ROLLERCOASTER

-x-

The Promise

-x-

'So, are you going to throw the bouquet?'

A very long time ago, the youth who had now settled comfortably next to the bride, had been a scrawny, excitable kid who went by the name of Wesley Crusher. He still went by the name of Wesley Crusher, as far as Tasha was aware, but he was no longer a scrawny kid. He wasn't even all that excitable any more. Hell – throughout the wedding ceremony and reception so far he'd been practically nonchalant. She imagined that the ability to tinker with Timespace would have quite the effect on a young man's confidence. If anything, she had been pleasantly surprised to see that Wesley's increasingly super-human abilities had yet to make a narcissist of the young man. She had absently wondered whether he might arrive for the wedding by materialising out of the blue with a smug smirk and a cocky 'Bonsoir, Mon Capitan'. No such thing had happened, although nobody had been terribly sure quite how he had arrived on the ship that morning.

Between Wesley and Tasha, Deanna primped at the floral bouquet in her hand.

'Why would I want to do that?'

'It's tradition!'

'It's ridiculous,' argued the bride. 'These flowers are beautiful. Why should I throw them away?'

'So that someone can catch them,' Wesley replied.

'Do you want to catch them?' asked Deanna.

'No…'

Tasha grinned as Deanna shared a mischievous glance with her.

'You seem awfully keen,' chimed in Tasha. 'Is there something you're not telling us, Wes?'

Wesley started to laugh. 'I thought you'd be on my side, Tasha! From what I hear, it sounds like it should be your turn in the white dress next…'

'Wesley, I'm with Data,' Tasha reminded him. 'That's something that takes a lot more than superstition and a posy caught outta mid-air to maintain, believe me.'

'Are you talking about me?' Data called from the other side of the dancefloor.

'Case in point,' Tasha told Wesley as Data approached their table. 'Have you ever tried dating anyone with the ears of a hound dog?'

'Yes,' replied Wesley. 'Once. Didn't work out. They kept getting in the way.'

'Hello, Wesley.' Data appeared at the table mercifully before Wes was able to continue with his anecdote.

Wesley beamed. 'Hey, Data. How's life treating you?'

'Admirably, thank you…'

'Any word on who's getting promoted yet?' Wes looked expectantly from Data to Tasha and back again.

'Not yet,' Data replied.

Wesley just nodded, leaving a brief, uncomfortable lull in the conversation.

'I have a girlfriend now,' added Data, indicating awkwardly at Tasha.

'Yes,' smiled Wesley, 'we've met. Hear you're living together. Congratulations.'

'We also have a cat,' Data told him.

'Really?'

Tasha nodded. 'She's a little sociopath. Data was smitten at first sight.'

'What's she called?'

'Don't ask,' grumbled Tasha. 'And for the record, Data, I am never, ever letting you name anything ever again.'

'I do not see what is wrong with it,' Data argued. 'It is a very common name for a Terran pet. Besides which, it suits her.'

Tasha shook her head. 'Why do I put up with you?'

It had been a rhetorical question, and yet Data appeared to ponder the matter, and open his mouth to answer. Whatever reasoning he had, however, would remain unspoken since that was the moment that Captain Picard walked up to their table with a particular sense of purpose.

'Deanna,' said the Captain, 'This speech I'm to give… I was wondering whether you would mind me adding a short professional announcement to the end of it.'

Tasha could suddenly feel her heart hammering in her chest. It seemed that Will's replacement had finally been chosen.

'Feel free,' Deanna replied.

'Thank you,' added Picard. 'Apologies for the short notice. The Mandela's communications systems have been down for days – I've only just been able to get in contact.'

Tasha's thrumming heart sank as swiftly as it had excited itself moments before. The Mandela was Shelby's ship. She met eyes with Data. His expression mirrored the way that she was feeling – albeit in a more Dataish way.

'Commander Data, Commander Yar… I believe there are matters that we have to discuss. Shall we do this separately, or…'

Data's hand found Tasha's, as it had on the day of his mother's death.

'I believe,' Data replied, 'that it would be preferable for both of us that we should "get this over with".'

Picard nodded in understanding.

Ever the diplomat, Deanna got to her feet. 'I think I'll go and find my husband.'

'Yeah,' added Wesley, following her lead, 'me too. Find her husband, that is, not…' he gave up, hurrying away. 'See ya.'

Although the table was now empty, none of the three of them sat down, remaining instead in the same awkward, expectant huddle that they had earlier formed.

