Ways and Means

Stardate 47272.06
(Friday, 10 April 2370, 07:15 hours, ship's time)
U.S.S. Enterprise

The smell of coffee roused me from sleep before I was really ready. "What time is it?" I asked.

"Zero-seven-fifteen," came Data's instant response. "I must be on the bridge by eight hundred hours, and you asked me to wake you before I left."

I sat up in bed. "I remember," I said, still groggy. "What I don't remember is why I wanted to get up early when I have literally nothing to do." I reached for the mug I knew would be on my nightstand and took a sip. Personal coffee service had been an early tradition in our relationship, and I was always appreciative. "Mmm," I said. "Is this a different recipe?"

"It is a blend Lt. Jae was drinking during the night watch several weeks ago. She suggested that you might like it."

"I do." I drank more of the dark, rich, brew. "What's in it?"

"Rigellian espresso roast, Centauran supremo, and Indonesian mocha-java."

"Please tell her thank you for the recommendation."

"I will do so the next time we share a shift. As for your lack of an agenda, your assignment this week is to rest and recover from the events of the weekend."

"How long?"

"I do not understand." It had been a long time since Data had used that phrase with me.

"How long am I supposed to play invalid? 'Rest Zoe. Recover Zoe. Don't do anything remotely interesting, Zoe, just sit around while your muscles and social skills atrophy.'" Okay, the last bit wasn't anything anyone had said to me, it was just how I felt. Anyone else would have argued with me. My fiancé merely leveled his yellow-eyed gaze at me and waited.

I stared back at him.

He remained silent.

I sighed. Playing "chicken" with an android never works out well. Even when that android is the love of your life. Maybe especially so. "I'm sorry, I'm bored, antsy, tired of my own company, and beginning to wish I'd stayed on Earth and let them commit me, or something."

"Commit you?" Data asked. "To a psychiatric facility?" He waited for my confirming nod. "To my knowledge, that was never under serious consideration."

"It was, but only for about a minute and a half," I said. "I just… I missed you so much that all I could think about was being home, and then I got here, and everything fell apart. Selar and Deanna are trying, but I feel like I'm losing ground with shielding, and while I can use the dampener at home, the longer I do, the harder it is to be without it. I get overloaded… sort of like when you were trying to buffer all the emotions Lore was throwing at you. They won't let me swim or box because they're afraid if I get into the zone I'll forget to shield, and honestly, walking in the arboretum alone is about as entertaining as watching paint dry." I could tell Data was waiting for his turn to speak, but I wasn't quite done. "The thought of overdosing on Perspectex and making this all go away forever is becoming really attractive."

If my statement disturbed him, Data didn't let it show. "I am certain that you were told such a thing would only cause you irrevocable brain damage, without affecting your telepathic abilities."

"Telepathic disabilities, you mean. I'm never going to be a strong enough telepath for it to be useful. Shielding is meant to keep me from being a danger to myself or others."

"I am sorry you are struggling so much, Dearest. And I am also sorry I cannot be more helpful. If you are amenable, we can continue this discussion after my shift."

"You help just by being," I told him. "And not just because you're the one person I don't have to worry about shielding with. I'm sorry I keep dumping my problems on you when they're not your responsibility."

"I will refrain from debating that point." Data bent to kiss me. "I will also remind you that while I regret the circumstances that necessitated you leaving school, I am glad to have you home. I will see you this evening."

I smiled, but I was pretty sure it didn't meet my eyes. "Count on it. Now go save a planet, or something."

I finished the coffee and collapsed back onto the pillows. Maybe if I went back to bed and started the day over, things would improve.

(=A=)

Stardate 47272.77
(Friday, 10 April 2370, 13:32 hours, ship's time)
U.S.S. Enterprise

It wasn't entirely true that I had no plans. I had a scheduled appointment with Doctor Selar. The Vulcan healer had asked me to meet her, not in sickbay, but in one of the meditation rooms on the recreation deck. I'd slept too late for the meal I had to really be breakfast but fortified with a grilled ham and cheese sandwich and tomato basil soup and refreshed by a shower, I went to the appointed location.

The room was candlelit, though the flickering flames were holographic and gave off no heat, and there was a faint aroma of some kind of spice - incense really - that I couldn't place. Unlike many of the spaces set aside for recreation or exercise there was no viewscreen or viewport. Instead, abstract tapestries adorned the walls. I recognized one of them as Vulcan, but the others were unfamiliar.

"If you plan to have me try meditation," I began after greeting the doctor, who was dressed in a cream-colored tunic and soft black pants rather than a uniform. "You should know that T'Jan already ruled it out as a useful therapy for me."

"I am not," Selar said. "While I believe finding a way to calm your thoughts would benefit you, that is not why we are here." She gestured to the cushion across from her own. "Please sit down."

I arranged myself into a mirror of her posture. Not a formal lotus position, just a normal cross-legged one. I was glad I'd followed her suggestion to come in workout clothes, though I felt underdressed in my baggiest Yale t-shirt, navy blue leggings, and athletic shoes. "So, if we're not meditating what are we doing? And whatever it is do you really think it will work? Because I'm really tired of being treated like I'm sick or injured and if I don't have a physical release soon, I might explode."

"Starfleet frowns upon exploding patients," Selar said dryly. "You are not prohibited from engaging in physical activities, Zoe. It is simply recommended that you only do so in places where you can either guarantee solitude or use the telepathic dampener."

"But you said using it too much would be bad."

"Prolonged use can lead to psychic overwhelm when use is discontinued, yes," she agreed. "Are you still using it in your quarters?"

"Not a lot, since the Cairn left. Deanna - Counselor Troi - said I should keep using it during sex but having to stop and turn it on kills the spontaneity." I didn't mention that Data and I hadn't been having sex. "I'm completely failing at this, aren't I?"

"No," Selar said, in a tone almost as matter of fact as Data's. "You are not, though I can understand why you perceive yourself to be. Most people who experience telepathic breakthrough as adults take years to learn what you have in weeks. Most humans have even less success. Your diligence and motivation to improve have served you well, Zoe."

