't the way I'd wanted to meet you for the first time."

"I wasn't exactly at my best, that trip, either," I confessed. "I was really mad at Dad for not telling me he was dating, and mad at Mom for not telling me the divorce had been finalized. There might have been a lot of guilt shopping on that trip."

"Might?" Dad teased. "My bank account is still feeling the pain."

We all laughed at that, but I picked up the thread of my story after a few seconds. "Anyway, T'vek and I had just started to date, and we'd snuck of our bunk rooms on the shuttle and piled pillows in the corridor between them. It was originally a make-out session, but then we fell asleep, and Data found us… not like it was hard, it was only a type one runabout, but he sent Tev to bed, and promised not to tell our parents. But I was wired, and you know, once I'm up, I'm up for hours, so I asked if I could replicate tea and sit with him while I drank it."

"Weren't you only fifteen, then, darling?" Gran asked.

"Yes, but… Data and I had only been doing Saturday Sessions for a few weeks at that point – Saturday Sessions are what we called my music theory tutorial - and we were only just getting to know each other as people, not just teacher and student. So, I brought a mug of tea into the cockpit, and we talked for a while and then I went back to bed. A few weeks later, after he'd been kidnapped by this guy who collected rare objects, and wanted to add Data to his collection, I found out I was on his notification list."

"That soon?" Dad seemed surprised.

"Believe me, I was blown away when Geordi told me. When he got back, he went into this broody mode where he didn't socialize and canceled classes, and I convinced him to let me in one night… and when he realized I was upset about losing my friend, he made tea again… it sort of became a thing. After quartet rehearsals, or after Saturday Sessions, we'd have tea or lunch… and then after the Borg attack, and the battle at Wolf 359, when Tev and I went back to the Enterprise ahead of schedule, Data basically set up camp in our living room while Mom was in sickbay, so I wouldn't be alone… he was this quiet solid presence… never made me feel like a kid, just made it clear he was being a supportive friend."

"I remember you starting to talk more about him after that trip… We liked T'vek, Zoe, but…"

"Tev and I would have imploded, eventually. We're both too reckless. Too impulsive. Data… Data grounds me. I mean, he supports the things I want to do, and he's really good about encouraging me to stretch, but he also brings me back to center when I get too out there."

"And you stir him up, a bit."

I acknowledged my father's comment with a brief nod. "Well, I got him to wear civvies off-duty, so…"

"It's more than that, Zoetrope. I've seen you together and heard the way you play music. You're in synch."

I smiled. "I usually just say that we fit." Laughing, I added, "Data says it, too, now." I lifted my mug to drain it, only to find it was already empty. I stood up and began collecting cups and dessert plates from everyone. "I'm just going to get rid of these for you, and then I should head back to the inn."

My father rose to walk me out. "We'll see you at the theatre before the show?"

"You're all on the VIP list for coming backstage, and for the after party, and Susannah said she'd sent over a list of local babysitters who were licensed and certified?"

Susannah and Doug handled the rental contracts on several houses in the area, as well as running their inn.

"She did," Gia called from the living room. "We're all set."

"Good. I'll see you all tomorrow."

(=A=)

Stardate 46473.44

(Sunday, 22 June 2369, 7:25 PM, local time)

Goose & Turrets Inn, Foggville, Winter

The comm-unit in my room was chiming to alert me of an incoming call just as I was finishing my post-dinner, post-matinee bath. I wrapped the fluffy cotton bath sheet firmly around myself and went to answer it.

"Data! I knew it would be you!"

"I hoped it was late enough that you had completed your usual Sunday evening rituals. I see that I was a bit too early."

I glanced down at the towel covering my breasts and then back up at the screen, favoring my partner with a wicked grin. "Not too early," I said. "If this channel is secure, I could lose the towel…" Teasing him over subspace was more for my benefit than for his.

"While I find you aesthetically pleasing in any state of dress, a subspace strip tease is unnecessary at this time." He paused. "However, if you wish to perform one for me after I arrive, I will not object."

"You're still planning to get here on the twenty-third of July?"

"I am."

"Four more weeks… it seems like no time at all, and forever, both at once."

"To me, Zoe, it 'seems' only like… four more weeks without you." He took a beat. "Did opening weekend go well?"

"It did. Maybe it was the excitement of actually performing, or maybe it was having my family there, but I feel like I've finally clicked with Ophelia the way Wrenn was hoping I would. I loved the flowers, by the way. It never would have occurred to me to combine irises and calla lilies in a bouquet, but they are so fresh and crisp. You got my message about them?"

"I did, but I am gratified to hear it 'in person.'"

"Dad was impressed by your thoughtfulness. Gran and Gia wondered why you didn't send roses. I explained that you know I'm not fan, but Gran kept insisting that roses are traditional, and anything else could bring bad luck. As if anyone really believes in that."

"You are getting along well with your family?"

"I am. I'm even going out for a spa day with Gia tomorrow, so I'll look my best for Tuesday."

"What is happening on Tuesday?"

"Oh, nothing much. Your girlfriend is being featured on the morning news, is all."

"An interview?"

"Yes. Speaking of which… we're not hiding our relationship, are we? If I'm asked about my personal life, I can mention your name?"

"As with the interviews last year, Zoe, if you are asked, be truthful, but do not volunteer unnecessary details."

"I never do, Data. You know I'd much rather be asked about my work than you. I mean… I love you. I'm proud to be your partner, but…"

"I understand," he said.

"So, anything new with you." He was accustomed to my abrupt changes of subject. Unlike most people, he could also keep

"In fact, there is. As you are aware, when our relationship was in transition from friendship to our current romantic partnership, I often sought advice from Counselor Troi and Geordi."

"I've heard some stories about that, yes." My tone betrayed my amusement, but I knew he wouldn't be offended.

"We have spent much of the last week at a communications relay station near the border of Klingon space. Originally, we were there to determine why the signal from the station had stopped, but our mission became a murder mystery."

