Author's Note: Eee! Ok! Here we are. The meaty chapter. Thank you for all your support. I am *super* behind on responding to comments & DMs right now. (My own fault because I couldn't say no on a project!) Thank you for your patience as I work to get caught up.

As a reminder, Ira Graves is suffering from a disease that impacts the frontal lobe of his brain. He is not thinking clearly.

If you find yourself needing a bit of a fluffy palate cleanser, please consider checking out Lady_Lore's new DaTasha piece, A Little Interruption.

Just in time for Valentine's, it's a fluffy look at the art of balancing parenthood & romance. It is set in the same universe as The Complication and focuses on Data & Tasha's attempts to find some alone time in the midst of raising a toddler (Shinebug).

Be warned – it contains one of the sweetest little spoilers for the entire series!

By 10:00 hours the next day, Ira Graves was feeling wholly confident in his new scheme. He had memorised all the senior officers, the layout of the ship, the responsibilities of his Bridge posting, and the specifications of Data's body.

After their early morning rendezvous, Kareen had permitted Ira to walk her back to her guest quarters. He'd been hoping for more but recognised it would take time.

And he had all the time in the world.

There had been a chime at the door around 07:15. Using the computer, Ira had learned it was the Security Chief, Natasha Yar.

He did not answer.

To Ira's dismay, she had left a package along with a message. It included a thermos of tea, a breakfast muffin, a pill of sorts, and a reminder to take his 'nutrient supplement.'

Graves realised this must be the supplement Data's records had referenced.

There was nothing stating the Security Chief disrupted them, nor could he fathom any reason why it would be restricted. The supplement itself contained no dangerous or controlled substances.

Unless this is all part of the prejudice Data experienced? Graves considered.

In any case, he didn't have long to endure.

If there was one thing Data feared more than anything – it was a cage.

Data had no idea how he got back to the Enterprise. He was having great difficulty in accessing his basic functions – most notably portions of his memory and his internal chronometer.

Most alarmingly, he had no physical control of his body.

Each attempt to conduct a complete system diagnostic resulted in an unknown error. Data felt as if he were fighting against some force for control of himself.

He could see his fingers moving, using the computer at his workstation to look up information about the ship and the senior officers. He could hear that someone was at the door.

But he had no ability to respond.

In fact, Data felt like he was screaming into a void.

And with each passing second, he grew concerned that this was no error. Rather, he feared it was some malevolent force intent on harming the Enterprise.

Or the Federation. Data thought.

Whatever had caused a surge to his system had left a memory gap.

Had Graves's World really been a Romulan ploy?

In a way, the experience was almost like a dream. From time to time, Data could sense feelings and thoughts.

Whoever or whatever was in control of him seemed intent on Starbase 6. Though Data knew not if this was a target or if Starbase 6 was simply a departure point.

And he had no idea why Tasha was absent.

Surely, she would notice.

At 14:00 hours, Captain Picard made the official announcement that the ship would be diverting to Starbase 6.

Given their safety protocols, Captain Picard specified there would be no travel to and from – they would simply beam Kareen aboard.

Graves recognised this would present a problem.

In spite of his preference to stay alone in his quarters, Graves realised he had no choice but to seek out the Captain and beg permission to leave the ship once they reached Starbase 6.

"No," Jean-Luc said simply.

To his surprise, Data visibly reacted.

"Data, you are aware of the security protocols and the reason for such strict measures," Picard said. "I cannot allow you to visit Starbase 6."

"Sir, Miss Brianon requires an escort. She has never left Graves's world nor been alone," Graves said in an effort to stress the importance of his request.

"And she will be greeted by Commander Supuk upon her arrival," Picard said.

Data looked stunned.

Picard's expression softened. He reminded himself that Data had a knack for keeping secrets. After all – he kept his very engagement under wraps and had even been willing to risk death in an effort to keep it secret.

There were times Data had a skewed sense of disclosure. Fearing this may be something important, Jean-Luc decided to broach the question in hopes that they could perhaps find a workaround.

After all, he still felt horrible for having to put the kibosh on Data's wedding plans.

"Data, what is so important on Starbase 6?" Picard asked.

"Sir, I promised Grandpa that I would see Miss Brianon safely off and-"

Jean-Luc waved his hand.

"Unacceptable," Picard said. "I'm sorry, but I cannot allow you to leave the ship. You know the rules."

For a brief moment, a dark look crossed Data's face.

"Of course," he said in a stiff voice.

Data rose from his seat and turned to leave. Just before walking away, he paused.

"We will honour Graves in the manner he specified, will we not, sir?" Data asked.

"Yes," Picard agreed.

"I am glad, sir. It was his dying wish," Data commented before leaving.

Graves took it upon himself to deliver the news to Kareen.

Before pressing the button to her guest quarters, Graves adjusted his uniform.

Damn long arms. He thought as he tugged down the sleeves.

They were constantly riding up.

Next he ran his hand along the side of his hair to ensure it was smooth. It had been ages since he'd had a full, thick head of hair to play with.

"Come in!" Kareen called after he pressed the button.

Graves froze the moment he stepped inside.

Kareen was sitting at the table with another officer.

A man.

"What are you doing here?" Graves demanded.

It was Commander Monroe from the Stellar Cartography department and he was more than taken aback by Data's tone.

"I was just-"

"You were just what?" Graves asked.

"Miss Brianon requested information on Starfleet's Stellar Cartography programme. I was intending to conduct a tour – with your permission, sir," Monroe added.

"I will conduct the tour," Graves insisted.

It was completely out of character for Data to behave in such a manner. But Monroe presumed this was all part of the new security measures.

Most of the ship was completely unaware of the reason for such precautions. Nevertheless, they trusted Captain Picard had good reason.

"Of course, sir," Monroe said.

He cleared his throat and stood.

"I'll just be going," he stammered.

Graves watched him leave, keeping a careful eye on Monroe until he was gone.

"Mr Data?" Kareen asked.

Ira could tell she was a little miffed.

"Should you wish to tour any of the facilities, please do not hesitate to ask," Graves said. "After all, I am the Second Officer."

Ira had never been one for titles – but he couldn't deny it felt good to have such privileges.

"Grandpa would have wanted it," Graves went as he stepped over to the table.

He took hold of Kareen's hand and brought it to his lips.

"After all, he so wanted us to be dear friends," Graves said before pressing a chaste kiss to the back of her hand.

Kareen politely retracted her hand.

"Well, I would like to see Stellar Cartography at some point," she said.

Ira didn't wait for an invitation. He slipped into the seat next to her.

"Yes. I believe you will enjoy the Arboretum as well," Graves said. "It has your favourite – Tolumnia orchids."

Kareen chuckled.

"You seem to know an awful lot about me," she said.

"Ira knew you better than anyone," Graves said as he reached for her hand.

Kareen fell silent.

She was still trying to come to terms with his sudden loss.

"And tomorrow we will honour his life. It will give you a chance to say farewell properly," Graves said. "I would like you to join me for dinner. Perhaps we could speak more about him?"

Kareen smiled.

"You could share your memories," Graves went on.

"I think I'd like that," Kareen said.

"And when that is done, you will be ready to start a new life," Graves said.

He seemed almost thrilled at the idea. For Ira, this service was the final act. Once that was complete, he would be free to pursue Kareen.

But she seemed hesitant to let go.

"It is what he wanted," Graves insisted.

Guinan was working on a cocktail recipe incorporating a new mixer from Delphi Ardu when Data strolled into Ten Forward.

He glanced around and then approached the bar.

"Data," she said, calling him over. "Just the person I need."

Guinan slid a swirling, ethereal blue cocktail across the bar to him.

"What do you think?" she asked.

Ira was always keen to try alcohol and he was most curious how it would impact this new android body. He downed the drink in one sip.

"Well?" Guinan asked.

"Dry," Graves replied, smacking his lips to rid himself of the parched aftertaste.

Guinan blinked slowly.

"Dry?" she asked in disbelief. "That's it?"

"What do you want me to say?" Graves asked tersely.

"Are you feeling okay?" Guinan asked.

Usually Data was her go-to taste tester for all sorts of new recipes. He loved to experiment with new flavours and fusions. And Guinan was one of the rare people who happily listened whenever he wished to talk about it.

"I have an important request and I require the proprietor of this establishment," Graves said, leaning on the bar and turning to watch Ensign Dumont as she walked by.

"Uh, hailing Data. All frequencies," Guinan said.

Graves suppressed an eyeroll and turned back to the bar.

"What is this about a dinner?" Guinan asked.

She was no stranger to personal requests for reservations, special meals, or even delivery. In fact, she specialised in designing unique dining experiences for her guests.

But something about this felt off.

"I am planning to bring someone special here for dinner tomorrow. I need everything to be perfect. Do you understand?" Graves asked.

The corner of Guinan's lip curved upwards.

"What do you want this time? The usual or are we doing imitation hot wings?" Guinan inquired.

Data looked horrified by the suggestion.

"If you cannot take this seriously-"

"Whoa, easy," Guinan said, putting her hands up. "What are you looking for?"

Data scanned the room for a moment as he tried to determine the best spot.

"That table, the one along the window in the corner," he said, pointing to it. "Dinner for two. Oysters – Vulcan, but I will settle for Stellar Bay if those are not available on short notice."

Oysters? Guinan thought.

"A light soup and salad, but absolutely no radicchio," Graves went on.

He paused to scratch his chin.

"I am thinking a beef tenderloin plunged in merlot served with shallots and gravy for the main course. It should be succulent, but not overcomplicated," he ordered.

Guinan was completely dumbstruck, but she kept her reaction hidden. She knew just how difficult it had been for Tasha to gain weight following their incident with the nanocytes.

While Tasha had always had an aversion to meat, Guinan wasn't about to judge her for trying it in an effort to pack the weight back on.

Data's request that an apple galette follow the meal only confirmed Guinan's suspicions.

"And I will require a takeaway basket," Graves added. "An aged Andorian brut, beluga caviar with all the appropriate fixings, and dates."

Graves had discovered the oversized bath in Data's quarters and had every intention of taking advantage of that luxury before his departure from the ship.

Champagne and caviar? It really must be some evening. Guinan thought.

"Anything special I should be aware of?" Guinan inquired.

She knew of Data and Tasha's engagement and rumours about just how and where they intended to tie the knot had swirled for months.

"Just see it is ready by 19:00 tomorrow," Graves said, rapping his fingers on the bar.

With seemingly occupied, Tasha had used her day off to catch up with Worf.

After completing a long run on the holodeck, they had finished their workout with a quick circuit at the fitness centre.

By mid afternoon, they were in desperate need of something to replenish their fuel reserves.

