Confessions

Stardate 44682.40

(Thursday, 7 September 2367, 01:52 hours, ship's time)

The thing about sharks is, they're perfectly content to let you cry your salty tears outside their tank, but they're not exactly great at giving pep-talks. So, after I had cried enough, I sat for a while and just watched them turning in their endless, gentle circles.

Well, I didn't just watch the grace sharks. I also let the conversations I'd had – with Data, with Counselor Troi, and with Guinan – form their own circles inside my head. Trust yourself, Guinan had said. Trust Data. Counselor Troi's advice had been much the same. Data needs you right now, as much as you need him, she'd told me. On the other hand, she also believed I should just tell him how I felt.

My own thoughts were also turning circles. Be careful what you wish for, Zoe, I said to myself. You may get it, but you won't get it the way you wanted to.

Data would come find me if I waited long enough, I knew, but I didn't want to be the girl who had to have some guy come rescue her. It wasn't like we were going to fall into each other's arms, exchange smoochies, and live happily ever after, anyway.

I left the aquatics lab and marched… well, walked purposefully… back to the turbolift and Data's quarters. His door opened for me, and I nearly ran into him as I stepped inside.

"Zoe," he greeted me, with more weight in the two syllables of my name than I'd ever heard before. "I was not certain you would return."

"Neither was I," I admitted. "Are you going somewhere?"

"I was on my way to the aquatics lab to find you."

"Oh."

"I believe my next line should be 'we need to talk,'" he said.

"If you're going to tell me that I crossed a line, and that I shouldn't have kissed you when you'd already said you preferred to find another method of removing that stud – never mind that it worked – you should know that I'm sorry if I destroyed our friendship, and I'm sorry I didn't let you do things your way, but I'm not sorry for what I did."

"Zoe –"

But I wasn't done. "Ever since February, ever since Lore kissed me the first time, I've had this awareness of you burning in my brain, but even before that everyone was telling me my friendship with you is real and rare and something special, and that no one would be surprised if it evolved into something deeper someday. I don't know if that's true, or if I just want to believe it is, but I do know that I hate your brother. I hate him for playing games with you, and I hate him for maybe causing the deaths of a lot of people, and I hate him for sticking that thing in my mouth and cheating me – cheating us – out of what should have been a tender and special moment, albeit one far in the future."

I was crying again before I finished my speech, but it wasn't the same kind of crying that had happened right after we kissed. That had been shock, I think. The tears that came with my… well, rant, really… represented all the pent-up emotions from the last several days finally finding release.

Data arms came around me with no stiffness at all, and he let me bury my face in his chest and cry myself out while his gentle hands traced soothing circles on my back. When I was calm again, I lifted my head and pushed against his embrace, stepping back just far enough to look into his face.

He ducked his head slightly, meeting my eyes. "Are you… feeling better?"

"Never underestimate the cleansing properties of a really good sob-session," I said. "I hadn't planned a meltdown for today."

"Perhaps you were simply due for one," he suggested. "It has been an eventful week for you, and a challenging time for us both. If we are to continue our… friendship… you must learn not to 'bottle up' your feelings."

"Are we?" I asked. "Going to continue our friendship?"

He led me to his couch, waited for me to settle into my corner, and then stepped away to replicate two mugs of tea. "It is chamomile," he said, handing me one of them, and sitting down himself. "You have not destroyed anything, Zoe. You certainly have not destroyed our friendship."

"Haven't I?"

"You have not," he reiterated, putting force behind the words. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I realized he must have learned to use his voice that way for command situations. "You were not the only participant in that kiss," he said. "I did not stop you."

"I didn't leave you much choice," I countered, wrapping my hands around the mug of steaming liquid.

His eyebrows wrinkled slightly, his head tilted, and his 'teaching' expression took over his face. "Have you forgotten I am an android? I could have pushed you away quite easily."

I sipped some of the tea using the time to replay everything that had happened. "You kissed me back," I said after I'd swallowed some of the calming brew.

"Yes."

"You put your hand on my waist," I added.

"Yes," he said again.

"Okay, can I just mention that it's really weird when you go all monosyllabic? That's supposed to be my bit."

"Yes," he said a third time, but I saw the corners of his mouth lift ever-so-slightly. He waited for the hint of a smile to appear on my own face, then continued, completely serious once again, "After you removed the stud, you began to cry. I called your name, and asked you to wait, but you did not."

