Song for a Winter's Night – Part III

The fire is dying now, my lamp is growing dim

The shades of night are lifting

The morning light steals across my windowpane

Where webs of snow are drifting

If I could only have you near, to breathe a sigh or two

I would be happy just to hold the hands I love

And to be once again with you

On this winter night with you

Stardate 44995.71

(Saturday, 30 December 2367, 10:30 AM local time)

Beach Haven, Centaurus

I woke up twice during the night. Well morning. Between the long day and the storm-dark skies, I wasn't really aware of the correct time.

The first time I woke up was probably around five, when Data clicked off the entertainment system, and gently extricated himself from my embrace. The storm had mellowed some, but it was still pouring, and there were still random flashes of lightning bringing temporary illumination to my room. His eyes almost glowed when lit by lightning.

"Stay?" I asked.

I was halfway between sleep and wakefulness, and too muzzy to have any kind of filter, but we both knew I wasn't asking for sex – it was much, much too soon for that level of physical intimacy – and besides, there was no way our first time together was going to be in my childhood bedroom, in my father's house.

Even if we were the only people in the house, at the time.

Still, he promised, "I will return."

He disappeared through the bathroom to his room, and I pushed back the covers so I could slide into the bed properly, pulling them back over me.

When Data returned, he was wearing something that looked like pajamas, and he draped some other article of clothing over the back of a chair before returning to my bed. "If I limit the display on my padd to its softest illumination, will it disturb your sleep?" he asked.

"Nope," I answered groggily. "Monitor glow and keypad sounds… got used to them when I stayed with you. Miss them, sometimes."

"Very well," he said.

The second time I woke up it was just after eight – I think. On autopilot, I sipped from the water glass on my nightstand, and then rolled over and made contact with my warm, solid… beau.

"You're still here…" I observed stupidly, sleepily.

"Yes," Data said softly.

"Mmm. Best boyfriend ever." I was still asleep enough that I didn't even realize I'd used the word.

"I will try to be."

When I woke up for good, it was around ten in the morning, and it was because Data was calling my name. I opened my eyes to find him standing near my bed wearing a robe – or really, more of a dressing gown – and holding a coffee mug. I'd seen the garment before, though never on him, and it reminded me of an ancient video. "Basil Rathbone, much?" I asked, and then, as I sat up and reached for the mug, "You made me coffee?"

"I anticipated that you would require it after such a late night. Was I mistaken?"

"This is one of those times when your tendency to be frustratingly right is a blessing. Thank you." I eyed his robe again. "What's with the outfit?"

"You do not approve of Sherlock Holmes?" He seemed almost disappointed.

"Well, no. Not really. I mean, Data, he may have been an analytical whiz, but ol' Sherlock was also a drug-addled, misogynistic ass a lot of the time. The stories are entertaining, I guess, but I've never been terribly impressed with the character, and I'm really not a fan of Rathbone's portrayal. If you're into old-school, I think Jeremy Brett was much better. More recently, G'mer the Elder's interpretation was pretty compelling. Dad took me to see him perform Holmes as a one-man show a couple years ago."

"Am I to infer from your response that if I invited you to join Geordi and me for a Holmesian adventure on the holodeck you would refuse?"

"I wouldn't refuse, necessarily," I said. "If only because I'd love to see you in something other than your uniform. Until I saw you in a play, I was half convinced you showered in it. But… I thought Sherlock Holmes scenarios were banned from use on the Enterprise?" It was one of the program bans that had honestly surprised me. "Do you all want to avoid corrupting the ensigns with thoughts of cocaine and morphine?"

"That is not why certain aspects of the Holmes programs have been… restricted," he said.

"I'm guessing if you're invited by the ship's second officer and chief engineer, those restrictions are… unrestricted?" He took a fraction of a second to parse my grammar before confirming it with a nod. "I'd consider accepting," I said. "If I could play Irene Adler. Villains are way more fun to play than heroes."

His eyes widened slightly. "I will discuss possible scenarios with Geordi when we get back to the ship."

"Deal," I said, and then added, "Thank you for the coffee. If we're going out of the house today, though, we should get moving."

(=A=)

Half an hour later, the rain had finally abated, though it was still grey and chilly, and we were on Beach Haven's main street, where I was giving Data an abbreviated tour. "The bookstore – BookHaven - sells data solids and actual paper books," I said. "Sebastian's Music is one of my favorite stores. I got my very first cello here, and lots of local musicians come in and jam on weekends. It's owned by this Hamalki woman – have you met one, ever –?"