"Ten Forward?" Worf suggested.

"You know it," Tasha replied, breathing hard.

After a quick blast from the sonic shower to make themselves presentable, Worf and Tasha headed over to catch a late lunch.

Guinan had a green smoothie and a prune juice at the ready.

"Thank you," Worf said as she approached their table.

"What'll it be?" Guinan asked. "Today's theme is gyros if you're interested."

"Nosh bean?" Tasha asked.

Guinan nodded.

"And your sauce," she added.

Tasha was beaming.

"I'll take a double order. Extra pickles. Chips. And I'll do an order of Kolokithokeftedes too," Tasha added, craving a plate of the fried courgettes.

"Make mine a Klingon protein bowl please - with extra anchovies," Worf ordered.

When she returned with their meal, Guinan caught the tail-end of a rather curious conversation.

"What do you mean?" Tasha asked, concerned.

"He was… different," Worf settled on.

All morning Worf had mulled over just how to tell Tasha about Data's behaviour – and how much to disclose.

In the end, he'd settled on keeping it vague. Tasha had previously shared that Data was going through a journey of self-discovery.

Worf did not want to judge. But he was concerned about Tasha. She was his best friend. More than that, Worf knew that Tasha's relationship with Data wasn't always easy.

"Did something happen?" Tasha asked.

"He seemed to develop a relationship with Doctor Graves in rather short order," Worf reported.

"Hmm," Tasha said. "Maybe that's why he's been so closed off since he got back. He's grieving."

She frowned.

"Each time I've gone to see him, it's like he doesn't want me around. I don't want to sound paranoid – but if I didn't know better, I'd say he's going out of his way to avoid me," Tasha confessed.

"Oh I'm sure he's just busy," Guinan said as she set down their food.

Tasha's eyes narrowed.

"What do you know?" Tasha inquired.

Guinan feigned innocence.

"Guinan," Tasha pleaded.

She could tell Tasha was feeling bothered.

"Look, he's wild about you. Data always has been," Guinan said. "And I would say that if he seems distant – have faith that it's simply part of some grand plan."

Tasha eyed Guinan with heavy scepticism.

"What is he up to?" Tasha asked.

"I can't say," Guinan replied. "But I'm sure whatever distance is happening now will all be cleared up after tomorrow evening."

After a proper bath in her own quarters, Tasha had dressed and headed for Data's quarters. It was their typical night to stay there.

She was surprised to find the door locked.

Odd. Tasha thought.

She wanted to chalk it up to Data's emotions. But she couldn't help feel that he was slipping away.

When he did finally come to the door, Data seemed almost irritated at her presence. Graves had been working on his own eulogy and did not appreciate the disturbance – least of all the fact it was the Security Chief.

Nosy cunt. He grumbled internally.

"Hey," Tasha smiled.

"May I help you?" Graves asked.

Tasha smiled nervously. She was taken aback by his cold tone and didn't quite know how to respond.

"Um, how are you?" she asked.

The question felt utterly stupid the moment the words left her mouth.

"I am fine," Graves responded.

Silence fell between the pair. Data was quite effectively blocking the door so there was no way for Tasha to slip inside. Everything about his body language screamed that he wanted to end their conversation as quickly as possible.

"Data, do you want to talk about what happened? About Graves?" Tasha asked, cutting straight to the heart of the matter.

She fumbled, struggling to find the words.

"I just, you know – if you want to. Whatever you need, I'm here if-"

"I would like to be left alone," Graves said abruptly.

It felt like a slap to the face. A beat passed as Tasha recovered.

"Right," she said slowly. "Um, well-"

"Goodnight, Lieutenant," Graves said.

Without another word, he retreated behind a closed and locked door.

Tasha sighed.

She gripped her hands to keep them from trembling.

What the fuck? She thought.

She was utterly stunned. A part of her wanted to cry. She couldn't understand why Data was suddenly so cold, isolating himself from the rest of the ship, shutting himself away from everyone.

Including her.

As she climbed into bed alone, Tasha reminded herself of Guinan's comment. It seemed to imply Data had some sort of surprise planned for the two of them.

It was very possible this was all some ruse and there was a grand romantic evening in store.

Tasha clutched her pillow, spooning up next to it as she tried to push away a creeping feeling that the bottom was about to fall out.

Tasha spent most of the next day holding her breath. She was tense on the Bridge – a fact only made worse because Data was largely absent.

He spent most of his ship showing Kareen Brianon a tour of the vessel and some of the various departments.

Tasha wasn't jealous.

In fact, the notion never even crossed her mind.

Rather, she was concerned that Data had allowed himself to become too consumed with this Ira Graves. She had learned of the 'Grandpa' situation and couldn't help thinking this was all part of Data's grand desire to connect with a family that simply wasn't out there.

It broke Tasha's heart.

And as she donned her dress uniform to attend Graves's service, Tasha decided that she would confront Data on the matter after the service was finished.

Some of the officers were planning to head to Ten Forward.

And from the sound of things, Data had a special dinner waiting there for the two of them. If he was feeling low, they could push some tables together and join the rest of the gang.

"A bit of a wait," Riker said out of the corner of his mouth.

Graves's funeral service had been slated to begin at 17:30 hours. At Data's insistence, Captain Picard had designated an entire shuttlebay to the service.

Jean-Luc only hoped that Data would not be disappointed with the turnout.

If he ever turned up.

It was already 17:43 and Data was late.

Captain Picard leaned over to Tasha.

"Lieutenant?" he prompted.

"I don't know, sir," Tasha answered honestly.

"Please, go find him," Jean-Luc urged.

She was about to go when Data arrived.

Graves had wanted to look his absolute best for his own service. In a way, he saw the evening as rebirth – both in the sense of his new body and in terms of his budding relationship with Kareen.

Tasha's heart sank when she saw Data. It was evident he was disappointed by the lacklustre attendance. The crowd was sparse – consisting only of the senior officers, a few medical staff, some of the engineering team, and Ms Brianon.

In fact, Graves was having a difficult time focusing.

He was one of the most renowned minds of the century and yet less than fifty people had turned out for his funeral.

In fact, there were nearly more people in the choir he had arranged than there were in the actual crowd.

Nonetheless, this was his rebirth and Graves and no desire to delay that.

"We will begin with a series of musical pieces personally selected and arranged by Doctor Graves before his death," Ira announced.

It was hot in the shuttlebay. Dress uniforms were stifling enough. Add the fact they had been standing at attention for nearly ninety minutes, and most of the crew was starting to sway.

Tasha tugged at her collar in effort to find some relief.

At present, Data was eight minutes into his eulogy.

They had already gone through more than enough memories, songs, and inspiration quotes to last a lifetime. Worst of all, it was like a greatest hits of the most overplayed funeral music in the history of the Federation.

Mozart's Requiem in D Minor: Lacrimosa.

The Lark Ascending.

A Candle In the Wind

Worf had said Graves had quite an ego on him. And Tasha had no doubt left in her mind after the choir launched into a rendition of Nothing Compares 2 U.

But she stood there straight as she could manage, feigning attention all in support of Data as he prattled on.

"He was a man unlike any other," Graves said. "A man possessed of the most rare gifts – a brilliant mind, an unmatched wit, and a wry sense of his own humble nature."

Worf fought the urge to scoff.

Humble my arse. He thought.

"Just look at that face," Graves went on as he glanced over at Graves's casket. "The face of a thinker. A warrior. A man for all seasons."

Jean-Luc was long past the point of regret when it came to allowing Data to take charge of this ceremony.

"Yes, Ira Graves was all that and more. He was not a perfect man. Perhaps his greatest fault was that he was too selfless, too loved," Graves said. "He cared for others with nary a thought for himself yet. A man of limitless accomplishments and yet unbridled modesty."

Deanna had to suppress a smirk. She could sense that Data truly believed all of this nonsense.

"To know him was to love him. And to love him was to know him. Those who knew him, loved him," Graves continued, undeterred as Miles checked the time. "And those who did not know him, loved him from afar."

Jean-Luc cleared his throat.

"But we must carry on. Smile through the pain of such a profound loss. Ira Graves was a beautifully imperfect man that-"

"Data," Picard said, urging him to wrap it up.

"I am almost finished," Graves said.

"You are finished, Data," Picard said.

Graves scoffed.

"Sir, I have another three pages of-"

"You are done," Picard said.

He began to applaud, and everyone followed suit, eager to finally be free of the never-ending eulogy for a man they could have cared less about.

In fact, there were only two people that seemed to display any emotion aside from begrudging compliance – Kareen Brianon, who had sobbed throughout the service, and the Security Chief, Lieutenant Yar, who seemed to be concerned.

Captain Picard gave the order to release Graves's body into space.

As soon as it was clear, Tasha made a beeline for Data – only Captain Picard summoned her over to the corner of the room.

She watched helplessly as Data offered his arm to distraught Ms Brianon before the pair disappeared into the corridor.

"I don't think I need to ask but-"

"I don't know, sir," Tasha said, cutting him off.

She was worried too.

"Perhaps it's his admiration for Graves as this 'Grandpa' figure?" Tasha suggested. "I guess that's the way he thinks of him. Like his only living relative aside from, well, Lore."

"You guess?" Picard inquired.

Tasha hesitated.

"He's been keeping to himself lately," Tasha said.

She really did not wish to disclose the details to Captain Picard.

"In fact, I was, erm," Tasha began to say, motioning to the door.

Jean-Luc followed her line of sight.

"Of course," he said.

Finally! Tasha thought, relieved she would get the chance to talk with Data at last.

"This was very kind of you," Kareen said as she nibbled at her dinner.

"Think nothing of it," Graves assured her. "The whole universe is at your fingertips now, Kareen."

And mine. Ira thought.

In his digging, Graves had discovered that Lieutenant Commander Data had years' worth of shore leave accumulated and a stockpile of Federation credits simply collecting dust.

Not only did Ira have a new body and mind – he quite literally had wealth at his disposal.

He could go anywhere. Do anything.

"When we reach Starbase 6, I have taken the liberty of booking accommodations," Graves shared. "Your room will be waiting for you."

Kareen wasn't sure what to say.

"What?" she asked.

"Oh, there is no need to worry. I will be right next door," Ira said.

He'd paid extra to secure adjoining suites.

Ira was hopeful that Kareen would come around before then. Yet he was mindful not to rush her. He could sense she was a bit sceptical of what she perceived as Data's advances.

His constant reminders that Graves would have wanted them to be 'close' had only a limited impact. Kareen was hurt and confused by the loss of Graves that she was having a difficult time focusing on anything else.

Ira was halfway through telling her all about a cruise through the Haromi cluster when he felt like he was being watched.

