Bittersweet

Stardate 44675.29

(Monday, 4 September 2367, 11:32 hours, ship's time)

I finally woke up around noon, and when I did, there was this ancient pop song called Bittersweet Symphony that was running circles in my head.

I'll take you down the only road I've ever been down
You know the one that takes you to the places
Where all the veins meet, yeah…

Well, actually, there had been a few moments before noon when I'd woken up just enough to realize that the bathroom door was closed and the sink and sonic shower were being used (not at once, obviously). Don't think about the naked android behind the door, I instructed myself, rolling over in the bed and going back to sleep.

When I finally emerged from the cocoon of sheets and quilts and pillows for good, I made a brief stop in the bathroom, and then padded, barefoot, out to the main room of Data's quarters.

My gracious host was seated at his workstation, apparently completely focused on whatever he was doing. I watched him for several minutes, saw him pick up my bracelet, scan it with a medical tricorder, and then a scientific one, heard him make the non-verbal noise he always did when a result was unexpected, and then put it down again, in order to tap commands into the console.

It was at least five minutes before he looked up at me. "Good morning, Zoe. Did you sleep well?"

It was such an utterly ordinary thing to say that for a moment I had no idea how to respond. Finally, I said, "Um, yeah. Actually, I think it's the best rest I've had since…maybe all year?"

His eyes widened. "I can only assume that you are exaggerating."

I shook my head. "Actually, not. I was having nightmares about Lore up through the opening of Anne, and then I was wired from performing, and then I was away and keeping a lot of…well, let's just say most of us looked at the curfew as a suggestion rather than an actual rule."

"I am glad you were able to get some 'real rest' then," he said. "If you are hungry, you may use the replicator."

"Would you mind if I showered and changed first?" I asked. "I promise not to freak out about using your shower again."

"If we are going to coexist together until your mother and Professor Benoit have returned to the ship," Data said. "You should know that you are not required to ask permission to use any of the…facilities. However, if you wish to ensure that your privacy is not breeched, I would appreciate it if you informed me."

"I'm sorry, did you just say that I'm staying with you for the rest of the week?"

"Yes."

"No."

"I do not understand your objection," he said.

I stared at him for a long moment, and realized he truly didn't get it. "It's… complicated," I said. "Maybe I should ask Counselor Troi to help me explain."

"We have never needed the intercession of the counselor to work through interpersonal problems before," he pointed out.

"No, the last time we had anything close to a problem it was never resolved at all, because it was also the first time I got tangled up in your brother's games." I said, and then I walked up to his desk, and extended my hand. "Hi, I'm Zoe Harris. I'll be your pawn today." I'm not sure why I said it, but I regretted it immediately. Maybe my mouth really would be the death of me someday. "Oh, god," I said. "I'm sorry."

Anyone else would have been seething with anger, or even exploding with it. Data just looked up at me with a completely blank face. "Perhaps you should shower and change now," the words were uttered in a perfectly neutral tone. "Counselor Troi wishes to see you as soon as you are ready."

I returned to his bedroom and locked the door after it swished closed. I took what must have been the fastest sonic shower in recorded history, threw on jeans and a t-shirt bearing a stylized cello and the Suzuki Institute's logo, and breezed past Data's console and out the door.

If he spoke to me, as I fled, I didn't notice.

(=A=)

But I'm a million different people
From one day to the next

Fifteen minutes later, I was in Counselor Troi's office, telling her what happened. "…and then I kind of snapped at him," I said, relaying our brief conversation. "I'm a horrible person."

"No, you're not," she said. "But you have been through an unusually stressful few days."

"Stress? What stress? Doesn't every kid want to spend the wee hours of the morning with half the senior officers of Starfleet's flagship traipsing through her bedroom?"

"Interesting that you describe yourself as a kid."

"Aren't I?"

"You're sixteen. You may not be quite an adult, at least legally, but you're certainly not a child, either. I'd say you're a very scared, very brave young woman, who is dealing with an extremely unusual situation."

"Don't forget funny. I'm all about the funny."

She smiled at me. "Alright. Brave, funny, and scared."

"And stylish," I added. "I mean, really, I own only the best in trendy victim-wear." I gestured to my oh-so-fetching attire.

