ROLLERCOASTER

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Ballroom Blitz

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It wasn't exactly that Tasha hated Weddings… she certainly wasn't particularly used to them, having not been invited to many in her time. There was just an element to them that gave her the heebie-jeebies. Maybe it was the idea of two people, normally still in their youth, committing themselves so utterly to each other - becoming, essentially, a single unit. Maybe it was the dancing. Actually, it was much more likely to be the dancing.

She clasped her hands behind her back and surveyed Ten Forward.

The first face she recognised was Rocco's. She cursed silently, remembering that Keiko was good friends with DiMaggio's new fiancée. She took a few backsteps away from the couple as the soon-to-be-Mrs-DiMaggio flashed her ring and a proud smile at anybody who stopped to talk to them.

Still, she told herself, it was nice for Rocco to have finally got what he'd always wanted – a little wife to care for and fawn over, and to bear a score of grandchildren for his Mama. Tasha shuddered a little.

She spotted Geordi and Worf, chatting in a corner. The Engineer was good at taking her mind off irksome matters, and Worf was always an excellent partner for quietly skulking with at social events. She decided to make a beeline for them, but before she could take more than a couple of steps towards them, a hand grabbed her wrist, stopping her in her tracks. She looked down. Lieutenant Llewellyn, her wrist still in one freckled hand, a bottle of dark amber liquid in the other, beamed up at her with alcohol-clouded eyes.

'Lester,' she greeted him.

'Hello, Boss,' he grinned. 'No "plus one" with you, eh?'

'You know me.'

'Yeah,' Llewellyn agreed. 'Me neither.' He released her wrist and patted a chair next to him, unevenly. 'Come sit by here, then, my lovely.'

Tasha laughed a little as she graciously took a seat. 'You're being uncommonly forward today, Lester.'

The lanky Welshman raised his eyebrows. 'Am I?'

'And I do believe you're a little drunk, Lieutenant.' Tasha picked up the bottle of Irish whiskey from in front of Llewellyn and inspected it. 'O'Brien breaking out the Real Stuff already…?'

'I think,' Llewellyn replied, 'he wanted to share a few drinks with a fellow Irishman, but had trouble finding one.' He shrugged. 'Suppose a Welsh Gingernut is close enough.' He proffered her the bottle. 'Want a bit?'

Tasha shook her head.

'Come on! Irish Wedding! Got to have a drink!'

Tasha looked up from the table. DiMaggio and his girl had come a little closer to her table, and a small crowd had assembled to congratulate them. 'Maybe just a nip.'

'That's the spirit.' Llewellyn poured a shot of whiskey out for her. 'Can't exactly drink this whole bottle to myself.'

'Why did you let him give you a whole bottle of the stuff?'

Llewellyn shrugged again. 'Haven't been able to say no to a man in dress uniform yet.'

Tasha grinned, casting her eyes about the room as she sipped at the warming liquid. 'Everybody does look very dapper, don't they?'

'Speaking of which…' Llewellyn nodded towards the Bridal party, and the android Acting Father Of The Bride, still at Keiko's side. 'He scrubs up all right for a bag of bolts, doesn't he?'

Tasha cast the inebriated Lieutenant a sideways glance. 'Claws off, Lester.'

'Oh,' smirked Llewellyn, 'so you do have a "plus one" after all.'

'No.'

'Not what I heard,' Llewellyn replied.

Tasha narrowed her eyes. 'What have you heard?'

'Bits of arguments,' Llewellyn admitted, 'bits of banter, a couple of moans about the two of you always hogging the Holodeck together…'

'So what?' Tasha retorted, 'Llewellyn, as I'm sure you can imagine, the Turkana IV rescue was a very unpleasant experience for both myself and Commander Data.'

'But…'

'And as a result of that,' continued Tasha, over him, 'there was a… a breakdown of communication between my colleague and I. Fortunately, soon after that, a Holodeck malfunction threw us together and forced us to work out some of the differences that had sprung up between us, and since we both agreed that we'd found that useful for restoring our professional relationship we have, I'll admit, been returning there, so that we can work effectively together helping to run this ship. Why must everybody suspect that means that we're secretly at it like rabbits?'