Glancing across the room, he spied the blonde Security Chief.

Certainly not subtle. Ira mused.

Tasha had only been a few steps into Ten Forward when she spied Data and Kareen at a secluded corner table. She stopped, dumbfounded. It was obvious that the 'special dinner' Data had planned was not for Tasha.

Tasha was completely unaware she was standing there with her mouth hanging open.

Data appeared almost irritated that she was there.

For a brief, fleeting second Data's expression changed.

Tasha! Data thought, momentarily regaining control of his faculties.

He made a move to stand. He was inches off his chair when he stopped, hovering there as Data and Graves wrestled for control.

"Data? Are you alright?" Kareen asked.

He cocked his head to the side and twitched as Graves managed to suppress Data's mind.

His face soured as he stared across the room at Tasha.

The entire encounter lasted only a few moments before Beverly got up and pulled Tasha over to a different table.

Ignoring her, Ira turned back to Kareen.

"Now where were we?" he asked.

"Hey," Deanna said, offering Tasha's arm a reassuring squeeze.

"Hey," Tasha replied, plastering a large, fake smile on her face.

"Some service," Will Riker remarked.

"Mmm," Tasha nodded.

It was hard to feign confidence when she wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear. Worst of all, she just knew everyone was wise to Data's strange behaviour.

"Alright, I can't do this," Beverly declared.

She leaned in close, her attention settling on Tasha.

"What is going on with Data?" Beverly asked.

Tasha didn't answer.

"Tasha?" Deanna prompted.

"I don't know," Tasha confessed.

She hated discussing the personal details of their relationship. Tasha relished privacy – especially when the subject matter was uncomfortable.

As she scanned the eyes of her colleagues, Tasha could sense they would not be satisfied with that answer.

She glanced back over her shoulder and took a quick peek in Data's direction before sinking down into her chair again.

"I think he sees Kareen as some sort of family I guess," Tasha said, choosing her words carefully.

She had no evidence Data had been unfaithful. In any case, she didn't want to believe it.

She couldn't bring herself to believe it.

"I think he's trying to process this whole 'Grandad' thing and just needs some space to work through it," Tasha said.

"But you are concerned," Deanna observed.

"Yeah. I guess," Tasha acknowledged. "I mean, I don't really know what to think. He's been sort of solitary since he returned."

Tasha glanced down at her lap.

"I think he just needs time," she said, picking at her nails.

I hope he just needs time.

"And you don't think it's a little weird how much attention he's focusing on Kareen?" Beverly asked.

"It's Data," Tasha said.

She wasn't sure if she was trying to convince Beverly or herself.

"I'm going to throw a poker game tomorrow. It's just the thing we need to break out of this funk," Riker said.

To the group's dismay, Tasha stood to leave.

"You know, I had a long workout session with Worf earlier and after that funeral service – whoo!" Tasha said, feigning exhaustion.

She began to back away toward the door.

"I think I'm just going to call it a night," Tasha said, pointing over her shoulder to the door.

"Oh T, stay!" Riker insisted.

"Yeah, you shouldn't be alone right now," Beverly said.

"I'm fine. Really," Tasha lied.

"You know she's right," Riker said after a few moments.

"Hmm?" Beverly inquired.

"Tasha. She's right. We don't have any evidence Data's doing anything problematic," Riker said.

Beverly scoffed.

"Oh please," Beverly said. "If Jack were all over another woman without my consent I'd call that pretty problematic."

"But this isn't your relationship," Riker pointed out. "And Data is hardly 'all over her' as you put it. Close – but I haven't seen them doing anything to indicate otherwise."

Will Riker had more faith in others than most – and certainly in Data.

"But Tasha is clearly uncomfortable," Beverly argued.

"Oh I agree," Will said. "But it sounded like some of that came from Data closing himself off. T's not the jealous kind."

He glanced over at Data's table.

"Maybe Data just needs a little guidance?" Riker pondered aloud. "You know the only sibling he's ever known was Lore. And if he thinks of this Kareen as family-"

"That's not what I'm sensing," Deanna interjected as she watched Data caress Kareen's cheek.

"Um, thank you again. This was really grand," Kareen said.

She turned her attention out the window.

"Ira always used to say that the only thing more beautiful than the stars was looking at them with a full belly," Kareen said with a giggle.

Suddenly she stopped and sniffled, overcome once more with grief.

"Forgive me," she said, reaching for her napkin.

But Graves was faster.

"Thank you," she said as he dabbed away the tears. "You must think I'm pretty foolish to mourn over an old man."

"I do not believe you are foolish. I believe you have a broken heart," Graves remarked.

Kareen nodded.

"I also believe that Ira would want you to move on," Graves said. "To start anew."

Kareen took a shaky breath.

"Yes," she acknowledged.

Of course Ira would want her to start her life again, to travel to places she'd always dreamed of visiting, and to finally explore the universe.

But it all felt too soon. Kareen's grief was still raw.

"I think that will take time," Kareen said.

She paused and turned back to Data.

"Ira really asked you to do all this for me?" she inquired.

Graves nodded.

"He wanted to ensure you knew how loved you are," Graves said.

Kareen thumbed away her tears and smiled. Graves saw that as his opportunity to move in.

She tensed as he threw his arm around her, trapping Kareen between his body and the window.

"There was something else he requested I do for you," Graves whispered.

Ira sat on the sofa in Data's quarters staring at the table full of provisions.

Thank heavens for that stasis field. He thought bitterly.

Kareen had hastily excused herself for the evening after Graves's suggestion. It was a great disappointment.

After all his careful planning, he realised it might take longer than expected to win Kareen over.

"Ah, not that I can blame her. Cautious girl," Graves mused aloud.

He had been half tempted to invite another back for the evening. There was a rather attractive brunette at the end of the bar.

And it had been so long since Ira had felt the touch of a lover.

But in the end, he reasoned that Kareen was worth the wait.

At least for a little longer.

Ira groaned.

It was 07:18 in the morning and someone was already at the door.

Why an android would waste time with so much responsibility to the ship was a mystery to Ira. It felt like a waste of his talents.

To make matters worse, the person on the other side of the door was none other than Lieutenant Yar.

"Lieutenant," he said, greeting her in a stiff voice.

"Hey," Tasha said.

She had another thermos and package with his nutrient supplement, a breakfast sandwich, and some fruit.

Graves rudely snatched it from her hands and threw it onto the sofa.

"Are you alright?" Tasha asked.

There was a pause.

"Data?" she prompted.

"No," he said.

"Oh, Data, I-"

"Must you come here every morning? Every morning?" Graves asked, his voice dripping with exasperation.

Tasha blanched.

"Cannot I not have a moment of peace?" Graves snapped. "Am I not permitted time in my own quarters without your incessant questions?"

Tasha blinked rapidly in an effort to stop herself from crying. Data had never raised his voice at her before.

They had experienced a number of disagreements – but never like this.

"Data, can we talk?" Tasha asked.

"I am busy," he said.

Tasha nodded slowly.

"And you want me to go," she said in a soft voice.

"I believe I have made that obvious. I would hope you could respect that," Graves said.

Then in a most uncharacteristic manner, Data sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Are you here on official business?" he asked, annoyed.

"No, um, no," Tasha clarified.

She shrugged.

"It's just been a few days and you've been so distant, I wanted to make sure that-"

"Then the answer is 'no.' You are not here on official business," Graves said in a cold tone. "In that case, I have duties, Lieutenant."

Lieutenant.

He may as well have called her 'crewman.'

Tasha nodded awkwardly before retreating to the lift. She took a slow, shaky breath as soon as the door closed. Tasha squeezed her eyes shut and willed herself not to cry.

On his side of the door, Graves rubbed his hands together and began to whistle.

Well that's finally taken care of. He thought.

From the moment he stepped into Commander Riker's luxurious personal quarters, Graves couldn't help feeling a twinge of envy. They are larger and far better furnished than Data's meagre rooms.

Poor Data didn't even have a window.

In fact, the only redeeming qualities were the workstation and the oversized bath.

Now this I could grow accustomed to! Ira thought as he admired the long, curved window that spanned the length of the room.

It seemed poker was a favourite pastime among the crew. From what Ira had gathered, Commander Riker hosted regular games for the senior officers.

To Ira's delight, this included both the lovely Counsellor Troi and vivacious Doctor Crusher. But to his dismay, it also included Lieutenant Yar.

At the very least, she had said nothing aside from a polite greeting.

Ira chuckled as he shuffled the cards. He'd always been a bit of a poke fiend, but he'd never been able to shuffle so fast nor so efficiently before.

Maybe I could be a dealer on Freecloud? He thought.

He was halfway through dealing the cards when he stopped without warning. It was almost like his body was frozen in time.

For a brief second, Data managed to surface.

His chest was heaving as he stared around the table.

"Data?" Tasha asked.

Geordi could sense a marked rise in his temperature as Data's coolant system surged.

"Data, are you alright?" Geordi questioned.

Data blinked a few times. He opened his mouth to speak – only to find that he was losing control again.

"Ah ha ha! Gotcha!" Ira said.

No one laughed.

"A joke," Graves remarked, hoping to play it off.

"A little spooky," Geordi responded – he wasn't entirely convinced.

"Perhaps your mind simply cannot appreciate humour," Graves retorted.

Rather than a polite jibe, his voice was tainted with disdain.

"Let's start, shall we?" Riker suggested in an attempt to move forward.

"Data, do you think you could knock off the whistling?" Miles requested.

An hour into the game, Data's actions were starting to grate on the rest of the team.

Unlike his usual composed demeanour, he was fidgeting about and whistling the same tune over and over.

"Why? Is it distracting you?" Graves asked.

"Yes," Miles replied in a terse voice.

"Well, do not blame me for your own losses," Graves remarked.

Deanna could sense Miles was ready to blow and felt it was now time to intervene.

"It is a bit much, Data," Deanna said.

Graves smirked as he turned to the Counsellor.

"Then I find myself in need of a new lucky charm," he said. "You see, I simply must do something with my hands."

To Deanna's horror, Data reached for her hair and began to play with it. Deanna sat back and tossed her hair over her opposite shoulder.

Data leaned in close.

"I have very long arms, Counsellor," he said in a low voice. "And I do love to play."

Tasha fought the urge to vomit.

"Data, please remove your hand," Deanna said.

Everyone around the table was immediately on edge. Ira could tell he had crossed a line.

"Of course," he said, putting his hands up.

He turned his attention to Beverly who was sitting between Worf and Geordi.

"In any case, I find I am more partial to redheads," Graves said.

He grinned and licked his lips.

Beverly laughed nervously.