'It was a very difficult decision,' Picard told them. 'I suppose that I should be grateful to have been so spoiled for choice, although it didn't feel like a blessing at the time. I had to bear in mind that it is generally considered a poor choice to deliberately take a First Officer who is romantically involved with another Bridge Officer – particularly considering that I am about to lose a superb Counsellor as a result of her relationship with my last one.' He gave a strange smile. 'As somebody once said to me, "we are a strange, incestuous little family, aren't we".'

In spite of her anxiety, Tasha mirrored the Captain's smile.

'And we are,' continued Picard. 'We really are. Will and Deanna started their dance before I had met either of them. By the time I found out that had an – at that point, former – couple working together on my Bridge, it was too late. Losing Deanna to the Titan aside, I really can't see what negative effect it had on the performance of their duties.' He paused briefly. 'But, of course, the two of you are a different matter – a different couple, and how am I to know that you wouldn't let your personal relationship affect my Bridge?' Picard gave them another strange smile. 'How am I to know…? Because I have it on very reliable authority that this peculiar, sometimes joyful, sometimes miserable romance between two of my Senior crew has been going on practically under my nose since we had barely left the dock. From what I've gathered over the years, the pair of you have put one another well and truly through all types of torment, and not once has it spilled into your professional lives. Nobody even knew about it for over a year.'

He paused. Neither Tasha nor Data gave any reply.

Picard smiled brightly. 'You two just want me to get to the point, don't you?'

'I was trying to word that sentiment in a manner that seemed polite, Sir,' Data told him.

'I hope you won't think less of me if I admit that I turned to an old friend for guidance as I was ruminating over this decision,' said Picard. 'She helped me to search my soul, and find a new perspective. In the end, it came down to this – who knows about being my First Officer the best? Certainly not me. So I asked myself; who would Will Riker choose to replace himself?' He gazed at both of them, levelly. 'I contacted the Mandela first in order to commiserate Commander Shelby, as I must commiserate you also, Mister Data.'

Tasha's breath caught in the back of her throat. She tried to say something, but Data pulled her into a tight, glad embrace before she could find the words; besides which, the Captain still hadn't finished his address.

'Lieutenant Commander Yar, I expect your proposed replacement for the post of Security Chief within 24 hours. I'd also recommend that you make gaining the rank of full Commander before your predecessor leaves for the Titan a priority. I think that the position of First Officer of Starfleet's flagship is one that requires a third pip on that collar. Congratulations, Number One.'

If Picard had held out a businesslike hand for her to shake, she could neither see nor reach out to return it. Data's hug didn't feel particularly vice-like, but she had a feeling that there was no way she was going to be able to come out of it of her own volition.

'Mister Data,' added Picard, 'I trust that you are not too disappointed at having been overlooked on this occasion… although, if you don't mind my saying, that certainly doesn't appear to be the case…'

'I am happy where I am at present, Sir,' Data said into Tasha's shoulder. 'Truly happy.' The android pulled out of the hug, contemplating something. 'However, perhaps I too should put some impetus towards becoming a full Commander, to keep my career from stagnating.'

Picard shot Tasha an amused look. 'You'll still have to call her Sir, Data.'

'I am aware of that, Captain.

'Data?'

The trio looked across the hall to where Will Riker was calling Data from the gifts table at the other side of the dance floor. The groom indicated to a tall, delicate ceramic sculpture – all spindly strands and crazy angles.

'Did you make this?' hollered Will.

Data nodded.

'It's wonderful!' Will enthused at top volume to be heard above the thrum of the crowd. 'I love the little detachable bit at the top – so clever.'

Data's face fell. Were it possible for him to have paled any further, he would have done. 'That is not supposed to be detachable.' He hurried towards the gifts table before any more of his artwork could become accidentally disconnected.

Tasha was left in her far corner with Jean-Luc Picard. She beamed – Hell, she was already beaming, she just didn't let her grin fade as the seconds passed.

'I don't know what to say.'

'I know.'

'I won't disappoint you, Sir.'

'I know that, too.'

She nodded at the departing android. 'He told you about Will trying to get me on the Titan, didn't he?'

'I already knew about that when he came to me. But what I hadn't realised was that he wanted you to have the First Officer post far more than he wanted it for himself.' Picard paused. 'I hope that that didn't sway my professional judgement at all. I don't believe that it did. But it did make announcing my decision a little easier on my soul, believing that he would be happy, even though he wasn't the one chosen.' Picard lowered his voice to a conspiratorial murmur. 'The last thing I wanted to do was to ruin your plan. I know I've cut the timing rather short…'

'Plan's still on, Sir,' Tasha replied in a similarly hushed tone. 'Even if he was pissed about me getting promoted over him, the plan would still be on.'

'There was me thinking you wanted the situation to be perfect. Surely, that wouldn't be the case if he was in a bad mood.'

