Song for a Winter's Night - Part I

The lamp is burning low upon my table top

The snow is softly falling

The air is still in the silence of my room

I hear your voice softly calling

If I could only have you near

To breathe a sigh or two

I would be happy just to hold the hands I love

On this winter night with you

Stardate 44971.15

(Thursday, 21 December 2367, 11:21 AM local time.)

Centaurus Central Spaceport

"What happens when we get back to the ship?"

Data and I were lingering over the remains of breakfast at The Bistro, a rather unoriginally named restaurant in the dirtside part of Centaurus Central Spaceport. I'd picked the place because I loved the German-style pancake they served, and even Data had been impressed by the server's presentation as he mixed fresh lemon juice with melted butter inside the crepe-like shell, and then folded it first into a fan, and then a flower.

As had become our custom when we ate together in his quarters on the Enterprise, we'd ordered one pancake and an extra plate, and split the dish in two. With coffee and a dish of fresh fruit, it made a perfect breakfast, and the holiday music that was being played over the P.A. system only enhanced the feeling of being in a kind of bubble where, now that we'd claimed the designation, we could interact as a couple without anyone caring.

"Zoe?" He made the two syllables of my name into a request for more information. Well, it was better than I do not understand.

"What happens when we get back to the ship?" I repeated, keeping my voice low. "With us, I mean. Do we pretend our relationship hasn't changed? Do we date? Can we date?"

His yellow eyes weren't flickering back and forth but I could tell he was processing all my questions. Finally, he said, in a volume just as soft as mine, "We have already been 'dating' despite our mutual avoidance of the term, and I have no wish to discontinue that practice. It would be inappropriate to engage in intimate physical activity in common areas of the ship, but that is true of all couples, not only us."

"So, no making out in the turbo-lifts. Got it." I took a breath, then added, "Data, that's not something we'd do anyway. That's not… us. I just… I want to know if I'm allowed to… I don't know… hold your hand if we go for a walk in the arboretum. I want to know what the ground rules are."

He answered by lifting my left hand from the table and twining his fingers with mine. "I cannot give you 'ground rules' for a situation that is both new to, and specific to, the two of us. I believe we will have to 'play it by ear,' and figure it out together."

I stared at our interlinked hands and he followed my gaze. "You keep surprising me with how tactile you are. Last night, the way you held me. Ever since September you've been apparently fascinated by my hair. Right now…" I trailed off.

"Perhaps that is a subject best addressed in a less public venue," he suggested.

I smiled and added the hint of a teasing lilt to my voice when I answered, "Perhaps it is."

(=A=)

An hour or so later, we had retrieved my suitcase and cello from temporary storage, and were seated in the arrivals lounge, waiting for my father. "You really don't have to wait with me," I said. "Dad'll be here any minute, and if something happened and he's held up at home, I can take the grav-train."

"You were present when I promised your mother that I would keep you safe. Considering your predilection for getting into trouble when you are unaccompanied on space stations, it would be remiss of me to allow you to come to harm before you have had a chance to experience your requisite amounts of 'sun, sand, and surf.'"

"I traveled to the college fair and back to the ship without a minder," I pointed out. "And nothing happened. If you're so keen on being close to me, you could just come join us for Christmas."

"As we have discussed, I am the featured speaker at the cybernetics conference on Kneriad. I cannot renege on my commitment to be there merely because the woman in my life wishes it so."

I didn't blush at the phrase, but I did shift a little bit closer to him, and I did slip my hand back into his. Here, on my homeworld, we were still in that bubble. "Is that what I am?" I asked softly. "The woman in your life?"

"Did we not clarify only yesterday that we are a couple?" he asked, his voice equally quiet. "Did we not, just this morning, begin to determine how we would present ourselves when we have returned to the Enterprise?"

"Have I mentioned lately that your habit of being right all the time is kind of frustrating?" I was only half-teasing.

Data's response was as calm and measured as ever. "You have not, however I am quite certain that it is a sentiment you are likely to repeat with great frequency."