"And I find I'm more partial to playing poker," she said in her parenting voice, clearly conveying she had no interest in whatever Data was attempting to get at.

Graves had always enjoyed good banter and it had a long time since he'd gotten the chance to flex his wit.

The game is on. Graves thought with delight.

As the night wore on, Graves found that all his attempts to win over the crew were one failed hit after another.

His Ferengi jokes fell short.

No one laughed at his musical puns.

And when Graves used his best anecdote about a Nausicaan dancer even Riker seemed uncomfortable.

The final straw had been a crack made at the expense of Klingons.

"What the hell, Data?" Tasha said, finally reaching the breaking point.

Graves shrugged.

"A joke," he claimed.

"Why are you acting like this?" Tasha asked.

Graves shot her a look.

"Why do you care so much?" he threw back at her.

Then he gasped.

"Oh, oh I see," Ira said, wagging a finger at her. "You have a thing for the Klingon. Yes. Now it all makes sense."

Tasha was completely thrown for a loop.

Was this an attempt at a joke? She thought.

"Tell me, Klingon, does she fight all your battles?" Ira asked.

Worf bristled.

"Sir," Worf cautioned.

Data leaned in low over the table and smirked at Tasha.

"Is he this domesticated in bed?" Ira quipped. "How long did it take you to train him?"

Tasha's lips thinned.

"Can I see you outside?" Tasha asked.

Graves sat back in his seat. He took his time answering, pausing for a long, nonchalant sip of his drink.

"Outside please?" Tasha repeated.

"Not unless you are asking me to join you and ginger here," Graves commented, throwing a playful kiss in Beverly's direction.

To Deanna's revulsion, he turned and set his sights on her.

"Or perhaps a little ménage à Troi?" Ira suggested.

He was particularly proud of himself for that one.

Tasha was disgusted and hurt. Under the table, Miles's hand shot out to grip her arm in comfort.

"Data-" Geordi said, stepping in.

"Oh zip it, no eyes," Ira snapped.

"Hey!" Miles exclaimed.

"Oh look, the Irishman has finally emerged from his pint," Ira scoffed.

Tempers flared and Will felt it was necessary to put a stop to the situation before things went any further.

"Data, you are way out of line," Riker said in a warning voice.

But Ira felt utterly invincible. He turned and eyed Riker up and down. He was about to tell him off when a voice across the table proved to be the breaking point.

"Data, let's go," Tasha said.

Graves's head whipped back as he locked his sights on Tasha.

"You are as persistent as gum on a shoe and exactly as appealing," Ira said. "What will it take for you to understand that I have no desire to hear the sound of your voice ever again?"

Tears began to prick at the corner of Tasha's eyes.

It was humiliating enough to hear Data say something so cruel, the added shame of it occurring in front of an audience made her feel like she was three inches tall.

"Data, I know that you're… experimenting with humour, the new look, these.. these changes," Tasha said carefully. "But this is gross, Data. I don't like who you are changing into. And if you want to have a conversation about our relationship-"

But Graves had stopped listening.

Our relationship.

Now it all made sense – the incessant pestering, the hurt look when she'd seen him with Kareen.

At the very least, he would finally be rid of her once and for all.

"Data, I think we should go," Tasha said softly, doing her best to avoid eye contact with everyone at the table.

"Data, I think we should go," Graves said, mocking her.

"Data!" Tasha said, pleading with him. "I don't like-"

"And I do not care!" Graves said, cutting her off.

But Data didn't get up. Instead, he threw his head back and roared with laughter.

"You did not honestly… please do not tell me that," Ira was laughing so hard that his sides hurt. "I mean to think that-"

He trailed off and studied Tasha's face with the best patronising look he could produce.

"Me," he said, pointing to himself, "and… you?"

It was said with such disbelief that Tasha longed to collapse into a puddle on the floor. Were Q to simply snap his fingers and send her to oblivion, she would welcome it in that moment.

"When pigs fly baby," Ira remarked.

Their colleagues were appalled.

"I will live thousands of years. I will never grow old or die. The universe is at my fingertips," Ira said, wiggling his hands. "I cannot settle for the first woman to throw herself at me."

Every word stung. Every single word.

"And frankly, you are hardly my type," Ira scoffed, dismissing Tasha as if she were an unwanted meal. "This little gamine look is perhaps cute enough by human standards. For some."

Graves shook his head, clicking his tongue in disapproval.

"But I am.." he trailed off for a moment, searching for the right words. "Let us just say that when I walk into a shop, I like to take my time and choose something that is quality. I do not settle for the Ferengi knockoff by the register."

Ferengi knockoff?

"Kings do not ride draft horses," Graves remarked.

Instinctively, Tasha reached across herself in an effort to hide her body. Her whole posture shifted, closing in on herself.

"In the grand scheme of the universe, you are merely a snack, darling," Ira said. "And it is time for me to seize my full potential and move onto something better."

Tasha had no idea how to respond. Her throat was dry. She felt gobsmacked, blindsided.

Graves was not sure where all of this was coming from. It was his intention to hurt her. The sooner he drove her away, the easier things would get.

And somehow, someway he knew exactly what to say to twist the knife.

"Data?" Tasha asked softly.

"Oh please, you have no need to weep. It is not as if you have ever had trouble. Plenty of men were there before me," Ira chuckled. "In any case, I believe I deserve a ship with fewer lightyears on her warp core."

Data's words had cut right through Tasha's self-confidence, shattering years of therapy and self-growth in one fell swoop.

It had taken Tasha a long time to come to terms with her body, to accept that the circumstances of her childhood were not her fault nor did they have any bearing on her character.

Tasha felt betrayed.

She had shared her trauma with Data in confidence. He had always been so supportive – maintaining that it did not bother him, and he was happy with whatever level of intimacy Tasha felt safe with.

A little voice crept into the back of Tasha's mind. It was the same voice that had spent years tearing her down from the inside.

You will never be good enough.

You will always be damaged.

No one will ever love you.

And how could they knowing what she was?

It was that mindset that had driven Tasha into Starfleet Security. And it was that kind of thinking that the command officers in covert operations had used to manipulate dozens of similarly displaced kids from war-torn nations – stripping any shred of personhood so they were nothing more than living weapons.

The ultimate soldier.

But it was easier, wasn't it? Tasha thought.

Heartbreak didn't happen when you closed yourself off.

It took Tasha a minute to register that people were yelling. Commander Riker, Beverly, and Miles were holding Worf back as Data taunted him from across the table.

Geordi was shouting above all of them, berating Data and demanding he submit to an examination.

Deanna was stuck in place, overwhelmed by the grief, confusion, and anger that radiated off of Tasha.

Everyone fell silent as Tasha rose from her seat.

"I'm sorry," she said in a faraway voice. "I-I didn't mean to start an argument. Or touch on a sensitive subject."

"Whoa!" Geordi protested. "It's not your fault somebody-" he paused to shoot Data a look, "is experiencing a malfunction."

"Better be a malfunction," Worf growled.

But Tasha was only half listening.

"I'm overdue for a phaser maintenance cycle anyways," Tasha said.

It was half true.

"Oh don't go!" Miles urged.

"Please stay," Beverly asked.

"Maybe it would be best for Data to leave instead?" Riker suggested. "On the other hand, you are always welcome, Tasha."

"I don't think Data should be alone right now," Tasha said aloud.

Tasha was deeply hurt. And she longed to have a good long cry with some much-needed support. But she recognised something was wrong with Data and figured it would be best for him to remain with the rest of the crew.

She didn't know what she had done. But it was obvious her presence seemed to set him off more than anything else.

Tasha loved Data. And she wanted to support him – even if it meant letting him go.

"Don't go, T," Geordi pleaded.

"I fold," Tasha said, laying down her cards.

"Stay," Miles said.

"Thanks, Chief," Tasha said.

She managed to produce a small smile.

"But it's pretty evident I don't really have anything worth playing for," Tasha said with a trace of bitterness.

She was about to go when she stopped. Tasha turned to Data, making eye contact with him for the first time since his tirade began.

For a brief moment, Ira felt a strong pang of guilt under her wounded gaze – a soul he knew he was responsible for breaking.

"I hope you find what you're seeking," Tasha said in a voice barely above a whisper.

As soon as the door closed, the team rounded on Data.

Worf made to go after Tasha, but Deanna stopped him.

"Let her go," Deanna urged.

With a grumble of protest, Worf resumed his seat. He trusted Deanna – even if it didn't always feel right.

"Data. My lab. Now," Geordi said.

"Or what?" Graves asked, challenging him.

"That's an order, Mr Data," Riker said.

Ira threw his cards down, purposefully spilling his pint all over the table as he glared at Commander Riker.

"Oops," he said. "I would stay to clean that up – but I have orders."

Graves had no qualms about going to Geordi's lab. He knew they would find nothing. But he resented the way they treated Data as if his emotions were simply a malfunction.

It hurt.

Graves also felt a small pang of guilt over the way he had treated Lieutenant Yar.

But he quickly swallowed it.

After all, things couldn't have been too serious between them.

Could they?

Certainly not if they lived in separate quarters. Data had not mentioned her during his time on Graves's world.

Ira hadn't done much digging through Data's quarters. But the walls contained no pictures of her. Thus far he had found no images of their relationship on the desk or shelves.

And there was no ring on her finger.

Pity. Probably a little fling. Ira thought.

Tasha was in the armoury, hunched over a bench seat as she popped the power cell off another phaser rifle.

Focus.

She brushed away her tears and then used a sonic driver to open the access panel that led to the controls.

Under normal circumstances, Tasha could complete this task in all of ninety seconds flat.

But her hands were trembling. She was having a hard time maintaining focus as she used a tool to attune the phaser resonance.

She had been at for nearly three hours – yet had only managed to work through eight level two hand phasers and three rifles. (Although she had completed a few other tasks in that time).

It was therapeutic in a way.

Tasha had meticulously inspected and cleaned her boots – all three pairs of them. It included applying a new waterproof layer to her cold weather boots.

Then she had cleaned, sharpened, and oiled her impressive set of blades.

Well, most of them anyways.

There was still one half of her Andorian ice minor blade set in Data's quarters. Tasha wasn't about to go retrieve that.

Tasha had every intention of working right through the night. It was almost like her early days in Starfleet covert operations. In those days, Tasha Yar spent nearly all her time maintaining her equipment and her body.

She went to the fitness centre. She trained. She cleaned her phaser.

Poker didn't happen. Runs were solitary. There were no girls' nights, concerts, or dates.

There were also no broken hearts.

Tasha furiously reassembled the phaser. Her face was hot, and she could feel a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill over.

At times, Tasha's relationship with Data had felt like a dream.