"There was a Hamalki scientist among the speakers at the Kneriad conference," he affirmed. "I believe you and she would enjoy one another's company."

"Then you know what they're like: giant glass spiders with twelve limbs and twelve eyes and voices that sound like windchimes." He nodded and I continued, "I was afraid of her the first time I met her, but then she played her great harp for me, and now I stop in whenever I can. Actually, I'm going to be working for her during the rest of my break."

"Working for her?" Data asked.

"Yeah, you know, in the store. Vacation job. Basic food and clothing and education may be free, but pocket money has to come from somewhere."

"Your family does not appear to be… 'hurting for money?'"

"We're not," I said, feeling a little uncomfortable. "Well, they're not. But, I don't want to be one of those spoiled-brat trust fund babies who never actually works for anything and has no idea how the real world works."

"That is an admirable attitude," he said. "But, Zoe, I think you are overly concerned with such things. No one who knows you would ever consider you 'spoiled.'"

"Okay, maybe not 'spoiled,' but definitely 'over-privileged.' And I'm okay with that… sort of. It's just… privilege should be used to do good in the world, don't you think?"

"I agree. I am also certain that you will 'do good in the world' in your way. You have time to discover how you will do so, and I look forward to being there to see it."

I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and just stared at him. "Certain? Really?"

Data's answer was a simple "Yes."

I smiled at him. "Thank you. I hope I never disappoint you – oh, this is our store." We had arrived at the menswear store where most of Dad's grad students and younger musicians tended to shop, but I paused before we actually stepped through the door. "Data, I don't want you to think I'm going all crazy-obsessive girlfriend on you and dictating what you should wear, and you don't have to go through with this if you really prefer to wear uniforms all the time. I mean, I don't want you…I don't think there's anything wrong with you, and I'm not trying to…" I stopped, both because it wasn't really the place for what I wanted to say, and because I wasn't even sure I was expressing myself correctly.

But he was ahead of me. "If you are attempting to assure me that you do not mean this as a criticism that I am 'not human enough,' do not worry. As I explained, I have never required civilian attire, therefore it has never been a priority to acquire any. You are a civilian, and, as I have been learning this weekend, you function in social circles that both overlap and are distinctly separate from my own. You are correct in that there are events and locations where being in uniform is neither the norm, nor entirely appropriate." He paused, and the expression on his face changed subtly, softening. "As my girlfriend, it is part of your role to offer opinions and make suggestions about such things, is it not?"

"Are we using those terms now?" I asked. "Girlfriend, boyfriend – I called you that this morning."

"And referred to yourself that way a few minutes ago," he added. "I believe they are the most appropriate commonly accepted terms for…us." He paused, as if gauging my reaction.

I stepped close to him and stretched up to kiss him on the cheek. "Alright, then, boyfriend, let's go shopping." I didn't miss the brief flash of smile my comment elicited.

For the next hour or so, a bleach-blond surfer-turned-salesperson named Oscar helped Data put together a small but comprehensive civilian wardrobe, making him try on combinations and model them for me, and letting me make suggestions. I was right, in that Data looked amazing in red, and pretty hot in black, but it turned out there were certain shades of blue that worked well for his unique skin tone also.

When Data mentioned that he also needed beach attire, "appropriate for being a spectator at Surfside," Oscar directed him to the casual-wear part of the store, and then glanced over at me.

"You surf?" he asked. "Ever been to Earth? I hear the waves there are killer."

"I was practically born surfing," I answered. "And yeah, I did some surfing in Santa Cruz and Stinson Beach last summer. We didn't stay out long, though. The swell wasn't that great – it's supposed to be better in fall and winter – and the locals were saying it was kind of sharky."

"Did you see any? Sharks? I don't think I could get in the water knowing a fish was likely to eat me."

"Didn't see anything but some washed up kelp," I said. "I'm looking forward to Surfside tomorrow. Data's never seen me ride a wave."

"Dude," Oscar called in the direction of the dressing rooms, "your woman is awesome."

"I agree," said Data, returning from the dressing room in a 'Hawaiian' shirt, board shorts, and…

"Data, are you wearing sandals? With socks?"

"A most peculiar form of footwear," he observed. "They do provide room for wiggling one's toes," he wiggled his to demonstrate, "but I fail to see how they protect you from sand."