"I was scared."

"Of me?" I could tell that he disliked that notion.

I shifted my mug to one hand and reached for his free hand with the other. It didn't feel any different than any other time I'd touched him. Shouldn't it have?

"Never," I said. "I could never be afraid of you. I was afraid you wouldn't talk to me again, afraid you'd send me back to Mom's empty cabin for the next two nights, afraid someone would misinterpret what happened and take you apart, afraid I'd never get another chance to kiss you – maybe forget that last bit?"

I began to slide my hand away but he recaptured it. "I did not mean to make you cry," he said. "It… I should not have let things continue."

"Why did you?" I asked, staring at our clasped hands. "Didn't you tell me once that you had an ethics program? Shouldn't it have been screaming in some kind of digital distress?"

"I performed a self-diagnostic as soon as you left," he said softly. "It revealed no errors or malfunctions. I can only conclude that a kiss meant as a means to an end was not a breach of my programming, even if removing the data solid from your tongue was only part of your motivation."

"I was curious," I admitted. "That was a good part of it. I wanted to know if kissing you would be different."

"Because I am an android?"

"You really need to move past your androidy-ness," I teased lightly. "I wanted to know if kissing you was different than kissing – well, being kissed by – Lore."

"Was it?" I couldn't tell if he was asking as a man or as a scientist. Probably it was a bit of both.

"Only in about a thousand ways, none of which I really want to go into… he's made me into him, in a way. You can't have wanted to –"

He stopped me with a look. "It is possible," he said softly, "that I wished to test your theory. It is also possible," he added, "that I was 'curious,' as well."

I resisted the urge to ask him how many times he'd kissed Lore. "So, what happens now? Should I pack my stuff and go home? Do I have to worry that the relationship police will come and kidnap you and turn you into so many bits and pieces?"

"No one will 'take me apart,'" he said. "Please do not let that concern you. As to your sleeping arrangements, I still believe you are better off where I can watch over you, if only to render assistance should you have another nightmare. However, if you are uncomfortable staying here –"

"I'm not," I said, before he could finish. "I was for the first day, but after that… being here…" I shrugged. "It's been okay. Actually, you've made me feel really comfortable."

"Then, as you have finished your tea, and as it is now quite late, I believe you should go to bed."

I'd already been trying not to yawn, and as soon as he suggested bed, I started to yawn. Then I blushed, embarrassed that he'd realized how tired I was before I had. "I believe you're right," I said, imitating his tone. He released my hand, and I leaned over and kissed his cheek the same way I had days before when things between us had been a lot better defined. "G'night, Data," I said, getting up and heading off to wash up and change before going to sleep.

"Good night, Zoe," came his response through the mostly-closed bedroom door. "Pleasant dreams."

(=A=)

Stardate 44683.39

(Thursday, 7 September 2367, 10:35 hours, ship's time)

On a starship, there's never light streaming through the window to tell you that you've seriously overslept. There's only stars and blackness and more stars. I don't know if I forgot to set an alarm or if Data chose to let me sleep for as long as possible since – for once – nightmares didn't wake me up, but I was pretty sure I'd slept later than usual.

Drowsily, and somewhat reluctantly, I dislodged Spot, who had taken to sleeping on the pillow next to my head, and left the bedroom to retrieve pre-shower coffee. I'd expected the place to be empty, or, if Data wasn't on duty, for him to be working at his console, but I managed to miss the murmur of two voices, and walked into the middle of a deep, relatively quiet, conversation between him and Geordi LaForge.

I couldn't tell what they were saying, entirely, but I heard words like Lore, chip, and Terlina III, and Maddox. "I'm sorry," I said when Data paused the conversation and looked up to greet me. "I didn't know… I mean, I didn't mean to interrupt… I mean..." Geordi was staring at me, and I suddenly realized how my presence in Data's bedroom, in pajamas, must look to him. "I just wanted coffee," I said finally. "It can wait, though," I said, and then, before I turned away, I added, "I'm really sorry."

Their voices overlapped, with Geordi asking incredulously, "Zoe? Data, she's living with you?" while our host assured me that I had not interrupted.

"We did not mean to wake you," the android added. "I hoped you would sleep longer. You did not get to bed until nearly zero four hundred hours."

