A/N: I'm working diligently to get caught up on this series. I've had to take a few months off and step back from writing and now I'm just starting to wade back in again.

Thank you for your patience.

This contains smut and fluff. If that's not your thing, kindly hit that back button.

This chapter & the next cover the events from "The Complication" surrounding the black hole incident (chapters 33 – 36).

It is not necessary (but strongly encouraged) to read "The Complication" for the full context. There's also some wonderful moments between Jean-Luc, Guinan, Beverly, Tasha in this bit of the story that are not included here.

Charlie and I recognise some readers are only reading the "Missing Scenes." And that's okay! In an effort to keep this focused (and to keep me on track) I will be breezing through some of that to focus strictly on the Data/Tasha romance.

Life went on following the Romulan incident.

Beverly's inoculant worked wonders.

The crew had healed and returned to their normal duties. Work in the labs had resumed. And life on the Bridge was back to normal.

Well, as normal as things could be on a starship.

The Enterprise was preparing for a scientific mission to the Heboyd system. It was a largely unexplored region of space. Charted more than a century earlier, the system was uninhabited.

There had been few detailed scientific expeditions in the area.

Data, Geordi, and a small team were looking forward to the chance to explore several planets and moons up close.

It was a purely scientific mission and one that Data and Geordi had been looking forward to for some time.

Heboyd V was a dense, ice-giant planet that was orbited by several moons. Data and Geordi would be leading a team to take observations, study the planet's unique weather system, and to leave several probes for long-term study.

The entire system also featured an unusually dense gravitational pull that remained unexplained. It was very possible they would find some grand discovery during their trip – possibly even a new wormhole.

It was the type of pure, discovery-driven research they all looked forward to.

"It rains diamonds on Heboyd V," Geordi said eagerly.

"And the atmospheric weather patterns produce some of the most stunning cloud patterns observed among ice giants," Data added.

"Buddy, I think this will be a trip to remember!" Geordi declared.

While Data and Geordi were busy working on their preparations for the mission, Tasha was working on her third whisky.

It was girls' night. That meant Beverly, Deanna, and Tasha were in Deanna's quarters. It was their first girl's night since before the hearing on Starbase 118 and three friends had a lot to catch up on.

Beverly's work in developing an inoculant for the mysterious Romulan contagion had paid off. Captain Picard had put her up for the Leonard McCoy Medical Merit Award.

"You know the one good thing that came out of that situation was the Captain got a full eight hours of sleep," Beverly said in astonishment. "He's so stubborn, it was kind of nice to see him rest for once."

"Well I can tell you Will didn't have that problem," Deanna explained. "He slept for fourteen hours - and when he got up, ate an alarming number of eggs."

The three of them laughed.

"I suppose it's a good thing Data doesn't need to sleep or eat," Beverly teased.

She had meant the comment to be light-hearted, but Deanna could sense that it touched a nerve.

"But he performs better when he's rested," Tasha replied a little more stiffly than intended. "And he likes to try food."

Beverly could see that her remark had been hurtful.

"I'm sorry, Tasha. I didn't mean anything by it," Beverly apologised. "You're right."

An awkward silence fell upon the three friends.

"I'm sorry. I just-" Tasha grumbled and opened her eyes. "He's the only Senior Officer that has to have a workstation in his quarters. He feels better when he rests – something he rarely ever did before and, in some cases, wasn't permitted to do at all."

Deanna could sense Tasha's shudder at the thought.

"Data's a lot more human than people give him credit for," Tasha went on.

"And he makes you happy," Deanna said.

Tasha grinned.

"Yeah," she replied. "He really does."

At 23:00, Tasha made her way to Data's quarters. She glanced around and noticed he wasn't in the main room nor was he at his workstation.

When she opened the door to his bedroom, she smiled.

He was in bed.

Rest programme activated.

Tasha padded across the carpet, threw her uniform into the garment reprocessor, and slipped in behind him. She snuggled up against his back, grateful to see he was resting.

Data had found he functioned better after initiating his rest programme and he wanted to be prepared for their mission in the morning.

Sensing her presence, he awoke.

"Your evening has concluded?" Data inquired.

"Mmm hmm," she replied as she closed her eyes.

"My suspicion about Geordi's feelings for Ensign Gomez has been confirmed," Data whispered.

"Oh?" Tasha replied.

For the last ten days it had been all Data could talk about when they were alone. Data had first observed a budding attraction between the two shortly after Sonya joined the team. Data was eager for Geordi to ask Sonya on a date.

Tasha was hesitant.