"They don't, really, except to keep the soles of your feet from direct contact with really hot sand. Also, one doesn't typically wear them with socks." I took a closer look at the rest of his outfit. The shirt was pretty muted, really – cornflower blue, butter yellow, and splashes of red – somehow it worked for him. The board shorts, on the other hand did not. "Data, you don't tan, do you?"

"No," he said, "I do not."

"And you don't get hot. And even if you did, it won't be hot tomorrow. I think maybe we should get you one more pair of pants – khakis, maybe? – that are just slightly lighter weight. You won't look out of place, but, it's a better look for you."

"That would be acceptable."

"The sandals, I leave to you to decide about. You already added regular shoes to your collection, and I didn't mean to make you spend this much."

"Zoe, you are not making me do anything," he reminded me gently.

He kept the sandals.

And he wore one of the new outfits out of the store.

(=A=)

By three in the afternoon, we had enjoyed lunch at my favorite coffee bar, Red Sands, where I ended up introducing Data to half the town, stopped by a flower shop so I could pick up a card and some flowers for Gia, and were on our way back to my flitter to go home when something caught my eye in a shop window.

"Zoe, is something wrong?" Data asked when I stopped to gaze through the glass window at the jewelry store's display.

I blushed. "No. A piece of jewelry caught my attention, is all. We can keep going."

He joined me at the window. "Which piece interests you?"

I pointed at a delicate necklace that combined rose gold with pink pearls. "That one. But I'm just looking; and we should really get going."

Data followed my pointed finger to the jewelry I was looking at. "It would be aesthetically pleasing against your skin," he said softly.

"Yeah, gold is totally my metal." I blushed faintly at the unintended double entendre and directed his attention to our reflections in the glass. "We look good together."

In the glass, I saw his eyes widen slightly. "Yes," he agreed "we do."

"We should go."

I let Data pilot the flitter the few minutes it took to get home, and was quiet on the ride, just thinking. We'd had an amazing shuttle ride the other week, and two blissful days, but it couldn't last… could it? Once we were back in the world of structure and uniforms and people who cared much more about appearances and rules than they did in the artsy community my father lived in, things would have to change, wouldn't they?

Wouldn't they?

(=A=)

The house was packed when we got home.

Well, not packed, exactly, but judging by the boisterous laughter coming from the kitchen Gia's parents and brother, and my uncle, had all arrived.

"The hordes have descended," I said to Data. I left the bags I was carrying near the stairs and turned toward him. "Actually, Gia's family is pretty cool. And my uncle Zane is… well, he's literally a rock star these days, and before I bring you in there to meet them, I'd really love it if you kissed me."

"I would be happy to," he said, and did. Brief, sweet, soft. Perfect.

"I will never get tired of this," I said softly, resting my head against his chest for just a few seconds.

Data used the opportunity to kiss the top of my head and assure me, "Nor will I."

We lingered for another minute or so, and then walked hand-in-hand into the kitchen, where we found my father playing host to Tony and Nunzia Viglione, Gia's parents, and their son Nick, as well his younger brother, my favorite uncle, Zane.

"Ah, Zoe, you're back. And Data… I see my daughter convinced you to expand your wardrobe," my father greeted us as we walked in.

"Zoe can be quite logical when she presents an argument," Data said, teasing me just a little.

"So, she can," my father agreed. "I think you all remember my daughter," Dad asked the three Vigliones. "This is Lt. Commander Data, from the Enterprise. He's her –."

"Boyfriend," Data and I said together, before my father could say beau.

After that, there were a lot of European-style kisses exchanged with both of us, and Nunzia and Tony both embraced me, as did my uncle.

"Zoe, we ordered pizza from Mario's, are you two joining us?"

"Definitely," I said. "Where's Gia? Is the baby okay?"

"They're napping," her mother told me. "Gia's exhausted, and babies sleep pretty much all the time at first. She'll be down as soon as she's able."

"Or not," my father said. "I'd rather she rests tonight and be able to visit the party tomorrow."

"Is that still on?" I asked, dropping into one of the open chairs at the table – they'd left the two at the end open, apparently anticipating that Data and I would eventually return. "I mean, Zeke can't be exposed to people yet, can he?"

"Not yet, no. Just the immediate family," Dad answered. "But yes, the party's still on. Speaking of which, after Surfside tomorrow, I'll need your help."

"I expected as much."

"Data, would you mind if we put you to work as well?"

"I would be happy to help in any way, of course," he said.