"Probably," I agreed breezily. "But if you ever get tired of hearing it, you can shut me up by kissing me," I teased.

"I will endeavor to remember that," came his light response. "Perhaps I should do so preemptively."

I turned my head sharply toward him, unsure if he was teasing me again, or not. His yellow eyes betrayed nothing, of course. "Data…?"

His kiss was gentle, sweet – faint hints of lemon, sugar, and butter layered over the usual nut-like essence of him – and brief. "In my study of humanoid romantic liaisons," he said, "the 'farewell kiss' is included as a meaningful ritual." His head tilted slightly, his brows lifting – a subtler version of the expression I'd come to think of as Exposition Man. "While my modesty protocols require that any public displays of affection are… I believe you would say tame… I am aware that a proper goodbye is important to you."

"But if it's not important to you…" I began.

"You are important to me, Zoe. Kissing you 'goodbye' is one of the ways I can reassure you of that fact."

"God," I said. "It's like… once you made the decision that we could be a couple, you were all in." The poker reference caused a faint flicker of surprise in his expression. "You never do anything by halves, do you?"

"No, Zoe," he said. "I do not." He hesitated. "However, I also do not wish for your father to arrive while we are in an intimate posture. I would prefer to speak with him about… us… before he is confronted with the image of an android kissing his daughter."

"Never would have pegged you for a prude, Data." I snarked, but we both knew I didn't really mean it.

Still, he answered the statement. "I am not," he said. "But I have been a parent, and I have first-hand experience with such a scenario."

"Sounds like there's a story there," I said.

"There is," he confirmed, and proceeded to tell me about Lal's experiment with kissing Will Riker in Ten-Forward.

I couldn't help but laugh. "I'm sorry, Data. I'm sure it was distressing for you, and confusing for Lal and Commander Riker, but the image of a young woman lifting him off his feet in the middle of the lounge is all kinds of hilarious."

He seemed to process that for a fraction of a second. "Ah!" he said, delighted by sudden understanding. "A physical representation of irony of situation. Yes, I can see how it would be considered humorous."

I grinned at him and pecked him on the cheek. Then I stood up. "You know my father – watch for him? I need to use the restroom."

"I will remain here," he promised.

(=A=)

It's really wrong when the toilets in a spaceport bathroom are more comfortable than the chairs in the waiting area. It was equally wrong that I was suddenly nervous about going back out there and sitting next to Data. My father would know, wouldn't he, that we weren't just teacher and student anymore? He'd be able to tell that we were more, that we were…dating.

Dating. I'm dating Data.

Oh, god, I'm dating Data.

I caught my reflection in the bathroom mirror. My lipstick was smeared. I fixed it but lingered there. God, my lips really were swollen. I looked… I looked about as well-kissed as a person can look. I retrieved a couple of moist towelettes from the dispenser knowing that if my makeup was smeared Data was probably wearing some of it, but I still remained there for the length of three songs.

Somewhat ironically, the last song was an instrumental piece I was pretty sure my father had composed, arranged, and conducted.

As I approached our seats, I saw that my father had arrived, and that he and Data were standing, and chatting.

"Hey, Dad," I greeted. "Love the jacket." It was red, and suede, and swirled like a cape. "Very seasonal."

"Ho, ho, merry, merry," he replied, and pulled me into a one-armed hug. His other hand was holding my cello. "Sorry for the delay; Gia was napping, and I didn't want to leave until she was awake."

"Is she doing okay?" I asked. "I thought she was ready to pop."

"I had not realized Gia was that close to her due date," Data said. "Congratulations on the impending arrival of your son or daughter."

"Thank you," my father answered. "Technically she's got another ten days or so. She's tired a lot, but she's fine." He grinned, "Of course, this one was so impatient to get out into the world that she arrived two weeks ahead of schedule, and she hasn't slowed down since." He snuggled me close again.

Data and I shared a look, but then he addressed my father. "I have observed that Zoe is usually 'ahead of the game.' I had not realized it was a trait she was born with."