"So, you got to get your Sherlock on? Sorry I missed it, Basil, darling."

"Dearest…" Data always used that endearment, in that tone, when I was being too snarky, even for him.

"Sorry, go on?"

"In this case, it was Geordi who was the lead officer, as the mission involved decoding many messages and computer logs. In the process, he developed an attraction to a person of interest in the investigation, an officer assigned to the station."

"Geordi's in love?"

"He appears to be, yes."

"She wasn't the murder victim, was she?"

"No. Lieutenant Uhnari was not the victim, though for a time, she was suspected of killing her station partner."

"Did she do it?"

"She did not. The actual culprit was a coalescent organism that took the place of the lieutenant's canine companion."

"It killed a dog? That's horrible!"

"It killed a human being as well, Zoe." Data's tone was only slightly reproachful.

"Yes, that's horrible too," I responded. "But, how is this related to you asking Geordi for advice?"

"After it was discovered that Lieutenant Uhnari was both alive and innocent, Geordi sought my advice about how to approach her."

I smiled. "You are the only member of the senior staff who's in a long-term relationship."

"Precisely," he agreed.

"So, what did you tell him?"

"I explained that a wise woman of my acquaintance often recommended caffeinated beverages as the appropriate option for initial encounters."

"You told him to invite her for tea or coffee."

"I believe I said that."

I laughed. "So, you did. Did your sage advice work?"

"Geordi and Aquiel are now 'an item.' However, she will be leaving on a transport back to Earth for re-training and reassignment in three days."

"Aww, that's hard. Are they going to try to the long-distance thing?"

"I am not certain of what they will do. For now, they are enjoying one another's company. It is possible the lieutenant may join our crew at a later time. There are positions in Communications that will soon be available, but Geordi says that Aquiel is insistent that she earn an assignment to the Enterprise on her own merits, and without a referral from him."

"Well, good for her integrity, but kinda sucky for their relationship, I guess."

"Indeed."

"Let me know how it goes?"

"I will do so."

"Tell him I said hi?"

"I will do that as well."

"Make four weeks be over tomorrow?" I was teasing about the last one… mostly.

"If I could, Zoe, please believe that I would."

"If anyone could, it would be you," I countered. Then I sighed. "I should go. It's been an intense weekend, and I'm tired. I'm not ready to sleep, yet. I'm planning to curl up with a book for a bit and get to bed early."

"A wise idea. Rest well, my beloved."

He'd never called me that before, and I could feel my expression going all goofy. "I love you," I told him. "Talk soon."

We each raised our hands to our viewers to 'touch' palms, and then I cut the signal.

(=A=)

Stardate 46526.73

(Saturday, 12 July, 6:13 PM local time)

Crystal Theatre, Fogg City, Winter

With four weeks of performances nearly complete, I'd fallen into a sort of rhythm, occasionally punctuated by an interview or a random subspace call from friends or family. My father, stepmother, and grandmother had all attended our opening night performance, but since then, I'd only been spending time with them on non-performance days.

Data, my mother, Geordi, Annette and Ray, and even Captain Picard, had sent flowers, though they'd apparently coordinated, because I had something from Data every week, and something from someone else came staggered throughout the run.

On days when I wasn't performing, I was enjoying playing tourist with my family. Some of the places we went, like the maritime museum, and a bookpub – a bookstore with a bar at the back where locals hung out playing board games and card games – I planned to show Data, if we had time, while others were more interpersonal. Gia and I ended up going for mani-pedis twice, and while I was never going to accept her as a parent, we did manage to build a strong friendship, and her advice was often useful.

Post-show days typically involved dinner with some or all of my castmates. My Hamlet was a local actor, and he and his girlfriend, who played one of the unnamed Ladies in the show, were having great fun showing me their old haunts.

Similarly, the actor playing Polonius, who was married to our Player Queen, had sort of adopted me mid-way through rehearsals, and even though my fellow guests at the inn had offered, it was he, Jeroen, who ultimately taught me how to play Tog, which turned out to involve a lot more strategy than I'd thought when just watching.

In fact, backstage Tog tournaments had become a regular thing among our entire company.

"Zoe, baby, it's you and me across the board tonight," Jeroen said as I walked back toward my dressing room after a late lunch between our Saturday matinee and evening performances. "Think you can take me this time?"

"I'll be giving it my best shot," I told him. "I've been playing with Dad."

"Cheating, youngster?" he teased.

"Practicing," I corrected, tossing the word over my shoulder as I unlocked my dressing room door.

I felt something 'off' about the space as soon as I walked in. Nothing had been obviously moved; nothing appeared to be missing. Data's most recent bouquet was still on my dressing table, but there was a new bouquet next to it.

"Lights up, full."

The room illumination blazed into almost sunshine-bright, but I remained near the door, transfixed. The new bouquet was stunning. Two birds of paradise. Deep green grasses. Columbines. And the final touch? Affixed to a stick that was designed to look like a perch was a stuffed bird. I didn't need to step closer to confirm what kind. It was a pigeon.

I managed not to scream. Instead, I activated my personal comm, and called my father and Wrenn, and then sent a message to Data. As it was going through the public comms and not direct subspace, it would take hours to get to him, but it wasn't like he could actually do anything.

Dad had chosen to watch the play again that night, and it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that he came running.

"Zoetrope, what is it?" My father had pulled me into a protective embrace. "Talk to me sweetie."

"The bird…" I said. "It's from him."

"You know that for sure?" Dad asked. "You read the card?"

I hadn't. I hadn't had to. "I can't."

"You must. Come, we'll read it together." Holding my hand, he led me to my dressing table, and plucked the card from the center of the arrangement. "Here."

It was the same fine paper Lore always used. Trust him to be a stationery snob. In the back of my mind, I wondered how he'd managed to get it to Winter, but I pushed that thought away and focused on the note in my hand. "A pigeon for my pigeon. Sorry I couldn't make it for opening night. You might think me mad, but I am pigeon-liver'd and lack gall."