(=A=)

By eight that night the pizza had been delivered and devoured, along with several bottles of beer and soda – Dad and I were the soda drinkers, everyone else had beer, including Data, who kindly pretended not to notice when I stole the occasional sip from his bottle.

Nick and I volunteered to clean up, while Dad checked on Gia and the baby – both were fine – and Nunzia and Tony went upstairs to change into more comfortable clothes. Zane, who'd been uncharacteristically quiet all evening, left to make a comm-call, and Data also excused himself, carrying all of our shopping bags upstairs.

"Your... boyfriend… he's not just any officer, is he?" Nick asked as we put the leftover pizza into storage bags. "My parents don't pay much attention to Starfleet, but I know the name, and the face, from the newsnets."

"He's the second officer of the ship," I confirmed. "And yes, he's thirteen years older than I am, and yes, he's an android, and yes, both my parents are aware of all of that. We met when I joined his math tutorial, and we started getting closer when he agreed to oversee my music theory studies. We were really only 'just friends' until fairly recently… and then we weren't. And now we're… together."

"And you're happy. Happier than you were with that Vulcan boy." He made it a statement.

"Wow, I didn't think you'd even noticed me much last year."

"Not notice you? With your personality? Really, Zoe, you underestimate your charm."

I rolled my eyes at him. "Maybe. Maybe not. Anyway, he's… he makes me better. More confident. Smarter. Maybe even funnier. And it terrifies me because I'm not even seventeen, but there's a part of me that feels like he's who I'm supposed to be with forever."

"Stranger things have happened," Nick observed. "You're a junior, aren't you? In high school?"

"Yeah. I mean, I have almost enough credits to graduate this year, if I wanted to push that hard, and I could definitely graduate at the end of first semester, next year, instead of waiting 'til May or June, but, everyone keeps telling me I don't need to rush things, and I'm not even sure where I want to go to school yet."

"I thought the plan was to follow your father's footsteps and go to the Martian School?"

"Well, I have to apply, for a lot of reasons, and I'm a legacy so they pretty much have to admit me, but it's actually not my first choice. I'm looking at schools on Earth, actually – Harvard, Yale, NYU."

"As a music major?"

"No, actually. I want a broader curriculum than that. I'm leaning more toward theater, but then, I'm also kind of flirting with pre-law. If you're going to be here after the holiday, I'd love to pick your brain about that."

"I'm not sure I have much to offer in the way of advice," he said. "But I can tell you what a pre-law major is really like. And I'll repeat my offer: if you want to do an internship this summer, even if it's just two weeks, call me; we'll set something up."

"I'll think about it," I said, and I meant it.

"You would make a good attorney," Data said from behind me. "If that is what you choose to do, but I believe you would be happier pursuing a career on stage."

"How much did you hear?" I asked him.

"I heard you name the universities you are considering, I believe there are two or three others that might suit you, but we can discuss it later if you like. Nick, I did not realize you practiced law. May I ask what your specialty is?"

"I work for an NGO that handles immigration and civil rights issues, mostly," Nick explained. "But I'm attached to a full-service law firm."

"I am gratified to hear that," Data said, "as I require the services of an attorney who handles probate issues."

I turned sharply to stare at my… boyfriend. (God. Data was my boyfriend. I was his girlfriend. I shook my head to clear it.) Soong's will? I mouthed, and he lifted his eyebrows and sort of flicked his eyelids in confirmation. Aloud, I asked, "Data, would you rather I not be here for this discussion?"

"I would prefer that you remain, if you do not object." I didn't, and I said so. Data continued, addressing Nick. "I have recently come into possession of the last known will and testament of my father – the man who created me – Dr. Noonian Soong. He has left all of his holdings to me, but there is some contention about my right to inherit, as I am not a biological being."

Data outlined the issues of his status, the source of the will, and several other points, most of which I was somewhat aware of already.

"I think we can help with that," Nick said. "I'll need to bring in some colleagues. Before we go any further, though, do me a favor? Send ten credits to my account – it's the friends-and-family retainer, and by exchanging money, you're guaranteed attorney-client privilege."

"Ah," said Data. "Thank you." I offered him my padd, which was still on the counter where I'd left it a day or so before, and he and Nick handled their transaction, and also shook hands. Then Data said, "There is the additional 'wrench in the works' that time is of the essence. A Starfleet officer, Commander Bruce Maddox may have acquired a copy of the will, and is likely attempting to invalidate it, if so."