"Then why am I getting worse?"

"It is not unusual to backslide slightly when mastering a new skill, especially when so much personal upheaval is tied to it. T'Jan, Deanna, Beverly, and I are all confident that you will succeed in this." She offered me a slight, rueful smile. "But not if we continue to delay today's practice."

"So, if it's not meditation, what is it? Yoga hasn't helped, though the poses feel good sometimes, and Data wants to teach me Tai Chi."

"I was not aware he was familiar with that practice."

"Well, he wants us to do it together, but he basically inhales information, so… How about you just tell me what we are doing today?"

"Very well. "T'Jan's notes mentioned that you had some experience with Vulcan breathwork, and that you responded well to that technique."

"A… friend… from school taught me some basics after the Battle of Wolf 359, when my mother was injured," I shared. "And one of my castmates in the Idyllwild tour - Somak - helped me learn a bit more. His wife, Tara, owns a yoga studio in San Francisco. She's been an amazing friend to me." I took a beat. "You think it will help?"

"I think it will help restore your mental equilibrium, yes. Shall we begin?"

"Let's do it."

The lights were dimmed further. "I am told you speak Vulcan?"

"I've been studying it for several years, and Somak made a point of having conversations in it when we were touring," I confirmed. "I'm not as fluent as someone who grew up with the language, but I manage, and I'm getting better."

"Then I will conduct this session in Vulcan, and you must tell me if you do not understand." She waited for me to agree, then said, "Ikap-tor ish-veh bezhun."

I did as I was asked and closed my eyes.

Selar continued, her voice soft and low. "Nem-tor wuh glu esh, Zoe. Vi-esh-tor k'fai ish-veh han, heh meskaraya ish-veh."

I was familiar with that instruction. I inhaled through my nose and held my breath.

"Good, Zoe. I' sa'le-esh-tor k'fai ish-veh ru'lut."

I released the breath I'd been holding, exhaling through my mouth.

"Va'ashiv."

I repeated the process, again and again, as Selar kept telling me either va'ashiv - again - or ashiv-tor - repeat. When I'd done this breathing with T'vek or with Somak I usually started to become light-headed at that point, but something about being on the Enterprise added a grounding element to my practice, and I felt myself growing calmer. Steadier.

"Good," Selar said again, using the Standard word instead of her own language. "Veh weht wak. - one more time."

I inhaled, held it, and exhaled but that time I began to feel a sort of tickle in my head. Selar!

-I'm not going to hurt you, Zoe - her mental voice assured. - I want you to build your wall, not to keep me out, but to keep yourself in. - Aloud, she guided me. "Potau ish-veh bezhun a'ing heh torvau ish-veh temok. Keep your eyes closed and build your wall."

I imagined the cool, wet sand under my fingertips, as T'Jan had taught me, and pushed the memory of my sandcastle wall forming around me as if by magic, the way it had when I'd lost myself in the rhythm of the work that day at the beach.

At the same time, I felt Selar's gentle presence, probing the cracks where my wall wasn't quite strong enough. - What now? - My mental voice seemed quieter than I remembered.

"Potau me si'; potau du svi'. Keep me out; keep you in," her voice came from outside the sandcastle, and I realized I could no longer feel her presence, I'd pushed her out of my head. I felt the faint tickle again and blocked it with another brick of sand. This continued for a while, until Selar spoke once more. "Etek ma shahtau. Tu'ash ish-veh bezhun. We have finished. Open your eyes."

I opened my eyes and met her gaze. "It never felt like that with T'Jan," I said.

"Healer T'Jan taught you well, Zoe, but you had to find your calm center on your own. Your thoughts are still spinning, are they not?"

"Yes, but now instead of a tornado it's a slow swirl."

"I suspect that is your 'normal' state. Creative personalities are often so. You need to practice, but I think you will be able to do so without external help now."

"So, you fixed me?"

"You were never broken, Zoe. You simply lost your way, and I have helped you to find it again. Return to quarters now, hydrate, and rest. We have been working for two hours and you will likely require a nap."

"I feel like I had a full-body workout."

"That will go away in time," the Vulcan doctor assured. "As you practice more. Commander Data can help you."

"He's not a telepath."

"No, he is a machine, and therefore impervious to mental contact, but he can be your focus for breathing exercises, if he is willing."

"He'd do anything in his power to make sure I was safe and happy," I said softly, knowing it to be true.

"You are fortunate to have such a devoted partner, Zoe. Go home. Contact me if you need assistance."

I stretched, and then stood. "I will," I said. "Thank you." I managed not to yawn until I was out of the room.

(=A=)

Doctor Selar had understated the level of exhaustion I would feel. I made it back to quarters yawning the whole way, and grateful not to bump into anyone I knew in the turbo-lift. It was too early to feed Spot and neither her water bowl nor her litter box needed attention, so I shrugged out of my bra without bothering to remove my t-shirt, kicked off my shoes, peeled off my leggings and socks and crawled back into bed.

"Computer," I instructed. "Dim lights by ninety percent."

The computer complied, plunging the room into soothing darkness. I felt Spot jump onto the bed and curl up on top of the covers, against my belly, and I gave her some lethargic ear fusses before I fell asleep.

I don't how long I slept, but at some point, Data returned home. I felt his weight make the mattress dip, but I was too tired to roll over. "Dearest," he said softly. "Are you alright?"

"Just tired. Session with Selar was intense."

"Do you wish to have dinner?"

"Not hungry," I said. I didn't have the energy for complete sentences. "Just tired."

"Very well. Continue your rest; I am home if you need me."

"Always need you," I murmured into my pillow. "Love you."

He leaned over me and kissed the cheek that was exposed. "I love you also." His words whispered across my skin, and then he left our bedroom.