'Actually, not everybody suspects that,' Llewellyn told her. 'There's generally three schools of thought about the pair of you.' He started counting off on his fingers. 'One, that you've been shagging for years, another that he doesn't do that sort of thing…'

'And the third…?'

'Well…' Llewellyn took another slurp of whiskey. 'The third's that it's you who doesn't do that sort of thing.'

'What?' Tasha frowned. 'Why would people think that?'

'You are sort-of standoffish,' Llewellyn replied.

'I socialise plenty!' Tasha protested. 'I do combat sports, I go to the gym… I'm in a choir, for pity's sake!'

'Even so, you've got to admit…'

'But how can people think I don't have a sex life? I dated DiMaggio for months…'

'He reckons you were never that interested,' Llewellyn shrugged.

'Does he, now?' countered Tasha, darkly.

Llewellyn nodded. 'He subscribes to the first theory about your love life, incidentally. He thinks there was something going on behind his back.'

Tasha downed the rest of her shot, her frown not altering. Llewellyn watched her.

'I've made you angry now, haven't I?' He shook his head down at his table. 'I'm sorry, Boss. It's this bloody stuff. Turns me into a right mouthy idiot.'

'It's OK, Lester,' Tasha murmured. 'If it wasn't for your stupid drunken honesty I wouldn't know what people really think of me.'

She held out her glass towards Llewellyn, who refilled it for her with a small smile.

'So, while I'm being a drunken idiot, just tell me for the record, eh? Are you or aren't you?'

Tasha rolled her eyes. 'Give it a rest! What, have you got a bet on with somebody over it?'

'I'd just like to know whether I would be able to ask my beautiful commanding officer for a dance without offending the electronic gentleman.'

Tasha sat back. 'OK, firstly, knock off the patronising BS – I know I'm not your type. Secondly, it's impossible to offend Data - trust me, I've tried - and thirdly…' She knocked back the remains of her second glass of liquor and got up from the table. 'I don't dance. Sorry to disappoint you, Lieutenant.'

She walked off to join the cluster of Senior Crewmembers at the other end of the bar. Llewellyn finished off his glass, picked up his bottle and ambled over to another young Blonde officer, sitting a little forlornly in a corner.

'I know you said "no",' he announced, sitting down, 'but I asked anyway.'

The woman stared at him, wide eyed. 'What?! For the last time, Llewellyn, I am not interested! I have a boyfriend…'

'No,' Llewellyn retorted, leaning into her and hiccupping slightly, 'what you've got is a boring old fart. A proper boyfriend would show you a good time every once in a while. A proper boyfriend would stay at a Wedding Reception with you for more than half a blinking hour.'

'He's got an early start tomorrow…' muttered the woman.

'Don't make excuses for him, now.' Llewellyn started pouring himself another glass. 'You want to get rid of him, you do. I've seen the way you keep on staring at You Know Who…'

'Be careful, Lester,' warned the woman, 'or I might have to start letting slip who it is I'm forever catching you casting furtive glances towards…'

Llewellyn shook his head, briskly. 'Lies, all lies.' He cleared his throat. 'Anyway, I asked, and they're definitely not shagging.'

'It makes no difference to me,' the woman protested, before adding as an afterthought; 'I mean, you're sure? They said so outright?'

'Pretty much,' Llewellyn replied. 'You should go for it. Don't be scared of Yar, she's a pussycat deep down. Go on! No time like the present…'

The woman paused, contemplating, then shrank back down into her seat. 'He's with the Bride. I can't interrupt them.'

'It'll be fine!'

The woman got up, then stood indecisively hovering for a moment, watching the Bridal party nervously.

'You know what?' She told him, 'I've got a pretty early start tomorrow too. I think I might just go.'

'Oh no, don't leave…'

She started moving away from the table. 'Night, Lester. Give Miles and Keiko my apologies. And lay off that whiskey.'