I dropped the note on the floor, and my father bent to pick it up. "We should call the local authorities, Zoe, and ensure Lore isn't actually here."

"Who's Lore?" Wrenn had arrived and was standing in the doorway. "Zoe, you're white as a sheet; what's wrong?"

"Lore is… well, my partner calls him his brother, but really they were simply both created by the same cyberneticist. He… he's been stalking me since before Data and I were anything more than teacher and student. He kidnapped and raped me about a year and a half ago, and he's been sending me gifts ever since. Always pigeon-themed."

"Why pigeons?"

"I made a flippant remark once about not being his carrier pigeon – he'd wanted me to deliver a message – and he decided that was his nickname for me." I elaborated, because she needed to know, but she was contacting the local police before I finished speaking.

"Police will be here shortly. We need to ensure that this wasn't delivered personally, and that you're safe. Are you okay to go on?"

It was a legitimate question. I took a minute to take stock of my mood. I was a little bit angry, a lot shaken, and a touch scared, but I thought I could channel all those things into my performance. "I'm good," I said.

"Okay."

I asked Dad and Wrenn to step outside while I changed into my costume, and then invited them back in as soon as I was done. The police had shown up by then, and I answered their questions as succinctly as I could.

"Your partner is a Starfleet officer?" the lead cop asked me.

"Yes, assigned to the Enterprise. He's due here on the twenty-third."

"There's some question about jurisdiction, if this is planetary or Federation. It would be best if we could speak with him."

I provided Data's contact information and warned the officers that I wasn't certain how far away the Enterprise was at that moment.

They took the bouquet and the note, made sure I had their contact information, and promised they'd be in touch. It was all I could expect.

(=A=)

"This nothing's more than matter," Ronell, the actor playing Laertes gave my cue. I'd been okay for the entire performance, though a bit flightier than usual in my movement, but the scene we were doing was an iconic one, and I felt myself slipping a bit.

"There's rosemary, that's for remembrance; pray,
love, remember: and there is pansies. that's for thoughts." I responded with the beginning of one of my character's most famous passages.

"A document in madness, thoughts and remembrance fitted." Ronell spoke as Laertes again.

I began the main paragraph that was often referred to as Ophelia's 'mad scene.' I was fine when I began, but when I got to the word 'columbines' I started flashing back to the different encounters I'd had with Lore.

"There's fennel for you, and columbines: there's rue
for you; and here's some for me: we may call it
herb-grace o' Sundays: O you must wear your rue with
a difference. There's a daisy: I would give you
some violets, but they withered all when my father
died: they say he made a good end,"

My next line was half-sung: "For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy."

My own voice in that sing-song tone reminded me of being on Lore's ship. I had to focus on Ronell's face, forcibly remind myself of where I was. He gave his next line; I went on singing:

"And will he not come again?
And will he not come again?
No, no, he is dead:
Go to thy death-bed:
He never will come again.
His beard was as white as snow,
All flaxen was his poll:
He is gone, he is gone,
And we cast away moan:
God ha' mercy on his soul!
And of all Christian souls, I pray God. God be wi' ye."

I made my exit at that point, grateful that my father and Wrenn were both waiting for me in the wings. Dad gave me a bottle of water and urged me to sip it, while the director assured me I was doing fine, that my own mood was working for the part.

I didn't argue with them, but I could tell they were both concerned. Still, I managed to hold it together through the end of the performance.

(=A=)

"Darling, I think your father is right. You should stay here."

"I'm staying tonight, Gran, but that's it." It was after midnight, I'd done two shows and had a matinee the following afternoon, and I was tired and punchy. Dad and Gia were already asleep; it was just me and my grandmother having a last mug of tea in the living room.

"Zoe, you have a stalker. It's not safe. You must stay where you're safe; I absolutely insist."

I took a deep breath. "Gran, I love you, but I hardly think I'm any less safe at the inn than I am here."

"I'm certain your Mr. Data would prefer that you be with us."

"It's not his decision, Gran. If he were here, there would be a discussion, but he's not, and he won't be for ten more days. Dad asked me to spend the night here, and since I'm too tired to fight any more, I'm doing so, but tomorrow I'm going back to Goose and Turrets."

"You get your stubborn streak from your mother," the old woman observed. "Don't misunderstand me, child, I love the woman, but Emily could be so…"

She might have been speaking the truth, but I was in no mood to hear it. "Gran…" Just her name, in a warning tone.

"I'm sorry, Zoe. You've handled so much, so young, you can't blame us for wanting to keep you close."

I moved across the living room to hug her. "Gran. I don't blame you, really. But once I start hiding, once I let myself live with fear, I won't stop. It'll break me. I can't afford that."

"Perhaps we can revisit this discussion in the morning. Decisions are always better made over coffee."

"That's probably a good idea." We both got up and shared a hug. "I'm glad you're here, Gran. I'm sorry I'm being so uncooperative, really."

But my grandmother wasn't accepting that. "Oh, darling girl, you're not being uncooperative. You're just growing up." She kissed my cheek and I smelled her perfume and her face cream. "Sweet dreams, sweet girl."

I smiled. "I'll try."

(=A=)

My personal comm woke me at ten in the morning: Wrenn was calling to ask if I wanted to let my understudy do the matinee performance that day.

"I think I'm okay," I told her. "But I don't know if the police will need me."

"If you haven't heard from them by noon, let me know. I won't fault you for taking the day to re-center yourself, Zoe. I promise. On the other hand, your heightened anxiety last night was magic on stage… it's up to you, hon."

"I'll let you know after I've eaten and showered," I said. "My family made me stay with them last night, and all my stuff is at the inn."

"You might consider relocating to be with them for the rest of the run. I know I'd feel more comfortable with you not being alone."

"I'll consider it," I promised. "Talk to you in a bit."