Nick nodded. "After the holiday, I'll make some calls. I'm sure we can help."

"Thank you," Data said.

My father, Zane, and Nick's parents rejoined us at that point. "It's only nine," Dad said. "Too early for bed, too late for anything strenuous. Who's up for cards?"

"What game?" Nick asked.

"Well, I've heard Tony's a mean poker player," Dad responded.

"Not mean, just wicked," Tony teased. I was growing to really like the old man. He didn't talk much, but when he did, he was always funny.

"Data plays poker," I chimed in.

"I'll play," Zane put in. I noticed he was staring at Data a lot, and that he was just on the edge of being glowery, but he was keeping quiet, so I shrugged it off. He'd likely corner me and reveal all at some extremely inopportune moment. That was his typical M.O.

"What about you two," Nick asked. "Mom? Zoe?"

"So not my game," I said. "But don't let me stop you. I'm going to review the surf reports and then soak in the hot tub for a while. I need to be ready for tomorrow morning."

"Do you mind company, Zoe?" Gia's mother asked. Technically, I guess she was my step-grandmother. "I'm not much for poker, and the hot tub sounds delightful. You can see the ocean from the deck, can't you?"

"You can," I said, "if there's enough moonlight. But even in the dark, you can hear it. Do you have a bathing suit with you? If not, we have extras in the pool house."

She went outside, probably to find a suit that fit, but I hesitated. I went back to the table where Dad, Zane, Nick, Tony and Data had begun their game, and touched the latter on the shoulder. "Anyone who's coming to Surfside needs to be up by six, so we can be there by seven. If you could make sure the game ends a little before midnight…"

"I will keep track of the time," he promised.

"If I'm not still out in the pool or hot tub, come to my room after the game?" I asked softly.

"Yes," he said.

I squeezed his shoulder and went out through the mud room, grabbing one of my own bathing suits on the way. Nunzia and I had a pleasant hour before she left for her room, and I swam laps for a while after that before I, too, gave up on the night.

(=A=)

Stardate 44997.26 (Sunday, 31 December 2367, 12:05 AM local time)

Just after midnight, Data poked his head through the open bathroom door, to find me reading in bed. "Zoe?" he asked. "You wished to see me?" He was wearing the dressing gown and pajamas again, I noticed.

"The game is over?"

"It is. Everyone else has retired to bed."

"And how much of my inheritance did you win from them?"

"None," he said. "We played only for points."

I wrinkled my nose. "Well, that's dull." But I lifted my hand before he could object. "Come with me to the next room?"

I climbed out of my bed and led him into the sitting room that was part of my suite. Dad had installed a basic replicator for me, years before, and I used it to produce two mugs of mint tea. "There hasn't been a good time to do this, but I want to be able to surf without it weighing on my mind. We weren't together for Christmas because of your conference, but I have presents for you anyway."

"I have gifts for you as well," he said. "I will return in a moment." He left the room, but came back quickly, carrying a shopping bag that we hadn't acquired on our shared trip.

The first thing I handed him was a data solid. "We both know I can't be your student anymore," I said softly. "Although now that we are more physically intimate, I'm pretty sure I could sit in class and not be completely distracted. It's enough to know that we can share kisses and cuddles in private. We - we still can, can't we? On the ship?"

"We have already agreed that while discretion and decorum are required, we do not have to 'go backward' in our relationship," he confirmed.

"Just checking." I flashed a winsome smile. "So, the data solid contains all the homework from the weeks I wasn't in your class, reviewed and graded by Geordi. I talked to him while you were away being famous, and he said that if you and Ms. Phelps agree to it, he would continue grading my work in your math tutorial. I'd like to try coming back to class for the actual lectures, if you'll allow it.

"I believe that would be ethically acceptable," he said. "Providing Ms. Phelps and your classmates all agree. I was not aware you were keeping up with the assignments."

"Well, I was on the fence about it, but Geordi said I should. He gives decent advice, from time to time."

"I have also found that to be true."

"I don't see what my friends have to do with it, but I guess we can work that out at another time."

"I believe that would be wise."

I smiled. "Okay, part two."

He raised his brow, "There is more?"

"Did you really think a few weeks of homework qualified as a gift?" I teased. "There's a bit more. Part two is how we handle music theory."

"Geordi cannot grade you on that."

"No, but the computer can, and Counselor Troi said Commander Riker is willing to oversee the final exam, though she also said it was likely okay if you did, since it was always a personal enrichment course and not part of my actual transcript."