"Zoe…"

"Sorry," I said. "I'm hungry, I'm punchy, and, yeah…like you said, scared." I hesitated. "Isn't it an oxymoron, being scared and brave?"

"Not really. You know the line…'courage isn't the absence of fear…'"

"It's pushing through in spite of it," I paraphrased. "I don't feel like I'm pushing through anything, though. I feel like all I'm doing is giving a lot of people extra work."

"I can see how it might seem that way, but none of this is your fault."

"Isn't it?"

"No. It isn't. But I'm not surprised you blame yourself, at least as much as you blame Data."

"I don't blame Data," I said quickly. "Well, not much."

"Don't you?" she asked pointedly. "Isn't he the person who told you not to be worried about Lore? Isn't he the person who said Lore was unlikely to harm you?"

"Well, yes," I said. "But I'm pretty sure he believed it when he said it."

"But you're still angry with him for being wrong."

"Everyone makes mistakes," I said.

"Everyone?" she asked.

Everyone had to include Data, obviously. I responded with a single, somewhat sheepish, syllable: "Oh."

Her carefully neutral expression warmed into a smile. "Do you think you can talk to Data about what you're feeling? It's a pretty safe bet that he honestly doesn't understand."

"Knowing Data," I said, "it's also a pretty safe bet that he blames himself more than I do."

"I'm certain he does," she confirmed. "The two of you are going to need to work pretty closely to figure out what Lore wants and how to remove your little metal accessory."

I grinned at her phrasing, but sobered quickly. "What do you mean the two of us? I'm pretty sure I really am just a pawn in this game. And a carrier pigeon."

"You're also the only one who interacted directly with Lore. That's one of the reasons I want you staying with Data. We all need to know you're somewhere safe until your parents return."

"Parent," I corrected, mostly because I was trying to deflect the next topic. "Singular. The other one's off waiting for his replacement wife to pop out their replacement kid." I could tell she was making a mental note for us to talk about that at some point.

"Alright, until your mother returns, I think it would be best that you stay with Data."

"Counselor Troi," I began in my best pleading voice, "Deanna, please don't make me do that. It's all… weird and awkward. He never treats me like a child. Ever. And I'm afraid I'll forget, and cross a line, and he'll know…"

"Know what? That you care for him?" She changed the pitch of her voice, making her next sentence sound more serious. "You know Data would do anything to keep you from further harm, Zoe. Have you considered that he might need you right now, as much as you need him?"

"You've got to be kidding."

"Are you certain of that? Think, Zoe: how many letters and calls did you two exchange while you were away? Who punched their way into your hotel room? Whose brother is doing all of this?" She hesitated, "He was subdued the entire time you were away, except when he'd just heard from you. I believe he needs to protect you, even if he won't admit it. If you're concerned about your reputation…"

I cut her off, "Mine? Oh, that's absurd. People think I'm sleeping with an officer, my cred goes up. Besides, I couldn't care less about my reputation. I care about his."

"Oh?" She seemed both impressed and surprised that I'd even considered that point.

"People talk," I said. "And I've seen the news files and read the stories. I know he had to go through a hearing to prove he was a person. And I know some stupid old admiral tried to take his daughter from him. If the wrong people think there's anything more than casual friendship, they could take him apart. And Counselor… Deanna… our friendship hasn't been casual for… ever."

"I know," she said. I was sitting on the couch in her office, and she'd been sitting in her chair, but she got up, then, and joined me, pulling me into a one-armed embrace. "You and Data have had a connection from the beginning," she said. "We all see it, and we all recognize it as both real and rare, especially for him. No one on this ship is going to question your friendship, and, if it turns into something more someday, we'll all be joyful."

"So what do I do?"

"Well, first," she said. "We go to your quarters, and gather a few more changes of clothes, and your cello. Classes don't begin until after your mother is back, but that doesn't mean you can't resume your music. It will likely help you and Data communicate better with that aspect of your relationship restored."

I nodded my agreement. She had a point. But I also asked, "And then?"

"Data mentioned you hadn't eaten today."

"Counselor…" I said it in the same lightly admonishing tone she'd used on me earlier, letting her know that I meant after we'd returned to music, not after my session with her.

She smiled. "Be his friend. Let him be there for you, as much as he can."