"It's past ten-thirty," I pointed out. "I'm pretty nocturnal, but I'm not actually a vampire." I turned to address Geordi. "Good morning, Commander LaForge," I said. "I'm guessing from your reaction that you were not in the loop on my current living situation?"

"Understatement of the year," he said, glancing from Data to me and then back. "Data," he said, "tell me you and Zoe aren't…"

"Living in sin, shacking up, playing house?" I offered, imitating my android friend's habit of reeling off synonyms. If I wasn't getting coffee, I could at least have a little fun.

"Something like that," the engineer said.

"Zoe has been staying here as a protective measure," Data said, before I could add anything else. "Her mother is due back on the ship late tomorrow, at which time she will return to her usual quarters."

I could see Geordi taking in that information, rolling it over in his mind, and accepting it. "Okay," he said slowly. "I guess it makes sense, considering. But you have to admit it looks a bit strange."

"I believe that Zoe has kept her presence here reasonably discreet," Data responded to his friend.

"Zoe is standing right here," I sing-songed, because they'd obviously forgotten about me. "And she is desperate for coffee and a bagel. Can I get anything for either of you?"

"Actually, coffee would be great," Geordi said. "If you don't mind company at breakfast? Shouldn't you be in classes?"

"It's orientation week. Ed's off-ship with my mother, and I have nothing else in the morning, although Ms. Phelps did ask to see me before the end of the day. Not that this is at all relevant to either of you." I busied myself replicating two coffees and a pitcher of cream, "Commander LaForge, do you need sugar?" I called out.

"Yes, thanks," he answered. "And since when do you call me anything but 'Geordi?'"

"Since however long ago it was that I walked out here," I said.

"Seven minutes, thirty-three point four seconds," Data supplied helpfully. "Zoe, please ensure that whatever you eat this morning contains at least a few nutritional elements."

"Data, you're starting to sound like her," Geordi observed, chuckling.

Unseen by either of them I rolled my eyes. I also ordered a ham and cheese omelet and a side of hash browns to go with my bagel, and while it was a little awkward at first, Geordi and I settled into pleasant breakfast table conversation, while Data remained at his workstation.

"You're, what, a sophomore this year?" the engineer asked me, while eyeing my bagel.

"Here," I said, giving him half of it. "Bagels were meant to be shared. And no, I'm starting my junior year, which means I'm already getting inundated with college brochures, and we haven't even taken our college boards, yet."

"I know you're not considering the Academy," he teased, "so where are you thinking. I can't imagine anyone from this ship is academically weak…"

"The truth?" I asked, and when he nodded, I told him (between bites of breakfast), "I always thought I was going to audition for The Martian, like Dad, but lately I've been thinking it might be smart to go to a more… academically inclined… institution that still has a good arts program. Mom's parents are both Yale graduates, and my stepmother's brother is a Harvard grad, so I'm considering both of those. Yale has a better drama department though."

"You're not planning to major in music?"

"I might, I might not. I have a long time before I have to decide that, and honestly? I know enough musicians who did nothing else all through their higher education years, and while they play like gods, you can't hold a conversation with them. I don't want to be that… limited."

It was difficult to tell through his visor, but the cant of his head and the pitch of his voice told me the look I'd just received had been an appraising one. "Somehow, Zoe, I doubt that will ever be the case with you."

"I hope not," I said, as I stabbed the last few bites of potato. "I really hope not." Breakfast finished, I got up and returned my plate and mug to the replicator. "I'm going to go change and get out of your way," I said, addressing Data, that time. "See you for dinner?"

"I will be home by twenty-hundred hours," came his response. "Do not forget your comm-badge when you leave."

I flashed him a grin then disappeared into his bedroom, locking the door behind me.

(=A=)

"Stick out your tongue," the doctor told me. As she had before, she grabbed the tip with forceps, and examined it with her eyes and with a medical tricorder. "Well, Zoe, you have three choices. If the puncture is bothering you, I can heal this with a dermal regenerator, although it's perfectly fine to let it heal naturally."

"That's two choices," I said. "What's behind door number three?"

"If you want to, you could put a new stud in. One that doesn't contain a secret message."

"You'd do that? Aren't you bound by some parental oath?"

"I'm not your parent," she pointed out. "And it would save you from having to explain how you got it out, but the holes from piercings close quickly; you don't have much time to decide."