She reminded Data that Geordi had suffered a series of heartbreaks recently and may need time.

"Just don't push it, eh?" Tasha asked.

Data rolled over and looked at her.

"Is it not true that our relationship would not have been initiated had it not been for Geordi's intervention?" Data inquired.

It was true – thanks to Geordi and Miles (with help from Commander Riker), Data had come to understand the common interpretation of Regulation 1138.

"I believe Geordi requires a metaphorical push," Data went on.

"Do me a favour and don't mention it unless Geordi brings it up, OK?" Tasha suggested.

Data considered her recommendation and decided it was likely sound advice.

"If that is your wish," he replied.

Data rolled onto his back so Tasha could lay her head on his chest.

"And promise me one thing?" Tasha asked. "Have fun tomorrow."

She meant it.

Tasha knew how excited he was for this mission.

"On Heboyd V it rains diamonds," Data said.

Tasha smiled against him.

"I apologise as that is the eighth time I have mentioned that fact in the last thirty-six hours," Data confessed. "But I find my anticipation has compelled me to fixate on the subject."

It was late, and Data needed to rest.

But Tasha wasn't going to deny him the opportunity to share something that he was so fascinated with.

He was excited.

And she wanted him to enjoy himself.

"Set a timer on your chronometer," Tasha instructed. "And then tell me all about it."

They both knew if he didn't set a timer, he would be liable to talk all through the night.

Data accessed his internal chronometer and set an alarm to go off in exactly one hour.

"The unique conditions of the Heboyd V's weather system mean that when it rains, the methane in the atmosphere causes it to harden into graphite and then crystallised carbon as it falls," Data explained.

"It sounds lovely," Tasha said.

"Yes," Data replied in a faraway voice.

Tasha's eyes were a little glazed. Her cheeks were flushed from the drinks she'd had at Deanna's. Data thought she looked divine.

"Data?" Tasha prompted.

"You are so beautiful," Data remarked out of nowhere.

Tasha opened her mouth to protest, but Data cut her off with a swift kiss. Tasha keened as Data's fingers worked their way into the back of her hair.

"Data," he breathed as his lips travelled down her neck. "Data, you have to leave early in the morning."

"I know," he replied.

"You have a mission-"

It was a half-hearted protest and they both knew it.

"I know," Data repeated, before peeling Tasha's pyjamas back from her shoulder in order to nibble at the flesh there.

Tasha tried to reach under his shirt. But Data was too quick. He caught her wrist, pinning it to the bed.

Tasha giggled, caressing his leg with her care foot.

"Did you set a timer?" Tasha asked.

She truly didn't want him up all night. He may not have required rest – but Tasha knew he performed better after a decent night's sleep.

Data stopped, staring down Tasha for a few moments as he studied her expression.

"Do you wish to stop?" Data asked.

"No," Tasha answered honestly. "I just know tomorrow is important."

"Nothing is as important as us," Data replied.

The corner of her lip curved upward ever so slightly. Data had a way making even the mundane sound sweet.

"Did you set a timer?" Tasha insisted.

"Tasha, I could leave tomorrow and never come back. Please let me partake in bringing you satisfaction before I go," Data remarked. "I would so like to feel you shake apart once more before-"

His intention had been to come across as playful.

But it made Tasha feel uneasy.

"Please don't say things like that," Tasha urged. "Gives me the heebie jeebies."

Data paused, cocking his head to the side as he tried to work out the meaning of this phrase.

"Heebie jeebies. A feeling of anxiety, apprehension, or inexplicable fear-"

Data stopped himself and turned back to Tasha.

"It was not my intention to give you the heebie jeebies," Data said.

He grinned, his hands teasing at the waistband of her sleep shorts.

"But I will make you tremble," Data growled.

Tasha shrieked as he dove under the sheets.

"Riker to Enterprise, please respond," Riker said.

The team had completed their readings on the first moon and were back out in open space. The team for the mission consisted of Data, Commander Riker, Geordi, Worf, Miles O'Brien, and Wesley.

Things were going great. They had collected quite a few samples and plenty of data to take back for the science teams.

But they'd hit a snag - they had been trying to raise the Enterprise via subspace communication for over an hour without success.

Chief O'Brien ran a series of diagnostic scans and determined there were no issues with the equipment.

"It is possible the Enterprise is not in a position to receive communications," Data offered.

During their mission through the Heboyd system, the Enterprise was planning to take a trip to a nearby nebula for her own scientific mission. The extreme gravitational wavefronts in the Heboyd system made bringing a ship like the Enterprise in a challenge.