"Which do you prefer?"

"You, always. So, if you're willing, I'd like to do the final as soon as I get back, and after that… I don't need a teacher anymore, so much as a coach, and a partner. I need someone to make sure I'm well-prepared for my audition for The Martian. I got the list of suggested audition pieces in my email today. Even last year, Dad noticed how well we play together." I handed him a data flimsy with the sheet music I had to pick from and then learn.

"As we discussed on the shuttle, my own musicianship has improved since we began working together."

"And you still owe me guitar lessons."

"I remember," he said. "I look forward to that experience."

I smiled at him. "Me, too, Basil, darling," I teased him with the nickname. I lifted one more item from the table and handed it to him. This one was a wrapped box. "This is your actual present. And may I just say, you're really difficult to shop for."

I watched him open the box, and remove a tissue-wrapped object, which he carefully unwrapped to reveal a holographic photo-cube. He activated it and watched as the images cycled through. "These are all images of us," he observed.

"You painted all those pictures of me… but even though I was looking at you, there was no 'you' in the images. I thought you might like having pictures of us… together, I mean. I know you remember everything, but sometimes it's nice to have an external perspective." The six pictures on the cube included our very first concert together, a scene from The Diary of Anne Frank, a trio of candid shots from events on the Enterprise, and the professional shot I'd purchased without him knowing, of the two of us framed in the window of the lighthouse from the day before. It was one of those keepsake pictures that tourist places always offer. "I kept copies of some of them," I said.

"Thank you, Zoe." He couldn't express emotions, would claim he didn't have them – still – but I could tell he was as pleased and touched as was possible for him.

Data replaced the things I'd given him on the table and retrieved the package he'd brought in from where he'd set it next to him on the couch. "I am still learning how to select appropriate gifts," he cautioned. "And I chose not to solicit advice this time."

The wrapping turned out not to be paper at all, but a midnight blue scarf patterned with tiny silver stars and fastened with silver and gold ribbon. I slung it around my neck and smiled. "You're doing fine so far." Inside, wrapped in tissue, I found a t-shirt. "Hard Rock Café: Shi'Kahr," I read, delighted. "Data, these are rare. They were only open for two years. Oh, god, this is fantastic." I flung my arms around him and kissed him hard. "You are fantastic." I said.

He returned my impulsive embrace, as he explained, "There was a vintage store on Kneriad and this was in the window. I could not let it go unpurchased."

"I didn't think you even noticed my shirts."

"I have noticed. But you have failed to observe that there is one more package."

Indeed, a small box had fallen from the folds of the shirt. I could tell it held jewelry, and for a moment I was terrified that he'd bought the necklace I'd been eyeing. I let out a sigh of relief when it wasn't a necklace at all but a pair of seashells that had been frosted with gold sparkle-dust and turned into earrings. "Oh, these are lovely, thank you."

"You are welcome."

I picked up my nearly forgotten mug of tea – it was still warm – and drank it down. "Don't ever worry that you don't know how to choose presents. Any one of these things would have been enough. I feel spoiled. And… cared for. And… special."

"You are special to me, Zoe."

"I know," I said. "I do know," I reiterated. "You show me every day." I had something else I wanted to say, but I knew it was late, and I wanted to be at my best in the water the next day. "I should go to bed. Would you mind waking me a little after six?"

"I will." He hesitated. "If you wish me to stay again…"

I got up from the couch, "Wish? Yes, of course I wish, but it was an indulgence I shouldn't have asked for last night, and it's not fair to you anyway." I leaned down to kiss him again – quickly, sweetly – and then grinned and ruffled his hair. "Goodnight, Data."

"Good night, Zoe," he said, also rising. "Pleasant dreams."

He turned out the lights in the sitting room, waited while I got back into bed and turned out my room lights as well, before he disappeared back through the bathroom to his own rooms on the other side.

I fell asleep with a smile on my face, and my dreams that night were full of love and light and surfing.

Notes: We originally met Gia's parents and brother and Zoe's uncle Zane in chapter 34 of Crush. Zoe's love of collectible t-shirts runs all through the first story, and the scenes on the photo cube are from Crush, Crush II: Ostinato, and previous chapters of this story. If their relationship in this chapter seems excessively fluffy, consider that they'll have to pull back a lot when they're back on the ship. This is vacation in more ways than one. The Hamalki are from the expanded universe of the TOS novels, and are a race of architects and designers. 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.