'Jenna,' called Llewellyn after her.

But she was already gone.

-x-

'Huh. You think you know a guy.'

'Hmm?' Asked Tasha, gazing down at the remains of her Synthahol Black Russian and wondering what the chances were of finding some more real liquor.

'Four years, we've been buddies,' Geordi replied, watching the people on the dance floor, 'and I had no idea he could dance.'

Tasha looked up, following Geordi's gaze. Data and Keiko's graceful twirling seemed to have the whole Party entranced. Evidently, many of the other wedding guests were as surprised at the android's ability to dance as Geordi was.

'Huh,' she echoed, a little taken back herself.

'Guess that's part of what I like about him. Always full of surprises.' Geordi cocked his head. 'He's pretty good, too. Whod'a thought.'

From the other side of their table, Dr Crusher gave a quiet, delighted 'Mmp'.

Tasha continued to watch Data dancing with the Bride. Something about the way he gently held Keiko's waist and leaned his body into her made Tasha a little light of breath.

'D'you ever wonder,' continued Geordi, 'what of the Data we know was always programmed to be that way, and what's been learned? I mean, was he built able to sing, and play music? Was he built able to dance, or did he just pick it up…? Did someone teach him…? Who can say.'

'MMP!' Beverley added, more urgently this time.

'What?' Tasha asked as Deanna came to sit next to her.

'Nothing,' beamed Beverley with an expression that screamed that she had a proud secret which she was bursting to tell.

'Might somebody have taught him?' Deanna asked with a smile. 'Might somebody nearby have taught him fairly recently…?'

Crusher went back to her drink. 'I'm not saying a word.'

The music changed, and Miles O'Brien stepped in between his new wife and the android, taking over the dance amidst the applause of his guests.

'How are you doing, Tasha?' Deanna asked her, quietly.

'Me?' Tasha blinked. 'Fine! Why?'

'I noticed DiMaggio and Mamo have got engaged.'

'Difficult not to,' retorted Tasha, 'with the size of that rock on her finger.' She paused, giving her friend a reassuring smile. 'Honestly. I'm fine. I'm happy for them…'

'Well,' called Geordi over her, with a grin, 'if it isn't Twinkle-toes.'

Data cocked his head curiously as he approached their table. '"Twinkle-toes"…?'

'Nice dancing,' Crusher told him with a conspiratorial smile.

'Thank you, Doctor.'

'Come to sit and rest…?'

'I do not need to rest,' Data replied, calmly. 'In fact, the newly-weds have requested that others join them on the dance floor. I have been sent to, as Chief O'Brien put it, "rally the troops".'

'Just let us finish our drinks,' Geordi told him, 'and we'll be there.'

Tasha sunk back in her chair a little, trying to hide the fact that her glass was already empty. She was too late, however. Data put a hand lightly on her shoulder.

'Tasha.'

'Mm-hmm…?' she answered, as vaguely as possible.

'May I request the honour of dancing with you?'

'Um…'

'C'mon, Tasha,' Geordi encouraged. 'I don't think I've ever seen you dance before.'

'I, um…' She shook her head apologetically at the android. 'Sorry, Data. I don't.'

'You will not dance?'

'Not so much that I "won't",' admitted Tasha, 'it's more that I can't.'

'Everybody can dance a little bit,' Beverley interjected.

'Not me.'

'I find that difficult to believe, Tasha,' Data replied. 'You have always exhibited exceptional physical grace…'

'Sure, in combat and in training I can move just fine,' Tasha replied, 'but for some reason, as soon as I try to do it to a rhythm, it all falls apart. Trust me, guys. You do not want to see my attempts at dancing. It's a mess.'

'Are you kidding?' Geordi asked. 'I definitely want to see this now. It sounds like a hoot.'

'I'm not getting up there so that everybody can laugh at me! Sorry, Data, but no. It'll be embarrassing for the both of us.'

'I am incapable of feeling embarrassment.' Data paused briefly. 'If it helps, I can follow your lead, so that you may set a pace and style with which you are comfortable.'