"Why does everyone always qualify that?" I asked, momentarily annoyed, but also honestly curious. "'As much as he can?' As if he's somehow sub-par. When he was watching over me last January, people kept worrying I wasn't getting emotional support, but I never felt like I missing anything. Even my mother, although she assumed he was being paternal…"

"He wasn't?"

I shook my head. "Never. Data's always just… himself. He's solid and reassuring and present in a way that most people never are."

The counselor nodded and smiled, as if her empathic sense of me was supporting my words. "Alright, then. Anything else?"

"Well, I'd kill for a cheeseburger," I admitted.

"Betazoids don't eat meat," she said, "and I've got appointments all afternoon, but I bet Commander Riker could be persuaded to accompany you to Ten-Forward and join in a ritual devouring of grilled animal flesh." It sounded like she was quoting him.

"The first officer of the ship has time to have lunch with a ki – student?" She smiled slightly at my self-correction.

"Actually, he does, if it's for the benefit of the ship and her crew."

"I'm not crew."

"No, but you've become an important part of the Enterprise family. Besides, wouldn't you love to hear stories about what your mother was like at the Academy?"

"Well, when you put it that way…" I said.

She grinned, and I couldn't help but grin back.

(=A=)

"…so, your mother showed up to class wearing love beads and a three-hundred-year old fringed jacket, and made her presentation on 'folk music as a weapon for change," Commander Riker said. "And Professor Harris –"

"Gran?"

"Yes, your grandmother – showed up with a tambourine and fifty cadets playing kazoos."

"Is there video of this?" I asked him as I stabbed a steak fry into a dish of bleu cheese dressing. "And…only one tambourine?"

"According to Professor Harris, more than one tambourine would be overkill."

I grinned. "Yeah, that sounds like something she'd say." I tried to be nonchalant about my next question, paying more attention to dipping a French fry in the pool of ketchup on my plate as I asked, "So, were you and Mom in the same year, or just that class?"

"Same year," he said. "Well, we started in the same year, but she took time off…"

"Because she met Dad and had me," I finished for him. "Right?"

"Exactly." He lowered his voice to a confessional tone and leaned across the table. "Don't tell your mother I told you, but we actually dated for a while during our first year. Everyone wanted to date your mother. Emily Morelli was…" he shook his head and grinned. "Sorry. When she married a musician, we were all happy for her, of course, but surprised. She didn't seem the type to marry outside the 'fleet."

"I remember Mom and Dad being good together for a while," I said. "When I was really little. But Dad was always on tour, and Mom was moving from ship to ship - well, you know - and I was caught in the middle. I always thought I was more like my father; being on the Enterprise has shown me that's not entirely true."

"And now she's dating the captain's boyhood friend," Riker said. "Amazing."

"Ed says they weren't really friends, so much as classmates. I'm never sure if he's downplaying, or if that's really the truth." I shrugged. "It doesn't matter. I just like that Mom's happy."

He peered at me appraisingly, though his blue eyes betrayed his amusement. "Are you sure you're only sixteen?" he teased.

"Seventeen in a little over four months," I said. "I really need to remind Geordi about the flitter lessons he promised for my birthday, so I'll be ready for the licensing exam at Christmas."

"There's a simulator on the holodeck. Tell him to see me for the clearance code, and start you on that," he offered. "We may not be near enough a planet where it's safe to practice for a while, and it won't hurt the ensigns and cadets to have a little civilian competition for best scores." He seemed to roll something over in his mind. "In fact," he said, "if your classmates haven't taken their exams yet, we should set something up for all of you."

"You'd do that?" I asked.

"I would," he said, grinning, "for Emily Morelli's daughter."

"But…"

"What, 'but?'"

"There's always a 'but,'" I said. "And your eyes have a dangerous gleam in them."

"I'd like you to come sit in with our jazz ensemble. I've been doing some checking up on you – I know you play the cello, but I've heard you also study voice with Lt. Caldwell. It's not formal, we just play."

"Counselor Troi put you up to this," I accused. "Anyway, I'm really not a singer."

"One session, Zoe. It'll be fun."

"Okay," I said. "One session."

"Excellent." He grinned, and then looked at my plate. "Are you going to finish your fries?"

I laughed, and pushed my plate toward him. "Help yourself."

He did.