(=A=)

Stardate 47273.53
(Friday, 10 April 2370, 20:08 hours, ship's time)
U.S.S. Enterprise

It was an hour or more later when the annunciator sounded. I heard Data invite the visitor inside and offer them a place to sit. "Zoe is still sleeping," I heard him say, "Doctor Selar warned me that their session today would likely exhaust her, but she did not share what they were working on."

"Any kind of psychic practice can be tiring for a newly emergent telepath." It was Counselor Troi's voice. "Let her rest a bit longer. If the telepathic dampener isn't active, she'll likely wake on her own in a few minutes."

There was a brief pause. "She did not activate it," Data confirmed. "She expressed concern about using it too much. Counselor, I am at a loss as to how to help her through this."

I could have stayed in bed and just listened to their conversation, but I was getting hungry, and I had to pee. My t-shirt was baggy enough and long enough that I didn't bother grabbing my leggings from the floor. I just padded to the bathroom, used it, and joined my partner and our friend in the main room.

"Zoe isn't used to being idle," Deanna was saying as I entered. She or Data had pulled over one of our side chairs, which is where she was sitting. "As I'm sure you know. So, it's natural for her to feel out of sorts. She doesn't have a purpose here, beyond healing and - oh, hello, Zoe. How are you feeling?"

"A little groggy, but better than I was this morning. I think I frightened Data."

"Oh? How so?"

"I might've mentioned that OD-ing on Perspectex was beginning to seem like a good idea." I turned to my partner. "Don't worry, I won't actually do it."

"I am relieved to hear it," he said. Addressing Troi, he added, "I was not frightened; I was concerned and remain so."

"That's understandable," said the Counselor. "How are you feeling otherwise?"

"I am functioning adequately," he answered, which, I knew, was Data's usual answer when he was downplaying his own condition.

"Are you? Have you been activating your dream program since Zoe has been home?"

"I… have not," I heard him admit.

"Why not?"

"I determined that it was advisable to remain fully conscious until Zoe is more stable. I do not want to be unavailable should her nightmares return; nor do I wish to harm her."

"It's kind of you to want to protect her, Data, but we all know that the only reason you acted out violently was because of alien influence."

"You also know," I interjected, "that we figured out long ago how I could rouse you from your dream-state if I needed to. I didn't know you were avoiding your dreams because of me. I don't like the idea that I'm keeping you from them. You should have told me. And I should have noticed, but I've been so caught up in my own issues that I haven't been a very good partner to you since I've come home."

He did so, sitting close to me, and reaching for my hand. "You have done nothing wrong, Zoe," he said.

"Maybe not, but I feel like I have."

"Data," the counselor's tone was gentle, soothing. "Are you distressed by Zoe's telepathic skills?"

"'Distressed' is not the correct word, Counselor." His voice was smooth. Measured. Like always. "I am troubled by her reaction to them. I do not like to see Zoe suffering. I do not know how to fix things for her. I - " He turned his head toward me. " - I also perceive a condition of uselessness."

"Oh, love," I said softly. To Deanna I said, in a wry tone, "I was kind of rant-y this morning, but what you said is true. I'm antsy, bored, moody, and desperate to do something physical to burn off steam. And I know… I know I'm restricted from that because you're all worried I'll get into a groove and forget to shield… but even on Earth I was taking Bogart out for runs."

"Who is Bogart?" Deanna asked.

"Oh. Ed's dog. A Labrador. I tried taking him to the beach once, but the sound of the surf agitated him, so we mostly ran in Golden Gate Park."

"I didn't know you enjoyed running," she said.

"I wasn't allowed to drive, I didn't have access to a gym, and I couldn't stand being still anymore. We started with walks, and it sort of… evolved. Running's not as freeing as being in the water, and it's not as satisfying as boxing, but… it was better than nothing."

"You said you were calmer than this morning," Deanna said. "Did Selar allow you to exercise?"

"Not the way I want to," I answered. "We did a lot of Vulcan breathwork, and then she had me focus on breathing while I visualized re-building my mental shields, and she probed at the cracks. I kept her out, but by the time I got home I was too tired to think."

"Intense psychic practice can be as tiring as any more physical workout," Deanna said.

"Selar said the same thing. But one exhaustive session isn't going to totally fix me, so what am I supposed to do?" I glanced at Data. "What are we supposed to do? Data's been a rock through everything I've been through, and it's not fair for him to suffer because I am."

"I am not suffering," Data said, rejoining the conversation.

"You're not dreaming because of me," I said. "We're not even having sex because I have to remember to turn on the dampener before we can, and when it doesn't completely kill the spontaneity, it ruins my mood." I paused for a moment then added, "Couples have broken up over less, and I don't want to happen to us."

Before my fiancé could rebut my statements, Deanna began to speak. "What if you could both go somewhere safe where you, Zoe, wouldn't have to worry about shielding at all. No chance of becoming overwhelmed, no concerns about broadcasting when your emotions are heightened, and you, Data, would be able to alleviate some of your concerns and return to your usual practice with your dream program?"

I was about to ask if she planned to seal us into a holodeck for a week, but Data spoke before I could. "We are only two day's travel from such a location at warp five."

"What location?" I was feeling particularly obtuse.

"Our house," Data said. "On Terlina III."

"Can we do that?" I asked. "I mean, can you take leave after you came to Earth in November, and went to Centaurus in January?" I turned to Deanna. "Can he? Without it looking bad?"

"It wouldn't be vacation leave," Deanna said. "Data, ensuring your mental and emotional well-being is as much my responsibility as helping Zoe to find her way with telepathy. This would be a therapeutic retreat for both your mental health."

"Dearest, I have quite a lot of accumulated personal leave. Even if I were simply to use that, it would not be looked at negatively," Data added. "I have been admonished on more than one occasion for not using my personal time enough."

"I think time together away from the ship, or school, or even counselors, would be good for you. I would expect you to check in remotely while you're away." Deanna said.

"You're not coming?" I asked. "To oversee our therapy?"