Data was thoughtful and patient. He was a dedicated officer and a fine leader. He valued everything Tasha held dear and was handsome to boot.

Tasha considered that perhaps it had been too good to be true.

Was this all some game at the hands of the universe?

Or Q?

It had to be.

Because little girls from Turkana didn't fall in love with men like Data.

A warning from the past echoed in Tasha's mind.

You are a Yar. That is all you will ever be. And the sooner you accept that, the sooner you will learn to survive.

Gudrun was an ancient wise woman on Turkana. In reality, she was probably all of fifty. But as a young girl, she was the oldest person Tasha had ever met.

Get these delusions out of your head. You cannot run away to the stars. You will find no happiness there.

Tasha realised Gudrun was probably long dead – but it didn't change the fact she was right.

She was Yar.

It was all she had ever been.

And all she would ever be.

The circumstances surrounding Tasha may have changed. The Enterprise was a world away from Turkana. The food was better. The water was clean. And she certainly didn't have to worry about parasites or mercenaries (at least not in the same sense).

Captain Picard would never treat her like Turgon.

Nonetheless, Tasha Yar was trained as a warrior to serve an imperfect power structure. She had trained her entire life for this.

And it remained a constant, that being detached was by far the safest option.

Geordi, Commander Riker, and Miles were huddled inside an alcove in the corner of Geordi's lab.

Geordi's look did not inspire confidence.

"I've been through a complete diagnostic twice. I can't find anything," Geordi whispered. "Not a circuit blown nor a pathway out of place."

"I can hear you," Graves said in a sing-song voice.

He had been a right terror ever since Geordi and Miles had begun their diagnostic – he'd even called Barclay and Wesley in for assistance.

Data had been so cruel to Barclay that Geordi had finally sent him off.

Worf was present too. He had sat directly across from Data, unblinking as the rest of the team performed their diagnostic.

Ira had the whole thing amusing and took great pleasure in taunting Worf.

"You know I could crush you," Graves said. "All that Klingon muscle and poof!"

He snapped his fingers.

"Just like that," Graves teased.

Worf bit his tongue. Were it anyone else, Worf would have already sent him through a wall. But this was Data and Worf knew that there had to be a good reason for Data's odd behaviour.

"Then what the hell is going on? Are you saying Data is choosing to be this way?" Riker asked a heated whisper.

"I don't know," Geordi confessed. "But I can't find any reason to point to this behaviour change being a problem."

"Oh I'd say it's a problem alright," Miles grumbled.

"I mean an engineering problem. A malfunction," Geordi clarified.

He glanced over his shoulder at Data and frowned.

"Maybe it's mental?" Geordi suggested.

Shortly after midnight, Tasha reached the halfway point of her work. She was finally numb enough to work at a good pace.

When the door slid open, Tasha didn't bother to look up.

"T?" Geordi said.

"Look, I appreciate you stopping by. I'd love to talk but you know engineering isn't really my forte and this requires a lot of concentration," Tasha said.

"And we all know you could do it in your sleep," Worf said.

Great. Another audience.

"There's a certification in the morning and I need to finish these," Tasha said.

She kept her head low, avoiding eye contact in hopes that they would all go away. But they could all see the drops of moisture that fell onto her hands.

"You'll be in a world of hurt if any of that gets into the circuitry," Miles warned.

"Tasha-" Riker said.

Her head snapped up.

"Anyone else clambering to get in? Did you bring the whole crew or just you four?" Tasha demanded.

Deanna had warned them it would be best for just one of them to approach Tasha. She had offered to be the one to do it, but Geordi had insisted – and he'd found Miles, Worf, and Commander Riker waiting outside the Security Office anyways.

"You know it's bad enough that Data woke up today and decided that I am so unappealing that the thought of a relationship together is comical," Tasha said, throwing her arms out. "It's hard enough to watch your life suddenly collapse."

That was how it felt. Everything had been fine one moment and then the hull of her life ruptured – blowing all her dreams out into space.

"But somehow – and I didn't think it was possible – but somehow it hurts even worse when it happens in full view of an audience," Tasha confessed.

No one knew what to say.

"Now please leave so that I may pick up what little is left of my dignity in peace," Tasha concluded.

No one moved.

To Tasha's immense frustration, the four sat down around her. She felt suffocated as Worf took the phaser from her hand.

"Tasha, what happened back there wasn't your fault," Riker said.

"Data couldn't be more wrong," Miles added. "You know he would never say those things."

Tasha glanced up.

"You found something?" she asked with a small sense of renewed hope.

The group fell silent.

"Oh. I see," Tasha said.

"We didn't find anything. But that doesn't mean there isn't something there," Geordi said. "And it doesn't mean we're giving up."

He slipped his fingers under Tasha's chin.

"Remember when his neural net was scrambled? And we all thought he was gone?" Geordi asked. "He couldn't remember your name – but he still loved you."

"Or when he was trapped behind an Iconian doorway and you refused to leave without him," Worf chimed in.

"How about when we both thought he was goner in that crater on Minos after that drone? His system just needed some time to reboot," Riker said.

"Every time Data asks us to take a look at him, I feel like a first year cadet cracking open a replicator again," Miles said. "He's so complex – and there's a lot we don't know about how he functions. This could all be some sort of phase."

Geordi took hold of Tasha's hand.

He knew better than the rest of them just how difficult it had been for both Data and Tasha to realise they deserved one another. Data had shared that Tasha had a number of hangups when it came to love – most notably the belief that it only led to heartache.

"Data loves you. I know that. I believe that," Geordi said.

"I don't have all the answers. But I'm confident that we will work this out. It's just going to take some time to find the answer," Riker said, offering hope.

They had a plan.

Deanna would meet with Data tomorrow afternoon. Geordi, Miles, and a few select engineers were going to keep searching for answers. Beverly and Worf would make sure Tasha was in good spirits.

And Commander Riker would keep an eye on Data.

"You and Data were meant to be," Geordi declared. "And if a courtroom, an Iconian doorway, an evil android twin, and Q can't separate you, then nothing is going to stand in the way of you two."

Once he was released from Geordi's lab, Graves immediately returned to his quarters. He spent hours perusing through holiday rentals on Casperia Prime, Caldonia, and Risa.

The Federation had changed quite a bit in the last twenty years and Graves was astonished to see all the new member planets at his disposal.

He sent out inquiries to a number of spots – a cabana on the southern tip of Risa's main continent, a deluxe stay for two at the Caldonian Gardens, the penthouse suite at the Starlight Bay Casino on Freecloud.

It was the Monte Carlo of the quadrant and came complete with jacuzzi and latinum-strip bedsheets.

By the time he left his quarters that morning, Ira was feeling like was on top of the world.

His mood quickly soured when Kareen turned down his invitation to lunch. Apparently, she had already scheduled an appointment with Commander Monroe.

"I told you that I would conduct all tours of the ship," Graves said.

"And I really appreciate your offer, Mr Data," Kareen countered. "But I want to speak to Mr Monroe because he works in the Stellar Cartography department. I want to know about his experience. About the job."

"And I will happily fill you in on all the details," Ira insisted.

"Data, I think it is very sweet that you want to do all this for me. And I appreciate that you want to honour Ira's memory," Kareen began.

Ever since she'd come aboard, it had been a never ending barrage of Data rubbing Ira in her face. He was coming on strong, laying the guilt on thick over Ira's dying wish.

As if on cue, he reached for her hand and pulled it toward his chest.

"It was his wish that I care for you. That we would be together," Graves said.

Kareen frowned.

"But I don't share that feeling. I don't.. I loved Ira," Kareen said. "And I'm not over that. I don't know if I ever will be. I need time to grieve."

She paused.

"And in any case, it wasn't fair of him to ask that of you, Data. You have been very kind. But I hardly know you," Kareen said.

Ira panicked. He could sense he was losing her.

Kareen protested as he pulled her into a tight embrace.

"But I know you. Ira told me everything about you so that you would never have to worry," Graves lied. "I know that you long to visit Haven and stand at age of the sea. I know you like raspberry jam, but only when it is on wheat toast."

Kareen froze.

While Data had said nothing violent or dangerous, she still felt like her privacy had been violated. And she was furious that Ira would share all of that with someone without her knowing.

"And I know how you like to sip peppermint tea when the weather cools," Graves went on.

Kareen pushed him away.

"Just stop!" she shouted.

"Kareen," Graves said.

"Don't," she ordered, batting away his hand.

Kareen took a step back.

"Ugh! This is just like him! He's still treating me like a child from beyond the grave," she fumed. "I'm not a pet that's being boarded with someone else or a shuttle to be passed from one operator to the next."

Graves realised his attempt had backfired.

Spectacularly.

"I'm a person!" Kareen declared. "And Ira never chose to love me the way I wanted when he was alive. He doesn't get to dictate how I run my life now that he's gone!"

"Kareen, I am sure that he only wanted what is best for you," Graves pleaded. "He wanted you to find a younger man. Someone that could love you the way you deserve – I can do that for you."

"No," she said, stepping back. "If Ira wanted a say in my relationships then he should have loved me himself when he was alive."

When Data swept onto the Bridge that morning, he whipped around in his seat. His fingers punched the console with extra force – so much so that it did not go unnoticed by Tasha.

From her place on the back of the Bridge, she could tell was visibly agitated.

And it broke her heart.

Tasha had no idea what he was going through or why. But it was evident it was taking a toll.

"Hey, Data. I got the okay to go ahead with that dilithium crystal recycling project for extra credit," Wesley said from his spot at the helm.

Graves ignored him.

"I was thinking I could convert that third table in the lab into a storage facility for reprocessing and-"

"Is your life so dull that you must spend time focusing on lab redesign? Take it from me, boy – get a hobby," Graves said.

Wes laughed uncomfortably.

"Um, I was wondering if you wanted to come over tonight and we could take a look at the fragments. See what might work best," Wesley suggested.

Data whipped around in his seat.

"And what makes you think that I would want to spend my evening with a little boy who has no friends and his science project?" Graves snapped.

"Jeez, Data," Wesley said. "If that's a joke, it's not a very good one."

Ira scoffed.

"Your child-like mind cannot appreciate my wit," Graves spat.

"Child-like mind?" Wesley asked. "Data, chronologically, you're not much older than I am."

Data had always been one of the strongest advocates for Wesley. He never treated him like a child. Even in situations where many other crew members dismissed Wes because of his age and rank, Data had shown him respect as a colleague.

"You are only as old as you feel. Try to remember that, boy," Graves said, turning back to his console.

From his position, Riker decided it was time to step in.

"Bit of a philosopher today, eh?" Riker asked.

Data spun around.