Almost immediately, a subspace relay was pushed through.

"Zoe! Are you alright?" Data's face filled the tiny screen. "You are still in bed."

"Dad and Gia insisted I stay with them last night, and when Wrenn called to check in with me a few minutes ago, it woke me." I took a beat, then answered his original question. "I'm okay. I was kind of shaken up last night, but local police were very helpful. They said they'd be contacting you?"

"They have done so," my partner replied. "You will be relieved to know that that Lore is not on Winter but sent the… bird… via an agent."

"Not Ensign Sutter?"

"No. He was not involved, and in fact, sends his sympathies. I believe he is quite sincere in his apology for his own involvement."

"You were following up on this all night, weren't you?"

"It was not 'my' nighttime, Zoe, but even if it had been, I would not have done anything differently." He paused. "If you wish me to come to Winter sooner – "

"No," I said, cutting him off. "I mean, thank you for offering, but I'm only shaken up. I'm not hurt, and if he's not actually here, I'm not in danger. I'm not, am I?"

"No, I do not believe that you are."

"Dad thinks I should move out of the inn and stay here. Wrenn suggested it as well."

"Is that what you wish to do?"

"Honestly? Not really. I mean, being here last night was fine, but… "

"But you are no longer a child, and you have settled into the Goose and Turrets."

"Yes. There's that, but also, I committed to Doug and Susannah. I'm sure they'd be willing to cancel the rest of my booking, but I'd feel bad. And the house where Dad and Gia are staying is only like ten minutes away. By ground car." I paused for a moment. "Do you think I should relocate?"

"If you feel safe at the inn, then you should remain there. Perhaps you should return there this evening and 'see how things go.'"

"That's actually a pretty good idea, Data. Thank you."

"You are welcome, Zoe."

I smiled at his image on my tiny communicator. "I'm looking forward to your being here. That may be another reason why I'm not keen on moving in with the family for the next three weeks."

"That is understandable," he said. "Zoe, please remember that you can contact me at any time if something else should… occur."

"You mean, if Lore decides to go further than expressing his feelings – whatever they are – with taxidermy? Seriously who does that?"

"That, or any other incident."

"I know. And I will." I glanced at the time. "I need to eat and shower and let Wrenn know I am going on today. I'll talk to you tomorrow or Tuesday, unless something happens."

"Very good," Data said. "I love you, Zoe."

I grinned and took the opportunity to flip the script on him. "I'm devoted to you, Data. Bye."

(=A=)

Stardate 46534.48

(Tuesday, 15 July 2369, 2:03 AM, local time)

Goose & Turrets Inn, Foggville, Winter

I woke up feeling like I was being watched. "Lights," I called, and my room was flooded with illumination, leaving me eye to eye with the pigeon – Lore's stupid stuffed pigeon – that was on the desk in my room.

The flowers it had been sent with had been disposed of, but the cops had given the bird back to me, in a transparent aluminum box that was designed to block any tracking signals or recording devices that might have been inside it.

"Though, we've scanned it six ways from the Sagitallan Sea, ma'am, and we can't find anything except a damned fine piece of art."

The officer had been right about that. On the night it arrived, all I'd parsed about the thing was pigeon, but days later, with the determination that I was not in personal danger, I had a better look, and it was exquisite: glossy feathers, mostly grey but with hints of purple and ivory. Glass bead eyes that seemed to almost be alive. A cloth band of purple, red, and gold around its neck. And the feet, the claws, had also been painted purple tipped with gold.

For a psychotic android, Lore was extremely talented.

But even though I could admit that it was beautiful, I'd wanted to toss the pigeon in the nearest incinerator. The only reason I hadn't is that Data had requested he be allowed to examine it upon his arrival.

It wouldn't fit in the dresser drawer.

When I'd tried sticking it in the closet, I'd felt like it was waiting to pounce on me and peck out my eyes every time I opened the door.

And asking Susannah to put it in storage or my father to keep it for me seemed… wrong… somehow. It was my problem to deal with.

Except I was waking up every three hours feeling the thing staring at me.

"God, Data, I wish you were here," I whined into my empty room.

Then I got up, took an extra hand towel from the bathroom, and covered the stupid bird. Better. That was better. I set my padd to play the recording Data had made for me the year before, the one of him singing, on a loop. I got back into bed. I pulled the pillow that would have been my partner's if he'd been there into my arms.

It wasn't completely childish to sleep with the lights on, was it?

(=A=)

Stardate 46556.89

(Wednesday, 23 July 2369, 6:22 AM, local time)

Fogg City Spaceport, Winter

One of the bonuses of my sleep being constantly interrupted by restlessness, the beginnings of nightmares, and just too much noise in my own head was that I was awake and sipping coffee eight minutes before my alarm went off. I didn't usually see the pre-dawn hours of the morning unless I hadn't gone to bed at all, but it was a special day: Data was arriving on Winter, and I was meeting him at the spaceport.

I finished the coffee and blueberry muffin I'd retrieved from the in-room replicator – I hadn't used it much, but for quick breakfasts it was nice to have – recycled my mug and plate, and took a quick shower. I dressed in a raspberry-colored sweater over jeans and warm boots and made my way down to the lobby.

Despite the early hour, Susannah was behind the desk. "You're up early, Zoe," she observed. "Everything alright?"

"Better than alright," I grinned. "My boyfriend is arriving this morning. It's alright that I'm adding him to my room, isn't it?"

The older woman smiled. "It's fine. I remember discussing it with you when you made your booking." Her smile faded somewhat. "I wish it didn't mean you'd be leaving us soon, though."

In a way, I felt the same. She and her husband had become true friends over the past several weeks, and I would miss them, and their cozy inn. "I'd love to keep in touch," I said.

"You'd better!" She glanced out the window. "You should get moving. Rush hour traffic will start soon enough, and I think we're due for a squall later today. Will you and… Commander Data, isn't it?" She paused so I could confirm that she'd gotten his name right. "Will you and he be joining us for dinner tonight or will you be with your family?"