'No such thing as "perfect",' said Tasha. 'But he's the closest there is. I'll have him no matter what his mood is. And so will the plan. It goes ahead as scheduled.' She paused, and changed back to her usual tone. 'Lieutenant Manek, Sir.'

'Beg pardon?'

'As my replacement.'

'That was quick.'

'I took the liberty of weighing up all options in advance.'

Picard nodded, thoughtfully. 'Manek. A Vulcan at Tactical.'

'Half Vulcan,' Tasha corrected.

'Still, it'll make quite a change.'

'This is a time of change.'

'Apparently so.' Picard's face lit up. 'Exciting, isn't it?'

-x-

The Wedding Breakfast had been eaten by all but him. Captain Picard had not yet made his address, yet news of Tasha's promotion appeared to be spreading amongst the guests. The holographic band was playing, he was amongst his friends and he felt thoroughly happy. And then the impossible happened. Natasha Yar approached him and asked him to dance.

'You do not dance,' Data reminded her.

'It's OK, Tasha replied, 'it's just a slow dance. Slow dancing isn't like real dancing, it's just holding onto one another and sort-of swaying.'

'That is not an accurate description of…'

'It is the way I do it,' interrupted Tasha. 'Just dance with me. Please?'

Data noticed as she led him into the middle of the dance floor that a hush had descended over certain members of the wedding party. It seemed that their friends were observing the scene with an element of expectation. Tasha was not a good dancer, but she was not that bad. It was as though the guests knew something about what was occurring that he did not.

'What is this?' he asked, but Tasha hushed him.

As the band finished playing 'We Have All The Time In The World', Tasha put one arm around his shoulders, the other around the small of his back, and held him close. He reciprocated, still confused.

A Holographic Louis Armstrong lowered his trumpet and took the microphone.

'This next one's a special request,' announced Satchmo, and melted away. A slender Caucasian man with bright dyed hair and full makeup took Armstrong's place. Data tilted his head at the new singer.

'Is that supposed to be David Bowie?'

Tasha looked across at the singer. 'I know, I know. His face is still a little off. But it's a pretty good likeness, wouldn't you say?'

Data turned his attention back to Tasha. 'Did you make him?'

'I helped make him,' Tasha conceded. 'The voice is better than the appearance. Trust me.'

'Why did you create a hologram of David Bowie for a Jazz band?' asked Data.

'He's your favourite,' replied Tasha, 'isn't he?'

'That is an uncharacteristically romantic gesture for you.'

Tasha hushed him again as the band began to play.

'It's a God awful small affair,' sang the hologram, and Tasha had been correct – the voice of the simulation was more realistic than the aesthetic appearance, 'to the girl with the mousey hair…'

True to her word, Tasha began to sway gently, and ever so slightly out of time with the tune. Data closed his eyes and allowed the well-crafted recreation of the singer's voice to flood his aural receptors with this, one of his very favourite melodies.

'Surprised?' murmured Tasha.

'At Bowie, or the dancing?'

'Either.'

'Both.'

'I felt like a change,' Tasha replied. 'Clearly, as have you.'

'How so?'

'Can't help but notice, this is a wedding and you haven't proposed yet.'

'Would you like me to propose?' he asked, his eyes still shut, his face nestled against the short hair next to her ear.

'No,' replied Tasha.

'No?'

In the band, the cellos started their slow, chromatic climb towards the still-distant chorus.

'But the film is a saddening bore, for she's lived it ten times or more…'

'No. Because if you did that, that'd make all this kinda redundant, and leave me looking like an idiot.'

'She could spit in the eyes of fools…'

'I do not understand,' said Data.

'Data, open your eyes.'

'To what?'

'Literally, Data! Open your eyes. Look.'

Data opened his eyes and looked about him at the moment that the chorus swelled. The hall, which moments ago had been fully lit, was now in the semi-darkness of a summer twilight. The walls of the room were still visible in the gloom, but only through the giant, translucent shapes of an early 20th Century funfair, all rendered in double scale.

Wonderland.

Wonderland had found its way into the reception, and wrapped itself around them. All of the bright, colourful lights that usually shimmered over the holographic attractions were turned off, however. Except for the pale full moon and the carefully recreated afterglow of a sunken sun at the edges of the ghostly horizon, the only light issued from a myriad of tiny holographic projections – 364,902, to be precise - hanging in the air like so much glowing glitter swimming gradually through a thick, invisible treacle. The projections were not simple specks of shining light, however, but words. Two words, rather, making up 364,902 simple, tiny, glimmering requests.

'Marry me', they said.

Data turned from the projection filling the room back to Tasha.