"No," she answered. "You and Data are your own best resources to help each other. You do need to practice control, but more than that, you need a real rest. You went from being Lore's prisoner to the beginning of telepathic breakthrough to the pressure of classes to a telepathic breakdown and intense therapy without any time to regroup, and I believe - as does Selar - that a break would do you good."

"Okay," I said. "I mean, I kind of got screwed out of the Christmas break I was supposed to have and any kind of spring break, but you said both of us needed the break?"

"I believe I can answer that," Data said. "Dearest, I have been seeing the counselor since I returned to the Enterprise after our trip to Centaurus, first on an occasional basis, and more regularly since the incident with my 'nightmares.' In my concern for you, there are elements of what happened that I have buffered rather than processed. I am functioning adequately, but mere adequacy is not optimal."

I nodded slowly. "I think we have a lot to talk about," I said. "But as much as I wanted to be home, it wasn't the ship that I missed; it was you. And you know I love that house."

"Then I will speak to the captain," Data said, but Deanna interrupted.

"No, Data, I will. I'll contact you first thing in the morning and let you know the schedule, but I'd suggest that after Zoe has dinner, you begin packing." She smiled and rose from her chair. "I wish I could arrange for you to have an entire month, but I'll do the best I can."

Data and I stood up also, with my partner saying, "I will look forward to hearing from you, Counselor. Thank you."

"You're a lifesaver, Dee," I added. "Will you forgive me if I don't hug you?"

"There's nothing to forgive," she assured me. "Good night, both of you."

(=A=)

Stardate 47276.68
(Saturday, 11 April 2370, 23:47 hours, ship's time)
U.S.S. Ansel Adams (1701-D-006)

With the Enterprise between formal assignments, Captain Picard changed course to bring us within a twelve-hour shuttle ride of the planet that Data had inherited from his father. While a part of me still thought of it as "Dr. Soong's Jungle Hideaway," our previous visits there had made me fall in love with the place, and my partner and I had begun discussing making it our permanent home, at least whenever both our schedules would allow it.

This time in the shuttle, Data hadn't invited me to take the pilot's seat, but I still joined him in the cockpit rather than hiding in the back.

"Do you feel like we're cheating, somehow?" I asked him about two hours after we'd left the shuttle bay. "Or running away?"

"No, I do not," he answered. "Counselor Troi would not have arranged medical leave if she did not believe we required it. Otherwise, she would have simply recommended that I use personal time."

"Well, I feel like I'm cheating. A little. How am I supposed to practice shielding if there's nothing to shield from?"

"Perhaps," Data suggested, "it is enough to continue the breathwork that Doctor Selar had you doing, and to 'burn off steam,' as you've said you need."

"She suggested that you help me," I told him. "With the breathwork I mean. She said it didn't require telepathy and that working with a partner would be beneficial."

"We have practiced breathing techniques together before," my partner reminded me, "when we were first working on music together."

"When I said breathing together would enhance our meshi-ness. Well, I wasn't wrong."

"No," he agreed. "You were not."

"I miss playing with music with you. We didn't get to when I was home for Christmas, and I didn't think to ask you to pack my cello for this trip."

"I would like to return to playing music together, as well, Zoe."

"Well, if you have your guitar, I'm competent on the violin."

"You are welcome to play my violin if you wish, but I packed your cello without you requesting it."

"Were you planning to seduce me into playing?"

"I would prefer any seduction to end in our bedroom," Data said.

"We haven't done enough of that either," I remarked. "I think this is the first time we've traveled together since we've been… together… that we didn't spend some of the trip - "

" - smooching, kissing, locking lips, necking, making out - " Data listed synonyms with a distinct teasing lilt in his voice. "Do you wish to?"

"I always wish to," I said. "But… right now, I think I'd rather close my eyes for a bit. We're due to arrive around nine in the morning, Terlina time, aren't we?"

"Zero-nine-thirty," my partner confirmed. "Please rest if you can, dearest. I will wake you in a few hours for our sing-along."

"God, I love you."

"And I love you, Zoe, but as I often remind you, I am not God, only Data."

I laughed even though the joke was an old one, then I reached across the cockpit to squeeze his hand before accessing the pillow and blanket stored behind my seat. "That's so much better. G'night."

"Rest well."

(=A=)

Stardate 47277.79
(Sunday, 12 April 2370, 09:29 hours, local time)
Terlina III

We were on the third chorus of "I've Got You, Babe," when we began our final approach to our private retreat, so the singing had to end, but I didn't mind. I enjoyed watching as the warp field became normal space, and then space thickened into atmosphere. I also enjoyed watching my fiancé's long fingers playing over the console as he guided us into a perfect landing.

It wasn't raining, but the sky was gray, and the air was humid. We used the transporter to move our belongings into the house, but after that Data picked up Spot's crate and we walked through the front door together.

"It's good to be home," I said, stepping into the house. The never-seen caretakers had been there recently to do their monthly checks, and, I'd been told, stock up the stasis unit with fresh foods in case we wanted to cook.

"You said the same about the Enterprise when you arrived," Data pointed out.

"Home is where you are. The Enterprise is our primary home at the moment, but this? This is home too."

"I perceived the same sense of belonging when I was with you at Yale, and later on Centaurus," Data said.

"You said it yourself, love: 'Separation is sub-optimal.'"

"Indeed," he agreed. "I am going to set up Spot's litter box and then release her from her crate. Do you wish to eat, or are you ready to unpack?"

I'd replicated a breakfast burrito and sub-par coffee on the shuttle, so I wasn't hungry. "I'll get started on unpacking, and you can get Spot set up. She's become one well-traveled cat."

"Indeed," Data agreed. "But you have also become well-traveled since our initial association."

"If only you got frequent-flier miles for starship travel," I quipped as I moved toward our bedroom. I'd lived with Data long enough to know his preferred order for hanging clothes, and we'd shared the dresser before. There was, I reflected, a kind of intimacy in handling your partner's laundry, though I much preferred putting away the clean stuff to loading dirty clothes into the 'fresher unit.