But the shuttle had anticipated the ship would remain in contact. However, it was obvious there had been a change of plans.

It was certainly possible the Enterprise had entered an area with limited communications or had been called away for an emergency.

"Should we head back to the rendezvous point and wait?" Worf asked.

"Why?" Geordi questioned. "If the ship isn't there, why would we wait around when we could finish our mission here?"

It would do them no good to sit around for another thirty hours when they could use the time to complete their mission.

While Geordi occupied himself with work, Wesley decided to offer a helpful bit of advice when it came to Ensign Sonya Gomez.

"She likes cargo bay rock," Wes said as he soldered the connection between the visual sensor and the probe.

Geordi was puzzled.

"Cargo bay rock?" Geordi asked.

"It's like that heavy metal Andorian stuff but more electric lute," Wesley went on. "And it's usually played in cargo bays. Real underground, yanno?"

Geordi finished his initial test of the power coupling and set down his scanner.

"No, I don't know," Geordi admitted.

"Well, there's a concert next week in Ten Aft and Astronomy Domine is playing," Wesley informed him. "It's in Ten Aft."

"Very funny, did Commander Riker put you up to this?" Geordi asked.

"Ten Aft? Love it!" Riker called back.

Geordi shook his head.

Of course, Riker had been there.

Geordi was certain that if three ensigns had a party in a Jefferies tube junction Riker would know about.

"Data's been there once or twice," Wesley said.

Geordi turned around to look up at Data.

"Lieutenant Yar has a peculiar fondness for Klingon death metal," Data said, his voice tainted with a hint of mild disparagement.

Geordi was having trouble hiding his amusement.

"I find the heavy distortion, anthemic choruses, and harsh vocals to be-" Data paused as if searching for the correct word. "Not entirely pleasant."

"You know you don't have to like it? It's okay if it's not your thing," Geordi offered.

Data cocked his head to the side.

"I would rather be subjected to the minor tone atonality in the cargo bay than in my quarters," Data replied.

Data's face soured.

"Recently Tasha has attempted to teach herself to play the Gat'leth," Data said with a frown.

A Gat'leth was a Klingon instrument. The body was shaped like a Bat'leth with a long neck similar to a guitar. It had eight strings and was a common feature among Klingon and Andorian rock bands.

"She has not been entirely successful," Data added.

Geordi choked back a laugh.

Data was an accomplished musician and always eager to help. Tasha was the type of person that liked to do everything on her own – and could get fairly testy if someone tried to interfere.

Geordi could only imagine how hard it must be for Data to sit there and listen without intervening.

"So anyways, I think you should ask her if she wants to go next week. Like I said, Astronomy Domine is playing and she's really into-" Wes went on.

"Wes, we've already been over this. I'm too old for Ensign Gomez. This is proof!" Geordi exclaimed. "You know what? I don't want to talk about this anymore.

"I just meant she likes spending time with you," Wesley replied. "I'm not saying you have to ask her on a date."

Wes reached for the decoupler to check that the input buffers were properly synchronised.

"But you should," he added with a wicked grin.

Geordi's face flushed.

"Wesley, if Geordi does not wish to discuss the topic then we should honour that request," Data cautioned.

Geordi breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thanks, Data," Geordi said.

"However, Wesley is correct," Data added before turning back to his log.

Geordi grumbled incoherently and resumed working on the probe in silence.

As the hours ticked on, the shuttle still had no luck in raising the Enterprise.

They had attempted to adjust the frequency but were still unable to make contact.

"This was supposed to be a routine mission," Riker muttered.

Worf cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Routine?" he said in a low voice. "On this ship?"

Feeling he had no alternative left, Riker decided it was time to shift gears.

"Data? We're going to need you up here for a moment," Riker said as he called out to the back of the shuttle. "We're still unable to make contact with the Enterprise."

Data's brain was in overdrive as he considered various theories as to why their subspace communications had gone unanswered.

In the back of his head, a theory crept in and settled as an unwelcome possibility.

"Sir, with your permission I would like to modify one of the probes and launch it at high velocity back toward the rendezvous point," Data explained.

Riker nodded.

"Do you have a theory you care to share with the rest of the class?" Riker inquired.

The strain of the increased gravitational pull in the system was unlike anything Data had ever experienced before. It was one of the reasons he had been so keen to join the team studying the system.

"Not at this time, sir," Data stated.

"Anything on sensors yet?" Captain Picard inquired.

The Enterprise had been at the nebula for several hours when the shuttlecraft missed a scheduled radio check-in.

It was nearly eight hours overdue for communication from the away team.