(=A=)

Just as I was finishing lunch with Commander Riker, my friend Ray Barnett – Ensign Ray Barnett – approached our table. "Excuse me, sir," he said. "Counselor Troi said to tell you I'm next."

I looked from the younger man to the older one. "Next?" I asked. "Next what? She's lined up babysitters for me all day?" I wasn't sure if I was frustrated, amused, or touched. Probably all three.

"Not babysitters," Will Riker said. "Companions. Mr. Barnett will be escorting you to the holodeck to meet your friends for… what is it, Ensign? Basket weaving?"

"Actually, I think Josh and Dana have a night-surfing program loaded, sir." He looked at me, and coaxed, "C'mon, Zo', you know you want to."

It finally clicked in my head that Data and the counselor had arranged to keep me occupied for several hours, probably to give me time to process and cool off. "When have I ever said no to surfing?" I asked, deciding to accept it all with as much grace as I could muster. "Thanks for lunch, Commander," I said. "And for the stories. I promise not to blackmail my mother with them."

"Just don't let her find out who told you," he teased.

I left the table, and Ray matched his typical long stride to my shorter one as we walked out of Ten-Forward and into the corridor, and then the turbo-lift. "Did they tell you why I'm being handled so carefully?" I asked him.

"Only that you've got a stalker or something, and he made a move on you at Starbase 12. You're okay though, aren't you?"

"Mostly," I said. "I mean… physically I'm fine."

"Fine enough to give a friend a hug?"

"Totally fine enough for that." Our hug was warm, brief, and totally platonic. "So, I don't think I told you," I said, "I surfed Stinson Beach over the summer. I didn't see any sharks, though."

He laughed. "Not seeing sharks is a good thing, Zoe." We entered the holodeck where Dana and Josh had already loaded the program. "But if you want to see some, the aquatics lab has a pair of Artridian grace sharks in one of the big tanks. We're ferrying them to Pacifica, for the captive breeding program there."

"Really?" I said. "I've always wanted to see one of those up close."

"I kinda figured," he said. "Go change," and he pushed me toward the cabanas on the holographic beach. "I want to see what you can do on a long board."

For the next couple of hours, the four of us surfed and swam and splashed, and the physical activity and easy camaraderie seemed to be just the tonic I needed. By the time we all collapsed, water-logged, on the moonlit sand, I was feeling much more like the person I'd been all summer, and less like a pawn or a victim.

I looked around at my two best friends and my sometime surf-buddy and smiled. "Guys, this is the best afternoon I could have imagined. Thank you."

Dana came over and hugged me. "Counselor Troi wasn't specific about what's going on with you, Zoe, but whatever it is, you know you're not alone, right?"

"Yeah," Josh said. "But don't think we're not looking forward to the story…when you can tell it."

I threw a wad of damp sand at him. "Brat," I teased.

He threw more sand back at me, "Wench," he teased back.

But we didn't let things escalate the way we normally would have.

Ray called us back into focus. "The three of you are all starting your junior year of high school, right?" he asked. We confirmed it with nods and smiles. "You want some advice from someone who's a little older, if not necessarily wiser?"

"Is this where you tell us to always pick option 'c' on multiple choice exams?" Josh asked.

Ray grinned. "Well, there's that. But what I was going to say is this: junior year is the make-it-or-break-it-year. You're gonna be taking college boards – or at least prelims. Your classes are going to get intense, grades are going to count like they never have before. Whenever things start getting crazy, come back to this moment. To the three of you, and the friendship you have. Support each other."

I reached out for his hand, squeezed it, and let it go. None of us had expected him to be that serious. "Thanks, Ray."

"I mean it," he said, reaching out to give my hair a brotherly ruffle. "You're going to need each other."

We all murmured words to the effect that we'd do what he said.

"And you," he said looking at me. "I can tell that there are a lot of people watching out for you, and I'm not sure of all the details, but I get the impression it's pretty intense. You need to blow off steam, comm me, and we'll come here and surf it out. Deal?"

I met his eyes, and promised, "Deal."

We hung out for a while longer, and then Josh and Dana excused themselves to go home, and Ray said, "I've got instructions to escort you to Commander Data's quarters. Are you in some kind of trouble?"

I shook my head. "No, we're working on project together, is all, and I agreed to check in with him at regular intervals while my mother's still off-ship." It wasn't entirely true, but it wasn't entirely not-true, either. I went to change back into normal clothes, and we ended the surfing program. "I had fun," I said. "Thank you."

