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.

18. Faith-Based Initiative

Faith-Based Initiative

Stardate 46834.42
(Saturday, 1 November 2369, 1:33 PM, local time)
Yale University, New Haven, CT, Earth

I was avoiding my room. So far, despite getting to bed after three in the morning, I'd showered, gone to breakfast with all three of my roommates, cleaned our shared bathroom even though it wasn't technically my turn, and watched half of a romantic comedy on the channel that basically produced formula romance novels for one's viewing pleasure. I'd only stopped watching when someone had knocked on the door.

"Dana? What are you doing here?"

My best friend from the Enterprise entered my room, her blonde hair pulled up into its typical ponytail. "I heard you got a present from an old friend," she said. "Thought you might want to talk to someone from home."

I hugged her, offered her tea, and dragged her to the couch. "Data called you." It wasn't a question. No one else would have done so.

"He did," she confirmed. "He said he wanted you to feel secure. Don't be surprised if you get calls from your parents and Counselor Troi as well."

I laughed. "He's nothing if not thorough. But… tell me all about Rizz-Dee (I exaggerated the nickname for my friend's school intentionally, that time, but I'd once said it that way out of ignorance.) "Do you love it? Do you hate it?"

"Yes," she answered, grinning. "Seriously, it's everything I hoped and nothing I expected." She looked around our common room. "Our dorms are nothing like this, though. Color me jealous."

We laughed at that, but I sobered too quickly.

"I stuck it in my room," I said. "The pigeon mask Lore sent. It's in a box in my closet and my laundry hamper is on top of it."

" – appropriate – "

"Right? But it's there. And I can feel its beady little eyes boring through the container, and it's freaking me out."

My best friend was immediately sympathetic. "Oh, Zo…"

I burst into tears and she moved closer, letting me literally cry on her shoulder. "I'm sorry," I said, once my sobs had abated. "I have amazing roommates, my professors are fantastic, I live in this cushy suite, and ninety percent of the time, all I can think is that I miss Data."

"Ninety percent?" she challenged.

"Okay, maybe seventy-five."

"That's a little better. Look, Zo, I know you miss him. You and Data, you have this connection that's almost visible, tangible, and you weren't just dating – you're not – he's your anchor, your home."

"Yeah, he is," I agreed.

"But the Zoe Harris I know would never let herself be defined by a person, or a relationship."

I took a deep breath. "I know. And I don't want to be. I like being Data-and-Zoe. I don't even mind when people on the ship call me 'Mrs. Data,' because I know they don't mean it as a form of sublimation, but… "

Dana surveyed me with her artist's eye. "You've lost your muchness," she said, quoting a twenty-first century film we'd found in the Enterprise's video library one weekend, and fallen in love with. "And it's not because of Data, but I saw it happen after your birthday when Lore – is it alright that I'm using his name?" I nodded, and she continued, "I saw it happen then. Zoe, these gifts are terrifying you, and diminishing you. I mean, I know they make you remember…"

"It's partly that," I admitted. "I haven't had any flashbacks this time, at least."

"Good."

"Yeah."

"But you're still not bouncing back. Maybe you should have put off college for a year, given Data time to track Lore down so that you wouldn't have all this looming over you."

"Or," I said, steeling myself for her reaction. "Maybe I should let him propose, and accept it, and let an official engagement be the tether I need to keep me grounded."

"'Let him propose?' He wants to?"

"He's mentioned… he's… yes. At the house. On Terlina. In August. He said he was ready for that step. For more than just a domestic partnership statement within Starfleet."

Dana's bright blue eyes laser-focused on my face. "You're putting it off because you feel like it'd be failing your grandmother's list. 'Don't get married until you've traveled and lived on your own for a year and finished school,'" she paraphrased something I'd mentioned more than two years before, when I'd been living with Data in a vastly different way.

"I – yes."

"That's stupid."

"Dana!"

"No, Zoe, it is. Look, has your grandmother met Data?"

"Of course," I said. "The whole family has. My grandmother told him to call her Gran and pointed out that marrying young was 'a bit of a trend' for the women in our family."

"Don't you get it, Zoe? She was telling you to screw her rules."

I gasped. Dana never used words like 'screw' unless she was talking about a constructed art project. "But…"

"No buts. You're terrified, you're being stalked, however remotely, and you're denying yourself the one thing that would give you security. As Data's girlfriend, you get respect, Zo, but Starfleet protects their own. As his fiancé or wife? He'd have so many more resources to call on to protect his family."

"We're already family," I protested, but it was a token objection.

"You are, and you aren't. And Zo, I know it won't fix anything, not right away, but it might give you the confidence to figure out how to re-define Zoe Harris. Not constrained by your relationship, but just being who you're meant to be within it. Actress, if that's what you want, but maybe more. You're meant to be on some kind of stage, that's for sure."

"When exactly did you get so wise?" I asked, already feeling better.

"Art is therapeutic," Dana said. "And revealing."

I laughed. "Okay, I get that. So… what are you working on?"

"I'll tell you," she said, "if you go put real clothes on, and we go find some pizza. I've heard New Haven pizza is far better than Providence's. I demand proof."

And with that, I was laughing again. "Never let it be said I kept you from the combination of dough, sauce, and cheese. Give me ten minutes."

I don't know that Dana and I ever settled which of our college towns had better pizza, but that weekend was merely the first in a series of them when we did our best to judge. We spent the rest of the afternoon browsing through some of the cute shops near campus, and then ended up at one of the galleries looking at art.

In the process, I realized that the girl who'd been the quietest of our group on the ship was really blossoming at her university. She was strong and confident in a way I'd never seen her, and she seemed truly happy.

"Oh," I love this piece," she said, running her hand over a glass sculpture that had a 'please touch' sign. "It just draws you in."

I liked art, but my preference had always been for a more representational style. Ironic, then, that both my partner and my best friend were drawn to abstracts. Still, I was glad to let my friend explain why the piece was so compelling. Her passion for her subject was almost infectious, and I found myself itching to have a project of my own – lines to learn, a character to discover, and eventually inhabit. The Davenport orchestra would give me a little bit of creativity, but as much as I loved music, it just didn't hold a candle to acting.

"What are you working on?" I asked her. "I mean, are you working on a specific project?"

"I've been really loving my illustration class," Dana answered. "A lot of people think illustrating isn't real art, but I think it shows skill and nuance."

"People say that about musicals, too," I said. "That they're just fluff and not real theatre, but they often tackle serious subjects."

"I guess art is subjective no matter the medium," my friend replied. "Are you ready for a coffee break?"

"When am I not?" I asked.

We didn't go to New Moon. Instead we found the closest Rossi's and went there. Over mochas and a slice of chocolate raspberry torte (which we shared) we continued our catching up. "The nice thing about being at art school," Dana revealed, "is that I'm actually ahead when it comes to math and science. Especially math. I knew Data's class was rigorous, but I didn't realize how far beyond normal high school he'd pushed."

I laughed, and told her, "I'm taking a math class this semester just to get the requirement out of the way, but I know what you mean. I never expected math to be my bird class."

"Bird class?" Dana didn't know the term.

"Something you fly right through. I'm having a hard time with my Philosophy of AI course, though. How ironic is that?"

"Very," the other woman agreed. "You're going home to the Enterprise for your winter break, right?" she asked, as if I'd reminded her of something. "Do you want to coordinate transport and go back together."

"God, yes. I never get to travel with anyone I actually know. Let's talk dates." It turned out that our winter breaks were pretty much the same, but that we couldn't make firm plans until we each had our schedule for finals.

We returned to my dorm room, where my roommates all insisted that Dana crash on our couch. We pooled our resources to provide bedding for her and agreed we'd all do brunch together the next morning.

Maybe it was the pizza and coffee, or maybe it was having my best friend to talk to – someone who had been through the last year with me – but I slept well that night, and by the time Anjali and I left her at the train station, I was feeling like myself again.

"You have good friends," my roommate observed as we entered the aquatics center. We'd decided to swim, after all.

"I do," I said. "New and old. Thank you for being so welcoming."

"We all need a voice from home sometimes. It's good to know you have such support. I don't think Margo does."

"She has her father," I said, "but I don't think it's the same."

"No, it is not."

"Well, then, she has us," I said. "We'll have to be enough. For now."

"I was thinking the same."

After that we didn't talk, just did laps, and then met Margo and Chuni for dinner.

(=A=)

Stardate 46862.10
(Tuesday, 11 November 2369, 3:59 PM, local time)
Yale University, New Haven, CT, Earth

Once again, I was sitting with my friend Margo in a clinic waiting room, but this time it wasn't the med center on campus; it was a women's health center a few blocks away. "You don't have to stay," the blonde woman said for what was probably the seventeenth time in as many minutes.

"You're not going through this alone," I responded. It was one of the three answers I'd been alternating. "Chuni and Anjali are making your bed with flannel sheets and arranging for your classwork to be sent to you for the rest of the week. I'm here to hold your hand, and make sure you make it back home okay."

"I'm betting you won't take 'no' for an answer."

"Do you really want me to?" I challenged.

"No," she said. "Thank you."

I gave her a quick hug. "You're strong, and you will get through this. But one piece of advice? If they suggest counseling? Do it. I've been in and out of therapy for years, and I promise, having someone neutral to talk to is incredibly helpful."

She nodded. "I think it's a requirement, actually. But I was going to do it."

"Good."

"You might have to hold my hand for that, too."

"Sure," I said. "But only the first time."

She cracked a smile, even though my line hadn't been that funny. "Deal."

We waited another ten minutes and then a nurse came out to personally escort her. "Margo Robeson?" the older woman asked in a gentle, almost maternal, tone. "Do you have someone with you?"

My friend glanced at me, and I reached out to clasp her hand. "I'm her roommate," I said. "I'm here for support."

"Good for you. If you'll both come this way, we'll get started."