'Well,' asked Tasha, 'Whaddaya say?'

'It is beautiful,' Data replied. 'How long did it take you?'

'This is why I've been so busy for the last two weeks,' Tasha told him. 'I've been in here with Barclay, setting it all up.'

'You do not get on well with Lieutenant Barclay,' Data recalled.

'Just can't warm to the guy,' confirmed Tasha. 'It was a pretty long fortnight.'

'All that, for me?' Data blinked, and felt his eyebrows rise. 'You must really love me.'

'Well, isn't that kinda the point of all this?' grinned Tasha. 'Now who "never makes romantic gestures"?'

'Those were not my words. I said that such gestures were uncharacteristic for you, but I am willing to retract that statement, under the circumstances.'

Tasha nodded primly. 'I should say so.'

Still they danced the same awkward shuffle that Tasha had instigated. The song was drawing to an end.

'Yes, by the way,' said Data.

'Hmm?'

'I accept.'

She pressed her cheek to his. 'I thought you might.'

The song ended, and the holographic approximation of Bowie changed back into Louis Armstrong as Wonderland faded away and the lights of the room returned to their normal setting. Data's acceptance of Tasha's proposal had been sotto voce, and both of their outward reactions had remained low-key. By rights, the air of quiet suspense that had hung about their watching friends should have remained until an announcement had been made, and yet before the couple could leave the dance floor, they were besieged by delighted well-wishers.

Deanna was the first to intercept them, throwing her arms around Tasha.

'Congratulations!'

Data outstretched a hand as he readied himself to interject, but it was caught by William Riker, who pumped it in an enthusiastic handshake.

'You're going to get a real blast out of being a husband, Data,' promised Riker. 'All right, so I've only been doing it for a couple of hours, but it's the best fun already.'

'How do you know that I said yes?'

'My wife can read emotions, and I can read my wife.' Riker grinned as more of their companions gathered to congratulate them. 'As for everyone else, Data, you have a best friend who can lip read from up to a kilometre away.'

'I can't believe you're getting married before I am,' added Geordi, at Data's shoulder. Geordi took Data's hand to shake now, clasping his arm at the elbow with his other hand. 'I heard about your other news, too.'

'Yeah,' Wesley gave Tasha an impish glance. 'She's gonna be your wife and your boss. Sure you're ready for that, Data?'

'What's the difference?' asked Commander Riker, laughing at his own quip.

Counsellor Troi nudged Riker. 'You're my new husband and my new boss, but nobody's made that joke about you.' She rolled her eyes at Tasha. 'Double standards.'

Tasha patted her friend on the shoulder, still laughing at Riker's comment. 'Thank you for letting me use your Wedding reception to pop the question.'

The Counsellor shrugged. 'Beats throwing my bouquet away.'

Data watched as Tasha soaked up congratulations for both her engagement and her appointment to the post of First Officer with grace and pride but not, he noted, with the joy that he would have expected. He remained close by her side as she left their friends on the dance floor.

'Is there something the matter?' he asked.

Tasha shook her head, with a smile that did not seem completely genuine to Data. 'Just keep wondering when I'm gonna wake up, that's all.'

'That is not true. You know that this is not a dream.'

'Not as such,' Tasha replied, 'I keep on getting my dreams handed to me on silver platters this afternoon, though.'

'You do not exhibit the typical outward demeanour of one who feels that all her dreams are coming true.'

'That's because of the little voice.'

'"Little voice"?'

'The little voice in my head…' Tasha shrugged. 'Probably just a leftover neurosis from Turkana, but still. It bothers me.'

'What does the little voice say?'

Tasha gazed down at her shoes. 'That it's too good to be true,' she replied. 'That all of this has to come apart sometime soon. I don't get luck like this.'

'You are being promoted due to your abilities and years of devotion to duty,' replied Data, 'not due to luck. And I am aware that our relationship reaching the point that it is now at was due to more devotion and hard work, on social and emotional levels.'

'Still,' said Tasha, 'the little voice is telling me I should expect it all to blow up in my face at any moment.'

Data took her hands. 'Your life has dealt you many hardships - some of which, I am not proud to admit, were due to me…'

'Data…'

'It is true. And my gratitude to you for overcoming the hurdles that I set down for you – for your patience, and your offer to allow me to be your husband - is without measure. Things may yet go wrong – I cannot forsee the future so as to promise you one without complication or misfortune – but I can pledge that I will do everything that is within my capabilities to ensure that your promotion, and our marriage, and your life as a whole, continue as happily as you can wish for them to do.'

Tasha smiled again; a smile not forced or false but easy and full of hope.

'Is that a promise?'

Data nodded. 'That is a promise.'