"I am many things," he declared with an air of superiority. "Scholar. Artist. Philosopher. Lover. Genius."

It was like watching a deranged man claim to be king.

Worf rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath. While his comment went unheard by the rest of the team, Graves had managed to pick up on it thanks to Data's audio receptors.

"More than you can, Klingon," Ira said, looking directly at Worf.

Worf clenched his fists.

Before either of them could speak, the lift door opened. Captain Picard swept onto the Bridge with Kareen and Commander Monroe in tow.

"Oh! How beautiful," Kareen said.

The sight of the viewscreen took her breath away.

"This is our Bridge where the senior crew oversee everything from our flight pattern and ship's systems to deck by deck updates. We can track long range communications, monitor sensor and probe data, as well as access all our tactical needs," Picard explained.

Jean-Luc guided Kareen toward the back of the Bridge.

"Back here we have our science stations. Perhaps you would like to take a look?" Captain Picard offered.

"I may have made the captain aware of your interest in Stellar Cartography," Monroe said.

"And I'm aware of your interest in her," Graves mumbled.

Jean-Luc turned back toward the rest of the Bridge. It was completely out of character for Data to make a smart remark.

"What was that, Commander?" Picard asked.

"Nothing, sir. Nothing at all," Graves replied, feigning innocence.

Graves closed his eyes and tried to push out the sound of Kareen chatting with Commander Monroe.

"This terminal allows us to view our star charts and over here we can control our instruments," Monroe explained.

Jealousy continued to bubble up inside of Ira with each passing second that Kareen spent on the Bridge. He sat there stewing as he listened to them prattle on. To make matters worse, Wesley had strolled up to the back of the Bridge to offer his input to Kareen.

Out of nowhere, Kareen giggled at something Wesley said.

Ira brought his fist down – and through – his console.

"Data?" Picard asked.

"Enough!" Ira roared. "I detest having to sit here and listen to this! His interest in you is not professional, Kareen."

He threw an accusatory look in Commander Monroe's direction before turning on Wesley.

"She does not care for men of limited intellect," Graves spat.

"Mr Data, I will see you in my Ready Room immediately," Picard said.

After giving instructions for the crew to clean up the mess, Jean-Luc joined Data in his Ready Room. He was disturbed to find Data preening himself in the reflection in the window.

"If you wish to apologise, I am prepared to listen," Graves said.

Jean-Luc was floored.

"You expect me to apologise to you?" Jean-Luc asked.

He needed confirmation that he'd heard Data correctly.

Data turned around and looked stunned at the Captain's question.

"You were a bit rude to me," Ira said.

He wasn't accustomed to being ordered about. In fact, Ira was usually the one barking commands. In an effort to understand, Jean-Luc decided to play along.

"Well then I apologise, Data. How so? I would hate to do it a second time," Jean-Luc said.

"Your tone was a little harsh," Grave said. "I may be a machine, but that doesn't mean you can order me about."

"Ah," Jean-Luc said. "Data, you recall that I am the Captain? And you serve under my command, correct? Orders are a natural part of that structure."

Picard did his best to keep his temper in check – and it seemed to work. Data's face fell ever so slightly, his ego deflated.

Ira Graves realised he had made a fatal mistake. Hubris had always been his downfall.

"Data, something has obviously gone wrong with your circuitry," Captain Picard said, concerned.

Graves threw his head back and rolled his eyes.

"That is ridiculous!" he exclaimed. "I am as healthy as a Rigelian ox. Better than any man."

Jean-Luc frowned.

"I wish I could believe that. I would accompany you to Sickbay, but I doubt that would do us much good in this situation," Jean-Luc surmised.

"Are you feeling ill, Captain?" Graves asked, his voice dripping with mock sincerity.

I'm getting there. Jean-Luc thought.

"Data, I would like you to report to Lieutenant La Forge immediately for a full physical," Picard ordered.

"That is not necessary, Captain," Ira protested. "I am fully capable of running a circuit check on myself. My internal diagnostic is far more sophisticated than anything you humans can produce."

He closed his eyes and grinned.

"Just as a I expected. I am fine. Perfect condition," Graves lied.

Jean-Luc did not respond. Ira opened his eyes to find the Captain staring at him.

"For the first time since I've known you, Data, I don't believe you," Picard admitted.

"You would like La Forge to examine me?" Graves asked.

He shrugged, grinning from ear to ear.

"Be my guest," Ira said.

Jean-Luc was seated behind his desk as everyone was talking on top of one another. The only person that wasn't clamouring for a space around the Captain's desk was Tasha.

In fact she was sitting so still in the corner that one would almost think she was a world away – but Jean-Luc knew better.

"Then the Chief and I thought maybe it was a neural surge-"

"But there's no damage. No trace of anything-"

"It was an intense, burning jealousy," Deanna explained.

"We would have told you, sir. But we didn't think it was a security risk because it seemed personal and-"

"ONE. AT. A TIME!" Jean-Luc said, lifting his hand.

The room fell silent.

Picard cleared his throat and turned to Lieutenant La Forge.

"When do you first observe the change in Mr Data's behaviour?" he asked.

"Last night during our poker game," Geordi said.

Picard nodded slowly.

It seemed that fact was without dispute. But it struck Picard as odd that no one was elaborating on it. They had all labelled Data's behaviour as odd, weird, and out of character. They were in agreement that he said and moved in a way that was counter to his usual habits.

However, they were tight-lipped on the specifics.

"And that is when you ordered Data to report to Geordi for an exam, Number One?" Picard inquired.

Riker nodded.

"Yes, sir," Riker said.

Picard's brow furrowed as he scanned the faces of his team.

"But you've found no explanation for this change?" Picard asked.

Everyone started talking again all at once.

"Enough!" Picard barked.

Jean-Luc rose from his seat and then began to pace behind his desk.

"We are facing the threat of a Romulan conspiracy that seeks to replace our officers and none of you thought to bring this to me?" Picard fumed.

"Sir, I've already ruled out there is no implant in Data's-" Beverly began to say.

"So now you're suddenly a cybernetics expert?" Jean-Luc snapped.

Beverly shrank back into her seat.

"To say I am disappointed that my crew would fail to bring this to me would be an understatement. What's worse, I suspect that you were all trying to protect Data because you consider him a friend," Picard said.

For all his bluster, Jean-Luc had a way of making his crew realise that there was a reason he kept a professional distance.

"I don't think I need to remind any of you what Data is capable of," Picard said. "If his mind has been altered in some way. If this is part of some Romulan ploy to infiltrate our ship-"

He paused to let the weight of his comment sink in.

"There was nothing on Graves's world to indicate any Romulan connection," Worf said.

He had conducted a thorough security sweep.

"And you know that for a fact?" Picard asked. "With all due respect, Mr Worf, you are a talented officer. But you were on Graves's World for a day and the Romulans have been at this a long time."

Worf bit back a remark.

"Captain, the radical shift in Data's behaviour seems personal. I don't think he intends to harm the ship," Deanna said.

What she had sensed on the Bridge was envy and anger – not conspiracy.

"He broke a console, Counsellor," Picard said.

"Well I admit that in Data's unique position, even an emotion like jealousy could be dangerous if he were to lash out," she acknowledged.

"I know that we all think of Data as a friend. But we don't know what we're dealing with here and until we can confidently rule out the possibility of any Romulan involvement, I want him confined to his quarters," Picard said.

A murmur of protest erupted.

"Please," Picard said, waving his hand to calm the room. "I did not mention this before, but Data came to me two days ago and requested I allow him to leave the ship for a visit to Starbase 6."

Jean-Luc sighed.

"He seemed completely unconcerned with safety protocols. He was desperate to leave the ship," Picard shared. "In light of this new information, I'm left wondering if he intended to leave for good."

"Captain?" Riker prompted, sensing there was more.

"I used my Captain's privilege to skim through all the outgoing communications and happened to find that Mr Data's been making quite a number of travel inquiries – Risa, Freecloud, Earth."

And there it was.

The final hammer blow.

His outburst at the poker game wasn't just some random malfunction or emotion instability. Data really had meant what he said about exploring the universe.

Data wanted to leave.

He wanted to leave her.

Tasha felt like was completely on autopilot as she listened to Captain Picard outline his plan for the team to investigate.

"Commander Riker and Lieutenant Yar will question Ms Brianon discreetly. Counsellor, I want you there too," Picard ordered.

Worf was only too enthusiastic about being assigned guard duty. In addition to the interrogation, Tasha was tasked with conducting a deck by deck sweep to ensure there were no Romulan listening devices, weapons, or other hidden dangers.

There was no telling what Data may have planted on the ship – and there were over a million places to hide something.

Meanwhile, Geordi's team of engineers were tasked with combing through Data's specs for any possible explanation or evidence of tampering.

"I want answers, La Forge," Picard said.

"You and me both, Captain," Geordi said.

"Dismissed," Picard ordered.

Feeling like they'd just been reprimanded by a Starfleet Academy Dean, the team shuffled out the door to get to work.

"Not you, Lieutenant," Picard said, beckoning Tasha over.

He pointed at the seat in front of his desk. Tasha immediately sat down without protesting. She knew she was in for a thorough chewing out and the face Captain Picard waited until they were alone only added to Tasha's sense of guilt.

"When you and Data first informed me of your relationship, I had only one request – that you separate the job from your personal feelings," Picard said.

That conversation had happened in this very room.

"You assured me you could. But light of recent events I am left questioning whether my trust was misplaced," Picard confessed.

Tasha said nothing.

"Tasha, you of all people should have been the first to come to me and say there was something wrong," Jean-Luc went on.

He was angry. He felt betrayed.

"I suspect you wanted to protect Data. But you have a duty to protect this ship. That is your charge first and foremost above all else save the bloody Prime Directive!" Picard said in a brusque voice.

Once more, she remained silent.

"Tasha? Are you even listening?" Picard barked.

"Yes, sir," Tasha replied.

Jean-Luc sat back on the edge of his desk and composed himself. He recognised this had to be difficult for her.

"Tasha, if you cannot fulfil the obligations of your role then tell me now," Picard said.

Tasha lifted her head to meet the Captain's gaze.

"Sir, I can assure you that my personal relationship with Data will never be a problem again," Tasha said.

"And that doesn't bother you?" Geordi asked in disbelief.

"Nope," Ira said before throwing a ball at the wall again.

Geordi couldn't believe it.

He had dropped by Data's quarters to bounce some theories off him and Data had completely rebuffed his efforts.

Data could care less about Wesley and Reg's idea to construct a 3D holographic representation of Data's neural net. He found Geordi's ideas on positronic circuitry to be lacking.