The doctor was an Andorian woman, old enough that her blue skin was beginning to fade a little. "I'm Sivaas Zh'ezhylass. You can call me Dr. Zh'ell, if you like. Margo, in a few minutes, the nurse will take you to change and get you settled. And you," she glanced at me. "Are you her partner or just a friend?"

"Friend," I said. "Roommate, actually. I'm Zoe."

She nodded, and her antennae bobbed slightly. "Good, so you can make sure she follows aftercare instructions."

"I can, yes." If there was some wryness in my tone, it was because the last conversation about aftercare had been with Data, about the piercing Lore had put in my tongue. Had that really been more than two years ago?

"Good. Support is important. I see you're wearing a comm-badge. Are you planning to transfer to the Academy?"

I looked down at my chest. I'd promised Data and Bright-Star that I'd wear the communicator after Lore's present arrived, and I'd forgotten I'd had it on. "No, my partner is an officer, and I had a stalker, and he asked me to wear it in case something happened. Easier to find me, or whatever."

"Good thinking. An officer? Where's he billeted?"

"The Enterprise," I answered.

Doctor Zh'ell nodded again. "Good ship. I did my last tour of duty on the Cairo before switching to private practice last fall."

"I spent time on the Cairo last summer," I said. "Caught a ride to Winter. The Jellicos are friends of ours," I said.

"Lovely couple. I enjoyed working with them." She turned back to Margo, "I'm not ignoring you, I promise. I've found chatting with the support person takes some of the pressure off the patient. Now, I'm going to ask you some questions, and I want you to be honest. You're here to terminate a pregnancy, is that correct?"

"Yes," Margo answered.

"Were you given a list of options before you made this decision?"

"I was," my friend said.

The questions went on for a while, health and mental wellness until I didn't think Margo had anything left to say. Then the nurse came in and escorted Margo to the bathroom to change, and then back to the bed, where they covered her and put sterile socks on her feet. They also brought a sterile gown for me and had me put covers on my shoes. I did that while they moved Margo's bed through a double door into the surgical room, and then I joined them.

The procedure was mostly done with lasers and medical transporters. It had been centuries since the last d&c on Earth. But even though there were no blades or blood, Margo, we were told, would still need to be gentle with herself for several days. "It doesn't have to be bed rest, but no classes. Stay home. Rest."

And then came the birth control lecture.

Finally, though, Margo was deemed well enough to head back to our dorm, "God, I'm glad you visited your grandparents last weekend," she said.

"You're just saying that because the fact that they let me have their extra flitter until winter break means none of us have to stick to using the cross-campus underground or public transit."

"Damn right," she said, and we both giggled.

"Come on," I took her arm. "Let's get you home."

The ride was short, and Chuni was waiting at the entrance to our building so I could let her off and then park while our purple-haired roommate escorted her inside.

As I was walking back from the parking lot, someone caught up with me and called my name, "Zoe. Hey, Zoe, hold up."

I turned toward the voice and recognized the owner's mop of curly blond hair. "Oh, Jordan. Hi."

"Hi," he said. "Glad I ran into you. Your roommate… Julie? She said you were parking a flitter."

"Anjali," I corrected. "Yeah, I visited my grandparents in Niantic last weekend, and they have a spare, and since my boyfriend is coming for Thanksgiving, they thought it'd be useful."

"Could they adopt me?" he joked. "Never mind. Anyway, listen, how fast can you learn lines?"

"I'm usually a quick study; why?"

"I'm directing one of the one-acts in the Fall Festival – it's right after Thanksgiving break, and right before finals – and my lead bailed on me."

"Bailed?"

"Got a job with the Rockettes Christmas show in the city."

"Wow! Well… good for her."

"And good for you. The one-acts are where the directors of the spring plays check out their potential cast."

"Aren't there auditions?"

"Of course, but knowing your body of work can only help. Your Ophelia was sublime, by the way."

"You've been checking me out!"

"Well, checking out your work, yeah. Not that I wasn't impressed by your unrehearsed Puck during the break. I told you, I was looking for you. So, you want the part?"

"What is the part?"

Jordan blushed. "I guess it would help if you knew that, huh? It's a sort of riff on Sartre's No Exit, except it's set in a space station and in addition to the sexual triangles there are species issues."

Ordinarily, I'd have asked to read the script before answering, but it sounded interesting and I hadn't been on stage in months. "Is there nudity?"

"No."

"Will it keep me from going to San Francisco for Thanksgiving break?"

"No. We'll have a table read Friday afternoon before break, though."

"You have an actress."

He pulled me into an impulsive hug. "You are a goddess! Thank you! Oh… you don't speak Vulcan at all do you?"

"Actually, I do," I said.

"Yep. Total goddess." And he walked away whistling as I turned into the Welch Hall entryway.

Back in our suite, I found all three of my roommates congregated in the living room. Margo was stretched out on the couch with blankets and pillows, while Anjali and Chuni had taken two of the chairs, leaving the third for me.

"Sorry I took so long," I said. "Jordan Morris caught me in the parking lot and asked me to take over a role in his one-act after the break."

"Jordan Morris from 'Just Jordan?'" Chuni demanded. "You know him?"

"Met him at the New Moon my first week of classes," I said. "He's a senior. Offered good advice. How are you doing?" I directed the question to Margo.

"Sore," she answered. "Tired. Hungry."

"We were waiting to see if you wanted to join us for Chinese food or pizza," Chuni added. "Margo isn't supposed to go to the Commons, and we didn't want to leave her alone."

"I think Chinese food and bad videos sound like a great idea, personally," I said. "But only if we all change to sweats or pajamas first. Ten minutes to change and then we make the order?"

"I am good with that," Anjali said.

"Works for me," Chuni added, then asked, "Margo?"

"I'm already in pajamas," she said. "I'll do the order while you all change. Any requests?" We gave her our preferences and went to change.

Later, sitting around the coffee table in pajamas, we ate our delivered Chinese food and watched a romantic comedy about a starship captain and a princess who was traveling on his ship, and even though the plot was contrived, and the acting was forced at times, I felt a sense of recognition. I wasn't a princess and Data wasn't a captain… yet… but the periods of separation were very similar, as were the princess's worries every time her lover went on a dangerous mission.

I knew I'd become a little too lost in my self-reflection when Anjali nudged me. "Zoe… did we lose you?"

"Hmm?" I came back to the here-and-now. "Oh, sorry, just thinking…"

"About your Starfleet officer, no doubt," she teased. "Will you see him for winter break?"

"Actually, I'll see him next week; he's coming for Thanksgiving."

"You should take him to the Game," Chuni suggested.

I heard the way she emphasized the word 'game,' as if it were capitalized. "The Game?" I asked.

"Are you sure you're an Eli?" she asked with mock exasperation. "The Game. The Game. The annual football game between Yale and Harvard? It's been a tradition of the Saturday before Thanksgiving since the dawn of time, practically."

"Oh."

"That's it? Just oh. Zoe, sometimes I think your head is still on the Enterprise."

"Sometimes it is," I admitted. "And sometimes it's very much here. I just realized I have a table read for Jordan's play the day Data is due to arrive, and that I haven't booked a hotel for the weekend yet."

"You're not going to your parents?" Margo interrupted, demonstrating that she was awake after all. I'd thought she'd fallen asleep on the couch.

"We are," I said, "but we'd planned to spend the weekend here in New Haven for a little concentrated alone-time."

"You know you can have him stay here if you want," Anjali said. "We've never talked about having men stay over, but, we're all adults. Besides, Chuni's boyfriend is coming for a visit and to take her home right after finals, and he'll be staying over."

"It wouldn't be weird for any of you?"

The other three women in the world exchanged glances, but it was Margo who spoke. "Why would it be weird, Zoe? Data is essentially humanoid, right? No weird bathroom rituals or tendencies to wander around nude we need to worry about?"

"No, he's downright prudish about bathroom things. And strangers. I'll try the hotels first, but if you're all sure…"

"We are," Anjali said, and I saw Chuni nod agreement.

"God, you guys are awesome."

"So are you," Margo said softly. "And like you said, none of us have to be besties, but we should look out for one another. That includes making sure our relationships are safe, right?"

"Right," I said. "Thank you."

(=A=)

Stardate 46871.18
(Friday, 14 November 2369, 10:35 PM, local time)
Yale University, New Haven, CT, Earth

I was just returning from a late-night study session with a few of the other students in Whiskers' class when my comm-unit began signaling an incoming call. I dumped my padd on my bed and raced to answer it.

"Data!" I was happy to see my favorite gold face. "I was going to call you tomorrow."

"Is this a bad time?" he asked. "If you would prefer to wait – "

"No!" I cut him off. Then in a more even tone I repeated, "No. I don't want to wait. I just wasn't sure if your… guest… was still aboard, and I didn't want to risk being interrupted."

"The entire Klingon entourage has returned to their homeworld," my partner shared. He'd been keeping me up to date on ship events with much more detail than I'd had before Captain Jellico's temporary command of the Enterprise the previous spring. Partly, that was because I'd been keeping Starfleet and my life in separate boxes as much as possible before then, and had since made the decision to be more active as his partner, and partly it was because my internship in Protocol had clued me in to a lot of really interesting galactic drama. "As you will no doubt hear from the newsfeeds when the press hold is released, Kahless will be accepting a position as Emperor, but it will largely be ceremonial. Gowron will remain head of the Ruling Council."

"An interesting solution. It sounds like something Captain Picard would suggest… or you."

"You give me far too much credit, dearest. While I did meet, and speak with, both Gowron and Kahless, I do not have the 'clout' to sway the affairs of the Klingon government."

"Maybe not, but you do have a way of helping other people see a clearer path."

"Thank you," he said. "Perhaps you are right. You are correct that the captain was involved in the decision."

"How's Lieutenant Worf doing?"

"He seems to have reverted to his usual 'prickly but reliable' state."

"Good. Glad to hear it." I paused and then launched into the news I had to share. "So, there may be a problem with your visit. Two problems, actually."

"Zoe?" His voice held more than a note of concern.