An enticing aroma caught my attention, so I stowed our empty bags in the closet and returned to the main room. "Do I smell coffee?" I asked.

"You do. It is nearly ready," Data said.

"Thank you," I said. "It's too soon for lunch," I added, "but if the rain holds off, I wouldn't mind a walk. It's sticky outside, but I don't remember there being mosquitoes here, so I'm willing to brave the humidity for a breath of fresh air. After coffee, I mean."

"I do not believe it will rain until late this afternoon," he said. "Zoe, earlier you asked if coming here was 'cheating' and I do not feel that I responded adequately. May I do so now?"

"Of course," I said.

After taking a seat on the couch, Data explained. "For us, the difference between a therapeutic retreat and a vacation will have little difference. Counselor Troi has simply given us space to work through our own… troubles."

"Can we not use that word?" I asked. "'Troubles?' Couples with 'troubles' end up breaking up."

"I have no such desire," Data said. "And I do not believe you do, either."

"No," I said. "Of course, I don't. The whole reason T'Jan let me come home in the first place is because being separated from you was making everything else harder." The coffee maker beeped, and I moved to pour a cup, adding milk. "Would you like some?" I asked. He often had tea with me, but never coffee.

"Thank you, Zoe, but I am fine."

Intellectually, I knew he was using colloquial speech as a way to be less formal, less other. But in that moment, his phrasing bothered me. "But you're not fine," I said as I returned to the living room with my mug and sat on one end of the couch. "Neither of us are." I sat down and faced him. "Blanket or sword?"

"I do not understand."

"You know how my friends and I played tabletop roleplaying games when I was still a student on the Enterprise? You've seen us playing at least once."

"I recall a game you were playing that involved dice and questions," Data said. "I was more concerned with your well-being than the name of the game you were playing."

"It really doesn't matter. Those games always take place in a sort of medieval fantasy world, where the central meeting place is an inn or tavern. Josh had an NPC - non-player character - who was the innkeeper, and whenever a party arrived, he'd ask "Do you want a blanket or a sword."

"How is this relevant to our situation?"

"Well, the question is really a way of asking if a person needs comfort - a blanket - or a solution."

"The sword."

"Yes."

"Elaborate?"

"You are a sword person. You try to fix problems. It's practically wired into you. And that's wonderful and useful, but sometimes I don't need a sword. Sometimes I really need a blanket. I don't need a solution as much as I need an ear." I sipped some of my coffee. "I have people helping me with the sword part of telepathy. T'Jan, Deanna, and Selar are doing everything they can. From you, right now, what I need is a blanket. And the thing is… I think you need a blanket right now, too."

"You believe I require comfort?"

"Yes, Data, I do. You've been seeing Counselor Troi, but you didn't even tell me you were seeing her regularly until yesterday. You're not activating your dream program… but more than that, we both went through hell with Lore not so long ago, and we never really talked about it. Instead… instead I had a breakdown, and you went back to work. T'Jan is a trauma specialist and has been helping me with everything and - should we have this conversation later? I kind of jumped into it without asking you."

"Your points are valid, Zoe, but - to continue with your analogy - we do not need to enter battle today."

"I thought you were going to tell me you didn't require comfort," I said.

"Strictly speaking, I do not," Data said. "However, I cannot deny that there is an ease that comes from being here with you. I am able to 'let my guard down' without concern that it will affect my ability to function in an emergency."

"Alynna - Admiral Nechayev - said once that all Starfleet officers need downtime, even you."

"She was correct."

"Does that mean you'll activate your dream program tonight?"

"I will consider doing so."

"So, you're not holding off just because of me, then." I made it a statement, but I added in a softer voice, "Data. It's you and it's me. You know all my fears."

"I have refrained from dreaming partly because you have been unwell, but the imagery I experienced because of the alien infestation on the ship was disturbing and I would prefer not to revisit it."

"Is that likely? You told me those dreams were because of the aliens. If they're gone, shouldn't it be safe to use your program?"

"I have not had the opportunity to test that theory."

"Well, maybe tonight you should try it, but using the parameters that allow me to wake you if necessary. I'm not likely to have any telepathic crises here."

"No," he said. "You are not."

Something in his tone made me look sharply at him. "Data… is there some issue with my telepathy that I don't know about?"

"Not precisely."

"Data…" His name, in that tone, was the only frustration I was willing to express. I took a beat, then repeated his name in a more neutral way. "Data… please… what aren't you telling me?"

"It is nothing, Zoe. At least, it is nothing that cannot wait. If you have finished your coffee, perhaps we can take our walk now."

"Give me ten minutes to change." I left my mug in the sink, then went to change into shorts and hiking sandals. "Shall we?" We left the house via the patio doors and walked toward the lagoon. There was a slight breeze that caused the water to form gentle ripples, but what struck me was that the water level was noticeably lower than the last time we'd been home. "Is the lagoon draining, or is it low tide?"

"I believe it is the latter. Perhaps instead of exploring the jungle this week, we can traverse the sandbar and see the ocean."

"I'm never going to say no to that," I responded, "but there's something else I'd like you to consider while we're here."

"What is that?" Data asked.

"I'd like to start a garden. A kitchen garden - you know, herbs and vegetables, and such."

"I do not know if it would be feasible to start such a project in the short time we have here on this visit," my partner said. "But I will gladly help you select a site, and we can plan for the future."

I smiled and slipped my hand into his. "Sounds good."

(=A=)

Stardate 47283.15
(Tuesday, 14 April 2370, 8:24 AM local time)
Terlina III

It was raining on Tuesday, so even though we'd spent Monday mostly resting (me) and working in the lab (Data) we spent the day in quiet pursuits. Coffee with a bowl of yogurt and fruit for breakfast, then a couple of hours with a good book for me. Data spent some time in the lab, but I didn't feel the need to find out what he was doing.

After lunch, I realized I hadn't touched my cello in two months, and I was afraid my fingers would be stiff, but since Data was engrossed in painting, I brought it into the living room where we had a fire going to ward off the dampness and started a warmup.