Captain Picard had ordered them to cut their study of the nebula short in order to return to the rendezvous point.

Although they were not due to pick up the shuttle for another twenty-seven hours, Captain Picard did not want to take any chances.

From their location, subspace communication should have been simultaneous.

Back on the shuttle, Data made the final preparations to his probe and launched it back toward the direction of the rendezvous point.

Riker knew Data likely had a good reason for playing it coy. He was concerned that Data's secrecy was an effort to mitigate panic until he knew more.

From the back of the shuttle, Data continued to monitor the probe. He tracked each millisecond as it travelled further and further from the shuttle.

To his dismay, the distance travelled by the probe did not match the actual amount of time that had passed in the shuttle compared to Data's chronometer.

As it continued to travel, the variation grew larger, and Data couldn't reconcile the difference.

With all available evidence, Data knew there could only be one reason behind the mysterious time difference.

"Whoa," Miles said suddenly. "These readings are pretty intense compared to what I was expecting."

Geordi got up from the floor and scurried over to the science station.

"And they're growing," he said with alarm.

His brow furrowed as he tried to theorise what could possibly be causing such a rapid growth in the gravitational strain on the ship.

"There must be something big out there creating this kind of pull," Miles suggested.

Geordi didn't hesitate. It took him only a few seconds to calculate that if the gravitational strain continued, the hull of the shuttle would crack long before the rendezvous time.

"Commander, we need to turn back now!" Geordi exclaimed.

He tapped the communications array.

"La Forge to Enterprise," Geordi said. "We need to request an emergency pickup. We're experiencing extreme gravitational stress and it's growing."

He looked at Commander Riker, worry etched in his features.

"Sir, we need to get out of here now," Geordi insisted.

"I am afraid it is too late for that," Data said suddenly.

"Sir, we're picking up a hail," Ensign Jeffords advised from the Tactical station.

Tasha felt her heart skip a beat.

"It's from the shuttle!" Jeffords added eagerly.

"Patch it through," Picard ordered.

For several seconds they sat in silence.

"Trouble, Ensign?" Tasha inquired.

"No, sir," he replied. "This is the hail. Audio frequency is-"

He stopped as they heard the audio begin.

Everyone listened with anticipation as the low, garbled message began to play.

"Shuttlepod two to Enterprise," a voice said.

The message was spoken so slowly it was as if the audio file was being played at a fraction of the speed of which it would normally be spoken.

"Shuttlepod two to Enterprise," it repeated.

Listening intently, Tasha thought it sounded like Commander Riker's voice.

Her suspicion was confirmed a moment later.

"Enterprise, this is Riker. Please respond," Riker said.

His voice was still distorted.

"Can you clean up the audio?" Picard asked.

"Negative, sir," Jeffords replied. "The audio file is not damaged, nor do I detect any interference."

The shuttle lurched forward with a disturbing creak.

"What was that?" Riker asked.

"That was our sublight engines failing," Worf advised. "We are being pulled toward an unknown something."

"They can't take the strain," O'Brien reported.

All of sudden, Geordi blanched.

"Whoa! Whoa! What the hell is that?" Geordi said pointing out in the inky void of space.

Worf and Commander Riker scanned the viewscreen.

Wesley raced to the front of the shuttle.

"I don't see anything!" Wes said.

In the back, Data was unphased as he continued to furiously work on a class one probe. His fingers were moving rapidly as he stripped away the wiring to boost the shield.

"It's out there. It's huge," Geordi said, frightened.

"Something is emerging on sensors," Wes cautioned as he scanned the controls.

There was a flash of light as a glowing spiral began to emerge from the darkness of space.

"What in the name of Kahless is that?" Worf asked, voicing their mutual concern.

"Jaysus," Miles breathed in astonishment as he dropped his sonic driver.

"Data!" Riker shouted.

The Lieutenant Commander had been conspicuously uninterested in watching the object that was appearing in front of them and Riker suspected it was because Data had been anticipating it.

In truth, it wasn't that Data was uninterested. It was with great regret that he had kept his attention focused on the probe in his hands. He knew he had missed a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to view the creation of such a phenomenon at close range.

"Data!" Riker repeated.

"I apologise, sir but I need to get off this ship," Data said sternly.

"We all need to get out of here," Riker replied. "Chief, get those engines working."

"Belay that order," Data commanded without turning away from his work. "Sir, it is imperative that we divert all power to the shields."

"Data! You better have a damn good explanation for-" Riker fumed.

"We are less than four kilometres from the event horizon of a recently formed black hole," Data informed him.