"Nothing huge, Data. Just… this guy I met my first week – Jordan Morris? I told you about him, I think – "

"The former child actor?"

"Right. He's directing one of the fall one-acts, and his lead got a job in New York that's taking her away from school through the end of the year, and he flagged me down in the parking lot the other day and asked if I'd like the role."

"What did you say?"

"I told him as long as it didn't affect my time with you, I was game. It's kind of a riff on No Exit. I'll send you the script if you like… but there will be a table read on Friday afternoon, and then I'll have to learn lines over my break."

"I am certain I can find something to occupy my time while you are at your reading," Data said. "And I am glad you took the opportunity to perform. The stage is as much your home as our quarters and I do not like to see you separate from it. But you said there were two problems?"

"Yes, the second problem is that Saturday is the Game."

"What game?"

"The Game. The annual Yale-Harvard football game. We don't have to go, if you don't want to, but if you want to spend the weekend in New Haven before heading to Mom's, you'll have to stay here. My roommates say they don't have a problem with it as long as you don't plan to dance naked in our common room, but it's up to you. I wanted you to meet them in person. They're all leaving Saturday night or Sunday morning."

"If you will recall, Zoe, we have had this conversation before, and I told you I was amenable to staying in your dorm. You know I have no pride to offend. Please do not worry about this. If it was a 'cushy' hotel you were looking forward to, I have plans for after Thanksgiving that I believe will make up for it."

"Plans?"

"Yes."

"Care to elaborate?"

"No."

"No? No! Tease!" But I was laughing at him, and when I could school my features back to some semblance of seriousness, I assured him. "The only thing I'm looking forward to is being with you. Everything else is secondary."

"I have never attended a football game," he said. "If tickets are still available, acquire them; if not, we will plan on it for next year."

I wasn't expecting something a year away to rock me, but it did. "Wow," I said, leaning back in my chair. "Next year." But I shook my head to clear it and pressed on. "Never mind. Okay. I'll see what's left." He nodded, and I changed tacks. "I meant to thank you for sending Dana here. Or rather, spurring her to come. I hadn't realized how much I needed to talk to someone who didn't need a ton of backstory."

"She has always been a good friend to you, as have Annette and Wesley. Your new friendships do not have to overshadow the old unless you allow them to."

"Point taken," I said. "Dana made me realize something… I'm not sure if I should tell you now, or if I should wait."

"What is it that you wish to say, dearest?"

"Only that… sometimes I am really stupid, and I don't deserve you."

"You are not stupid," he protested, as I knew he would. "But sometimes you misperceive things."

"Now you're being kind."

"Perhaps." He let the word hang as if daring me to counter it. When I didn't, he asked, "What is it that the visit from your friend made you realize?"

"That when it comes to you and me – our relationship – and the possibility of being overshadowed, I have nothing to worry about. And that… that being here doesn't mean I have to give up having your support when I need it, and that it doesn't make me weak if I lean on you sometimes. She reminded me of something I already knew, but sort of allowed to become clouded."

"What is that?" His voice was so gentle, as if he were trying not to spook me.

"Our relationship gives me strength and confidence. You say that separation is sub-optimal, but the reverse of that is more important. Unity, even if it's just a public declaration, supports us both. You're never going to let me be diminished, you've shown that already, reminding me to swim and play music. And if I'm successful, you're never going to be anything but proud of me."

"That is all true," he said. "Am I to understand that you do not require more time to… "

I cut him off, "You are. I don't. I… I just want…" I paused, took a breath, and met his warm yellow-eyed gaze with mine. "I just want you," I said.

"That is gratifying to hear, Zoe." I knew he meant it because his mouth turned up at the corners in the private smile that was just for me. "We will speak in more detail when I am there. Meanwhile, please remember that I love you."

"I could never forget that, Data. I love you, too, you know. So, so much."

"I must report to the bridge in a few minutes. I will see you next Friday."

"It's a date," I said, grinning as I lifted my hand to meet the image of his on my screen. "G'night, Data."

"Goodnight, Zoe."

I sat there for a moment watching the dark screen. Then I re-engaged the system and tried to find tickets for the game. In that, at least, I was successful – Nonna and Papa had tickets they hadn't planned to use.

"Take your amichetto to the game, dear," Nonna told me over the comm. "It's an important tradition, and he'll enjoy observing the other spectators as much as the game itself. I'll send the tickets in the morning. Get some rest, and remember, we love you, and we'll see you at your mother's house for Thanksgiving."

"I love you, too, Nonna," I told the old woman. "Thank you for everything."

"It's what grandmothers are for," she reminded me. "Good night."

(=A=)

Stardate 46889.57
(Friday, 21 November 2369, 4:41 PM, local time)
Yale University, New Haven, CT, Earth

I spent the last week before the Thanksgiving break in full-on student mode. Saturday, I joined Whiskers and Bright-Star for dinner at their campus residence. They'd graciously allowed me to reschedule when Dana had showed up the previous weekend, and I was surprised to find I was the only guest that night.

"You're not just one of my students, Zoe," my dean explained, her voice a maternal purr. "You're also a friend. We didn't want you to have to be anyone but yourself tonight."

"Thank you," I said. "Sometimes I feel like I'm a million years older than my roommates. I mean… I know it's important to socialize, but I've been living in a completely different world."

"But you get along with your suitemates, don't you?" Bright-Star asked gently. "They seemed to rally around you on Halloween."

"Oh, we all get along fine. In pairs, in a group, it's all good. Chuni was the one who made me audition for the Davenport Orchestra, actually."

"Good for her. And good for you, going along with it."

After that, the conversation grew lighter while we ate – a baked fish dish I had never heard of, but really enjoyed, even though the sauce was pretty spicy. "Wow, that chili is intense. Or… is it chili?"

"It's similar," Whiskers said. He had prepared the meal that night. "At home, they're called 'tail-kinkers.'"

I laughed and ate some of the warm herbed bread that had accompanied the fish. "I can see why. I like the way they start off sweet and then the spice comes after. It's interesting."

"We took a chance offering you something from our homeworld," Bright-Star said. "We thought someone used to visiting different worlds would be willing to experiment."

"You thought right," I assured her. "I love trying new things."

"I'm glad to hear it," Whiskers put in. "Because I have a challenge for you, to help get your grade up where it should be."

"What's that?"

"A paper comparing and contrasting intelligence and sentience. I'll give you a list of references, but you may also consult experts in the field." He winked one eye at me. "I suspect this assignment will help you sort out your confusion. It's due by the last day of class, so you don't have a lot of time, but if you can manage a draft by the weekend, I think you'll be alright."

I considered my workload – not that bad, actually – and agreed. "I appreciate it," I said. "I know you're making an exception."

"Not as much as you think, Zoe. You've a good mind, and you've assimilated a lot of information from your partner. This will give you a chance to use it."

We spent the rest of the evening discussing music and art and how Eeiauoan and Terran forms were similar. I was fascinated by their bardic history, but more than that, I was glad to not have to wear any kind of social mask, except just politeness.

The rest of the week hummed along as usual. I swam with Anjali on Sunday, rehearsed with Chuni on Monday, went to my classes all week, started outlining the extra paper Whiskers had assigned, and even had lunch at the New Moon with the usual gang on Friday, after a shower and movement class.

By three, I was in the Morse College basement, in their auditorium, which was slightly bigger than the one in Davenport (and how cool was it, by the way, that each residential college had its own performance space?). Technically the theatre was the Crescent Underground and it was shared by Morse and Ezra Stiles, but that detail wasn't crucial.

V'mir, who was a Morse student like my friend Fallon, was also in Jordan's play, and she was the reason we had access to the space. The table read went well, and I found I really liked the script. And not just because there was a whole scene in un-translated Vulcan.

I was just exiting the Morse gate and heading toward Old Campus when I was startled by my comm-badge chirping. "Go for Zoe," I said after tapping it. I kept walking, though.

"This is Data," came the voice of my partner. "I am ready to transport to campus. Are you home?"

"On my way there," I said. "Do you want to meet me at Entryway A?"

"I can. However, if you will hold your position I will beam to your location and… walk you home."

I froze. "That sounds lovely."

"Very good. One moment."

The channel didn't so much close as go quiet. Then there was the distinctive electronic whine of a transporter, and then Data was right there, standing about three meters in front of me. I couldn't help it: I ran into his arms.

I don't remember closing the distance between us. I don't remember Data moving to meet me. I just remember being enfolded in his arms and hugging him as tightly as I could. "I'm so glad you're here," I said. "I've missed you."

"I have missed you also."

I released my grip on him and stepped back. Then I stood on tiptoe and pulled his face to mine so I could kiss him. The taste of cashew, so long missed, filled my mouth as his hands went to my hair, and mine stayed cupped around his face.

A gust of wind reminded me we were outside in the fading twilight of late autumn. "We should go inside," I said. "Where's your luggage?"

"I took the liberty of transporting it directly to your room. Was that alright?"

"Of course. Mi casa es su casa, and all that."

I slipped my hand into his and we walked back to Welch Hall together, as I pointed out the details of the statuary I hadn't known when he left me on campus months before. It wasn't a long walk, but it was nice to be together, just holding hands.

When we got to my suite, I could hear the rise and fall of voices inside, but I couldn't tell who was talking. "I'm not sure who's home," I said, as I swiped my keycard. "Ready to meet random strangers?"

"They are not random," Data pointed out. "And they will not be strangers for long."

"Fair point," I agreed. "Come in." I swung open the door and found that all three of my roommates were inside. "Hey," I said, making it a general greeting. "I'm glad you're all here."

"We're actually going to clear out in a minute," Chuni said from one of the chairs in the room. "Give you some time to have a proper reunion."

"That's very sweet, but totally unnecessary," I protested. "Anyway, Chuni, Anjali, Margo, meet Data. Data, meet… everyone."

"It is good to meet you all," Data said. "But please do not vacate your home simply because you believe Zoe and I have not had a 'proper reunion.' What would you typically be doing at this time?"

"Dinner." All four of us said it at once.