I thought about it. "Part of me wants to," I said, "just to freak Mom out – because annoying your parents is always a really wise basis for a decision, right?" She gave me the grin I'd hoped for. "If I were to put a new stud in, would it be easily removable. I mean…"

"No wacky android sealants," she promised. "Just normal threaded barbells."

"Do they come in purple?" I asked.

"We can replicate one in any color you want."

"Can it be a little shorter, though? The original… it kept clicking against my teeth."

"Purple, shorter… we can do that."

I thought about Guinan telling me I wasn't likely to keep the piercing, but I also thought about the fact that I was sixteen, and I was due for a little healthy rebellion. "Let's do it," I said. "Please."

Doctor Crusher moved toward the replicator and had it create a surgical-grade tongue stud in my preferred color. Less than ten minutes later, I left with new jewelry installed. "Do I need to remind you about paying attention to washing out your mouth for the next several weeks?"

"No," I said. "I know the drill. Thank you."

I was almost out the door, when she stopped me with a final question, "Zoe, how did you get the other one out?"

"You'll have to ask Data," I told her. "I'm not exactly sure what finally worked." It wasn't the truth, exactly, but it wasn't really a lie, either, since I wasn't sure why kissing him had released the stud, only that it had.

"I'll do that," she said. "Now, scoot."

Laughing, I dashed out the doors, across the corridor to the turbolift, and down two decks to the school administrator's office, where Ms. Phelps had, apparently, been eagerly awaiting my arrival.

"Welcome back, Zoe," she said. "Did you enjoy your summer break? Have a seat."

"Most of it was amazing," I answered, dropping into one of the chairs in front of her desk. "There were a few bobbly moments, but I survived."

"Obviously," she said, her voice and eyes reflecting warm amusement. "I look forward to your essays describing each experience," she added.

"Is that a requirement?"

"It is if you want credit for the courses."

"I didn't even realize that was an option," I said. "I mean, it was just a couple of summer workshops."

"You won't get credit for a full semester," she explained, "but each workshop will count as an elective. You have until the end of September to finish the essays, and I'll send the guidelines – required word-counts, and the like – to your padd."

"Okay," I said. "Is that all you needed me for?"

"I'm afraid there's more."

"I knew it was too good to be true," I said glumly.

"Oh, it's not as bad as all that," she said. "I just wanted to go over your schedule for the year. I know you're not interested in the Academy, but if you want to go to an academic institution, and not an arts academy, we need to make sure you meet the entrance requirements."

"I have a 3.9 average," I said. "I'm in all advanced placement courses. What requirements could I possibly not be meeting?"

"Actually," she said, glancing at her computer screen. "You're short a science credit, and I think you should consider tracking any athletics that you do, in lieu of an actual physical education class."

"P.E.?" I asked, surprised. "I'm short on P.E.?"

"And science," she reminded me. "I know you surf – and I've seen you in the Pilates studio. Sadly, surfing doesn't count, but if you just log your time with Pilates and maybe add some actual dance training or regular swimming, then P.E. is covered. As to science, I'd recommend something that involves lab time."

"I took biology on Centaurus, and chemistry here last year."

"I'd suggest an advanced biology course. If you don't want to try to fit in a scheduled class, perhaps you could create a work-study arrangement in one of the labs. You'd have to get permission from the person in charge of the lab, and the chief of ship's operations; that would be –"

"Commander Data," I said before she could. "I know."

"If you wish me to contact him for you?"

I shook my head, "We see each other almost every day. Remember? I'm in his math tutorial and he's giving me private music theory lessons."

"Ah," she said, "I'd forgotten you were his protégé. Well, then, you know what to do. I'll send the work-study guidelines to your padd as well."

"Okay," I said. "Thanks." I started to get up, but hesitated long enough to ask, "Is that everything?"

"For now," she said, smiling. "Have a great semester, Zoe."

I promised her that I would try.

(=A=)

Stardate 44684.16

(Thursday, 7 September 2367, 17:15 hours, ship's time)

By the time I returned to Data's quarters, I'd been to the orientation meetings for Vulcan II, and Spanish III, and also had some serious hang-out time with Annette and Dana in the former's living room, where we'd shared our excitement and complaints about the classes we were taking that school year and then made plans to meet for lunch the next day.