Data had no desire to cause panic, but he knew they were running out of time. A collective, stunned silence fell on the team. Data tried to explain as clearly and briefly as he could that there was a time dilation field caused by their proximity to the event horizon of the black hole.

By Data's calculation, three days had already passed outside of the bubble.

"Data, it's Stardate 41669.5," Riker countered. "We left the Enterprise three hours ago."

"Correct," Data agreed. "But the time dilation caused by the formation of this black hole means that while it has only been three hours and seventeen minutes aboard the shuttle, time outside of the impacted area is passing at a normal rate."

"So, we're being sucked into a black hole?" Riker said as he tried to comprehend the problem.

"Black holes don't 'suck.' They curve space time," Geordi explained.

"It bends the particles toward the mass," Wesley added. "Our location is both simultaneously constant and changing as the event horizon deforms space time."

"OK, one scientist at a time!" Riker hollered.

All eyes fell on Miles O'Brien.

He had a knack for bridging the language gap between Command and Engineering.

"It's eating the space around us. Like a big sandwich. And we're at one end. As more of the sandwich is eaten, the closer we get to the mouth," Miles said chiming in.

"Sir, if I may, that is why I must get off this ship," Data pressed. "And soon."

He had been working to adapt one of their level one probes to carry him back to the rendezvous point. They didn't have the energy reserves necessary to power the shuttle out and maintain shields. But there would be enough energy to send one of the probes back.

The sooner he could escape from the epicentre, the more likely the chance of survival for the entire team.

"We all do, Data," Riker snapped.

"No, sir. I must get out of here," Data replied cryptically. "Our survival depends on it."

"Data, if it was anyone else, I'd think they were trying to save their own skin," Riker explained.

"I don't know about this, Data," Geordi said.

It was a big risk.

"I will confess it is a hail Mary," Data admitted.

Riker grinned at the android's use of a human colloquialism.

Miles didn't like the idea one bit.

One slip up and Data would be trapped in the time dilation bubble – drifting aimlessly for all of eternity until crossing the event horizon.

"But Data, that probe's only two metres long and there's naught to grip to," Miles protested. "You're really gonna ride a probe back to the Enterprise?"

"Not exactly," Data replied.

"The problem isn't communication interference," Sonya explained. "We're communicating just fine with the shuttle and vice versa."

Captain Picard and the remaining bridge crew were in the Observation Lounge seated around the conference table. They were joined by Ensign Gomez and Geordi's Deputy Chief Engineering Lieutenant Vance.

It had been days since the Enterprise had received the distorted message.

"They shuttle is trapped in a time dilation field," Sonya went on. "According to the theory of relativity, there are only two things that can cause the effect."

Extreme velocities or extreme gravity.

"And since the maximum speed of the shuttle is only Warp four, we know it isn't because of velocity," Lieutenant Vance chimed in.

Jean-Luc's patience was wearing thin.

"Will one of you please just-"

"Shortly before the last transmission, the probe we launched registered an extreme change in the gravitational constant," Sonya said. "I think the shuttle is caught in a black hole's gravity."

"How much time do they have?" Beverly questioned.

Sonya wrung her hands nervously.

"I-I-I don't know," she stammered.

Captain Picard sighed.

"I want an answer to that question in the next hour," Picard ordered. "And I want options for how to get them out of there."

Sonya took a deep breath.

"The shuttle doesn't have the escape velocity," Sonya said. "And the Enterprise is too big to go in."

For the last two hours, Sonya had racked her brain for any possible solution to extract the trapped shuttle.

Engineering had run a series of simulations. Each one had failed to produce enough force to achieve the escape velocity. The shuttle simply wasn't fast enough.

"We would need something roughly the size of a Nebula class ship but faster," Sonya theorised. "Much faster."

"Calypso," Tasha said suddenly.

"What?" Deanna asked.

"Calypso," Tasha repeated as she sat up in her chair.

Calypso was the Captain's Yacht. It was a Dart class ship that was designed for diplomatic and emergency missions where extra security was needed or shuttlecraft weren't adequate.

"It wouldn't be fast enough," Sonya said, feeling dejected. "Their maximum speed is Warp 9.3. We need to reach Warp 9.6 in order to achieve escape velocity."

For a moment, no one said anything as the group in the briefing fell silent.

No wasn't an acceptable answer.

Suddenly, Tasha was struck with an idea.

"I won't pretend I know anything about how this works, but it's a really big object, right?" Tasha said.

Sonya's brow furrowed.

"Um, yes," she replied.

"Could we slingshot it?" Tasha asked.