Margo, who had been half-reclining on the couch, sat up straight. "Zoe… tomorrow's the game, and then we all go home for Thanksgiving. Why don't we show your boyfriend what the Yale Commons offer for dining options, and then tomorrow night you'll have the entire suite to yourselves. Maybe even tonight, if we decide to go to the party at Durfee."

"Durfee's hosting a party?" I'd been out of the loop on that one.

I turned back to my guest. "It's your call, Data. I know we talked about going to dinner in town, but I also know you've been curious about the details of my life."

"I am amenable to experiencing the 'Commons,'" he said, putting the name of the main dining hall in audible quotes. "While I did not attend every meal at Starfleet Academy, my experience was that the food options were… limited. However, I do not wish to 'cramp your style.'"

"Are you sure?" I asked him softly.

"I am certain."

"If it helps," Chuni offered. "All the bedrooms are equipped with soundproofing, so later tonight you can get your groove on and we won't hear a thing."

"Oh, way to be discreet," Margo said.

"Can we have this discussion after dinner?" Anjali suggested. "Commander Data, I am curious. What are the dorms like at the Academy?"

"It is just Data to all of you," my boyfriend corrected, "and the dormitories at the Academy are… quite utilitarian, though they do have views of the Golden Gate Bridge that most find quite pleasant."

"Alright then," I said, "let me dump my stuff and use the bathroom, and then we'll go. I know a lot of students have already bailed for the break, so it might not even be busy."

I turned to go to my room, leave my messenger bag and run a brush through my hair, and was surprised that Data followed me. "I neglected to confirm that you are amenable to a group meal," he said. "I have missed you, and do not wish to deprive you of private time, if that is what you need."

"If we were home," I said, "I'd probably drag you to bed and replicate something later. But the replicators in our rooms are pretty basic, and honestly, I want you to get to know my friends. I'll be living with all of them for another semester, and if I stay on campus next year, it's likely that one or more of us will still be together. And you heard them – they're all clearing out after the game. We can stay here one more night, have a lazy Sunday, go to eat in town, and then get to Mom's in time for dinner." I hesitated. Then I added, "I did try to find a hotel, but the rooms available were not places I was willing to stay – even with you."

"Do you wish me to change out of my uniform?" he asked.

I shook my head. "No. I mean, you can, if it's what you want, but everyone who knows me knows I'm dating an officer, if not precisely which one. Besides…" I took off my coat and showed him the sweatshirt I was wearing – the one SOAR had given me my last night on the Enterprise, "…I support my Starfleet partner." Someday, I knew, Data would be able to laugh at things like that, but just then, his response was to pull me close, and nuzzle my hair which was nice, except… "Love, I really do need to pee," I said. "Go chat with my friends, I only need a few minutes."

We ended up having a lively conversation over dinner that continued afterwards in our dorm over tea and cocoa and snacks. Data and Chuni bonded over violin playing, he commented on Anjali's art, and he even got into a debate with Margo about the economics of non-self-sustaining colony worlds.

Still everyone excused themselves by midnight, and after I made sure the suite door was locked, Data and I retired to my room.

"You're nice," I said to him smiling. "Thank you for being so kind to my roommates. I wish Dana and Annette could get to a point where they interact with you as easily."

"Your roommates have never known me as a teacher," he pointed out as he stripped off his uniform and looked for a place to put it.

"There are extra hangers in the closet," I told him. "Not much space, but definitely extra hangers."

He nodded, hung his uniform and pulled a familiar set of blue pajamas from his suitcase. I watched as he removed his underwear as well and put on the pants. The shirt, he offered to me. "I am aware that you brought many of my t-shirts with you as sleepwear," he said. "However, I thought you might prefer to wear this while we are together."

I grinned. "I do," I said. "Thank you." I changed out of my clothes and into his pajama top, though I left my underwear on. "I'll be back in a few minutes. Bathroom stuff. You're free to use it after me, just remember to lock the door so no one walks in accidentally."

"I understand."

"I'm sorry," I said, pausing by the door. "You're completely unphased by being in a dorm room and I'm being weird and nervous, and… god, I should have let them leave."

Data crossed the room and took my hands in his. "Dearest, there is nothing to be nervous about. We are still us wherever we are, and if you are concerned about not having sex after so much time apart, please know that waiting one night will not diminish pleasure for either of us." He glanced at my bed, which really wasn't that much smaller than the one we shared on the Enterprise. "And if you cannot wait, I am certain we can manage without disrupting anyone else's sleep."

I gave him a swift kiss and went to use the bathroom, returning about twenty minutes later to find that Data had turned down the bed, rearranged the pillows (I'd acquired extra ones my first week of school), and pulled my reading chair closer to the bed, so that he could keep a few padds on it.

"Your turn," I said. "And when you get back, I have something to add to your stack."

"I look forward to finding out what," he said.

I pulled my padd out of my bag and added it to the collection in the chair, then crawled into bed, leaving only my bedside lamp on. Then I got back out of bed and stripped off my underwear adding it to the laundry basket in the closet. Data, I noticed, had added his dirty laundry to mine, and that very visible sign of our relationship, as mundane as it was, set me completely at ease.

My partner returned a few minutes later, and I smiled at him. He locked the door without me reminding him and joined me in the bed, picking up the padd. "This is what you wish me to read?"

"Whiskers assigned me an extra credit project to get my grade to a point he finds acceptable. It's an essay comparing and contrasting intelligence and sentience, and it's a draft – a very, very rough draft. He suggested I use you as a source, if you were willing, but could you tell me if I'm doing okay?"

"I will read it after you fall asleep."

"Okay."

I set my alarm out of habit, turned out the light, and turned over to find Data's lips with mine. "I've missed this," I breathed against his mouth. "I love you."

"I am devoted to you," he responded, "my love."

The new version of his response made my eyes slightly misty, but his presence, the return of the familiar thrum of his internal systems combined with the steadiness of his pulse, put a smile on my face. "Is it alright if I sleep now?" I asked. "It's been a long week."

"Rest, Zoe. I will still be here in the morning."

(=A=)

Stardate 46892.49
(Saturday, 22 November 2369, 6:33 PM local time)
Yale University, New Haven, CT, Earth

The thing about the Yale-Harvard football game -The Game – is that most people don't really go to watch the players on the field. It's more a celebration of school spirit, and an annual recreation of a good-natured rivalry.

Still, on the Saturday before Thanksgiving it's the hottest ticket in town, played at Yale in odd-numbered years, and at Harvard in even-numbered ones. While undergraduate students got one free ticket each, I'd scored guest tickets through Nonna and Papa, which meant Data and I were sitting in a section slightly better than that reserved for the students. (It also meant that Chuni's Princeton boyfriend got a free seat, as I gave him my student ticket.)

True to his nature, Data had familiarized himself with the names of the players, the names of plays, the rules of the game, the nuances of the game itself, and seemed to enjoy explaining it to me while we watched. True to my nature, I'd insisted we get concession food – hot dogs, hot pretzels, syntheholic beer – and while we weren't attending any of the parties, we did drop by the drama school tailgate so I could introduce him to Jordan, V'Mir, and Marco.

By the time our team had trounced the team wearing crimson, it was dark and cold and tiny flakes of snow were beginning to fall.

We went to an early dinner at a sushi place, and then stopped at Claire's for dessert to go, then returned to my room for the evening. As they'd stated, my roommates had all left already. Margo and Anjali had traveled together to Chicago, and then gone their separate ways from there, and Chuni had sent a note to confirm she and Sean had made it onto the afternoon shuttle to Luna Colony.

For the first time in three months, Data and I were alone together, with little chance of interruption, and suddenly the only dessert I wanted wasn't the kind you could eat with a fork.

As was typical, my boyfriend could discern the shift in my mood. "Dearest, is everything alright?"

"Mmhmm." I said, staring at him. I set the box holding our torte on the coffee table, hung up my coat, and moved to stand in front of him, sliding my hands over his chest (he'd worn dark blue and khakis that day), and around his neck. Standing on tiptoe, I kissed him.

You can never miss it when an android's desire is triggered. In the space of a kiss, I could feel Data processing my nonverbal cues and recognizing what I wanted. His return kiss intensified, flooding my senses with cashew. Cashew and heat.

When I had to pause and draw breath, I held him back from another kiss, met his gold eyes with my own brown ones, and said softly. "Take me to bed."

"As you wish." I expected him to just direct me with his hand on my back, or maybe hold my hand. Instead, he lifted me into his arms, carried me to my room, and placed me on the bed, but before he moved to undress, or help me do the same, he asked, "Are you certain?"

I understood now, that he was compelled to confirm consent, and that our separation meant he needed me to say it, and not merely imply. "Yes, Data. God, yes."

He sat next to me, and kissed me again, then began pulling at the sweater I was wearing. We kept kissing, touching, removing a sleeve, pulling out of a collar, unbuttoning, unzipping, and then going back for more kissing. It was as if we were teenagers who finally had the house to themselves after our parents had gone out for the night. Well, okay, I was still technically a teenager, but Data… Every response, every caress, told me that the desire he'd first started experiencing in April had never abated.

Naked, we came together facing each other, the way we'd done the first time we'd had sex. But this time, it wasn't a concession to my trauma, it was a reunion of two people who'd been apart for far too long.

Data's hands seemed to be everywhere on my body at once, and I – I couldn't get enough of his taste, his skin, the texture of the scant hair below his navel. Our joining was slow and sweet, and when I wept afterwards, my lover didn't have to ask me what was wrong. He understood that I was simply overcome with missing him, and with having him back.

If our first round was lingering and tender, our second was even more so. Every movement of my partner's long fingers was slow and deliberate, ensuring maximum stimulation for me, and I did my best to match him in possibly the most thorough encounter we'd ever shared.

Afterward, pleasantly sleepy, completely content, we found our voices once more. "I did not realize," Data admitted quietly, "that desire so long unquenched could be so intense."

"I thought it was just me," I said.