"I meant what I said, Zoe. Any time you need to blow off steam… if I'm not on duty."

I hugged him again. "I know you meant it. You are an awesome friend."

"We shouldn't keep Commander Data waiting."

"No, I agreed, "we really shouldn't."

(=A=)

Stardate 44676.08

(Monday, 4 September 2367, 18:30 hours, ship's time)

Ray left me in the corridor outside Data's door, giving me a playful shove and reminding, "Comm me. Anytime, for anything."

"I just might hold you to that," I teased. After he'd walked off, I reached for the annunciator button, but the door opened before I could press it, and I stepped inside calling, "Data? Are you home?"

"I am here," came his voice from beyond his workstation. I walked all the way into his quarters, past my cello and the extra bag I'd packed earlier, and around the corner of his desk to find him on his knees peering under the couch. I'd never seen him in any position even close to this undignified, and I couldn't help staring.

Do not ogle the ass of - perish that thought, I instructed myself, interrupting my own inner monologue. What I said was, "Did you lose something?"

"In a manner of speaking. I am attempting to convince Spot to come out from underneath the couch."

"Oh." I waited a beat. "Why not just lift the couch?"

"The last time she engaged in this behavior, lifting the couch caused her to dart into the bedroom and lodge herself beneath the bed."

"And even you can't move a bed that's molded into the wall without doing serious damage," I observed.

"That is correct," he agreed.

"If you want to come out of this piss-poor attempt at downward dog," I offered, "I might be able to help you out."

I watched him unfold himself, surprised to learn how flexible his spine was not. Finally, he was standing before me, though his uniform was covered in cat hair.

"Tell the maid to vacuum under the furniture next time," I teased, reaching to brush him off. He looked at my hands on his shirt, as if unsure how to react to such a familiar gesture, but he neither objected nor stopped me. "I'm not used to seeing you anything other than completely neat and tidy," I said. "Now that you're cat-hair free, all's right with my world." It wasn't, of course, and we both knew it, but he chose not to object to that, either.

"You said you could help entice Spot to emerge from her hiding place," he reminded.

"And so I can. Sort of. There were two packages that I gave you. Have you opened them?" I didn't think he had, but I wasn't sure.

"I have not. I assumed you wished to witness the process. As well, we have both been distracted by other concerns."

I responded with a look and the request, "Could you get the softer of the two? And unwrap it now?"

He did so, carefully removing the paper wrapping – I wondered if I'd see it on a present for me at Christmas or my birthday – and setting it aside. Then he read the package, "'Organic, single-origin, catnip chews.' Zoe, you wish me to intoxicate my cat."

"No," I said. "I wish you to bribe your cat. Or I'll bribe her if it offends your morality." I held out my hand and he shook a single chew into it. I sunk onto the floor, then, and peered under the couch, where Spot was cowering. "Hey, Catling," I cooed softly. "Got a tasty treat for you."

Unlike Data, I was almost on my belly, instead of my knees. Spot inched closer to the treat in my outstretched hand, until, when she was almost out from under the couch, I pulled my hand away. She slithered into the open, and jumped, landing on my back.

"Ow! Spot!"

I managed to toss the treat onto the couch, and she pounced onto it, smacking her little cat lips enthusiastically. I couldn't help myself: I started laughing.

"Zoe, are you alright?"

I rolled over. "I'm fine, Data, really." I raised my hand toward him. "Help me up?"

His hand enclosed mine, and he tugged slightly, just enough to help me assume a more vertical position. "Mission accomplished," I grinned. "Now you can buy me dinner."

He was staring at me, probably because I, too, was now covered in cat hair. "If you would like to 'freshen up' and change clothing," he suggested, "I will replicate our meal. As you know, there is nowhere on the Enterprise where one can purchase food."

Holographic ocean water was still salty, and between that and the cat hair, I was probably in need of a little freshening. "Sounds like a plan," I said. "Can I ask a favor, though?"

"Of course, Zoe. What is it?"

"I noticed you have actual water fittings as well as sonics in your shower."

"It is a 'perk' allotted to senior officers," he confirmed. "The use of water is rationed, of course."

"Of course," I said. "Any chance you'd be willing to share your ration?"