Sonya cocked her head to the side – she wasn't following.

"Slingshot manoeuvre," Tasha explained.

"Like Titan's Turn?" Picard questioned.

"Only a lot more dangerous," Vance remarked as he realised what Tasha was proposing.

Titan's Turn was a well-known slingshot manoeuvre that many Starfleet officers were familiar with. Anyone that had ever spent time piloting shuttles in the sector of Earth's solar system had likely been aboard a vessel pulling that move at one time or another.

It was a risky move – expressly forbidden by Starfleet – and one that required an adept pilot.

"The inertial dampeners of the Calypso aren't designed to withstand that kind of force. The crew inside would be pulling a lot of g's," Sonya advised.

"That kind of stress could cause the pilot to blackout," Beverly advised.

It didn't need to be said aloud. Everyone in the room understood that this could spell disaster for the mission. If the pilot were to lose consciousness, they could drift off course or crash.

It would be a one-shot chance to make it happen. And Engineering would need time to outfit the Calypso with the proper shielding to reinforce the hull against the extreme gravitational pressure.

"I want a timeline for getting the Calypso ready to launch this rescue mission," Picard ordered.

"Yes, sir," Sonya acknowledged.

"I can start looking through the medical records for a suitable pilot," Beverly offered. "Someone with the proper lung capacity and physiology to maximise the chance of success."

"No need, Doctor," Picard said. "I'll do it myself. I won't ask any of the crew to take that risk."

Beverly, Deanna, and Tasha exchanged a glance.

"Sir, as acting First Officer I cannot allow you to pilot the Calypso," Tasha said.

As anticipated, Captain Picard protested.

"I will not order one of my crew into-" Picard started to say.

"You don't have to, sir," Tasha informed him. "I volunteer."

Captain Picard looked displeased.

"Sir, I'm the only one of us that's actually piloted this type of ship in a slingshot manoeuvre before," Tasha argued. "I also had g-force physical training at the Academy."

"And Lieutenant Yar's medical history would make her the best candidate," Beverly added.

Ten days.

It would take ten days for the Engineering team to outfit the Calypso with the necessary modifications to attempt the rescue mission.

Tasha was itching to get out there. But she trusted that the engineers knew what they were doing.

In the very least, the time gave her a chance to work with Beverly. With the aid of the holodeck and several neural stimulants, Tasha spent nearly all her time training for the rescue mission.

It had been a long day featuring a dangerous mix of stimulants in order to keep Tasha from losing consciousness.

They still hadn't perfected the right concoction – but Beverly and her team were on it.

After fourteen hours of training, the good doctor had ordered Tasha to get some rest. She was putting her body through hell and needed to stay healthy in order to complete the mission.

They were all counting on Tasha to bring back their loved ones.

So Beverly had sent her off after a hypospray of relaxants in order to counteract all the stimulants. Tasha made a quick stop at Ten Forward for a nightcap before heading home.

On instinct, her feet had carried her to Data's quarters.

Her own quarters caused Tasha to feel a pang of loneliness.

There was something about returning to her quarters that felt uncomfortable. She'd always loved the view that her quarters had afforded her. Tasha loved to stare out the window into open space.

But right now, the idea that Data was out there somewhere on a shuttle, alone with the away team and likely afraid, left her feeling dreadful.

It was a painful reminder that Data was in danger and not something Tasha could stomach at the moment.

Data closed his eyes and tried to suppress his internal chronometer. It was a cruel reminder of each passing second of loneliness.

He mused that it was pointless to close his eyes. The probe had no light source. Data would be bathed in the cold dark of space whether he kept his eyes shut or not.

But there was something symbolic in closing them.

It allowed him to dream, to momentarily push away the sense of solitude, and to think of more pleasant things.

Data had run through a list of all known Federation member plants and their capital cities. He worked through the period table, the digits of pi, and recited the complete works of William Shakespeare to occupy his neural net.

Data sang.

He contemplated art pieces he would like to start.

Data did anything and everything he could in order to avoid thinking about being trapped in a box. The notion of such captivity terrified him, calling back to the darkest days of his early activation.

Even though he was travelling to the safety of the Enterprise, Data couldn't stop the flood of emotion. In a way, this experience retraumatised him all over again because it was a cold, dark box – just like the one Bruce Maddox had put him in.

Data willed himself not to cry.

Instead, he allowed his mind to wander through memories – his time on the holodeck, his projects at the arboretum.

And Tasha.

He hoped that wherever she was, that she was safe.

Data was clinging to the chance of seeing her again. He thought about their last night together and sweet things they had whispered in the dark.