"It was not. As soon as we kissed, I was filled with the sense of… wanting… you."

I laughed against his chest. "Well, you've just had me… twice. That was quite a reunion."

"Indeed."

We talked a while longer, and then I went to retrieve my uneaten dessert. Data surprised me by having more than just a taste.

"Okay," I said, taking a deep breath. "Now, tell me the truth? How bad was my paper?"

Data gave me a look that seemed to convey his dubiousness about giving me academic feedback while naked in my bed. A few seconds later, his features had smoothed into his more typical neutral expression, and he was reaching for my padd.

"You have constructed your theorem very well," he said. "And your initial argument that intelligence is not other than sentience but a precursor to it is well-supported, but I believe you would benefit from a data-source other than the recommended reading Whiskers provided."

"He suggested interviewing Bruce. Or you. The problem is that I'm not sure what questions to ask."

"You need only ask me one, Zoe: 'What is the difference between intelligence and sentience as you perceive it?'"

"And you're willing to answer? I don't want you to feel like I'm using you."

"Helping you with this paper will also foster your greater understanding of my functionality, dearest. It will help you understand me. As such, I do not object to doing so, but I would suggest that perhaps this moment is not the best – "

"No, you're right," I cut him off. "I think later in the week would be better. Speaking of… are you sure you're okay with spending the week at Mom's. We could get a hotel, or even take a mini-vacation before heading there…"

"Your mother is expecting our presence and participation in her holiday preparation," Data pointed out. "I, too, wish we had more time for 'just us,' but we must learn how to carve out that time while still living 'in the world.'"

I grinned. "You're getting wiser and wiser, every time I see you."

"I have had much time to reflect, while you have been at school." Whatever I might have said turned into a yawn instead, so he continued. "You have finished your dessert. I would like to activate my dream program tonight if you do not object. Let us go to sleep."

"Dream away, Data. I'm glad you're still using it. Let's make tomorrow a lazy day. Brunch, packing, and a leisurely trip to Mom's."

"I approve your plan," he said.

I turned out the lights, and he drew the covers over both of us. I don't know what he dreamed that night, but my dreams were happy ones.

(=A=)

Stardate 46902.64
(Wednesday, 26 November 2369, 11:07 AM, local time)
Benoit Residence, San Francisco, California, Earth

Data and I had our lazy Sunday in Connecticut as planned. I took him to Claire's for breakfast, despite the snow that was starting to pile up, and then we took a brief walk through the central part of campus. The art gallery was open for limited hours, and we enjoyed seeing the permanent display of meso-American art.

After that, we went back to my dorm, did a load of laundry, and packed for the rest of the week, finally arriving at Mom's house around seven.

"What, no dirty clothes?" she teased as she welcomed us inside.

"Hey, I may be a college student, but I'm not a stereotype," I said. "Data and I did laundry before we left Yale."

But by then I was being embraced and teasing me about behavior had fallen by the wayside. "Laundry or not, I'm glad to have you home for a few days," Mom said. Then she reached out to Data, "You, too."

Ed came out from the kitchen a few seconds later, which meant more hugging. "I hope you're hungry," he said after the initial greetings had been completed. "I'm making my mother's famous ratatouille."

"Is she joining us for the holiday?" I asked. The old woman had made a rude comment about Data's French at Mom and Ed's wedding a year before.

"She's with my sister this year, but the boys are arriving on Tuesday, and they're exciting about seeing both of you."

"Aww, that's sweet," I said. "Data, we have fans."

"I am looking forward to getting to know the boys better."

"You're looking forward to trouncing them in whatever video game is hot this year," I teased.

"Perhaps. But now that I am no longer leading a math tutorial, I find I miss the perspective of young people."

"I thought you were continuing the class this year?"

"I would offer it gladly, were there any students who were eligible, but we are 'between crops' of high school students, as Ms. Phelps explained to me."

"I thought you just weren't mentioning class because you thought it would make me homesick," I said. "It didn't occur to me that you weren't teaching."

"Be prepared for Michel to seek advice about his homework," Ed said. "He's been struggling with math this semester."

"I will be happy to help him," Data assured.

Mom interrupted the conversation. "We've kept you two talking and not given you a moment to regroup. Go leave your things in your room, we won't eat until eight."

I grinned. "Thanks, Mom. We'll be back in a jiffy."

Data hefted both our bags before I could grab mine, and we went upstairs.

Dinner was pleasant. Ed, it seemed, loved cooking as much as Mom did, and had even baked the bread that went with his vegetable dish. Like Mom and I, he didn't have a dessert with every dinner, but I'd brought a raspberry frangipane from Claire's as a house present, and we had it in the living room with coffee after the dinner dishes were done.

It was at that point that Mom asked, "Data, I've been following the news about Kahless on the 'fleet feeds. Can you elaborate on what the official reports are saying? I'm curious what it's like to meet a living legend."

"Really, Mom? You're sitting in the same room as one." I teased.

I expected her to correct me. Instead she amended, "Alright, a myth, brought to life, then?"

Data set down his coffee cup. "The Kahless we encountered was a clone, as you know if you have been following the reports in the newsfeeds. Nevertheless, the Klingons who joined him on the Enterprise were, with few exceptions, enamored with him, as both a person and an idea."

"Did you spend much time with him?" Ed asked.

"Very little. But I did speak with many of his followers, and what struck me most was their unshakeable faith in their own mythos, even after they learned what he really was."

"I think the need to believe often outweighs the evidence of facts," Mom said.

"Perhaps," Data answered.

The evening continued in much the same vein.

On Tuesday, Michel and Remy arrived, and the holiday season seemed to arrive with them. Michel was sixteen by then, not quite three years younger than I was, and Remy was nearly fourteen, but not quite. They'd brought a friend with them – he was slightly older than Remy but in the same year, and he looked familiar, but I wasn't sure why.

"Zoe!" The younger boy rushed to hug me when my parents returned from the airport with everyone, then blushed at his own enthusiasm and backed off in an attempt to regain the cool factor in front of his friend. "Uh, hi," he said.

I grinned. "Uh, hi," I imitated his tone. Michel had turned to greet Data before me. "You've grown," I told him. "This time next year, you'll be taller than me."

"You think?" he seemed happy with that idea.

"I'd put money on it."

"Get it in writing," his friend said with real humor in his tone. Then he stepped forward. "I'm Rene Picard," he said. "I'm told you and Commander Data know my uncle. It's good to meet you Ms. Harris." He offered his hand for me to shake.

I did so, while correcting him gently. "If your uncle is Captain Picard, then, yes, I do know him. But that means you're Enterprise family as well as being Remy's friend, so I'm just Zoe to you, and Data is just Data."

"But Commander Data is an officer," the boy said. "If I make it to Starfleet Academy like my uncle, I'll have to know correct rank."

"Part of knowing someone's rank is knowing when it is acceptable not to use it," Data interjected as he and Michel joined us. "Remy, it is good to see you again. I believe Zoe is correct in her assessment of your potential growth. Rene, I have heard your uncle mention you fondly. It is good to meet you."

Michel and I exchanged perfunctory sibling-ish hugs and greetings. He wasn't quite as rebellious as I had been at his age, I didn't think, but I hadn't been into hugging people I only really knew from occasional letters when I was his age, either.

"Is it true you and Data were at the Yale/Harvard game on Saturday?" he asked.

"It is. And we won. Why?"

"Michel has a crush on a girl from our school who goes to Harvard," Remy said, with the grin of a boy revealing his brother's secret.

I was instantly sympathetic. "Well, maybe they'll beat us next year," I offered lamely.

"It's not a crush, really," he said.

"No, of course not," I agreed. "You should come visit," I offered lamely. "You know. Check out the elite ivy league before you commit to the Academy or following in your Dad's footsteps."

"You wouldn't mind?"

I shook my head. "Wouldn't offer if I did. Besides, my roommates would swoon over my very handsome younger brother." I had to tease him a little bit. It was a sisterly obligation. And it netted me a real smile.

"I'll call you after the holidays."

"I'm holding you to it," I said.

Ed and Mom came down from stowing the boys' belongings. "Zoe, Data, we have a tradition of going to Ghirardelli Square when the boys first arrive. The Christmas Tree won't be lit until Friday, but the shops are already decorated, and it's very festive," Ed said.

"You don't have to join us, but we'd love it if you did," Mom added.

"Please come?" Remy said. "After we have dinner we walk around a little and then we go to the chocolate shop for dessert, and you can watch the chocolate flow through a tube!"

I glanced at Data for approval, and he gave a slight nod. "I don't think I'd want to miss flowing chocolate," I said. "Rene, have you been there before, or will it be your first time, too?"

"I haven't. But I've heard Remy talk about it lots."

Much later that evening, as the six of us returned to the house with Data piloting and me riding shotgun in our flitter, but following my parents and the boys in theirs out of politeness, he observed, "It would seem a love of chocolate is a family trait, Zoe, even if you are not a blood relation to the boys."

"Mmm. Guess we'll have to work on getting you hooked on it next." I was teasing and he knew it, but he chose to provide a serious answer.

"I do not need to be 'hooked' on chocolate, dearest," he said softly. "I am 'hooked on you and will enjoy the way you smile when you ingest it, and the traces of it in your kisses."

"God, I wish we weren't going to my parents' house right now," I told him.

"I am not God," he reminded me, a wry tone in his voice. "I am only Data. As you know, we are committed to remaining with your family through the holiday, however, I have reserved a hotel room for Friday evening."

"That's days away," I complained.

"Until then, we will simply have to make use of the lock on our bedroom door."

For once, I refrained from teasing him about being right. I'm sure he knew I was thinking it, though.

By Wednesday, I had settled into the family vibe, though I looked forward to retreating to our rooms with him around midnight every night (the boys were usually sent upstairs around ten, though lights-out wasn't enforced until we went to bed).

That morning, Data and I left the house early only to return bearing bagels, lox, cream cheese, and an assortment of fresh fruit. This had been my gift to my other family – Dad's family - when visiting them on Centaurus two Christmases before, when we were just establishing our couplehood, and it seemed appropriate to share it with Mom and Ed's part of the line as well.