"I'm pretty sure we'll be with the family. It's my last night without a performance, and Data and I are leaving late Sunday."

"If you'd like, invite your family here. Doug is a big fan of your father's music, and we haven't had a baby to coo over in a long while."

I thought for a moment. "Actually, if you're willing, could I host a brunch here for my family and whatever guests are around on Sunday, late morning?"

"A brunch?" I could see her start to plan it. "A brunch… pastries, egg dishes, fruits, breakfast meats… we could do that."

"Thank you. I think it would be a good way to say goodbye to everyone."

"I agree. You still want a bakery tray for tomorrow afternoon, for the theatre, yes?"

The cast had fallen into a pattern of bringing snacks to share every day, and it was my turn. "Oh, yes, please. And add the fruit and cheese we discussed?"

"Of course, Zoe. Now scoot. Your man is waiting for you."

Her last sentence was issued with a fair measure of affectionate teasing. "Going, going." I said. I exited the cozy warmth of the lobby and walked through the chilly morning light to my flitter.

(=A=)

Winter's spaceport didn't see a ton of Starfleet personnel coming through – not in uniform anyway. It was one of the leading destination for people who loved winter sports, but when officers went on vacation they typically wore civilian clothes. Data, I knew, would arrive in uniform, partly because it would silently reassure me that it was really him, but also because he would be treated better by people who didn't know him. I hated that he sometimes faced random bigotry, but I also knew that he was accustomed to it and could handle himself.

I grabbed another coffee – a mocha – from the Red Sands kiosk near the waiting area for Off-world Arrivals and settled into a chair. I'd been given an arrival estimate of seven-thirty, and I knew he'd have to register his shuttle, clear customs, and clear immigration before I'd see him. In the meantime, I had fun people-watching. Grandparents were meeting their grandchild, apparently home from a boarding school somewhere. A college hockey team from Caprica blustered through next, all loud voices and easy jocularity, poking their sticks at one another, and dodging them.

A glimpse of familiar mustard caught my attention, and I left my chair, tossing my cup into the recycling unit. "Data! Over here!"

Gold features went from neutral to - well, I wouldn't call his expression 'happy' - but there was a definite brightening, and obvious recognition. Yellow eyes focused on me, and in four quick strides he was close enough for me to hug.

His released the handle on his suitcase and returned my embrace, nuzzling my hair. "Zoe." All he said was my name, but it meant everything. After a moment, he stepped back and looked me over. Then he touched his lips to mine, and we indulged in the kind of kiss you usually only see in romance vids. I half-expected the flash of cameras, but there was no media following us here on Winter. We were just like any other reuniting couple.

Reluctantly, at least on my part, we separated, and I wrapped my arm around his waist. "Flitter's in short-term parking," I said. "And I'm sorry, but I'm not usually up this early, so I really need to go back to bed for a while, but you can explore the inn, or the waterfront or – "

"Zoe… "

"Sorry. I'm babbling enough for both of us."

"You often do so, when you are overtired. Direct me to your flitter, and we will return to the inn." He reclaimed the handle of his suitcase with his left hand, but his right arm he wrapped around my shoulders, and we started walking. "I have missed you, and I am glad that you met me here, but you did not have to forego sleep in order to – "

"Yes, I did," I said, cutting him off. "I absolutely did. How many times have you had anyone meet you at a spaceport?"

"Including both this morning and last summer in San Francisco, twice."

"That's why. What's why I had to come. When you walk into an arrivals lounge, you're confronted by all these people being met by friends and family - husbands and wives and lovers and – "

"And I cannot feel wistful, Zoe, or lonely. You know this."

"Maybe you can't now," I said. "But when we met you couldn't feel desire, and you couldn't tell me you loved me, so I have faith that someday you will have those feelings in your repertoire, and when you do, I want there to be good memories waiting to be re-experienced."

He didn't answer verbally, but he pulled me closer against him.

(=A=)

Data volunteered to drive the flitter back to the inn, and I was happy to accept, though I didn't nap as he thought I would. Instead, I used the time to call Dad and let him know my boyfriend had arrived. "We're heading back to Goose and Turrets," I told him. "I really need more sleep and we need some time alone before we join you all, but I wanted to let you know that I'm hosting a brunch at the inn on Sunday morning before Data and I take off."

"A brunch sounds lovely, Zoe. Enjoy your reunion, and we'll see you later today."

My father ended the call and I turned back to my partner. "You don't mind, do you? The family tonight, and brunch on Sunday?"

"Of course not, Zoe. I have been looking forward to seeing your family again, and finally meeting the grandmother I have heard so much about."

"I hope she likes you. If she doesn't, you might have to find yourself a new girlfriend." I was teasing him, and he knew it.

Nevertheless, as he deftly piloted the flitter to the edge of town, and then shifted smoothly into ground mode at the end of the inn's driveway, he told me. "I do not wish to 'find a new girlfriend.' I have found the woman with whom I fit."

Back in my room – our room – at the inn, after a brief introduction to Doug and Susannah, Data spent a few minutes unpacking while I sat on the bed and watched. Susannah had sent the housekeeper up early, while I was out, so everything had been refreshed.

I set the 'do not disturb' signal while Data was hanging things in the closet, but when he heard me yawn, he turned to face me.

"Zoe, I know from your messages and phone calls that you have not been sleeping well since the arrival of Lore's most recent… gift. I also know that you woke hours earlier than is typical for you in order to meet me this morning. Please go back to bed. I will not be offended."

"Are you eager to examine said gift?" I asked. "Because it's under that towel on the desk. But if that can wait, I wouldn't mind company." I paused, then continued flirtatiously. "I'm not so tired that I can't show you exactly how much I missed you."

Data's expression didn't change, but his voice was softer when he replied. "I will join you, but there will not be sex until after you have slept, dearest."