Tasha scoffed slightly. 'You don't want to end up dancing like I do.'

'If I had a wish not to do so,' Data replied, 'I would not have asked you in the first place.'

Tasha folded her arms, leaning back. 'You really want to dance with me, huh?'

Data simply held his hand out to her in response.

Tasha cast another gaze around the bar. DiMaggio and his girl were already up and dancing, looking perfect and blissfully happy. The whole room seemed to be filled with couples, holding one another close to, kissing and swaying to the rhythm of the music. She looked up again at Data, his hand still courteously extended.

She took a deep breath, pushed herself up from her chair and took his hand.

'I hope you know what you're letting yourself in for with me,' she muttered to the android as her friends started prematurely applauding her.

'I believe,' Data replied, leading her onto the dance floor, 'that I seldom do.'

They reached an empty spot where Tasha stood for a moment, hoping that, somehow, her body would be inspired to move in time with the music's beat for a change.

No such thing happened.

Since she knew Data was waiting for her lead, she attempted an odd little shuffle of the feet. As he carefully copied her, she gained the courage to add a slight side-to-side swing of the torso. Again, he copied her precisely. She giggled a little, aware of how ridiculous she herself must look but glad that there was somebody making such a godawful ass of himself along with her. She began to move her arms, jerkily.

The music changed to a faster, louder tune, with a heavy drumbeat. Her ragged movements, while still not in time with the beat, grew quicker and stronger as the rhythm did. Still, Data mirrored her. He looked, Tasha mused as she floundered, like a small child full of energy sweets chasing a rubber ball on a trampoline. As, she realised, must she. For the first time since she had taken to the dance floor, she took her eyes away from Data and scanned the rest of the dance area. She almost stopped dancing when she noticed that it was virtually deserted. Whether it was because nobody wanted to be in the way of wildly flailing limbs that could punch their way through reinforced sheet metal as if it were wet tissue paper, or simply due to the spectacle, she didn't know, but the crowd had moved off the dance floor and was now, instead, circling it. Watching them. Watching her. She could hear Will Riker's loud, distinctive laugh coming from somewhere, and caught, out of the corner of her eye, the sight of Captain Picard, his shoulders shaking, trying and failing to clap along with her irregular rhythm.

And, here was the funny thing – she didn't want to stop. She didn't want to scurry away back into her corner, humiliated. Of course they were laughing. She looked ridiculous. But it wasn't embarrassing - it was fun. Besides which, she wasn't alone. She found herself meeting eyes briefly with DiMaggio – one of the few merry-makers who wasn't smiling – before turning back to Data and enthusiastically thrashing her arms once more.

-x-

'What are they doing?' Beverley asked in despair.

Nobody answered.

'What are they doing?' she repeated.

Geordi pulled his Visor loose in order to wipe the tears from his eyes. 'I think they're dancing.'

'That's not dancing!' She indicated towards the flailing pair. 'What is that? Is that the Hustle…? Is that what that's supposed to be…?' She put her hand to her forehead in exasperation. 'He can dance properly. He can dance! I taught him. Against all my better judgement, I taught him…'

'You taught him to do that?' Geordi beamed, turning back to watch the chaos on the dance floor with glee. 'Doc, that's wonderful!'

-x-

'That was fun.'

'It was generally conceded to be a most enjoyable Wedding.'

'I had fun.' Tasha pulled Data a little closer as they walked. 'And I think I showed some of those guys a thing or two about Lieutenant Commander Yar.'

'What do you mean?'

'Can you believe,' Tasha asked him, 'some people see me as standoffish? A stick-in-the-mud? An Ice Maiden?' She glanced at him. 'Don't answer that. Of course you can believe it. Well, I guess we proved them wrong tonight. Hell, we proved me wrong. I never thought I could ever have quite so much fun humiliating myself like that.'

'I do not believe that either of us were humiliated, if you are referring to our dancing,' Data replied. 'Indeed, the onlookers appeared to be showing considerable admiration.' He paused. 'Nurse DiMaggio did not look pleased.'