And to make matters worse, Kareen had ignored every single one of his invitations to come to dinner in his quarters.

For a man that had always sought solitude, Ira found this involuntary seclusion to be unexpectedly isolating.

"You don't see any problem with the fact that you've changed overnight?" Geordi asked. "And you don't want to lift a finger to help understand why?"

"Nope," Ira repeated, tossing the ball again.

Geordi's hand shot out and caught it, stealing it away from him.

Ira sat up.

"Has it occurred to you that I am finally living up to my full potential?" Ira asked. "That I have finally recognised who I am, what I am is so much bigger than this?"

Ira gestured to the room.

"I can do anything. I can be anything. I am superior in every way!" Ira declared wildly.

Geordi shook his head.

"See, the Data I know would never say that," Geordi remarked.

"Don't you have the stupid little morning show to plan for?" Ira scoffed.

Three minutes was all Ira needed to determine Geordi and his 'Wake-up' show were pathetic.

"I thought you liked my morning show?" Geordi asked, seeing this as the latest red flag in Data's change.

"And you probably thought I liked your company too," Graves threw back in a mocking tone.

"I'm going to fix this, Data," Geordi promised before leaving.

As soon as La Forge was gone, Ira sent another quick communique to Kareen, imploring her to join him in his quarters.

Not long after, there was a chime at the door.

Things had been tense between Worf and Graves ever since the Klingon had taken up a guard position outside of Data's quarters.

Graves refused to allow him entrance. Worf respected that he had the right to do so – but it only added to the tension.

The door chimed again, and Graves ignored it.

After the third chime, Worf advised that if he did not open the door that he would be forced to enter anyways.

"What?" Graves demanded, finally opening the door.

"This is your official notice that you are not to contact Ms Kareen Brianon again. She does not wish to speak with you," Worf informed him.

Kareen had been so put off by Data's persistent advances that she'd finally gone to the Security office.

"You will cease communication, or you will face formal charges," Worf warned.

Graves's grip on the doorframe tightened to the point that it cracked.

But a man like Ira Graves couldn't allow his ego to bruise for long.

"I do not need her anyways. I was merely trying to help," he said.

But Worf suspected that was hardly the case.

As soon as the door closed, he heard something smash behind the wall.

Ira stared down at the broken pieces of Andorian crystal on the floor.

Fine. So be it.

The very thought of Kareen left a sour taste in his mouth. If she did not want his company, then he certainly had other options – never mind the fact that he had done this for her.

In his mind, Ira had risked everything (including his life) to be with Kareen.

And in the end, she spurned him.

He was defeated. To make matters worse, the crew was suspicious. He still didn't have a clear way off the ship to escape to Starbase 6.

And he was trapped in this room.

Ira's gaze fell on the provisions sitting under a stasis field on the table. He had planned to share them with Kareen.

Now they were a bitter reminder of what he could never have.

That's what you get for doing the right thing. Ira lamented.

Ira clapped his hands together.

"Not anymore," he said aloud as he reached for his tablet.

"Excuse me, this area is restricted," Worf said as he put his out to stop two young Lieutenants from entering Data's quarters.

"What?" Lieutenant Flores asked.

"This area is restricted," Worf repeated.

"Well Lieutenant Commander Data invited us down here for a party," Lieutenant Flores explained.

On cue, the door opened.

"Come on in ladies!" Ira called out.

Worf growled. His eyes narrowed as he shot Data the look he had honed the mirror – the one that made most men shiver.

"You are restricted to quarters," Worf reminded him.

"Ah! But there is no Starfleet regulation prohibiting me from entertaining a few select guests," Graves pointed out.

He had checked beforehand just to ensure he could rub it in Worf's nose.

Worf visibly bristled.

Worf stormed forward but Data's hand shot out to stop him.

"You are not invited," Graves said.

Worf watched, utterly helpless, as the lift at the end of the corridor opened and eight more guests pooled out.

"The party is down here!" Ira hollered.

Worf stood still against the wall. His arms were crossed and everything about his attitude screamed that he was ready to snap.

But he said nothing as he watched the seemingly endless line of guests pour into Data's quarters – mostly young Ensigns and Lieutenants.

And mostly women.

Worf baulked when he spied Commander Riker coming down the corridor – one arm around Lieutenant Culpepper and a bottle of contraband Romulan ale in the other.

"Commander!" Worf said.

He felt it was a complete betrayal of Lieutenant Yar.

"Go on ahead, I'll be right in," Riker said to his date.

He leaned in close.

"Look, I know this doesn't look good," Riker acknowledged. "But I got an invite and I figure one of us ought to be in there to keep an eye on things."

Worf was not entirely convinced.

"Worf, I'm just trying to look out for Data here," Riker pleaded.

"And Tasha?" Worf asked in a terse voice.

"Of course," Riker replied in earnest. "I don't want to see Data do anything that might jeopardise that."

"Mmm," Worf nodded in agreement.

"And who better for that job than me?" Riker added with a smirk before he slipped off to join the party.

Tasha wrung her hands, pacing back and forth as she mulled over her thoughts.

They were nearly thirty percent of the way through the deck by deck security sweep when Tasha had delegated command to Lieutenant Solis.

"I have to take care of something," Tasha had said, excusing herself.

A rather big something.

In truth it was less than fifteen diameters across and weighed next to nothing.

But the emotional weight it carried threatened to overwhelm Tasha's senses each time she had to fiddle with it – and crawling around through the Jefferies tubes meant she had to fiddle with it.

A lot.

A part of her wanted to tuck the ring away in the bottom of her sock drawer and forget it ever existed. But when she had gone to put it there, Tasha had discovered a long-forgotten garment that had once been hastily stashed there.

The blue, silky Orion getup was a painful reminder of Data.

Back then, Tasha had been unable to bring herself to destroy it. Now she wished she had.

And as she stared at the ring on the table, Tasha wasn't sure if she should destroy it or hand it back. A part of her wanted to dial a phaser up to level ten and blast it into oblivion.

But another part of Tasha couldn't bring herself to do that.

Data had gone to great lengths to create something that was a beautiful, one-of-a-kind piece. Art and symbolism weren't really her forte.

Yet Tasha could appreciate that Data had designed something that added to the beauty of the universe. She had no desire to take that away.

Tasha resolved herself that such a lovely ring deserved to stay intact.

Even if it wasn't meant for her.

Tasha wanted to be upset – only she couldn't find it in herself to blame Data.

Clearly he already had one foot out the door on their relationship. Tasha knew such changes didn't just occur overnight.

The conversation with Kareen had been difficult to listen to as she detailed all of Data's numerous advances.

Tasha was relieved that there appeared to be no indication of Romulan interference. Kareen couldn't even distinguish between Romulans and Klingons, so it was unlikely there had been any contact there.

But it hurt knowing that with each new clue, more and more the investigation pointed to Data's behaviour was truly a reflection of himself.

And Tasha wondered what she had done to drive Data from her arms. She racked her brain trying to pinpoint where she failed.

Had her demands for a private wedding been too much?

Or had Data finally reached the limit of what he would tolerate when it came to her holodeck antics with Worf?

Tasha stopped pacing as she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror on the wall.

She turned her head to the side and frowned as she studied her appearance. Tasha had no delusions about herself. She knew that her personal style and preference for function clothing was a world away from the naturally glamorous Deanna.

The hurtful comment of an old ex crept into the back of her mind.

You could be so pretty if only you tried a little.

When she started Starfleet Academy, Tasha didn't know the first thing about human fashion or makeup trends. She'd never had a mother long enough to introduce her to those things.

Slumber parties didn't happen on Turkana.

Data had called her a snack. He had compared her to a draft horse.

And that was exactly how Tasha felt. Her style was simplistic. Dependable. Functional.

Next to the likes of Beverly and Deanna who oozed feminine mystique, Tasha felt that she might as well have been the doormat for all Data cared.

But Tasha Yar wasn't about to change herself just to please Data. That she refused to compromise on.

Data had experienced tremendous personal growth in the last year – most of it enthusiastically encouraged by Tasha. She'd never imagined it would lead to this.

Tasha picked up the ring from the table. After taking one last look at the way the light danced in the moonstone, she slipped into the pocket sewn inside the wrist of her uniform.

Tasha squared her shoulders and headed off out into the night.

Best get this over with.

From the moment she stepped off the lift, Tasha could hear the sound of thumping music and laughter spilling out of Data's quarters.

For a moment, she considered leaving.

She could always come back another time.

But she figured that perhaps a party was the best opportunity. With all the loud music and conversation, Tasha could slip in unseen. She could leave the ring somewhere safe for Data to find and retrieve her own personal effects at the same time – ideally without even having to confront Data.

Small miracles. Tasha mused.

Worf blanched the minute he spied Tasha coming down the corridor.

"Some party, huh?" Tasha asked.

"I do not believe it would be wise to go in there," Worf cautioned.

Tasha may have gotten away pulling the stiff upper lip routine with the others. But Worf knew better – he understood just how hurt she was and that she was trying to hide it.

"I'm not here to start any trouble," Tasha assured her.

"You're not who I'm worried about," Worf said.

Tasha gripped his forearm.

"I appreciate it. Really I do. I just want to get my things," Tasha said.

And then crawl into a small hole.

Tasha realised retrieving her possessions may be a more difficult task that she'd initially planned.

Data's quarters were packed.

Every available inch of space was filled with people dancing, snogging, and swigging drinks. Commander Riker was in the corner playing some sort of card game with three other crew members – and it didn't look like any kind of card game Tasha had ever played before.

Certainly not with coworkers.

Ensign Cooper was well past the point of intoxication. He swayed, stumbling directly into the end table that housed one of Data's sculptures.

Tasha caught it just before it hit the carpet.

She couldn't remember if it was modelled after the late Andorian cubist style or neo-modernist Vulcan. Either way, Tasha recalled Data had spent four months perfecting the piece and would be sore to lose it.

Cradling the piece in her arms, Tasha pushed her way through the crowd until she reached Data's bedroom where she would put it somewhere safe.

As soon as the door closed, Tasha breathed a sign of relief.

The music was still thumping loud enough that it reverberated through Tasha's body. But at the very least, Data's bedroom was devoid of partygoers, and she could retrieve her belongings in peace.

Best of all, there was no sign of Data.

He's probably buried out there under half a dozen people. Tasha grumbled.

Suddenly, there was a giggle.

A very feminine giggle.

It was immediately followed by the familiar sound of a hand (or foot) coming up out of the water.

"I told you it was big."

It was Data's voice.

On the other side of the wall, Lieutenant Flores was admiring the size of his oversized bathtub.

"Whoa," she said in astonishment. "It really is big, sir. Well, bigger than any of the ones I've seen before."