And so, we set the windows to their 'blackout' position, stripped off our clothing, and curled up in the bed that had seemed too big for so many weeks.

(=A=)

With the windows darkened, I had no sense of time, but I felt as though I'd slept deeply and well when I woke to the sensation of my partner's long, cool, fingers tracing random (to me) patterns on my skin. Knowing Data, they were probably intricate fractals.

"That feels nice," I said. I shifted my position, exposing one breast to him as I did so. Immediately, his fingers reached first to pluck at, then to roll, my nipple. "Oh… "

His gaze found mind and held it. "Are you sufficiently rested to allow me to continue?"

"Oh, please do…" I stretched so I could meet his lips with mine. "Please, please, do." I wasn't begging, not really, just being emphatic.

Data returned my kiss, but his hand was still playing with my breast, stroking, massaging, and then going back to tweak my nipple, sending little sparks of pleasure all through me. When I reached to touch him, though, he stayed my hand. "Allow me?" he asked.

And I agreed to let him have the carte blanche I'd offered him over a year before, when this kind of intimacy had been new to us.

He was incredibly thorough, stroking, kissing, and licking every part of me until he settled between my legs and brought me to climax with fingers, lips, teeth, and tongue. He held me until my shivers subsided, and when I reached for him then he let me indulge my own explorations.

The taste and faint scent of cashews filled me, and I squeezed my eyes shut for a second, to keep from crying. When I was ready – when he was ready – I nudged him until he rolled onto his back, and I rode him until he called my name, with my hair forming a curtain around our faces.

"God, I love you," I told him, as post-coital lassitude began to take effect.

"I love you also," he responded softly, adding the phrase that always made me smile. "But I am not God, only Data."

"Today," I said, "I think you're both."

I napped more after that, but Data got up and showered, and by the time I was awake again, he'd completed his examination of the pigeon.

"The police said there weren't any tracking devices, or anything," I told him, even though he already knew that. I padded to the bathroom and used it, straining to hear his response.

"They were correct. It is merely a piece of taxidermy, and very well done I might add."

"Can we maybe not spend time discussing the artistic merits of dead poultry?"

"Pigeons are not technically 'poultry,'" he began, though he let the thought stop there. "I will replace the towel, so you do not have to see it."

"Thank you. I'm going to take a quick shower, and then you can take me to lunch before we head to Dad's."

"As you have been here for the past five weeks, perhaps it would be better if you took me to lunch," Data countered.

Standing in the bathroom doorway, I grinned at him. "I've missed this."

"Spending the day in intimate activities?" Data asked, "I have, as well."

"That, but also… I've missed you being infuriatingly right all the time."

(=A=)

Stardate 46558.23

(Wednesday, 23 July 2369, 6:10 PM local time)

The Harris rental house, Foggville, Winter

"If you'll carry the cake, I'll grab everything else," I told Data as we parked the flitter in front of Dad's rental house. "Are you sure you're ready for this?"

"Zoe, your concern is unfounded. I have met Zach and Gia before, as you know, and your grandmother cannot be as formidable as you think."

"I'm sorry, I just… Dad gave you the 'intentions' speech the first weekend you visited, and since then… I told them nothing had been technically asked or answered."

"That is true, but it is also true that we have discussed marriage as an eventual plan, and that our discussions have been growing progressively more substantive."

"I just don't want Dad freaking out."

"He will not, because he trusts you to make your own choices, as I do."

"And I want Gran to like you."

"While it is also my preference that your family accepts me, dearest, ultimately, the only person whose opinion affects our relationship is yours."

"Again, with the being right," I grumbled, but I was smiling when I said it. "Kiss me, and then let's do this."

Data lifted my chin and pressed a gentle kiss to my lips. "Your family is waiting."

We gathered the things we were bringing, and walked to the front door, where I freed a hand to activate the doorbell. Gia came answer the door and invite us inside. "Oh, good, I'm glad you're here. Zoe, I can't believe this is our last family dinner for a while. Data, it's so good to have you here. Oh, you have the cake. Fantastic."

Gia and I exchanged kisses on the cheek and she made the same gesture to my partner, who responded in kind.

"Does Dad know we're celebrating his birthday tonight?" I asked softly. "And should we just put all this in the kitchen, or…"

"The kitchen would be lovely, Zoe, and then come be social in the living room. Both of you. And no, he has no idea. He and Irene are out with Zeke right now."

"To get him out of the house?"

"It was the only way I could think of."

"You should have comm'd us!" I said. "We would have come earlier or invited him to lunch with us."

"No, Zoe, we wanted you and Data to have alone-time."

"Alright, but we would've – "

My stepmother gave me a gentle smile. "I know."

I led Data into the kitchen, where we put the cake on the counter, and the wine we'd brought in the fridge. Like the house in Beach Haven, the rental had a complete kitchen as well as a mid-range replicator, but my father had always preferred to cook, and so had Gran.

We'd brought a couple different kinds of local cheeses and a loaf of seeded baguette that Data cut into thin slices while I looked for a serving plate. Finding one, I asked him to arrange the bread while I sliced some of each cheese. One was very like a sharp cheddar, while the other was similar to Roquefort. I knew Gran would appreciate the latter, and Dad – like me – liked all cheese, but I wasn't sure about Gia. Still, I knew her well enough to realize that she'd be gracious.

The oven dinged while Data and I were working, and Gia joined us in the room. "I hope you like eggplant parmesan, Zoe. It's your father's favorite."

"There are very few eggplant dishes I don't adore," I said. "Data?"

"I will happily sample whatever is served," he said. "I appreciate that you chose a main dish without meat."

"Well, Zoe might have warned us," Gia admitted. "Is that the cheese from that store on the waterfront?"

"Zoe insisted that we bring something to contribute to the meal," Data explained, confirming the source of the nibbles we'd brought. "We have also brought two bottles of wine."