I'd also taken a few moments to contact my father, who didn't even notice the piercing in my tongue, and review with him what I'd planned to focus on in voice lessons.

"Make sure Lorna starts teaching you about breath control," he'd advised.

"She's using her middle name now," I said, "Jessie. Not that I blame her; Lorna's a frumpy name, and she's definitely not frumpy."

Laughing, my father agreed, "No, I suppose she's not."

"I should go," I said when we'd also discussed what I should be working on with Data. "Give Gia a hug from me. Can't wait 'til Christmas."

"I love you, Zoetrope," he'd responded. "Talk soon."

Subspace messages were never enough.

It was after five before I realized that I hadn't touched my cello since I'd left the Suzuki Institute, except to transport it home, and that with Saturday Sessions due to resume in two days, I should at least try to sound like I hadn't blown off my instrument for nearly two months.

When I opened the case, the scent of rosin brought me immediately back to the last time I'd played in this room, the last Saturday before I'd left. At the time, I remembered, I hadn't wanted the lesson to end. All of a sudden, I couldn't wait for them to begin.

I lifted my cello out of the velvet-lined case, checked that the strings were intact and the bridge was in the right position – it wasn't unusual for instruments to get knocked around in transit, as much as every musician tried not to let it happen – and peered through the f-holes to make sure the sound post was in its proper place as well. Satisfied that there had been no obvious damage, I went to the closet where Data kept the music stands, set up the room as if it were already Saturday.

I spent the first hour just doing warm-up exercises. Scales, arpeggios, simple songs. I was glad he wasn't there to see that I had to stop and trim my fingernails back to playing length, though I knew he would not have mocked me, just given me the reproachful look that meant he knew I hadn't practiced enough to be worth his time.

Well, I was probably harder on myself then he was likely to be.

When I was bored with warm-ups, I went looking through the pouch of data-solids that were still stowed in my case, casting one after the other aside until I'd found what I was looking for: sheet music for a sort of musical triptych that Hugo Rodriguez had composed as a duet for violin and cello. I made a point of copying the score and sending both the entire work and just the violin part to Data, as well as uploading the latter to his music stand.

Two hours later, after a break to use the bathroom and feed Spot, I was still immersed in the highly technical pieces that blended contemporary and classical styles and rhythms, so much so, in fact, that I barely noticed that Data had come into the room, picked up his violin, and started to play along with me until we finished the last movement.

"An intriguing piece," he observed. "It is not one I am familiar with."

"Hello to you, too," I teased. "You wouldn't have heard of this piece. It's one of Hugo's. He gave copies to the people who attended his master class. I sent you the full score – there's an optional classical guitar part."

"We would need to find another violinist, if you wish to add the guitar part."

"Or another cellist," I said. "Hugo had us all playing each other's instruments all summer. I mean, it's not like I'd never played a violin before – but, he had us switching parts all the time. It was fun. Challenging, but fun."

"Do you wish to switch instruments now?" he asked.

"Do you mind if we don't? I really hadn't planned to rope you into a rehearsal, I just wanted… no, needed… play."

"But you set up both music stands," he pointed out.

"I hoped you'd come home in time to join me," I confessed, grinning. "It seemed appropriate. I mean, it's my last night usurping your bed, and all. I figured something special was in order, and since the joys of chocolate cheesecake are lost on you…" I trailed off, reacting to his widened eyes and suddenly stiffer posture. "Did I overstep? I really didn't mean to."

"You did not," he said, but his tone was an odd one, even for him. "It would seem I have become… accustomed to your presence here."

Somehow, I managed neither to blush nor to make a snarky comment. "Yeah," I said, feeling my throat get suddenly rough. "I know I balked at being here in the beginning, but… I meant what I said this morning. It's been okay. More than okay, really. It's been… kind of nice." I let that thought hang there for a moment, then forced a lighter tone. "So, should we run through this piece one more time, or are you taking me to dinner?"

"You wish to dine elsewhere?"

I laughed, "I was kidding, mostly. I mean, I feel like my being here has forced you not to spend time with your friends, and as much as I admire your mad replicator skills, I could use a change of scene, but, it's also been nice getting to have quiet meals with you and then help broaden your exposure to pop culture by way of the ship's video library. Going back to seeing you only in class and on Saturdays is going to be… " I trailed off, then took a breath and confessed, "I'm going to miss spending friend-time with you."