My father looked sharply at Data, and for a moment, I wondered if he'd noticed the barely-evident trace of berry pink lipstick on my… on his mouth. But all he said was, "Yes. Yes, she is, and yes, she was." He released the arm he'd wrapped around me and extended his hand toward Data. "Thank you for delivering my precious cargo, Commander. You have our address?"

Data met my father's hand and shook it firmly and crisply. "I was happy to have Zoe's company, sir." He shifted his gaze slightly, including me as he said, "I will see you on the 29th."

I knew my face was betraying my reaction to that statement, but I didn't care. "Really?" I asked. "You'll stay through that weekend? You'll be at our New Year's Eve party?"

"I will be there," Data confirmed. He stepped away from us, and I grabbed the handle of my suitcase.

"Knock 'em dead at the conference, Data," I said, as my father turned toward the exit doors. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Zoe, Maestro."

Somehow, I knew Data wouldn't leave until I was out of sight, so when we reached the doors, I stopped. "Dad, I forgot something. I'll be right back."

"Don't be long," he said with fake exasperation coloring his tone. "I'm in short-term parking."

"I won't." I thrust the handle of my suitcase into his hand and ran back toward Data.

"Zoe," he said, catching me as I nearly barreled into him. "Is something wrong?"

"Not exactly," I grinned. I handed him the wrapped towelettes that I'd palmed earlier. "You're wearing bits of my lipstick, is all." I gave him a very quick hug. "Sorry. Bye." Then I dashed back to my father.

"I suppose you forgot to tell him that pink isn't his color?" Dad asked me in his driest tone.

I blushed. "You noticed that?"

"The last I heard, you'd thrown a cello at him. Now I see traces of your lipstick on his face, and body language doesn't lie, Zoetrope. We'll talk in the car."

(=A=)

My father listened as I explained everything that had happened since I'd returned to the Enterprise after my summer on Earth. Not sure what my mother had shared, and what she hadn't, I told him about Lore and the tongue stud and –

"He pierced your tongue?" my father asked, his face darkening. "And you're still wearing that thing."

I flicked my piercing back and forth in my mouth. "What, this one? No. Data and I managed to remove the original; this one is just because I thought it was cool… and since the hole was already there, why not?"

"As a performer, you really should avoid permanently marking your body," he said.

"It's a piercing inside my mouth, Dad. Completely removable, and if I leave it out for any length of time, the hole will totally heal. It's not like I had my ears pointed, or implanted antennae in my skull, or got a tattoo." All of those were common body modifications. Of the three, the latter was the only one I'd ever considered.

"Alright," he said. "That's reasonable." Then he smirked. "It must have driven your mother crazy."

I laughed. "She said it would do the same for you!"

The conversation got lighter after that, with Dad confessing, "I'm not surprised, Zoe. I liked your friend T'vek, and I didn't mind Theo, but I knew neither of them would last. You're all too similar. Young. Hot-headed."

"I'm getting better about the last bit," I said. "Slowly. And the young part… well… I can't exactly control that. Wish I could."

"Don't rush, darling. You'll get there. But as I was saying, I'm not surprised. You and your Commander Data played music together too well for people who were merely friends – yes, I know, nothing happened until fairly recently – the currents were still there, though. But…"

I should have known; there's always a 'but.'

"Dad?"

"Did you have to fall for a Starfleet officer?"

I goggled at my father, who, fortunately, had to keep his eyes on the road, as holiday traffic had us restricted to ground mode. "I was expecting you to have an issue with Data being older, and an android, not that he's in Starfleet."

"I think an older partner is good for you," my father said. "He'll ground you, temper some of your impulsiveness, if you let him. As to being an android, I've spent enough time with him to know that whatever issues that involves, the two of you will work out between you, if you want your relationship to survive. And at least he can't get you pregnant."

"Dad!" I wasn't sure if I was amused or horrified by his statement. It was probably a bit of both. I took a breath, then explained, "First, I've been on birth control for almost a year, so even if he was biologically capable, it wouldn't be an issue, and second, we're not… we haven't…"

I stammered to a halt, because suddenly the bubble I'd been in for the last day-and-a-half had burst, and everything was all too real.