"If you are asking to take a water-shower, then the answer is 'yes, you may,'" he said, avoiding my unintended double entendre and its possible implications.

"Yes! You are awesome. Thank you!" Impulsively, I kissed his cheek, and again, the stud in my tongue felt hotter. I yelped and backed away.

"Zoe?"

I closed my eyes for a moment, using the time to clear my head. Forcing a bright tone, I said, "Shower first, explanation as soon as I'm done. Do you eat eggplant? I'm kind of craving moussaka." I spun around and left him with his cat, locking the bedroom door once I was on the other side of it.

A water shower had never felt so good, and despite everything else going on, I found myself singing as I shampooed my hair.

I need to hear some sounds that recognize the pain in me, yeah
I let the melody shine, let it cleanse my mind, I feel free now
But the airways are clean and there's nobody singing to me now

I'd come home with sheet music for it, arranged as a string duet. I wondered if I could convince Data to play it with me.

I wrapped my damp hair in a towel while I put on fresh clothes – just a clean t-shirt and sweats – then unwrapped the towel and left it hanging in the bathroom. When I returned to the main room, I noticed that Data had set the table for dinner, including lit candles, and that the lights had been lowered.

"Do you have a date?" I asked, eyeing his preparations. His response was a sharp glance in my direction. "Wait, this is for me?" I asked.

"It is for us," he said, pulling my chair out and silently inviting me to sit. "I thought a more subdued atmosphere might help you feel less awkward about temporarily cohabitating with me." My hair brushed against him as I sat down, and he added, "Your hair is damp."

"I didn't bring a hair dryer, and didn't think you'd appreciate me rifling through your things to see if you owned one." He removed thermal covers from the food that was waiting, and I laughed when I realized what it was. "Vegetarian moussaka. Perfect. Please tell me we're splitting a single portion?"

"If that is amenable to you, yes. If not, I can replicate more, however, you have told me before that you would rather 'save the calories' for dessert."

I looked away from him for a long moment. "Yeah, usually. But you're probably not going to let me have dessert after we talk – and we have to talk."

He took his place opposite me, and served moussaka and the accompanying salad to both of us. "You saw Counselor Troi." It wasn't a question.

"And had lunch with Commander Riker, and then was delivered to the holodeck for an afternoon of sunless sand and surfing. If you ever decide to leave Starfleet you'd make an awesome event planner, but don't ever become a spy, because your special touch was evident every step of the way."

"It was not meant to be a secret." He ate a bite of moussaka, then continued, stating, "You are angry."

I shook my head. "I'm not, actually. Once I realized what was going on, I thought it was sweet." I took a breath. "Well, I'm not angry at you about today. Counselor Troi thinks it's important that I tell you that I am angry with you about…" I gestured first to my mouth and then to the whole room around us. "…everything else."

"You blame me for what Lore has done."

I didn't want to answer, but he was the one person I couldn't lie to, ever. "Yeah. I do. I mean, you told me he wouldn't do anything, that I shouldn't worry that much. You told me that he wouldn't cause me any harm, but he did, and I don't just mean this stupid piercing." I put my fork down. "He's turned me into an accessory. I've lied to my parents. I'm being dishonest with my friends. And yeah, I blame you. But I blame me, too."

"You have done nothing wrong, Zoe." Data said, his voice soft, and intense – well, intense for him.

"Yeah, I have. I put you on a pedestal, and let myself believe you were a superhero, when the truth is you're not. You're amazing, and you have abilities that are uniquely yours… but really, you're just a person." I picked up my fork again, and began to eat. The moussaka was pretty good.

Data seemed to be at a loss for words, though his mouth had quirked up ever-so-slightly when I called him a person. I could tell he was thinking about what I'd said, and determining the best response.

When we'd finished our meal and he'd returned the dishes to the replicator, he didn't extinguish the candles. Instead, he brought them to the coffee table, where his remaining present was already waiting. "Please wait for me on the couch," he said.

"Okay." I said, confusion heavy in my tone.

I heard him order something else from the replicator, but couldn't tell what, and when he joined me, he was carrying a tray with tea and a single slice of chocolate cheesecake and my bracelet. "I would not deprive you of dessert merely for telling me the truth, Zoe."