"Commander Riker's poker game is typically on Sunday nights," Data said, apparently randomly.

"Good for Commander Riker?" I replied, puzzled.

"I wished to be clear. You have not kept me from any social activities, as the last scheduled event was last Sunday's poker game, which was cancelled because we were still investigating the bombings at Starbase Twelve."

"Oh."

"Would you like to have dinner in Ten-Forward, Zoe?"

"With you?" I asked.

"Unless there is someone with whom you would prefer to –"

"No," I said quickly. "No, there's no one else I'd – I mean, thank you, Data. I'd love to go to dinner with you." I could feel myself blushing again. I glanced down at the jeans I was wearing. "I should probably change, though. I'm covered in rosin and cat hair."

"I will pack your cello for you while you do so," he said.

I set my cello down on its side and left the room, returning a few minutes later still wearing the same V-neck shirt I'd had on all day, but having paired it with a casual skirt that had surfaced in my suitcase, and the sandals I'd worn to the conference on Sunday morning. I returned to the main room where he was waiting, and I froze.

"We can't do this," I said.

"Zoe?"

"We can't go to dinner in Ten-Forward. Not… not just us. Lunch, sure. But not dinner. Not after… people will think we're on a date."

"Are we not?"

"You know we're not. Not on a date-date, anyway."

"We have shared meals in Ten-Forward more than once."

"Yeah, with other people. The only time it's ever been just us has been in Mom's quarters, or here."

"I am confused. You are more concerned with what people will think of us sharing a meal in a public space than what may be construed by sharing a meal at home?"

A slight flutter went through me when he said 'home.'

"No one knows if I'm eating at your table when I'm here," I pointed out. "And you heard what Geordi said this morning. He's your best friend, and he thought we were… that our relationship was…"

"Inappropriate."

"Yeah," I said, collapsing onto the couch. "Counselor Troi says I worry too much about it, but…" I took a breath. "I spent a good chunk of my childhood with my father, going on tour with him. He stopped taking me when school became something that mattered, but it wasn't just because I needed to be in one place for school. Part of the reason I got dumped with Gran is because I got old enough to figure out that he was sleeping with my tutors or my aux pairs. The last one - the last one was in his bed hours before Mom arrived home on leave. My father wrote the book on inappropriate, and do you know what my response was? I went to a bonfire on the beach and got wasted."

"I did not know." He joined me on the couch, but his posture remained rigid.

"There was no reason you should've."

"You seem to have a pleasant relationship with your father, now."

"Appearances can be deceiving," I said. "And I'm pretty good at blocking out the things I don't want to deal with, and making jokes about the rest."

"The human capacity for emotional self-defense is most intriguing," Data said. "I often marvel at the resilience you display."

"Yeah, we're talented that way."

"No, Zoe, I mean you, specifically."

"Me?" I shook my head. "I'm really pretty ordinary, Data. Most of the time I'm completely confused, trying desperately to keep up, and hoping nobody notices how unprepared I really am."

"Would it surprise you to know that your description applies to myself as well?"

I refrained from pointing out that he was anything but ordinary. "You? You can't be serious. No, wait, don't say it."

He didn't remind me that he was always serious. Instead he said, "You are aware that I have no emotions, that I never quite 'fit in.' It is only since being posted to the Enterprise that I have even managed to form friendships."

Somehow, hearing that in his matter-of-fact inflection made it more poignant. "I… didn't know," I said, echoing his earlier statement in meaning, if not in exact phrasing.

"There is no reason that you should have," he stated, echoing me.

"Is there a point buried under there somewhere?" I asked. "Because I'm starving, and wherever we – or I – eat tonight, I'd really like it to be soon."

"That is evident from your mood," he said. "You once told me that if we were friends, there had to be trust, did you not?"

"Yes," I said.

"Then, will you trust me when I tell you that there is nothing inappropriate about two friends having dinner in Ten-Forward?"

"But…"

"Must I remind you again that androids do not lie?" he added, staring pointedly at me.

"Okay, fine," I said. "You win."

"Thank you, Zoe." He stood and moved toward the door, and I followed. "On the way, you may explain to me why you chose to install a new tongue stud."

I laughed, and looped my arm through his. "Actually, there are three reasons. One is that I decided it was kind of cool. Edgy, even. The other is that it's a tangible reminder not to be quite so reckless."