We had coffee and cocoa ready when everyone came down, and my mother gushed when she saw the spread we'd provided. "Oh, this is wonderful," she said. "Zoe, you didn't have to…"

"You've been hosting everything all week," I reminded her. "We wanted to."

"You're not leaving early, are you?" Mom was suddenly worried.

"No, of course not. Miss your famous turkey? Perish the thought!"

"However," Data interrupted, as Ed came downstairs to join us, "I would like to borrow Zoe from you overnight on Friday. We have had very little time alone since my arrival on Earth, and – "

"- and you want some time to be a couple?" Ed was the one who finished the sentence, making it a question. "Don't blame you. Is that bagel onion?"

It was, and the four of us sat down at the table, letting the boys wander down at their own pace. They arrived about half an hour later, just as we were discussing the day's agenda.

"Michel, Remy, and I are heading into Marin County to find our Christmas tree today," Ed said, "Data, Rene, if you'd like to join us for this festival of male bonding, you are both welcome."

"Isn't it early for a tree?" I asked. We'd never decorated before mid-December when I was a kid.

"We thought," my mother said as she poured herself a second mug of coffee, "that since you'll be heading to the Enterprise to celebrate the holidays with Data as soon as you're done with finals, that we'd decorate on Saturday and have a Christmas brunch on Sunday. No presents," she added. "We'll send yours to the ship. Just a celebration."

"That is very thoughtful, Emily," Data said, saving me from the emotional response that had me choking back tears. "I will ensure that our plans have us back here by early afternoon on Saturday, if that is acceptable."

Something – some silent communication – passed between my boyfriend and my mother, because she favored me with her patented gushy-mom-look, reached out to press my hand, and said, "That will work perfectly."

"So, if the menfolk are going to Marin to pretend to be all manly when they're really likely going to a tree lot," I asked, "what are the womenfolk doing?"

"You and I are going to have a mani-pedi appointment," Mom said, "and then start meal prep, if you don't mind."

"I should be making snide comments about the women being relegated to the kitchen," I snarked lightly. "But I've missed cooking with you, Mom. We never got to do it a lot, but it was always really special when we did."

While the time at the salon was nice, it was during the cooking part of the afternoon that we really got to talk. "Zoe, do you know why Data wants to take you to a hotel Friday night?" Mom asked in a too-casual tone.

"As far as I know, it's just what he said," I told her. "We haven't had much alone time, and a college dorm isn't really conducive to… you know, I'm gonna spare you the details."

"Thanks," Mom laughed. "Here, chop this celery."

I did as she asked, musing. "We talked about getting a hotel room in New Haven before we came, but with the Yale-Harvard game, it wasn't possible. We haven't really had time for any private serious conversations since getting here, and… oh."

"Oh?" I could tell her curiosity had been piqued.

"In our last subspace call before he came, I said I didn't need any more time."

I didn't elaborate. I'd overheard Data telling my mother about the semester I asked for. "You don't think he's going to…?"

"Propose? I don't know, Zoe. I know he cares for you deeply, and he's in a place in his life where marriage makes sense. I know you care for him, as well."

"He loves me," I said. "I love him. That's not even a question."

"I know," Mom took the celery away from me and gave me a bowl of onions. "These are next."

"Making me cry is not the way to get me to spill secrets," I teased. But I began chopping them, my knife zipping through the pale, yellow vegetables as fast as I could safely manage. "If he does propose, and I accept, are you going to be okay with that?"

Mom set down her own knife and washed the apple juice from her hands. She'd given me the mindless chopping tasks while she'd been peeling and slicing apples. They weren't for pie; our family stuffing recipe was breadcrumbs mixed with apples, celery, onions, bacon, and spices. "Come sit with me," she said, gesturing to the small, round, table in the breakfast nook.

I washed my hands, as well, and moved to join her.

"Sweetie, you're my daughter, and because of that you'll always be a little girl to me, but only in the sense that I can see the child beneath the young woman you've grown into. I should be worried that you're so young. I should be concerned that you haven't finished college – you've barely even started! – or that Data is an officer with vastly different responsibilities than you will ever have."

"I sense a 'but' coming," I said, mostly to lighten the mood.

Mom grinned. "But," she accented the word, "I see you two together, see the very real connection you have with each other, and I know that if you're ready to give Data the answer he's hoping for, the two of you will make it work."

"So, if he asks…?"

"If that's his plan, you have my blessing, and Ed's and Gia's and your Dad's and all of your grandparents', too. But kiddo, the only approval that matters is your own."

"You really think he plans to, though?"

"I think it's a possibility." She was silent for a while, and then she reached out and brushed some of my hair away from my face. "Will you be disappointed if he doesn't propose?"

I shook my head. "Honestly, I think he's planning it for Christmas, or maybe my birthday. We had a conversation a while ago when I asked him to wait 'til I was nineteen." I'd taken that request back, I remembered, but I still thought my mother was worrying over nothing.

We finished the preparations – stuffing, cranberry sauce, several vegetable dishes, and even a pan of vegetarian lasagna for guests who weren't into eating meat – which made me ask again. "Mom, aside from Papa and Nonna and the six of us, who's going to be here tomorrow?"

"A couple of Ed's orphan students," Mom answered, "and Wesley Crusher. You know you were welcome to invite Dana or your roommates?"

"I know. We talked about it. Dana went home with her roommate from RISD, and my roommates all had plans. Who knows? Maybe next year you'll be hosting a houseful of Yalies."

"I wouldn't mind," she assured me. "It might make a nice change from Ed's Berkeley students or strays from the Academy."

"Strays, really?"

"Not everyone is as fortunate as you are, Zoe, to have two families supporting them."

"Three, actually," I corrected her, my voice soft.

Her response was another gushy-mom look. "Three. But you see my point?"

"I do. I hope someday I have the opportunity to be just as welcoming and inclusive."

"Oh, Zoificus, you already are."

(=A=)

Stardate 46903.37
(Wednesday, 26 November 2369, 5:36 PM, local time)
Benoit Residence, San Francisco, California, Earth

I was indulging in one of my favorite solo activities when Data, Ed, and the boys got home from tree shopping: soaking in the tub. Mom had informed me that Ed had planned for an entire day out so that Data, Remy, and Michel could get to know each other better. Rene Picard's presence seemed to be a usual thing for my stepfather and his sons, but to me, the fact that he was at our family celebration made me feel like two of my three families were coming together. I was looking forward to learning whether my partner agreed.

"Zoe…" I heard his voice as he entered the main part of our room. "… we have returned."

"I'm in the bath!" I called out, even though I knew he would have heard me if I'd kept my volume lower. "Come tell me about your day?"

The scents of sea air and pine sap preceded him into the room. "You smell like outside," I said, sitting up in the tub. "Did you enjoy yourself?"

"More than I expected," Data said. "All three of the boys are engaging conversationalists and it was pleasant to spend time with Ed. Michel agreed to let me assist him with his math homework this evening, if we have no other plans."

"Just dinner," I said. I reached for the lever that would let the water drain and flipped it down. "Hand me my towel?"

I grinned as I stepped out of the tub, because, just as he often did at home, he didn't so much hand my bath towel over, as wrap me in it, bending to touch my lips gently with his as he did so. "Did you have a productive afternoon with your mother?"

I freed my arms from the towel and took over the drying process. "On many levels," I said. "We primped, we cooked, and we talked, and I still had time for a decent soak. Dinner's early tonight," I added, "Six-thirty, because we have to be up early tomorrow to put the turkey in. I think it's going to be Chinese or pizza and board games or videos, so you and Michel should be able to carve out some quiet time, no problem."

"That is good to know."

I hung up my towel and padded back to the bedroom to get dressed. For a casual family evening, sweats and a t-shirt were acceptable. I managed to wait until I was completely clothed before moving into Data's personal space and just breathing in the scent of him. "It's weird, you smelling so outdoorsy. I like it."

His arms came around me. "I find the your freshly-soaked scent equally appealing."

"Mmm. Meet me here around midnight?"

"It is a date."

I laughed, claimed another kiss, and left the room. Data rejoined the family a few minutes later, having changed to the gift I'd snuck into my luggage: a Yale t-shirt and sweatpants in his size. He'd worn them with the rarely used pair of slippers he kept in our quarters, and there was something about him, dressed like that, that was more than his usual baseline masculinity.

"Stop staring," Mom whispered into my ear as she took the seat next to mine at the dinner table. "Drool comes next, and it's singularly unattractive."

I laughed, but Mom had a point.

Mothers always do.

(=A=)

Stardate 46904.76
(Thursday, 27 November 2369, 5:45 AM, local time)
Benoit Residence, San Francisco, California, Earth

It wasn't just my pre-dawn alarm penetrating my dream that woke me on Thanksgiving, but also the sense that I was being watched. I slammed my hand onto the button that would silence the former and turned toward the source of the latter.

"Morning," I said to the sleep-rumpled android sharing my bed, resisting the urge to run my fingers through his mussed hair.

"Good morning. I was not aware that waking so early was part of the Thanksgiving tradition."

"Only when you're in the wrong time zone." It came out as a grumble. If you asked him, my partner would tell you I'm always kind of grumpy when I have to be up early.

"Your mother made it clear that she and Ed would handle the turkey," he continued. "I do not – "

I stretched to kiss him, cutting off the last word. Then I explained, "The parade starts at nine eastern."

"You are awake three hours ahead of your typical schedule in order to watch a parade?" If he seemed dubious, I didn't blame him. At home on the Enterprise I snatched every second of morning sleep I could get.

Still, I corrected him, "Not just a parade, the parade." I realized as I spoke the words that I was echoing an earlier conversation about a football game. Well, Data was a student of human culture, and it didn't get much more human than sports and pageantry. I elaborated. "The Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. It's been a Thanksgiving tradition in New York since the nineteen-hundreds. I've watched it live – or as close to it as possible – every Thanksgiving for my entire life."