I was more interested in the bracelet. "You tracked the signal?" I picked it up, smiling softly at the sound of the beads clicking together.

"I did. I also disabled the 'bug' so that it will no longer record or relay any information. I apologize for not returning your bracelet as soon as I had identified and removed the extra bead."

I shrugged. "It's okay. I was kind of awful to you this morning. Was that only this morning? Not having any kind of schedule and living with - well, here – has me discombobulated." I held out my left hand, the bracelet dangling from my fingers. "Help me put it on?"

He fastened it around my wrist, and I felt the slightest of tingles when his fingers brushed my skin. Then he reached for the package I'd brought from San Francisco. "Eat your dessert," he suggested, as he carefully peeled away the wrapping to reveal a white, glass, handle-less mug. "It is a cup."

"It is," I explained, between bites of chocolate cheesecake, "a United States Navy watch mug, with a certificate of authenticity tracing its use to the U.S.S. Enterprise in Earth's Second World War," I explained. "I chose it because the mugs were meant to keep sailor's hands warm when they were standing watch on submarine conning towers or exposed bridges, and that appealed to me. I also thought the clean lines and its origin might appeal to you."

"Thank you, Zoe," he said. "It is a very thoughtful gift."

"I wouldn't actually drink from it if I were you," I said.

"No," he agreed.

I'd finished the cake and the tea - he'd replicated a pot – was done steeping. I pushed down the plunger, pressing the water out of the tea leaves. "Are you having some?" I asked.

"Yes," he said, adding, "Thank you, Zoe," after I'd filled both our cups.

"Are you on duty tonight?" I asked.

"I am not."

"Any specific plans?"

"I have several projects I am working on, including the ongoing attempt to find Lore."

"You have the same entertainment system in here that everyone else does, don't you?"

"Yes." He sipped some of the tea. "Why?"

"I'm not tired enough to sleep, not in the mood to read, and while I probably should actually play my cello sometime before my generous, kind, handsome theory tutor and duet partner decides to resume my lessons, tonight is not that night. I need... I need a dose of 'normal.' I was wondering if we could just watch a video. You can even pick it."

I was expecting him to politely decline. Instead, he engaged the system, and I saw a display monitor drop down from the ceiling. "I will trust your judgment," he said.

I chose a neo-noir crime drama with an intricate plot, though we picked it apart as we watched it, and since I had the mystery solved about half-way through, I was fairly certain Data had done so within fifteen minutes, though he didn't reveal it.

As the credits began to roll, I looked over at him. "Data," I said softly, "we have to get the stud out of my tongue sooner rather than later, don't we?"

"It would be advisable," he agreed.

"Lore said you had to be the one to remove it," I said.

"I am aware."

"I'm really scared," I confessed. "I'm afraid of him, and I'm afraid of what we're going to have to do to get this out of my mouth."

"If I were capable of feeling fear, Zoe," he shared, in a voice nearly as small as mine, "I believe I would be 'scared' as well."

I smiled. "That's oddly reassuring. Thanks for the day, and the evening. You are hereby released from entertainment duty; I'm going to bed." He rose first, taking the tea and dessert things to the replicator to be discarded, and I got up and stretched and headed toward the bedroom. I paused at the door, "G'night, Data." I said, "And thank you again."

He surprised me by stepping close to me and brushing stray hair away from my face. "Sleep well, Zoe. If you need to leave the door part-way open again, please do so." He leaned forward and kissed the top of my head, and the metal stud in my tongue warmed as it had twice before.

"I will," I said. I crawled into bed and was asleep almost before he'd dimmed the lights in the main room. As I drifted off, I heard him singing quietly. I loved the sound of his voice so much, I didn't even blush about the fact that he'd heard me singing it in the shower.

I let the melody shine, let it cleanse my mind, I feel free now
But the airways are clean and there's nobody singing to me now

Notes: Song lyrics are from "Bitter Sweet Symphony," which was written by Mick Jagger, Keith Richards, and Richard Ashcroft, and performed by The Verve. Their version, and the version by the Vitamin String Quartet have been added to the CRUSHING ON CELLO YouTube playlist (see my profile.) Mugs like the one Zoe gave Data are a real thing, and were used in WWII and Korea. For purposes of this story, Will Riker is slightly older than Memory Alpha would have us believe. (Revised, 9 November 2016)