"Zoetrope?" my father asked gently, sensing my change in mood.

"Data and I aren't having sex, Dad," I said after about a minute. My voice was calm and steady, even though my nerves were jangling. "Not yet, anyway. Mom made him promise we wouldn't go there until I was eighteen."

"I doubt you'll stick to that," he said softly. "I saw the way he looked at you."

"Data is the third in command of the flagship. He's the only sentient android in Starfleet, and one of only two in the whole Federation, and the other one is a sadistic psycho-droid." I was exaggerating slightly. Lore probably wasn't actually sadistic, just unstable. "For him to even take the risk to be with me… it's not just… it matters, Dad."

"Of course, it does, darling. You're meant for each other."

I reached across the gap between our seats and squeezed my father's upper arm. "Thanks, Daddy." I said. "But, it's more than that. Data says we're not in a race, and he's right. I don't want to rush things with him. Tev and I - it was fast and intense, and I don't have any regrets, but we would never have lasted even if his family hadn't been PCSd."

I took a breath and continued. "Mom said he was a really good first lover for me, and she had a point. And… I'm not saying Data and I are forever… I mean…I'm really young, and in some ways, he is, too, and it's far too new to even plan much ahead, but…" I hesitated, not sure what I meant to say. "But I need the freedom to explore it, and I need you to trust me, and trust him."

I wasn't accustomed to being quite this open with my father, but on some level, I knew I had to be. It was the only way he'd be on my – our – side. I was silent for a long moment, waiting, but my father was the one who spoke first.

"It's not like I have the right to judge you, Zoetrope," he said. "Gia and I are separated by a lot more years than you and Data." We shared a laugh at that, but my father sobered quickly. "I do have one more concern," he said. "What are you doing about your math class?"

"Actually," I said. "I had an idea about that while Data and I were having breakfast this morning, but there's someone I need to talk to about it before I can even bring it up with him. Do you mind if I place a subspace comm-call to the Enterprise when we get home?"

"Of course not, but you will clue me in, won't you?"

"As soon as I have the answer I need, yes."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" my father asked. In that moment, when he offered to help me find my own solution to a problem, rather than just fixing it for me, I knew I'd grown up, at least in his eyes.

"Not really, but if you want to be extra-sweet to your favorite daughter you could stop at Red Sands on the way home. I'm dying for a peppermint mocha."

"I'm sure that can be arranged."

Coffee was acquired, and then we made a stop at the grocery store to get a few 'emergency' items for Gia. By the time we got home, I was pretty tired, so I excused myself to make my call and take a nap until dinner.

Once in my room, I fired up the comm system and placed my call.

- U.S.S. Enterprise, Ensign Barnett here. How may I help you?

"Ray?" I beamed. "Hey, it's Zoe."

- You made it safely to Centaurus? How was the trip?

"Eventful, in a good way. But the details will have to wait. Can you route me to Lt. Commander La Forge, please? It's personal."

- Sure thing, Zoe, my friend answered. Transferring you now.

Twenty minutes later, Geordi had agreed to the solution to my math class issue pending approval from Data. I just had to pitch it to him. I thought about calling him, but I didn't want to distract him from his conference, and I really was tired. I sent a text-only message to my mother confirming that I'd arrived safely, and then I sent a similar one to Data: "Home. Safe. Good luck on your presentation. Love, Zoe."

Notes: Revised 13 March 2018. The song lyrics at the beginning are from "Song for a Winter's Night," which was originally written and performed by Gordon Lightfoot in 1967. Most contemporary listeners are probably more familiar with the version recorded by Sarah McLachlan. It will recur during the next two chapters of Auld Lang Syne (Part I). Zoe's German pancake is a riff on the way the full-sized Dutch Babies are served at Ol' South Pancake House in Fort Worth, Texas. These are really more crepe than pancake and are baked in an iron skillet. Kneriad is a world completely made up by me. Lal kissed Riker in the episode, "The Offspring."