I hadn't brought out a music stand, so I could only play pieces I'd memorized. The Davenport Orchestra had been working on the Brandenburg Concertos, but Bach felt too ponderous. I noodled for a while, letting my fingers go wherever they wanted as my mind wandered. I didn't even realize I was playing Fauré's Papillon until I heard Data playing the piano. I finished the piece before turning to him. "I didn't mean to take you away from your art."

"I assumed you chose a duet intentionally. Did you not?"

"Not consciously," I said. "I mean, I know we discussed getting back to music while we were here, but I didn't mean to pull you away from your art." I took a beat, then added, "Have you always played the piano, or is this a new skill?"

"Piano is the most common instrument played by humans," he answered. "I was programed with basic technique. Unlike the violin and the oboe, I have not spent time working on making my playing artistic. Would you like to try the piece again?"

"I really hadn't meant to take you away from your painting," I said.

"You did not 'take me away,' Zoe; I chose to join you. If you would prefer to rehearse alone, I will-"

"No!" I cut him off, and then repeated the word again in a softer tone. "No. Playing with you is always preferable to playing alone… and that sounded really dirty… though it's still true." I stood up and moved my chair closer to the piano. "Let's do it."

"From the top?" he asked, and I readied my bow and signaled him with a nod to begin the opening of the piece. His meter was, as always, perfect. It was always a challenge to match him precisely, but I was accustomed to it after two years of theory lessons and slightly more than that of playing duets. It surprised me when he adjusted his playing to follow me, especially on the legato bits near the end. Still, Papillon is a workout despite being less than three-and-a-half minutes long, and I was breathless at the end.

"I've missed playing with you," I said. "Thank you."

"Do you wish to continue?"

"Would you mind if we come back to music a little later? That piece was intense and I'm woefully out of practice. My head is all buzzy." I hesitated. "When we do play again, would you mind switching back to violin? Having an accompanist is great and all, but I like being able to meet your eyes when we play. It feels more like a conversation and less like a performance."

"I will be happy to," Data agreed, though he added, "if you will do something for me?"

"Anything," I answered.

"Dr. Selar contacted me before we left and asked me to assist you with practicing breathwork. She seemed concerned that you would not ask me. Why have you not?"

"I…" I hesitated.

"Zoe?"

"I honestly don't know," I said, the words flooding out of me. That had been happening a lot lately. "It's not like you've ever refused a request I've made, if it was within your capabilities. I just… you seem more bothered by this telepathy thing than I am sometimes, and I didn't want to give you yet another reminder of …"

"…of how I am still a machine?"

I had been looking down, but I looked up at him with a sharp jerk of my head. "What? No! God, Data… I didn't want to give you yet another task that involved helping me or saving me or anything like that. I love you, but we've fallen into this pattern - not of our own doing - of me being a victim and you being the hero, and while I appreciate that you will always be there if I need you, I have to be able to save myself - at least sometimes - or I'll never be a whole person, and we'll start to resent each other." I took a moment to set down my cello, which I'd still been holding, and lay the bow across its ribs. "Letting me come home should have been enough."

"I did not 'let' you come home," Data said quietly.

"You said you were glad I was back. Are you really… not?"

"You are misconstruing," he corrected, his voice still soft. "We have already agreed that my home is your home, whether that is the Enterprise, this house, or your dormitory at Yale," he echoed an earlier conversation. "Your statement that I 'let' you come home implies that permission was required. This is a false assumption. You do not require permission to return to our home. It is not a privilege to be given or revoked. It is simply… home."

"Well, that's not entirely true when home is a starship and I'm a civilian…" I pointed out, mostly because he was being annoyingly right again. Even in crisis I had to be quippy. "I felt like I had to ask, and I feel like I'm just one more problem for you to solve right now, and I'm tired of feeling like that. And neither of those things has anything to do with you being an android. I think it's just your personality and being a Starfleet officer is a big part of that. A bigger part than the fact that you have machine-y insides."

"I believe you will feel better when you have something purposeful with which to occupy your time," Data said. "For now, however, your task is to practice breathwork in order to restore your mental equilibrium, and I would like to assist you."

"Now?"

"Since you do not wish to continue playing music, and I had already completed my painting before I joined you, I can think of no better activity."

"Okay," I said. "Would you mind brewing a pot of tea while I put my cello away?" I looked around the room. "I should get a stand for it, so I don't have to keep putting it back in the hard case when we're not playing."

"Perhaps if you are not too tired this evening, we can build one together."

"We?" I asked.

"You will feel less like I am 'fixing' things if you assist me."

I stared at him for a long moment. Then I burst out laughing.

"Zoe?" His voice held a note of alarm.

But I couldn't explain why I was amused. Instead, I just said, "I love you. Even when you're being a brat."

He had the nerve to 'hmph' at me.

(=A=)

Data brewed tea while I set up the room: we didn't have floor pillows (and picturing him sitting on the floor made me giggle) so I moved two of the side chairs into facing positions with the coffee table between them, lit a scented candle (lavender and sea salt; it had been a Christmas gift from Anjali), dimmed the lights, and had the entertainment system play the sort of gentle, non-descript music that I liked to call "spa music."

Very quickly, I learned that breathwork with Data was nothing like it was with Selar. There was no psychic element, obviously, but even though my fiancé did breathe, his respiration was designed to regulate the temperature of his inner systems, not to provide oxygen to his brain, or control his nerves. Deep breaths were not something he was accustomed to taking. He wasn't able to guide the ritual.

"Maybe I should do this alone," I said, frustrated.

"You can, but I believe Selar meant for me to partner you in this. Perhaps we should find a way to adapt her instructions for us."

I thought about it for a few seconds. "Selar took the lead when we worked together. But that's because she was teaching me the routine and wanted to move into testing my shields. We're only doing the breathing part, and I know that pattern. She told me… she told me I could use you as my focus… so… maybe I should be leading you?"