"It needs to chill a little longer, though," I put in.

"Why don't we go sit in the living room," Gia suggested after checking on the eggplant and re-setting the oven timer. "I barely got to know you, Data, when you were visiting."

Data gave her his polite smile and deadpanned. "I did not feel slighted, Gia; you were a bit busy at the time."

My stepmother burst out laughing. "So, I was."

Data and I chose one of the love seats in the room, falling into the same position we typically took on our couch at home, while Gia curled into a large chair that was angled toward us. I let their getting-to-know-you conversation drift over me, offering comments when they seemed necessary. I didn't often get to watch Data interacting with people who weren't scientists or other Starfleet officers, and I was enjoying watching him be slightly more animated than his typical 'officer mode' reserve.

We'd just decided that wine had chilled enough when Gran and Dad arrived home with a red-cheeked Zeke in his stroller. "Zoetrope!" My father handed his son off to Gia and came to embrace me. I expected him to merely offer a hand to Data, but when my partner rose to greet the new arrivals, my father pulled him into a rough hug, too. "It's good to see you, Data. Your journey was uneventful, I hope?"

"Yes sir, thank you," Data answered. He sat down again, and Dad perched on the arm of

I eased out of the part of the living room where we we'd been sitting, and moved around to the back of the couch, touching Data's shoulder as I slipped behind him, and went to help my grandmother remove her layers of outerwear.

"Oh, darling, thank you," Gran said. Looking into the mirror in the foyer, she refreshed her lipstick and plumped her hair. It had gotten greyer in the year and a half since I'd last seen her, and there were a few more lines on her face, but she still looked vibrant. "Did you and your paramour have a good day?"

"Paramour? Really? That's almost as bad as when Dad and Gia decided the appropriate term for him was 'beau.'"

"Well, 'beau' was appropriate, darling, when no one was certain how far your relationship had gone, but you live with him, so I think paramour is – "

"We typically use partner," I said, interrupting. "Or boyfriend for him, even though he never was a boy, really." I softened my tone. "Gran… I know I haven't been very detailed, and I don't know how much Dad has relayed but… this isn't a temporary thing. Data is… well… come meet him. You'll see."

My grandmother turned to face me directly and took both my hands in hers. Her fingernails were perfectly manicured, I noticed, but her fingers were showing signs of growing crooked. "I've been watching you these past few weeks. The way you volunteer to care for Zeke. The way you've made a friendship with Gia. Even the way you stood up to your father - to me – when we wanted you to move out of the inn. You're not the wild child your mother dragged away from me, are you? Not anymore. And you're not the young woman experiencing her first love, like you were at your father's wedding. There's a new maturity in you, my darling girl, and it suits you."

"Oh, Gran…"

She laughed and pulled me into a warm hug. "I love you, my darling. Let's go meet your -
I arched an eyebrow at her, and she changed tacks slightly. " - let's go meet Data."

We re-entered the living room arm-in-arm, and Data came to join us. "Gran, this is my partner, Commander Data. And Data… this is my grandmother, Irene Harris."

Gran always seemed very regal, but in truth she was a fairly petite woman – about six centimeters shorter than me and built compactly. In that moment, though, she seemed like a grand empress as she looked Data over from head to toe. She was silent for a long moment, and so was Data, but finally, she smiled at him. "Commander Data, my granddaughter is quite taken with you."

"Please call me 'Data,'" he requested, as he almost always did. "And please understand, madam, that I am much more than 'taken' with Zoe. I am devoted to her."

Something passed between them, and for a few seconds I was terrified Gran would send him away. Instead, she burst out laughing. "Well played, Data, well played. For now, you may call me 'Irene.'"

"Thank you, Irene," he said, placid as ever.

And just like that all my worries about the evening disappeared.

We returned to the couches for a glass of wine – Dad had poured from one of the bottles I'd brought while Gran and I had been talking – and some of the bread and cheese, but we soon moved to the dining room.

Dinner was a boisterous affair. The food was excellent, and the conversation ranged from politics to art to music – "You two are still playing duets, aren't you?" Dad demanded.

"We are, and it is my hope that we will continue to do so, even though Zoe has chosen not to make music her focus at university."

"But you're bringing your cello with you to Yale, yes?" Gran asked. "You have a gift, darling. Music isn't just what you do, it's part of who you are."

"So is acting, Gran. And so are a hundred other things. I have a rough idea of what I want to do… isn't this supposed to me my time to explore options and figure it all out?"

"I thought you were considering pre-law, Zoe?" Gia asked.

"I'm considering many things," I said. "My program is performing arts and social justice. It's an interdisciplinary course of study that could end up being pre-law, political science, or even just drama. I want to see where I fit."

"Do you agree with Zoe's plan, Data?" Gran asked.

"I agree that Zoe is young and should take the opportunity to experience a wide array of subjects and classes. She has often told me that she does not wish to be 'an idiot who cannot hold her end of a conversation. While I will – and do – offer advice when she asks, she is an adult, and must make her own choices."

Dad and Gia shared a look at that response, and I saw my grandmother nod her head infinitesimally. They were testing Data – testing both of us, really – and I was pretty sure he had passed.

We relocated to the living room for cake and coffee. My father was genuinely surprised that we were celebrating his birthday (it wasn't technically until Tuesday, but Data and I would be gone by then) and touched by the gifts we had brought. A fur hat and gloves from Gran, a couple of Winter's trademark sweaters from Gia, and a scarf from Zeke that just happened to match the hat. I'd bought him a deluxe set of Tog - he'd joined in a couple of games backstage – and Data surprised us all with a gift of his own.

"Zach, when my commanding officer learned I was coming here to spend time with Zoe's family, he generously offered a bottle of wine. I am certain that he meant me to present it as a 'house gift,' but since Zoe insisted upon purchasing several bottles of the local vintage, I believe it is an acceptable way to wish you a 'happy birthday.'"