He imagined Tasha flashing him one of her brilliant smiles upon his return.

That thought was his only small ray of sunshine in the vast expanse of lonely space.

From the moment she stepped into Data's quarters, Tasha felt a sense of relief.

Typically, Data and Tasha spent most of their nights in her quarters. However, there were times that he needed his workstation or needed to be close to the Bridge.

On the evenings that he had night watch, Tasha would often fall asleep reading on his sofa.

Just a few days earlier they had sat at his table and discussed the upcoming Starfleet Academy reunion. The Enterprise would be returning to Earth for the event, and it would be a veritable who's who of Starfleet Academy alumni.

Tasha had never bothered with such events.

Data found them fascinating.

"Come back to me, and I'll go with you," Tasha said aloud in hopes that any omnipotent deity that was listening would spare the away team.

Grabbing her standard issue sleep shorts and tee from the wardrobe, Tasha shucked off her uniform and slipped under the covers.

Tasha felt herself unwind as her head hit the pillow. She wasn't sure if it was the nightcap, the relaxants, or simply the familiarity of Data's bed.

Tasha laid back and stared at the ceiling as her eyes adjusted to the dark.

Her eyelids felt increasingly heavy.

Turning over to her side, Tasha clutched Data's pillow and curled up against it.

She inhaled deeply and felt an inexplicable sense of nothingness.

Data never wore cologne. He didn't perspire or have any kind of human scent.

But Tasha had come to associate the smell of acrylic paint, dirt from the arboretum, and the Turpenoid he used to clean his brushes with her beloved android.

Unfortunately, those scents didn't carry over to his bedding.

Tasha wasn't sure what she had been expecting, but she was hoping for something that could help her feel closer to him.

She lamented that she'd have to settle for just her memories for the next ten days.

Tasha missed his presence with every fibre of her being. She longed to hear his voice, to see his shy smile whenever she got him with a zinger, or call him cute, or pinched his bum when he passed by.

Tasha groaned.

More than anything, she wanted to hold Data.

She imagined that wherever he was, he had to be afraid.

If he even knows what's happening. She thought.

According to Ensign Gomez, they were trapped in some sort of bubble where time slowed. Tasha didn't quite understand it all. But the notion of being frozen in time was terrifying – especially if they knew what was going on.

Tasha clutched Data's pillow against her body.

She ached for him – and in more ways than one.

Once more, Tasha couldn't tell if it was a side effect of the relaxants, the nightcap, or her longing for Data (not that it mattered anyways).

The familiar, tingling sensation between her legs was growing.

Reluctantly, she extracted herself from Data's pillow and flopped onto her back.

Go to sleep. She urged herself, repeating that mantra over and over as the minutes ticked on. Tasha squeezed her thighs together.

Bad choice.

Tasha immediately rolled off the bed and stretched, hoping to relieve some tension. At the foot of the bed, she pulled her foot back to stretch her quad.

Legs. Arms. Shoulders. Back.

Breathe. Tasha told herself.

Tasha began to relax as she ran through her usual stretching routine. She mused to herself that now she knew what an al dente pasta noodle felt like – all her holodeck training left her stiff and sore, but the relaxants Beverly administered were certainly doing their job.

Tasha briefly considered a bath.

She quickly dismissed the idea. She was all alone and very much at the risk of dozing off in the hot water. If Data were home, he wouldn't think twice about slipping in to keep an eye on her.

Data.

Data would know exactly how to help Tasha fall asleep. He offered the best massages – and not just because he was programmed in various techniques.

He was always keen to offer relief whenever she pushed herself too hard on the holodeck. He would work out the sore spots in no time. Tasha was putty in his hands.

Tasha closed her eyes and took a deep breath as she knelt forward in order to stretch out her back and shoulders.

Focus.

Tasha exhaled and tried to push away all thoughts of Data and the things his long, agile fingers could do.

His damn hands. Tasha mused.

Tasha sat back on her knees. With a big sigh, her shoulders slumped as she scanned the room. It felt so empty without Data.

Tasha knew that a few days apart was nothing in the grand scheme of things.

But the circumstances of his absence were what made it all seem so terribly lonely. Data was out there somewhere – probably afraid and feeling helpless.

No one exactly could know what it would feel like to experience a black hole.

Sonya had explained there was a process called 'spaghettification' and that it was just as horrible as it sounded. Sonya had assured them that the team would be dead long before then. The shields on the shuttle would fail, the hull would buckle, and they would all be exposed to the cold of space.

It was little comfort.