"I believe that may be the solution to your frustration."

"My frustration?"

"You are not typically so quickly agitated," he pointed out. "While I am concerned about you, this ritual is simply a new experience for me."

"And even the fits and starts still teach you something."

"An astute observation, as always. Dearest, let us have our tea and then try again with you acting as the guiding partner."

"Tea sounds good."

We didn't linger over the hot beverage, but sat quietly, drinking it. I reached across that table with my free hand, and Data met it with his own. We squeezed and let go. The contact helped. I set my cup down and met his eyes. Liquid sunshine. I loved his eyes.

Trust myself. Trust Data. Trust us. The old mantra moved through my mind. Aloud, I said, "I'm ready to try again."

Data moved both of our mugs and the empty teapot to the far end of the coffee table. "I will follow your lead."

Selar hadn't touched me when we'd done the breathwork together, but then, Vulcans rarely touched other people. She'd also had me close my eyes. With Data, I changed the routine. I rested my forearms on the table and turned my hands palm up. "Take my hands," I said, and when Data had mirrored me, resting his curved fingers against my palms, I met his eyes. "Okay, now inhale through your nose, hold it four a count of three, and then release it through your mouth."

As Data had recently reminded me, we'd used breathing techniques before, in order to mesh as musicians instead of relying on a metronome. This exercise was simply more focused, with specific counts. We alternated holding and released our breath for three seconds, five, and seven, and the whole time our gazes were locked. At one point, I felt like the warmth of his eyes was wrapped around me like a blanket, and I smiled because I knew I'd achieved the state of calm that the ritual was meant to foster.

"We're done," I said, sliding my hands from underneath his. My voice sounded softer, more measured. I wondered if he could tell.

"Are you alright?" Data asked.

"I am," I said. "Thank you for your help."

"It is my understanding that breathwork is traditionally practiced with one's eyes closed," he observed.

"Traditionally, it is," I confirmed. "But traditionally it's not performed with a partner who has sunshine radiating from his face. There was no way I could have done this with you and not looked at your eyes, so once you suggested that I lead, I made the decision to make this ours." I shrugged. "I feel calmer and more centered now, so we achieved what we were meant to." I yawned. "I'm pretty tired though."

"If you would like to nap, I will wake you for dinner," Data offered.

"It's more that I need to nap, rather than to," I explained. "I'm not as drained as I was when Selar and I did this, but there was a psychic element then. Right now, it's more like I'm pleasantly muzzy."

"Then go and rest, Zoe."

"I think you should come with me and engage your dream program."

"I am not certain that would be wise," Data hedged.

"Wise for whom? Here in this house is the safest I've ever felt. I've never had a nightmare here. And it's light out, and likely still will be a couple of hours from now when we wake up. There's nothing here you need to protect me from." I paused for several seconds, then added, "Unless there's some other reason that you're avoiding your dreams?"

Data did not look away or fidget as an organic being might have, but I saw the subtle pulling back that he sometimes did. Neither of us was ready to call his behavior fear, but it was close to it, or at least it was near to anxiety.

"Are you troubled by dreams of being taken apart, or is it that you're concerned you'll hurt me? Because I've been assured by other people than you that the former is unlikely, and you've already explained that your assault on Counselor Troi was a reaction to alien influence. As far as I know, we're the only two people here, and last I remember, my influence on your dreams involved fins, scales, and impending offspring."

"It is not the content of my dreams or nightmares that concerns me, Zoe," Data said. "It is the lack of control. I either do not have or have yet to discover a subroutine that allows the lucid dreaming you were taught."

"Not being in control is probably way more disturbing for you than it is for me, and we both know I'm not a fan. But Data, you're here with me. It's just us. We've established that I can rouse you if I need to, so why not just see where things go? It's not all night, just a nap." I reached across the table and took his hands again. "You've been strong for me so many times, love. Let me have a turn. I don't have your strength or speed, but I know how to provide support."

"You have already been strong for me," he said, his voice quiet. "When we were Lore's captives, you ensured that I could function, you held his attention, and you are the one who ultimately set the denouement of our adventure in motion."

"You're the one who shot him," I countered.

"That is not precisely accurate."

"I didn't mean on the balcony. I know that was Hugh; you told me. But after… you're the one who deactivated him, and you're the one who vaporized him. You're also the one who came up with the plan that got us out. But none of that has anything to do with you not activating your dream program."

"You are correct," he said.

"Then you'll come take a nap with me?"

"I will."

(=A=)

I woke up to find that Data had moved onto his side and was staring at me. "Hi," I said softly. "Everything okay?"

"I completed one cycle of my dream program approximately seventeen minutes ago. I did not wish to wake you, so I have been watching you sleep. I have not taken the opportunity to do so since you have been home, and I have missed it."

"Did you notice anything new?"

"You seem more relaxed today than you have been recently. Evidently breathwork practice is beneficial."

"It's not just the breathwork, Data. It's you. I know you can't always indulge me by joining me for naps, but today… it was nice knowing you were close enough to touch."

"And yet, you did not touch me."

"Well, you didn't touch me, either. Why is that do you think?"

"I was aroused when my dream ended," Data said. "But I did not wish to disturb your rest. You have been quite fatigued recently."

"Learning to shield is exhausting. Deanna and Beverly both told me the same thing T'Jan said. Once I find equilibrium and don't have to focus so much, everything will feel better, and I won't tire so quickly." I hesitated. "Is that why you haven't been initiating sex?"

"That is… part of it," Data admitted.

"What's the other part?"

"When we began our relationship, your telepathy was still latent. You told me that you and T'vek had melded during intimacy, and Healer T'Jan explained that was one of the catalysts for your breakthrough."

"You cannot be jealous of T'vek and me!" I didn't shout it, but my voice rose. "Data, Tev and I melded exactly twice, and the first time was accidental. It should never have happened."

"But there was a psychic element to your intimacy, even if you were not aware that part of it came from you."