"Would you not prefer to view it on the larger screen in the living room?"

"Ordinarily, yes," I confirmed. "But this year, I'm snuggled up to you, and this bed is really comfortable, and if I watch it here, I won't wake Mom and Ed. They don't have to be up til eight."

I found the remote – the guest rooms at Mom and Ed's weren't fitted with voice response systems – and activated the entertainment system. Our conversation had taken just enough time for the broadcast to be beginning as soon as the screen came to life.

As soon as the hosts shouted the traditional opening phrase – let's have a parade – I was a child again. Well, sort of. Part of me was caught up in the event: the performers from Broadway musicals, the different school bands - including the Starfleet Honor Band, I realized - the Rockettes (I wondered which one of them was the one who had bailed on Jordan's play), and the balloons, but part of me was also stealing glances at Data, watching to see his reaction to the spectacle of the thing.

By the time Santa Claus made his appearance at the very end of the parade, my cheeks were sore from smiling.

"So," I asked my boyfriend. "What did you think?"

"It would seem the ultimate 'parade experience' would be to view it from the street, with the other spectators," Data observed

"Truth?" I asked and when he nodded his encouragement for me to continue, I admitted, "I've always wanted to be in it. On a float, or in one of the Broadway shows that performs." I turned the entertainment system back off and rolled so I was facing him. "Slide down a little and lift your arm, please."

Data did as I asked, giving me a gentle kiss and helping me get settled against his chest. Almost, it seemed like he wished to continue our conversation, but he didn't say anything, just let a subtle smile curve the corners of his mouth.

"Thank you for watching it with me," I told him. "It meant a lot that you did. I hope my alarm didn't disrupt your dream program." I wanted to ask what he'd been dreaming – I'd been lost in dreams of dancing with him – but my query came out as a yawn. "Sorry," I said. "I guess I need a little more sleep. Mom won't expect us downstairs before eleven. Do you mind?" I don't know what made me so formal with him that weekend. It was as if the months of separation had made me more conscious about taking him for granted.

Data's initial response was to adjust his position so that I was tucked more comfortably against him. Then he nuzzled the top of my head, placing a kiss into my hair. "Sleep," he whispered. "I do not mind."

We didn't really sleep until eleven, of course, though I easily could have. But I'd grown accustomed to earlier mornings over the previous months and I knew Mom would appreciate two more sets of willing hands. We ended up arriving on the main floor just as Nonna and Papa were coming in, and there was a flurry of hugs and kisses and exuberant greetings in every direction.

I was pleased to see that my grandparents treated my stepbrothers as if they'd known them since birth. Data, I noted, moved toward Rene after his initial greeting to my grandparents, as if he wanted to ensure that the one child who was truly a guest wasn't alienated or ignored. I knew that, from him, it was a conscious act.

I didn't realize my grandmother had caught me watching. "Imagining how he might treat a child of yours one day?" she teased, and I rolled my eyes at her, because I had found my partner's behavior rather parental.

"One day very, very, very, very far from now," I answered softly.

"I'm sorry, cara mia, I'll stop nudging."

I laughed. "It's fine, Nonna. You're allowed. But only a little, okay?"

"Okay," she said.

The rest of the day went the way family holidays always do with moments of chaos and periods of conversation punctuated by laughter and interrupted by food.

We spent some time mingling over appetizers. Michel and Wesley struck up a conversation about what the Academy was like and I found myself arguing about different interpretations of Ophelia with one Ed's students. One of his colleagues had also come, a single mother with a daughter who was the same age as Remy and Rene, and both boys were using their best French charm to make the girl feel comfortable.

Data, Ed, Papa, and Ed's other student were talking about art, when Mom and Nonna announced that it was time to eat. As we gathered around the table, my mother observed, "We may still call it Thanksgiving, here in North America, but the Federation Day of Gratitude is a very different holiday. Let us take a moment to give thanks for those who have given their time and energy to work for civil rights, scientific discovery, and ecological protections, and their lives to protect our various cultures and worlds."

We all murmured various terms of assent, and then I added a second wish, which was traditional in our family. "Let us also be thankful for those who have traveled to join us for this meal, for the hands that prepared it, the people who grew or otherwise produced it, and the enjoyment we shall share."

Mom met my eyes across the table, and this time, I understood the gushy-mom-look she gave me and didn't even roll my eyes at the fond expression. This wasn't just Data's first Thanksgiving with our family; it was also my first Thanksgiving with the family she and Ed had formed with his sons and her parents and their holiday orphans.

(=A=)

Stardate 46908.58
(Friday, 28 November 2369, 3:12 PM local time)
San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, California, Earth

Android determination can be extremely frustrating when you're on the wrong side of it. I woke up Friday morning anticipating that Data would tell me which hotel he'd booked and what special plans he'd made, and instead, he refused to reveal anything.

Instead, he insisted we spend the morning with my family, and it wasn't until afternoon that he asked me to change to a dress he'd picked out for me, which I did only after I'd realized he was in his 'mess dress' uniform, which was the proper name for what we civilians typically referred to as 'formal dress.' I hadn't even noticed him slip away to change!

He looked dashing. My dress, an aubergine color I'd worn before but in a winter-weight fabric and style suitable for evening-into-night events, complimented the Starfleet gold perfectly. My brothers and Rene teased us about looking so formal, but Mom, Ed, Nonna, and Papa all shared knowing smiles.

"Have a lovely evening, you two," Mom said.

"We will endeavor to do so," Data responded. "What time would you like us to return?"

"We won't start the tree until after lunch," Ed said. "And Delia and Luigi are staying through brunch on Sunday, so… by two?"

I glanced at Data to try and gauge if that schedule adversely affected his plans, but he merely nodded and said, "We will see you then." Then he picked up our overnight bag – we'd opted to share one – and led the way to our flitter.

(=A=)

Twenty minutes later, when we landed in member parking, I was understandably confused. "Okay, this is not a hotel," I said. "And as far as I remember the permanent collection here is not conducive to us pulling a Claudia and James Kincaid act."

"This is merely part one of our evening, Zoe," Data said. "Please come with me."

With his hand at the small of my back, he escorted me into the glass and steel structure, where, instead of normal operating hours, the museum was closed for a members-only reception and viewing of a new collection.

"The artist, who calls himself merely 'Wave,' is a professional surfer and oceanographer, and became a painter while recovering from an injury," Data explained, as we checked in and received our gift – a print of the collection's centerpiece. "As his work focuses on capturing the perfect wave, I thought it would appeal to you."

"Oh, it does!" I agreed, warming to the event. And for the next hour or so we mingled with other members, looked at the new art, sipped champagne and nibbled on hors d'oeuvres, and generally enjoyed ourselves.

Wave, it turned out, was more than just a painter. He combined traditional two-dimensional media with holography and sound technology to create immersive experiences that made you feel like you were inside a perfect curl of water, without actually being wet. I loved it, as Data had suspected I would.

The entire museum was open to us, of course, so it was perfectly logical that we ended up in front of Mondrian's Composition C as the afternoon was winding down. We didn't sit on the bench – it was occupied by an older couple in matching berets – but I slipped my hand into Data's. "I had a feeling we'd be visiting old Piet while we were here," I said.

"I rarely visit San Francisco without coming to the museum at least once," my partner confirmed. " I believe Tableau I is better for smaller venues, like our quarters – "

" – or my dorm – "

"Yes. But this piece has always held more impact for me."

"When Whiskers saw the print in our common room, he knew it was mine, knew it was a gift from you, and seemed unsurprised that it was something you'd respond to."

"Were you surprised by my… connection… to this piece?"

I shook my head. "No. Actually, I've come to think of Mondrian's work as sort of extremely simplistic representations of the inside of your head. Not your thoughts, of course, but… the physicality of you. Without the blinking lights, I mean. In a way, having it in my dorm is like having you there."

"I am glad you find it comforting, dearest," he said softly.

"Glad, huh? Not gratified?" I was teasing him, but only a little, and only because we were getting a little too philosophical.

"Yes. Glad." He lifted our joined hands, looked at them, and seemed to come to a decision. "I was gratified that you were safe and well cared-for after receiving Lore's latest 'gift,'" he explained, "but I am glad to have you in my life. There is a difference, though it is often a blurry one."

"So, there is," I agreed."

"There is also more to this evening than art. Have you seen enough, or do you wish to make one more circuit?"

"Does the 'more' include a real meal?" I ask. "Because, if it does, I'm more than ready."

"Then let us leave."

(=A=)

Since we'd begun our 'date night' with a trip to the museum, I assumed dinner would be at the Blue Mermaid or Alazar's, so I was surprised when Data took the flitter out of ground-mode and flew us to the gates of Starfleet's Headquarters at the historic Presidio base.

Reverting to street-driving just outside the guard shack, my lover answered my unasked question. "We will be having dinner here tonight, Zoe, and staying here as well."

"In 'fleet housing?" I asked, confused.

"Not as such, no."

"I don't understand."

"One moment." He turned away from me to have a brief conversation with the duty officer, who pointed down a forested road around from the main parade lawn, and then offered a salute. Data returned the gesture, and then returned his attention to me as we moved in the indicated direction. "There is an unofficial tradition among officers that when they are about to deploy to a starship, or have just returned from a deep space mission, they bring their partners to the Lodge for an evening of dinner and dancing and a night in a 'cushy' room."

"What's the Lodge?" I put an audible capital on the word because Data had.

"Long ago, when this facility was home to the United States Army, the Lodge was a housing facility for bachelor officers. Over time it has been modified and remodeled for many different uses, but for the last century, it has been used as a hotel and officers' club. The restaurant is rated quite highly in all of the travel guides; I believe you will like it."

By the time he finished his explanation, we had arrived. This time, there was a duty officer who came out to greet us, collect our luggage, ask if we wished to see our room before dinner – we didn't – and then usher us inside.

