Greetings, to whoever find themselves reading this.

It's been 10 long years since i started this embarrassing, disastrous series.

Star Trek: Picard unearthed the nostalgia I felt for my first binge watch of TNG with my parents a decade ago. Back when I was writing Mary Sues and marrying them to my favourite characters. Now that my love for a particular Android has been reignited, I've decided to dust off an old OC, slap on a new coat of paint, give her a more realistic storyline and throw her at Data once again. So this is The Charlotte Files: new and improved, without secret powers or an alternate universe double, without unexplained special privileges or relationships with senior staff. Ignore whatever you remember reading about her 10 years ago and don't you dare go looking for the old stuff. Let me live in my little bubble of nostalgia while I hold two characters together and tell them to kiss.

On the streets of San Francisco, on a stardate that some are only using double digits for as a symbol of the new world they seemed to be living in after the disastrous events of Frontier day, a woman walks out of a well-known bar with a few bottles of wine. It's real, unlike the synthehol most people like to drink, and comes from the barkeep's old friend, the war hero, galaxy's finest, vineyard owning retired Admiral who she knew briefly, long ago. Guinen always kept his wine behind the bar for those who knew Picard and knew to ask for it.

Charlotte liked to enjoy a bottle or two of Chateau Picard on days that fill her with nostalgia, or otherwise depression. Today was one of the former. There has been lots of news about the former crew of the Enterprise-D, lately, known nowadays as the group who managed to thwart the Borg's last attempt to assimilate the universe. Charlotte is proud of them, that crazy old club of senior citizens who pushed the envelope every day. Thirty-five years ago they had been the crew who flew her safely through space as she spent some of her life living on that ship. Some days, it makes her ache with longing to remember it, those days that were some of the most exciting she had ever lived, even if she was only on the edge of everything. She was sure hundreds of people who had lived on that ship at one time or another would agree.

Of course, hundreds of people would not know what it was like to be connected to a particular member of those senior staff, a famous face who had been gone for many years, killed in battle for the captain he loved. Charlotte thought of him often, and nowdays, oftener still, after the discovery of the synth body that held the memories and personality of him who had been guarding Daystrom Station. A secret that might not have been discovered if not for the Enterprise crew- how long had he been up there? How long had Charlotte been mourning him?

Data had been so special. A truly remarkable feature of engineering, for one, but a precious soul who Charlotte had loved, for another. She had spent years on that ship, admiring him from afar, and then much closer, later. They had never gotten as close as she wanted, their lives too different, too far apart to make anything last. But the friendship they had lasted longer than anything else, even after she left the ship, and the letters they exchanged were all that kept her going, some days. When he had died, it had destroyed her, but she had slowly picked herself back up and chosen a life that didn't remind her so much of the Android she had loved. Starfleet had been too difficult a life to keep up when the one person she had joined for was gone.

She had lived a good life, she thought. She was in her fifties, happy, content, peaceful, with a nice house and vegetable garden and a few cats that kept her company when they felt like it. And if she missed the old days, she could visit Guinen's bar, just like tonight.

As she piloted her hovercraft back home, bottle clinking softly in their paper bag next to her, she wondered if Data's existence would even matter to her life. She hadn't seen the pictures, but she imagined that silly yellow face, so young and guileless, and wondered if he would remember her. How much had he thought about her, all those years ago? How much of an impression had she made, a teenager with a crush who insisted she was noticed, to a robot with responsibilities and a much more important life to live?

Perhaps none. She had already decided that she wasn't going to reach out. It would be too painful to be rejected, but all the more painful to see him after all these years.

She was halfway through the first bottle when she heard the sound of a shuttle landing. Her home was just outside the city on a nice patch of land, with just enough space for a shuttle to be parked, so her first thought was for her roses, hoping they wouldn't be squashed by whoever was landing. Getting up, she wrapped her robe tightly around herself and brought her wine glass to the door, opening it and peering out into the dark.

Her porch lights blinked on as a figure stepped out and started walking up the path, and she noticed behind him that he hadn't landed on her roses. He had landed on her cabbages. About to tell him off for his clumsiness, she opened to her mouth, only to stall when the figure was close enough to recognise. She clutched the wine glass tightly as he came to a stop at the porch steps, gazing up at her with clear, yellow eyes.

He was old. It was the first thing that popped into her numbed mind. Old and fat and wrinkled and grey. He looked like a man, any old man, but those eyes, and the quirk of his lips as he smiled at the sight of her... her stomach was doing backflips like she was just a schoolgirl with a crush yet again.

She must have looked stricken, maybe even horrified, because his smile started to fade and he took a step backwards, looking unsure. Finally, she took in a breath and timidly murmured his name.

"Data?"

The man stopped, and took a step forward again, his face lighting up. "Charlotte?"

That voice was the same. Charlotte felt her chest squeeze at the sound of it, and she nodded, a smile spreading despite her confused feelings.

Data took this as an invitation and ascended the steps, coming face to face with her on the porch. For a moment, neither of them said anything, searching each other's faces for the familiarity they once shared. Charlotte was the first to break the silence, reaching up with her free hand to lightly touch his cheek, warm and rough and sagging with age.