'No he did not,' Tasha agreed, with pride.

'Do you believe that our command of the party's attention might have caused him to feel jealous?'

Tasha shrugged. 'Who can say? Who cares?'

'It was not your objective this evening to cause him envy?' Data asked. 'A form of "one-upmanship", following the attention that his betrothal to Miss Mamo has received…'

Tasha cocked a glance at him. 'Is that why you asked me to dance?'

Data shook his head, levelly. 'I asked you to dance because it seemed suitable to do so, since you are a close female friend, and, while not a romantic partner as such, at least the nearest that I have to one…'

'Such a sentimentalist,' Tasha grinned as they stopped outside her quarters. 'Why don't you just ask me to marry you?'

'Would you like to?'

Tasha's expression froze. 'What?'

'Recent events have been causing me to ruminate upon monogamous sexual relationships of late,' Data replied. 'I believe that I have reached a stage of development where I can upkeep a formal conjugal partnership. Of course, this is only something that I would be able to ascertain by attempting to put it into practice.'

'An experiment?' Tasha asked, flatly.

'That is an over-simplification of what I am proposing.'

Tasha furrowed her brow, a little confused. 'Data, from what I can tell, what you're proposing is marriage, even though you can't fall in love.'

'We would not have to marry immediately. We could commence with a more traditional courtship for now…'

'Data,' Tasha sighed. 'That won't work. Not with me, certainly…'

'But we are close friends,' Data replied, 'and we appear to be sexually compatible. According to my observations and research into the subject, these are the perfect conditions for the first stages of a romantic partnership – emotional closeness and sexual attraction.'

'But you can't feel emotional closeness, or sexual attraction…'

'I believe that I can compensate for that.'

'No, you can't.' Tasha paused, still a little punch-drunk from his sudden suggestion. 'Data, it was you yourself who told me to avoid even the possibility of developing romantic feelings for you, remember?'

'But you told me that your declaration of those feelings was a lie.'

'And if I couldn't ever fall for you, well then what's the point of getting involved with you in the first place? But if I could… if I did… that just wouldn't be fair.' Tasha glanced away from him, a little awkwardly. 'Personally, Data, I reckon you should probably rethink this "experiment" idea for the time being. I'm not sure that it's right for you just now. But I can tell you one thing for certain – it's never, ever gonna be right for me.' She looked back at him, his expression one of incomprehension. 'For starters, we're not in "the first stages of a romantic partnership". We've been close for years. We've had sex two and a half times.'

'Two and a half…?'

'I reckon our little indiscretion in the Turbolift probably counts as 50 percent of a knee-trembler.'

'At least,' Data agreed.

'So you understand what I'm saying…?'

'Not entirely,' frowned Data. 'I understand your rejection.'

'It isn't a rejection,' Tasha murmured. She pulled him into a short, light kiss. 'Believe me, the time'll come along soon enough when I'm cold in my bed and kicking myself for saying no to your offer…'

'I strongly suggest that you do not kick yourself,' replied the android with an air of concern. 'If you are cold in bed, it should be simple enough to alter the atmospheric control in your…'

She kissed him again, even briefer than before. It was enough to silence him, however.

'I had a wonderful time tonight, Data,' she told him as she stepped into her quarters. 'Thank you so much.'

The door slid closed between them, leaving Data alone in the corridor. Without a further word to anybody, he returned to his quarters and continued in his personal log for Maddox.

Lieutenant Commander Natasha Yar, I am certain that you will recall from my tribunal. It may please you to know that she and I still have the close relationship that she described then. Indeed, this evening we danced together, following which, I proposed marriage to her. She refused, and also refused my further suggestion that we might attempt altering our so-far indefinite relationship to a more tangible romance. I may well have misunderstood her meaning, but her reasoning for this appeared to be that she was, in fact, too fond of me to attempt such a dalliance. I find this most perplexing, as I find much of her behaviour. Perhaps I have much more to learn about human motives and behaviour than I thought… or, perhaps, I simply have much yet to understand about Commander Yar.