Tasha knew Data could survive the cold of space. It meant he would be left drifting toward the event horizon very much alive and completely aware of his own fate.

Tasha shivered.

When she climbed back into bed, Tasha was feeling no better. She was still alone with her thoughts in Data's bed and feeling a more than little uninhibited courtesy of the medicated relaxants coursing through her bloodstream.

Tasha groaned as she rolled over, instinctively spooning up against Data's pillow.

There was really no use in fighting it. Tasha knew she would only toss and turn for hours before sleep finally claimed her.

Beverly had impressed upon Tasha the importance of adequate sleep. She needed to be at the top of her game for her training – the rescue depended upon it.

Tasha grumbled and stuffed her hand down her sleep shorts.

There was nothing romantic about it.

Just like brushing her teeth or stretching, Tasha viewed this as one more task to check off before she could sleep.

Tasha squeezed her eyes shut and rocked against her hand. Her middle finger was working fast as she tried in vain to chase her orgasm as quickly and efficiently as possible.

Her mind began to wander.

Tasha realised that she had been spoiled. Months of Data's tender affection had warped her senses. Data was by far the most attentive, instinctive, and skilled lover that Tasha had ever experienced.

It seemed such a cruel fate she would get to experience the bliss that was his bed only to now find herself alone.

Tasha didn't just miss the feel of being together.

She missed everything about him – the way he moved and spoke, the feel of his breath against her body, the warmth of his touch.

The sweet, almost dopey smile he wore whenever they collapsed against one another. Data had a way of making unkempt look heavenly. Everything from the twinkle in his eye to his tousled hair was endearing.

A wicked thought crossed Tasha's mind.

His girth.

Tasha squeezed her legs around the pillow as she tried in vain to satisfy her longing for the deep, delicious stretch that usually accompanied Data's presence in that region.

Down girl.

Tasha chastised herself as quickly as the thought came.

Why should I feel guilty?

Data was her lover. They shared an affection for one another and a healthy sex life.

Tasha giggled aloud.

If Data was present, he'd probably be watching – his lips slightly parted, his eyes full of awe, his neural net struggling to keep up in knowing that he was the cause of Tasha's arousal.

They had engaged in mutual masturbation before. Tasha loved to watch Data stroke his own big, beautiful cock.

She held onto that thought.

Tasha envisioned Data sitting on the edge of the bed, tugging on the length of himself and working furiously to keep pace with his insatiable Lieutenant.

It had taken Tasha years to find a healthy relationship with sex. In many ways, Data had helped her to reconnect with her own body.

When they were together, Tasha felt desirable.

She felt powerful.

Data often remarked how well their bodies fit together. And it was true. But their connection was so much more than physical – it was almost spiritual in a way.

Sex with Data was divine.

Whenever they made love, Tasha felt like Data could consume the whole of herself the way he flooded her senses. His words were sweet. But the way he communicated without words made her cunt weep.

Data had a way of making Tasha feel like she was the only person in the whole universe – and not just when she was on the receiving end of his affection.

Data adored it whenever Tasha took charge. Tasha herself got quite a thrill from watching Data melt under her ministrations.

Tasha spread her legs and rocked against the pillow, desperately chasing her own elusive orgasm.

She let her mind wander, imaging it was Data there between her thighs.

The very same Data that could switch from a commanding, assertive lover to a timid little leaf whenever he felt brave enough to beg Tasha to sit on his face and call him a good boy.

Data loved to let himself go in Tasha's hands. It was one of the only places he felt truly safe enough to give himself over so completely. Tasha would never take advantage of him – she simply wanted to care for him.

And Data took great pleasure in feeling her squirm on his tongue.

Tasha was clinging to that thought, to the memories of their last night together as she wantonly ground her hips against her own hand.

The pillow offered some friction. But it was a far cry from what she was accustomed to.

"Gods," she muttered. "Come on."

She squeezed her eyes shut as tears began to prick at the corners. It was frustrating to be so close, dancing just at the precipice of release.

Tasha was resolved that the minute Data returned, she was going to ride his stupid, beautiful face until his chin was coated in her slick and he was wearing that adorable grin.

"Ahhh," Tasha shuddered as she came.

She collapsed against the bed. Tasha lay there for a few moments, not bothering to move her hand as she caught her breath.

There was no sound save for the gentle hum of the environmental system and the constant rhythm of her own heightened heart rate.

She was still in Data's rooms. And she was still alone.

With great effort, Tasha rolled over onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. Silently, she said a prayer to any deity that would listen to return Data.

"Please come back to me," she whispered.