"You sound like you've been researching sexual intimacy in telepathic species."

"I have," he said. "I do not experience jealousy, Zoe, but I have been confronted with the fact that sex between us will never go beyond the physical act. I am incapable of providing even the most rudimentary psychic connection. More than that, you will never be able to read me. I will forever be blank to you."

"That's bullshit," I said, sitting up. We'd had difficult conversations lying in bed, in the dark, before, but it was no longer that kind of conversation. "You're not blank to me now, and you never have been. We've been having amazing sex and amazing intimacy for years now, and I've never felt anything lacking. You know this. So, are you dissatisfied somehow?"

Data rolled onto his back and then sat up in one, smooth motion. "The morning of your seventeenth birthday when we shared our bed for the first time, you suggested that we could 'make it nicer' and I told you that the idea of sexual intimacy with you was appealing."

"I remember. You turned a moment that could have been awkward or embarrassing into something sweet and hopeful." I was sitting with one leg bent and the other out to my side, and I had the sheet and blanket over my lap. Growing anxious, I clutched the covers in my fists.

Data reached out and pulled gently at each of my hands, removing the rumpled cloth and replacing it with his hands. "What was appealing then has only grown more so as our relationship has evolved," he said softly. "The advent of my ability to experience desire has enhanced each of our intimate encounters. The love I am now able to express to you further increases my… pleasure."

I felt my breath catch, stunned by his honesty, and his depth of… feeling. "You say all that, and you think the fact that I'm suddenly an active telepath will make me feel less satisfied?"

"You said that you felt we were not 'connecting' well."

"I did say that, but I didn't mean…" I paused. Took a breath. Searched inside myself for the right words. "I've been so tired, and so stressed trying to control this… thing… in my head, and then everything happened with the Ambassador, and I felt like I was failing… and like I was disappointing you. Like you didn't sign up to put all my broken pieces back together."

"I 'signed up' to be your partner, your lover, your fiancé, and eventually your husband," Data said softly. "And as I have said, though perhaps not with enough frequency, you are not broken, you are merely changing."

"And you felt like I was leaving you behind."

"In a manner of speaking," he agreed.

I let out a rueful chuckle. "If we had talked this out as soon as I got home, it would have saved both of us a lot of time and energy," I said. "I hate being out of tune with you."

"It is not my preferred mode of interacting either."

"Then, would you please remember that I signed up for the same things you did - to be your partner, lover, fiancée, and eventually your wife, and me being slightly telepathic now doesn't change that. I never needed telepathy to read you, anyway, Data."

His eyes widened. "Elaborate?"

"I watch you, when you're working on a problem, and when you're perplexed your brows furrow slightly, then smooth out when you've found a solution. When you're in a groove with your painting your face and body language are incredibly expressive. Sometimes when you say, 'I do not understand,' you really mean it, but other times you really mean that the question or statement was impertinent or offensive. When someone's behavior confuses you, you do this thing where you look at them in three parts, lifting your gaze in stages, and when someone says something that could be construed as mean or hurtful, it's like you pull your essence - your personality - no, your self - back inside your body. I know when I've been angry with you, I've accused you of playing human, but in those moments - and I'm ashamed that I've been the cause of at least one - it's like you're playing robot."

Data opened his mouth to speak, but I held a hand up. "There's more," I said. "Sometimes, when we're alone, I catch you watching me, and I can sense the full force of your focus, just on me, and it's powerful and flattering, and even a little bit daunting, but the best thing - the best thing is that you have a special smile that's just for me. I mean, you have a social smile that you pull out when we're in public and a smile is expected, and that's fine. I get why you do it. But when we're alone, when something I've said has really touched you, that smile is real. And it's mine. And it's the greatest gift ever."

Data did not favor me with that smile just then. Instead, he ducked his head, as if my words were literally washing over him. When he looked back at me, there was a subtle ease about him that hadn't been present since my return to the ship. "It would appear I was… mistaken… in my interpretation of my research."

I stifled a laugh at his phrasing, and simply said in a slightly lofty tone. "Yes. It would so appear." Then I cracked a smile. "So, what are we going to do about it?"

"I would like to begin by kissing you properly," Data said.

"Why do I get the feeling there's more to a 'proper' kiss than just our lips meeting?"

"Because there is much more." He released my hands, moving one to my hair, closing the distance between us. Our kisses since I'd returned to the Enterprise had been nice, but sort of polite. This kiss… this kiss felt like Data was trying to push his entire essence into me. First with his lips, and then with his tongue, and then his teeth grazed my lower lip.

I moaned into his mouth. I'd restricted him from using teeth in our love play after Lore had raped me, but it had been two years since then. I pulled away so I could speak. "All those restrictions I put on you when we were first intimate," I said, and waited for his confirming nod. "I don't need them anymore. Carte blanche all the way, Data."

He seemed to take it as a challenge. There in our bed, in the house he'd inherited, my fiancé played my body as deftly as he'd ever played his violin. With hands, lips, tongue, and teeth he invaded every single one of my senses, leaving me breathless, sweaty, and in absolutely no doubt that we were still as connected as ever. Maybe even more so.

"That… was… phenomenal…." I panted. "God, Data."

But he didn't respond with his usual line. Instead, he gave me the two words that almost always made my heart skip a beat. "My Zoe."

To be continued in Part II

NOTES: I broke this chapter in two because there's a definite change of tone in the back half, and I felt it should be connected, but separate. Don't worry, it won't be 264 more days to that one.

Vulcan phrases courtesy of an online translator, most are explained in the story, or obvious from context. "Blanket or Sword?" came from a cottage-core video from Quincy's Tavern on Instagram. Technically, the Enterprise-D shuttlecraft #6 doesn't have warp drive but that was the 2366 version. In my head-canon, after the Battle of Wolf 359 all shuttles were upgraded in case they needed to be used as escape vehicles.

Papillon (Op 77) is a duet for cello and piano by Fauré. It was probably written in 1894, but it wasn't published until 1898.