The dining room had views of the Golden Gate bridge on one side and the Presidio forest on the other. The light was pleasantly soft, with small lamps on each of the tables, which were mostly two- and four-tops, and set far enough apart so that you could hear a murmur of conversation, but unless you had super-android hearing, you wouldn't be able to discern what was said. In the center of the room, was a dance floor, but this early, no one was using it.

There wasn't a Christmas tree in the dining room – but there were pine garlands wrapped in twinkle lights on all the windows, which made the space feel especially festive.

"This is nice," I said, when we were seated at our table. "But awfully formal."

"As I said," Data reminded me gently, "coming here is something of a tradition, one I often heard my classmates and colleagues speak of as they planned evenings with their significant others."

Realization dawned. "You're checking something off your bucket list."

"Query: 'bucket list?'"

He didn't often use that phrasing at that point in his life. If I had been more astute, I would have recognized it as a sign of what passed for nervousness in him. "Sort of an unwritten list of milestones you want to achieve, goals you want to accomplish, or things you wish to experience before you die," I explained. "Like, being in the Thanksgiving parade is on my bucket list, and so is performing at the Vulcan Shakespeare Festival and swimming with whale sharks and surfing on Akkalla and… " I hesitated, then admitted, "… and being there when you laugh your own real laugh for the first time."

"The last item may never happen," Data cautioned.

"I don't believe that," I said. "And I don't think you believe that either, deep down. But that's not the point. Bringing a date here is on your bucket list," I smiled, but I wasn't being flirty or snarky, I felt a little bit protective of my lover that night, and very tender toward him. "I'm sorry it took so long, but I'm glad I got to be the one you brought."

The food was Spanish-influenced, meant to honor the property's original roots. Data ordered a spiced vegetable plate and I had a fish dish that was like nothing I'd had before. By the time we were at a point to consider dessert, a jazz trio had begun to play, and people had started to dance.

As my boyfriend led me in a series of seemingly random steps, he spoke softly into my ear. "It did not 'take so long,' Zoe. It took just long enough to find the right person."

"Oh…" I rested my head against his shoulder and let him guide me through the rest of the dance. As always, we were counting the seconds we had together, but I was determined to enjoy the evening, and worry about the time apart later.

We danced for a few more songs, pausing to order coffee and dessert, and then returning for a final waltz after I'd finished my chocolate grand Marnier souffle. It was there, on the dance floor, that the conversation I'd had with my mother came back to me. "Data," I asked softly, still moving in time to the waltz, "tonight isn't just date night, is it? It's more than just wanting to bring me here."

He stopped dancing. "It is more."

I took a deep breath. "I think we should go up - it is up, right? – to our room and talk."

"It is up," he confirmed.

Our meal had already been billed to our room, so we merely told our server we were through, and then left.

The room Data had chosen was beautiful – so much so that it seemed a pity we were only staying in it for a single night. In the sitting area, a cozy couch faced a blazing fireplace (it had been lit for us) that was flanked by floor-to-ceiling windows that gave us an amazing view of the bridge, all lined with lights.

The bedroom was equally comfortable with a plush mattress, thick quilts, and piles of pillows.

Ordinarily, it was the bed that would have commanded our attention, but that night, we replicated tea from the in-room machine and went to the couch. Data remained in his uniform, but I kicked off my shoes on the way.

At home, we'd have taken up opposite corners of the couch for a serious conversation, but I didn't want Data to perceive something as being wrong, so I sat close to him, and leaned close to kiss him. "Before you say anything," I told him, "I want you to know I've had an amazing evening. I loved the art installation. I loved dancing with you. And I'm so touched and honored that you brought me here."

A slight smile touched his lips, curving the corners up, and he reached for my hands with squeezing them, then letting them go. "Thank you for telling me, Zoe." He reached for one of the mugs of tea, and handed it to me, then continued speaking. "When we were at home on Terlina III in August, we discussed the fact that I was ready for the next evolution of our relationship, but that you felt you needed more time."

"I thought I needed to figure out how to be me in the context of us," I explained. "Dana reminded me that whether I was at Yale or in the protocol office on the Enterprise, I'd already learned that." I gave him a rueful wrinkle of my nose. "I can be a bit obtuse sometimes."

"Perhaps. Or perhaps you were simply anxious about being separate for so long. As we have long agreed, separation is sub-optimal."

"It is. It really is."

"I am afraid I cannot offer a solution to the separations we will continue to endure while you complete your studies," Data said. "Instead, Zoe, I am going to ask you to take a leap of faith with me."

"A… leap of faith?" I set my tea down on the table so I could concentrate on my partner and what he was saying. When I looked back at him, he was holding a small black box in his hand. He set it down, and I tried not to, but I kept stealing glances at it.

"Yes. As I recently explained to Worf, I have had occasion to take such leaps before."

"Leaps? Plural?"

"Yes. The first one was shortly after I was found on Omicron Theta and activated. The Starfleet officers who rescued me from oblivion told me that I was just an android – a machine – a… tool – "

" – you are not a tool, and you are not – "

" – May I continue?" I nodded. "I could not accept that, Zoe, because I knew it meant I could never be anything else, so I chose to believe I was a person."

I refrained from reiterating my insistence that he was a person, because I was accepting his initial point. "You made a leap of faith. But you said there were others."

"One other."

"Tell me?"

"You are already aware of it. I made a leap of faith that an android and an organic being could form and sustain a romantic relationship…"

"… if it's the right android and the right organic being…" I murmured, quoting a half-remembered conversation from when we had been just teacher-and-student on the way to becoming friends.

"Indubitably." Data picked up the box. "Zoe, dearest, I believe I am due for another leap of faith – " and opened it, displaying a simple gold ring with a single diamond " – and I would like you to take it with me."

"Data?"

"I wish you to believe, as I do, that making our commitment to one another public and official will give us both a stronger connection, and a greater support to lean on. I believe that having this settled will help us endure the separations we must face over the next three-and-a-half years, because we know what our future will be. We may not know the details of how we will live – but my research has shown me that no one ever knows that, dearest. We can only agree to work together to maintain a life that is fulfilling for both of us, as individuals, as a couple, and eventually as a family."

I felt my eyes getting wet. Data was usually so matter of fact, but that night there was a note of unmistakable earnestness in his tone, and his yellow eyes seemed somehow brighter and warmer than ever.

My silence, which was really me trying to find the perfect words with which to respond, must have been interpreted as confusion or hesitation, because my partner - my amazing, wonderful, partner - pushed the coffee table aside and dropped to the floor, kneeling in front of me.

Removing the ring from the box, he reached for my left hand and held it in his. "Approximately two years and seven months ago, you watched me adjust a servomechanism in my arm, and you were not afraid of what I am. Since that time, you have become indelibly etched into my programming. You are, quite literally, a part of me. Please accept this ring, as a symbol of my devotion to you, to our relationship, and to our future, and know that when you wear it, I will be a part of you." He paused and met my eyes. "Will you take this leap with me, Zoe? Will you marry me?"

I was crying, but I smiled through my tears. I looked into his eyes and saw my present. I looked at the ring in his elegant hand, understood, somehow, that he'd made the band from part of himself, and saw my future. I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his, breathing my answer into his mouth. "Yes," I said, and kissed him. "God, yes, Data," I said, and kissed him again. "Yes, so much. Yes forever."

My boyfriend, my partner, my lover… my fiancé … slid the ring onto my finger, and rubbed his thumb over it, as if to assure himself that it was really there. Then he reached for my hair and pulled it out of the updo it had been in all day, tangling his hands in it, and capturing my mouth with his.

We never did drink the tea.

We did eventually make it to the bed, though sleep didn't come any time soon.

Many hours later, I padded back from the bathroom and climbed back into the bed. I knew I should try to return to sleep, but my stomach had the same feeling of Sychorean firedancers swirling around inside it that I'd experienced during my mother's wedding.

A beam of moonlight or starlight – I wasn't sure which - caught the diamond in my ring and I turned my hand this way and that, watching the faint sparkle, and smiling.

"Dearest, are you alright?" Data asked.

"Mmhmm."

"May I ask what you are doing?" he pressed.

"Looking at my ring."

"Ah."

"It's perfect," I said. "Not too fussy."

"You dislike fuss."

I got all the way back into the bed and turned to cuddle against his chest. "Can we have breakfast delivered to the room?"

"It has already been requested."

"And a late check-out?"

"I requested that as well."

"Good. Thank you." I was quiet for several minutes. "Data?"

"Zoe?"

"We're engaged."

"We are," he said, in a tone I couldn't quite interpret but seemed to be equal parts exasperation and wonder. I began to drift off at that point, but I heard him whisper the two words that always made me melt: "My Zoe."

---

Notes: Tail-kinkers are mentioned in the TOS novel Uhura's Song and are analogous to chili peppers. Almost all of Yale's residential colleges do have their own performance spaces – theatres that seat between 50-90 people – though some share resources. The Game – the annual football game between Yale and Harvard – is a very real event. Alumni and locals flock to it. Ghirardelli Square is one of my favorite places in San Francisco. It's one of the first places I visited as a kid when we moved to California, and my friends and I often went there when I was in college. I can't imagine a world without the chocolate factory, though commercially available chocolate hasn't actually been produced there for decades, though the chocolate shop/ice cream store does make some for show. (The buildings have been turned into restaurants, shops, art galleries and community spaces.) I've let it remain in the CrushVerse San Francisco out of pure nostalgia. For Data's POV of the early-morning scene on Thanksgiving, see the first section of the one-shot Before the Parade Passes By. Claudia and James Kincaid are characters from the 1967 novel From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler, by E. L. Konigsburg. They run away from home and hide in the Metropolitan Museum of Art in Manhattan. It seemed like the sort of adventure that would appeal to a younger Zoe. The Lodge at the Presidio is currently a hotel; the Inn at the Presidio is the old officers' club and is also a hotel, but more upscale. Zoe first sees Data's machine-y insides in chapter 48 ("Gagh Order") of Crush (Revised 29 September 2019)