"That is only two reasons," he pointed out as we entered the turbolift.

"Well, the third reason is kind of immature."

"Oh?"

"It will really annoy my mother."

He may not have had actual emotions. He certainly couldn't laugh. But the look on his face? Priceless.

(=A=)

Ten-Forward was pleasantly busy when we arrived, with Commander Riker's jazz combo playing in one corner, and people dancing nearby. "Maybe we should rethink this," I suggested, but Data ignored me, guiding me to a table far enough away from the music so that we could actually have a conversation.

Guinan appeared almost as soon as we were seated, and smiled knowingly at me. "I knew you weren't going to keep the original piercing," she said.

I couldn't help but laugh. "I thought you meant I wasn't going to keep a piercing at all."

"I know," she said, with a faint smile on her face and in her voice. She took our order – one serving of an eggplant and water chestnut casserole I really loved, and two sets of silverware – and disappeared again, but not without adding the instruction, "Data, after you eat, make sure you dance with Zoe. She needs a little fun."

"I really don't need to dance," I protested after she left.

"I do not mind," he responded.

"'Not minding' isn't the same as wanting to," I pointed out. "And anyway, I don't even know how to dance."

"There are several kinds of dance listed on your theatrical resume."

"Why, exactly, did I ever let you see that?"

He refrained from answering while the server was delivering our food, but as soon as the waiter had gone, he said, "You let me see it because I asked."

"And if I'd said no, you'd have asked Dr. Crusher for a copy."

"That is… quite probable," he agreed.

"Alright, look, I have experience with ballet, tap, jazz, and hip-hop. I took hula lessons for two weeks. I know how to ice skate, but when it comes to social dancing? I'm pretty much limited to the kind of rhythmic gyration popular at clubs… not… not ballroom, or anything similar. Well, except waltzing, but any idiot can do that."

"Then I will teach you," he said.

"There's no way I'm getting out of this, is there?"

"No."

"Someday, when you least expect it," I said in my best nonchalant tone, "I will exact a personal and very painful revenge. It will be a revenge so complete that it will serve as a catalyst to deep, unending fear."

"Threatening a line officer is not a wise course of action, Ms. Harris."

"Neither is torturing your friends, Commander Data."

He managed to get me onto the dance floor, led me through a few basic steps, and soon figured out I hadn't been exactly honest about not knowing that type of dancing. I'd danced at my father's wedding, after all, but I wasn't good at it by any means, and it's a fortunate thing android feet are immune to fumble-footed teenagers.

After a few songs, I needed a drink, and a break, and we returned to our table. "Was it," Data asked guilelessly, "torture to dance with me?"

"Well," I admitted between sips of water. "I might have enjoyed it… a little. But next time, I get to choose our activity."

"I will hold you to that," he agreed.

We left shortly afterward, and even though it wasn't even midnight, the emotional pre-dinner conversation combined with the dancing meant I was more than ready for sleep. I excused myself to go to bed the second we entered his quarters.

"You do not wish to have tea?" he asked, apparently puzzled. Well, it was our usual ritual.

"I do," I said, "but I wish to be functional at a reasonable hour more. Thank you for tonight."

"You are welcome, Zoe," he said. "Good night."

"Good night, Data." I let the door swish most of the way shut, leaving it open only a crack that time, zipped through my nighttime bathroom routine, and curled up in the bed.

An hour later, I sat straight up, not because I'd had a nightmare, but because I realized I'd inadvertently asked him out. He'd know it wasn't a date, wouldn't he? Wouldn't he? I forced myself to lie down, and did some of T'vek's meditation techniques to help find that pleasantly muzzy, sleep zone again. Of course he'd know.

NOTES: Hugo Rodriguez is the fictional cellist of the equally fictional Tantalus Quartet, and was one of Zoe's instructors during her time at the Suzuki Institute (see Hello from Earth…). Hugo's "musical triptych" is actually a piece in three movements, "Three Semblances," by Gabriel Gutierrez Arellano. It's been recorded by Duo Parnas (two string-playing sisters) on their album NOW which celebrates contemporary (at the time of release) composers. A version that includes guitar has been added to the Crushing on Cello playlist (see my profile). Sorry for the long delay in this chapter – life's been…busy. (Revised 27 March 2017)