Flores was a junior Lieutenant and shared a small suite with a roommate. It was a step above the lower decks but a far cry from the personal quarters that many of the ranking officers were allotted.

Back in the bedroom, Tasha was mortified.

"I'm surprised it fits."

Tasha recognised the voice as Lieutenant Gwyn Shore.

Data chuckled.

"I will admit it is snug, but more than enough for the two of you," Data remarked.

Stunned, Tasha gasped and dropped the statue. It slipped right out of her hands and shattered at her feet. While such a sound may have gone unnoticed due to the loud music, there was one person that heard it loud and clear.

"Is someone out there?"

Tasha froze and pressed her body against the wall, hoping against all odds that she would simply slip out of phase and right through the ship into space.

"We have room for another!" Ira shouted. "Is that not right, ladies?"

Tasha realised sooner or later she would have to face Data.

Graves bristled the moment he saw her in the doorway.

Data and the two Lieutenants were crammed into his oversized bathtub. He was nibbling caviar and sipping champagne as Lieutenant Shore had a little nibble of her own on Data.

To Tasha's relief, the three of them were all still in their skivvies.

"Like gum on a fucking shoe," he said slowly.

"I didn't come to fight. I just came to collect my things. I didn't realise you were… entertaining," Tasha settled on.

"This had been a grand evening," Graves said.

He sat forward in the tub, spilling his champagne as water sloshed out onto the floor.

"Why did you come here to ruin my party?" Ira demanded.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, I just-"

"You just what?" Graves shrieked.

The mood immediately shifted.

"Music off," Graves ordered.

There was a collective, audible whine from the main room as the lights came on.

"I think we should go," Lieutenant Flores said.

Only Data stopped her as she made to leave.

"Sit down," he hissed.

Data stood up in the tub, pulling himself to his full height as he towered over everyone in the room.

"Hey, what's going on with the music?" Riker asked as he rushed into the bedroom.

Riker stopped dead in his tracks.

"Whoa," he said.

Ira couldn't have cared less. He hoped that this time his warning would be enough to scare this pesky Security Chief off for good.

"What will it take for you to understand that I never want to lay eyes on you again?" Ira asked. "Did you honestly think that crawling back would change my mind?"

Instinctively, Tasha started to back toward the door.

"I just came to collect my things," Tasha repeated.

"It is pathetic. You just do not know when to quit!" Data spat, raising his voice.

People were starting to poke their heads around the door as Data closed in on Tasha. The last thing Tasha wanted was for another part of their relationship to be played out in front of an audience.

But given that so many aspects of their love had already suffered the same fate, it seemed only fitting things would end in the same manner.

"Then get your things and GET OUT OF MY LIFE!" Ira bellowed.

He underestimated the power of Data's vocal output capacity. So when he screamed, it was literally loud enough to reverberate through the room.

"You know what? They're not that important," Tasha said with a mournful nod.

Certainly not as important as leaving with whatever fragment of dignity Tasha had left.

She took a shaky breath and then turned to go – stopping just shy of the doorframe.

"What?" Graves prompted, annoyed.

Tasha straightened her posture. She lifted her chin and turned back to Data. She didn't want things to end this way.

In any case, there was nothing left to lose by speaking her peace.

"I want to be mad at you," Tasha confessed. "This would all be so much easier if I could be mad at you. But I can't."

She was surprisingly composed for a woman whose life had recently fallen apart.

"I wish you well," Tasha went on. "I really, truly do."

Tasha pulled the ring from her sleeve and held it out for Data to take.

Graves stood motionless as he eyed the object.

A ring?

"You once told me that when I would finally wear this, it would be a moment of happiness," Tasha recalled. "I understand that moment isn't meant for me."

When he didn't take the ring, Tasha set it down on the shelf along the wall.

"I hope you find what it is you're looking for. And I hope it brings you happiness," Tasha said.

There was no trace of bitter resentment or malice in her voice. Her words came from the heart and every one of them was genuine.

Ira said nothing.

He couldn't.

He was having trouble retaining control.

Because deep inside his neural net, Data was forced to watch Tasha walk out of his life and he was not about to let that happen without a fight.

Inside Data's body, Ira Graves and Data were locked in a battle, wrestling for control of his functions and speech.

But to everyone else, it simply looked like Data was at a loss for words.

"Right," Tasha said.

Without another word, she turned to go.

"Tasha," Data cried out.

She stopped.

Data reached for the ring. Looking at the ring flooded his mind with memories. The moment his fingers closed around it, Data felt himself struggling to hang onto control of his body.

"Tasha," he repeated.

Tentatively, she looked back.

Tasha was on guard. She didn't want to be hurt again. But Data seemed genuinely distressed.

Data closed his eyes and cocked his head to the side. His face twitched as Graves regained control.

"I will never forget you," Graves said.

It was hardly the touching goodbye Tasha imagined, but in the very least it was civil.

Data's expression changed to a devious smirk.

"No, I will never forget you – but one can dream," he remarked.

Graves threw his head back and laughed, amused at his own little joke.

Tasha slipped out the door and was grateful no one followed. She didn't have it in her to pretend she was okay anymore.

Graves was still laughing as his guests began to pick up and leave.

"Where are you going?" he demanded.

"Night," Lieutenant Flores said, slipping past him.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Graves said, catching her arm.

"Another time," Flores said.

She tried to pull her arm back, but Ira refused to let go.

"The night is just getting started," Graves argued.

"And I think I've had enough fun for one evening," Flores said.

She was clearly distressed.

"Baby, we have not even started," Graves insisted, pulling her flush against him.

Ira stiffened as he felt a strong hand on his shoulder.

"She said goodnight," Riker said in a warning voice.

Ira released Lieutenant Flores's arm and she scrambled out of the room, grateful to be free of Data.

In fact, it seemed his cruel treatment of Tasha had inadvertently turned away most of his guests.

Ira spied Lieutenant Shore as she tried to slip by – only Riker saw it and snagged Data's arm just in time.

"I think you've had enough fun for one evening," Riker said.

Mindful of his increased strength, Ira shook Riker off with ease – sending him tumbling into the table.

The remaining guests gasped and shrieked. Everyone stopped moving.

Graves scanned the faces of those left in the room. Where they had once looked upon him with affection, now they only saw him as a monster.

"WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT?" he shouted.

Ira drove his fist through the table and wheeled around to size up the crowd.

Riker put his hand up.

"Data," he said in a soothing voice.

"GET OUT!" Graves shouted. "GET OUT!"

Poor Will Riker was nearly trampled in the stampede as the crowd climbed over another to reach the door.

Will was the last to go, standing slowly and brushing the dirt off his uniform.

Worf had been alerted by the commotion. In spite of Data's warning, he poked his head inside. Worf was about to intervene, but Riker waved him off.

Will was almost to the door when he stopped. Marching back over to the workstation, Riker snatched his bottle of Romulan ale.

He wasn't able to waste it on Data. Not after that performance.

No, Will Riker could think of better places for a bottle of the good stuff – or rather, people that were in more dire need of a stiff drink than Data.

Ira Graves glanced around the empty room. The place was in utter shambles, but it was nothing compared to his own mental state.

He collapsed onto the floor under the emotional weight of the ring in his hand.

A ring.

Just when Ira thought that his situation could not possible grow more dire, at the very moment when he felt there was nothing left this troublesome blonde Security Chief could possibly do to irritate him any further – she drops this in his lap.

What have done? Ira thought.

Between the miscalculation on the Bridge and driving away Kareen, Ira was already wrestling against an overwhelming sense of fear that he had made grave mistake.

To top things off, there had been a number of moments where Ira felt control slip away almost as if Data was still in there somewhere, fighting to regain his mind.

And now this. Ira thought as he turned the ring over in his hand.

It was one thing to occupy the use of an android body. Ira had spent his entire life working to reach that point of development.

But the reality of it was altogether different than he anticipated.

While he delighted in the fact that he could smell, taste, and feel life (almost in a heightened sense), Ira had been trying to ignore how this shattered his preconceptions.

There was a voice creeping into the back of his mind that cautioned Ira may have been to hasty in judging Data and his capabilities before choosing to turn him into a vessel.

He had completely overlooked Data's sentience in the matter.

And Ira had never anticipated it would involve breaking up a serious relationship.

He had risked it all and come up empty.

Tasha Yar stirred and rolled over, burying her face against the cool side of an unfamiliar pillow.

She was vaguely aware of the smell of sandalwood and something spicy. But truth be told, Tasha couldn't tell if she was really smelling the pillow or if the aftertaste of what she had drank the night before.

Her teeth felt uncomfortably fuzzy. Her mouth was parched, and her nose felt stuffed up – all tell-tale signs she'd been sick the night before.

And she was definitely not wearing anything.

Tasha didn't want to open her eyes. She really wanted to go back to sleep.

But she needed something to drink, or she would wind up lying there for hours in hangover purgatory – too dehydrated to move, but too hungover to sleep.

Tasha rolled onto her back. When her eyes fluttered open, Tasha was surprised to find herself staring back at… herself.

"Huh?" she remarked aloud.

Tasha blinked a few times. As the room came into focus, Tasha realised there was mirror on the ceiling.

Kinky. She thought.

There was a growing feeling in the pit of her stomach that this was not a dream.

But who the hell do I know with a mirror over the bed? Tasha thought.

Tasha tentatively reached along the bed.

To her relief, she was alone. Glancing around the room, Tasha realised there weren't many clues as to the identity of the bed owner.

Tasha tugged on her earlobe and bit her lip as she tried to recall the night before.

She remembered sneaking into Data's party and the subsequent fallout. Tasha also recalled feeling utterly shattered – her self-confidence at an all time low.

She didn't feel like a woman, much less a person after being humiliated in front of the crowd at Data's.

Feeling like she could sink no lower, Tasha rolled over and checked the nightstand – analgesic cream, a pen and paper, personal lubricant, handcuffs.

Well. Tasha thought, her mouth going drier than she thought possible.

She wasn't judging the personal preferences of whoever owned these items. Data had a rather extensive repertoire himself.

Rather, Tasha was concerned she may have done something she would regret. Hell, if she was being honest with herself, Tasha already felt elbow deep in regret.

Without warning the door flew open and Tasha scrambled to cover herself up.

"I wasn't, um, I was just-" she stammered, hiding under the sheet.

The sound of warm, familiar laughter filled the room.

Tasha lowered the sheet just far enough to peek out.

"I forgot to ask how you like your eggs," Will Riker said.

Tasha blanched. He was wearing a short dressing gown and a beaming smile.

"I hope you're hungry," he said, wiggling his eyebrows.