Dad took the wrapped bottle, peeled away the paper, and read the label. "Chateau Picard… 2351. That's Zoe's birth-year." We all knew the last bit. "Thank you, Data."

"You are very welcome."

A cry from Zeke reminded us that the hour was growing late. I offered to help put him to bed, but Gia shooed me away. "You've been incredibly helpful, giving up your spare time for us, Zoe. Why don't you have a game with your father."

"But the dishes…" I protested.

"I'll handle them," Gran said. "I think this young man might volunteer to help me." She was staring pointedly at Data.

"I would be happy to," he said, and the two of them collected the dessert dishes and disappeared into the kitchen.

Dad and I set up the Tog board and started a game. At first, I tried my best to hear what my partner and grandmother were talking about, but while I could follow the rise and fall of their voices, I couldn't discern actual words. I refocused on the game, trusting that Data would tell me all about it later.

An hour later, I'd won a game and my father had won two, the dishes were done, Zeke was fast asleep, and we were taking our leave. "I'm not sure how available I'll be this weekend," I said as we edged toward the door. "But I'll see you all Sunday at the inn, for brunch before Data and I head home."

There was more hugging, including, much to my surprise, one from Gran to Data, and then we were crossing the cold walkway back to our flitter.

I waited until we were back in our cozy room at the inn – a fire crackling in the fireplace – before I asked Data what he and Gran had discussed.

"There was nothing that you would find inappropriate or embarrassing," he assured. "However, I believe I can allay any remaining fears of 'what she thinks' of me."

"Oh?"

"In the kitchen, she pointed out that marrying young was something of a tradition for women in your family."

"She didn't!"

"You are aware that I do not lie, Zoe. However, there is something else that transpired which you may appreciate."

"Oh?"

"When she embraced me as we were leaving, she asked me to call her 'Gran.'"

(=A=)

Stardate 46569.58

(Sunday, 27 July 2369, 21:32 hours, ship's time)

U.S.S. Calypso

My last four days on Winter were a whirlwind of packing – I had acquired far too much stuff in two months – visiting favorite shops for the last time (and to show Data), and five performances in three days (matinees on Thursday and Saturday, evening performances Thursday, Friday, and Saturday – I'd allowed my understudy to do both performances on the day Data had arrived, and Sunday was the day the crew would be striking the set).

The closing night gala had turned into a rowdy evening of drinking and karaoke with the cast and crew. My parents attended only the gala, but Data stayed with me for the rest, and seemed to enjoy meeting my castmates, Wrenn, and Maggie. When I signed out of the theatre that last night, I felt like I was also signing out of one phase of my life and launching into another.

Two months before, I'd been dithering over participating in the high school graduation ceremony on the Enterprise, but in many ways, my time on Winter had been my real graduation.

The brunch I hosted at the end had been the perfect grace-note on the symphony that had been the bulk of my summer. Doug and Susannah bonded with Dad and Gia, as I'd suspected they would, and I knew I'd made lifelong friends in them as well. The guests at the inn had turned over several times during my stay, but the final group I met were all quite congenial.

Best of all? I left with a case of the local wine I'd fallen in love with and four sets of Tog. One set, I knew, would stay with Data on the ship, and one would go with us to the house on Terlina III. The third, a smaller version, I planned to take with me to Earth, and the final set… I had a feeling it was an adequate payment for boxing lessons, books, and a tacit agreement that Captain Picard would always be among my mentors.

We were back at the spaceport by six at night, completing customs and emigration paperwork, and then doing pre-launch checks for our vessel.

"Data… where's the shuttle?" I asked when we'd finally arrived at the orbital spacedock. I'd been looking out of every viewport, trying to see which one he'd picked.

"Ah," he said. "We will not be using a typical shuttle. Come this way." One hatch opened into an airlock, and we stepped inside. As soon as the door behind us was sealed, a second hatch opened. "Welcome to the Calypso," my boyfriend said.

I stepped through and found myself in a newer, cleaner, fully furnished update of the sort of ship Lore had been using. "Data, this is a yacht."

"Yes, Zoe."

"You bought a yacht without telling me?"

"I would not make a purchase that large without conferring with you," he assured. "Captain Picard has given me the use of his yacht until I have delivered you safely to Yale at the end of August."

"Captain Picard did?"

"Yes."

I grinned. "He's kind of a soft touch, when he likes you, and thinks he can get away with it, isn't he?"

"I believe he would prefer you keep that information to yourself, Zoe."

I laughed. "Is it true the main cabin has a bathtub?"

"You will be welcome to explore the entire ship, as soon as we have cleared orbit and engaged the warp engines. The bridge is this way."

Data turned toward the forward section of the ship, and I followed, settling into the co-pilot's chair as if we flew yachts every day. I watched his elegant fingers move over a control board that was more advanced than any of the shuttles or runabouts I'd been in, and then turned my attention to the main viewer as the docking clamps were disengaged and we were leaving orbit.

Only after my partner put us into warp did I speak, and then it was merely to say, "Data?"

"Yes, Zoe?"

"I love you."

"And I am devoted to you."

I knew there was a cabin with a proper bed but napping next to Data while he navigated had become a sort of tradition. He dimmed the lights, and I closed my eyes and let my partner fly us home.

---

Notes: This chapter runs concurrently with the episodes "Aquiel," "Face of the Enemy," and "Tapestry." Zoe's lines as Ophelia are from Hamlet, Act II, Scene 1 and Act IV, Scene 5. Susannah's advice to Zoe is paraphrased from something Nathan Fillion said at Dallas Comic-Con a few years ago. Tog the game is based on Tak, the game played in book two of Patrick Rothfuss's Kingkiller Chronicles. The object is to use your stones to build a road across the board, while preventing your opponent from doing the same. (You can buy Tak sets, if you're so inclined.) Lore's note borrows part of Hamlet's line from Act II, Scene 2, but uses it in a different context.