"You're an old man now," she murmured, eyes crinkling as his fluttered at the touch.

"I suppose Altan Soong thought it would be best for my body to match my age," he said softly, tilting his head slightly so that his lips brushed against her hand. At the contact, she felt her heart flutter uncontrollably, and the shake in her hand almost caused her wine glass to slip through her fingers. Data reached forward to catch it before it fell, and Charlotte lowered her hand from his face, palm tingling from the gentle kiss.

"You should come inside," she offered, stepping back and leading him through the door, trying to catch her breath as she felt his presence fill the room. Hurrying to the kitchen, she got another glass and came to fill it with wine, offering it to him. "Do you drink?"

"I can," he said, exchanging the glasses and taking a sip. She watched his face change as he tasted the wine, eventually coming to the decision that he liked it. He had never been so expressive as an android, and it was strange. He was so... so human. She hoped it was everything he hoped it would be.

Feeling awkward, she gestured around the room of her modest home, tastefully decorated and full of memories from the last 30 years. "Welcome to my humble abode. Feel free to look around."

He did so, curiously examining holographs and photo frames that adorned the mantelpiece, small trinkets and souvenirs from various planets, and dried flowers from her garden. Charlotte sat down in her armchair, sipping her wine, and a fleeting shadow darted across the floor and leapt into her lap. She stroked the cat's fur as she watched Data look through the collection of her life, spotting her other cat creeping towards him, eventually winding around his legs. Data made a noise of surprise and happiness to see the fluffy ginger cat at his feet and bent to pick him up, holding him up and scratching between his ears. The way his eyes lit up at the sight, Charlotte knew he was picturing his own cat from long ago. The thought brought tears to her eyes that she tried to hide as she sipped her wine.

"His name is Marmelade." She petted the cat in her lap, grey with blue eyes. "This one is Ash. I also had a Spot. But he's gone now."

Data nodded, petting the cat that curled up in his arms, a wistful look overtaking his face. "Likewise."

"I remember."

The man continued his examination of her photos and collectables, coming to a stop in front of a holograph that was stacked on top of a few books. Charlotte held her breath as he reached out to turn it on, the picture flickering to life. It was a hologram of himself, in a different body, a different time. Pale yellow skin, mustard yellow uniform, a blank expression that was readable to those who knew him. It was a relic of the past, seemingly incompatible with the man who stood in front of it now, but when he turned around, Charlotte saw the same man in those eyes, that stance, the shape of his mouth. It was Data, old and strange and different, but still Data.

"You're crying."

She sniffed, pressing a hand to her face, quickly wiping her tears away. "And you're using contractions."

"I can do that now."

"Clearly."

There was another silence as they looked at each other across the room, before the cat in Data's arms struggled to be free, and he obliged, lowering it to the floor. Ash did the same, slinking out of Charlotte's lap and leaving her free to get up. Perhaps they knew what was coming.

They crossed the room at the same time, their wine glasses discarded on the nearest surfaces before they were in each other's arms, and Charlotte leaned up to kiss him, softly at first, knowing he might not be ready for it. Data was hesitant, searching, obviously unpractised, but his lips were soft and warm and real, and Charlotte could not stop when she had started, arms curling around him as they kissed in the middle of the room.

They were both flushed when they parted, and Data's eyes were shining, full of wonder, just like they were whenever he discovered something new or found himself closer to humanity than before. Charlotte had missed that look. She couldn't hide her sob this time, cupping his face and stroking his cheek. "I mourned you," she whispered, smiling tearfully. "For years. I thought I was too late. Did you know I entered Starfleet just to see you again? I was lined up to be posted to the Enterprise-E when you- when I heard-"

"I'm sorry," he murmured, wrapping a large hand around hers and bringing it to his lips. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry... I did my duty, I saved my captain, it all happened so quickly and all I could think about was repaying my debt to the man who had believed in me, in my humanity-"

"I'm not angry with you Data, I promise I'm not. You did the most honourable thing anyone could do and it was worth it! Cap- Admiral Picard was worth the sacrifice." She shook her head, blinking back the tears. "If I have thought anything these last twenty years, it's that you are a hero. I was so proud... so proud to know you and love you, even if just for a few years."

"You loved me?" he whispered, yellow eyes searching hers.

She nodded, smiling. "I loved you."

"Even as I was?"

"Even as you were. Awkward and yellow and all. I thought you were so cool, and much more human than you realised, and I loved you."

Data chuckled, his eyes suspiciously damp, and kissed her hand again. "And now that I am not... awkward and yellow?"

"Well..." she grinned, tilting her head. "This old man is pretty cool too. And he kisses well."

"He does? That's a relief..."

"Of course, he can use some practice..."

Data laughed, and leaned in to press his lips to hers once again. Charlotte wrapped her arms around his neck, feeling his wind around her waist, relishing how they fit together like they did in her dreams. As different as he was, he was also the same. The same Data that she had loved all those years ago, only somehow better. This Data was warm and sweet and human. And he was hers, finally.

More and much of the same is on the way. I'm really only writing this for myself but if you like it, let me know.