Dissonance

(Continuity Note: This chapter takes place four days after the one-shot, Counseling Sessions.)

Stardate 44842.23

(Saturday, 4 November 2367, 10:00 hours, ship's time)

I knew something was 'off' when I arrived at Data's quarters for our Saturday Session and found Geordi there, arguing with him.

"I'm sorry, my friend, but this is one of the most reckless ideas you've ever had."

"I have decrypted as much of the information as can be done otherwise," Data said to the engineer, using his most patient and rational tone. "It is clearly designed to interface with my neural net, and I cannot install it myself."

I set my cello on the floor and leaned on it. "Did I miss a comm or a message? I feel like I'm interrupting something."

"Good morning, Zoe," Data said. "We will be finished in a moment."

"Hey, Zoe," Geordi said at almost the same time. He glanced at me, but then returned his focus to our android friend. "We're actually done now, because I'm not going to help you with this, Data. I think it's a bad idea." He looked back at me. "Zoe, tell him it's a bad idea?"

"I'd be happy to," I said, "if I had the merest hint of a clue about what you were talking about."

"I have accessed the first layer of information on Lore's data solid," Data supplied. "It is a collection of documents detailing with the founding of a corporation called the Soong Foundation, and listing all of the financial holdings of said corporation, as well as the personal property of Dr. Soong himself."

"So, dear old dad died rich and intestate?" I asked. "That sounds more like a legal snafu than a bad idea."

"He didn't tell you the part about there being more layers of data on that solid, and about wanting to stick it in his head."

"As I explained," Data said, "The solid is actually a chip designed to interface with my neural net. I do not believe it will cause harm."

"You 'didn't believe' Lore would do anything to hurt me, when he was stalking me in San Francisco all summer, either," I reminded him. "And you know how that turned out."

It came out angrier than I meant it, but that had been happening a lot since I'd yelled at Jenna in the corridor earlier that week. Counselor Troi believed I'd been repressing fear and anger about what had happened to me on the way home from Earth, and that my shifting relationship with Data was causing my blocked feelings to finally surface. She insisted that was a good thing, but I was not so sure.

Geordi was clearly as uncomfortable with the idea of sticking Lore's chip in Data's head as he was with my reaction. "I have to go," he said, easing toward the door. "Call me if you need anything," he added. "You, too, Zoe." The engineer left the room.

I waited for the door to be completely closed. "What if it's not just information?" I asked. "What if it makes you… like him?"

"I cannot become 'like him,'" Data assured, his tone as reasonable as it ever was. "I would not consider installing this chip if I did not believe it to be necessary," he added. "And I cannot install it without help. As Geordi has refused his assistance, I must ask that you provide yours."

"Me?" I was shocked and horrified at the concept of being invited to poke around – literally – inside Data's head. "You want me…to…" Actually, I was shocked, horrified, and a little bit… pleased… that he trusted me enough to do it. "You do realize that the extent of my computer expertise is hacking the replicator system to get around the age protocols and get booze, right?" I probably shouldn't have admitted that, and it did earn me a raised brow from him. Probably he'd be speaking to Geordi or Reg about rewriting the relevant protocols, as well.

"You do not need 'computer expertise,' for this task, Zoe. You only need fine motor control, which you demonstrate every time you play your cello, and the ability to follow instructions, which we established on Wednesday that you also possess."

I blushed faintly at the last part of his statement. He'd reprimanded me – rightfully so – and I'd taken him literally when he'd restricted me to quarters afterward, then neglected to lift the restriction the next day. His explanation – given on Thursday evening during video night (I'd chosen a vintage twenty-first century feature film called Thor) – was that he assumed I would ignore that part of his order.

Well, I'd called it an order. He'd said it was a 'request.' We'd finally agreed on 'instruction,' but by then half the video had played, which was fine for him, what with his super android multitasking abilities, but it meant I really hadn't been clear on anything but the fact that the actors playing Thor and his brother Loki were both kind of hot.

"It matters that much to you?" I asked.

"It matters that I discover Lore's plans and his location, in part so that I can ensure your continued safety." His yellow eyes met mine, and I couldn't look away. "As well," he added very softly. "I wish to retrieve something he stole."

"The emotion chip," I said, remembering our very first conversation about his brother.

"Yes." He waited a beat. "Will you assist me, Zoe, so that we may both learn the full extent of my brother's message?"

Say no, the sane part of my brain screamed at me. Say no and make him promise never to bring it up again. I was never good at listening to my own advice. "Can I think about it?" I asked. "And decide after my lesson?"

"That would be acceptable."

(=A=)

I stretched my lesson out as long as I possibly could. Every theory question Data posed to me, I answered, then asked three follow-up questions of my own. I even tried to get him to babble about the difference between absolute and tempered pitch, but he kept the explanation brief – for him – and we moved on to the practice portion of our time together.

Most Saturdays that was what I lived for. When we'd first started playing together we'd had to make a conscious effort to mesh our styles, use breathing techniques and metronomes to stay in synch. Over a year later, our deeper friendship had also deepened our musical connection: when we played music together it was as if we were one being.

The piece we were working on was a solemn one, Faure's famous Pavane arranged as a duet for violin and cello, and it had been his suggestion. I knew it was used at funerals a lot. I didn't know why he'd chosen it – later, it would seem incredibly appropriate.

We played it through twice, and when I set my cello down, and I met his eyes, I knew what he was going to ask. "Don't," I said. I left my chair and stood in front of him. "You'll be able to talk me through what I have to do, and there's no way I can mess up?"

"We will insert the data solid in an auxiliary access panel. You will not be able to damage me."

"What if something goes wrong?"

I could tell he wanted to assure me that nothing could go wrong, but that his ethics program wouldn't allow the well-meant fib. "It is unlikely that anything will go wrong –"

"But if it does?"

He reached backwards to set his violin and bow on the couch, and then he stood up and removed his uniform jacket. It was only the second time I'd seen him without it - the first time I was fully awake for it - and for a moment I was distracted by how different he looked. In uniform, he was almost cuddly. In all black, he was suddenly more masculine. The tight t-shirt fit him like a second skin and left nothing to my admittedly overactive imagination. It showed off the biceps I'd glimpsed before, as well as sculpted (in his case, quite literally) pecs – he had nipples, I noticed - as well as…who gives an android a navel?

"Give me your hand," it was a request, softly phrased, and I complied without hesitation. He took my hand in his and guided it to the small of his back. In all the times we'd hugged, I'd never touched him there, and now I wondered how much of that was luck, and how much was by design. "Do you feel that projection?"

"Mmhmm."

"Zoe?"

I shook my head to clear it. Stop thinking about touching Data and pay attention. "Sorry. Yes. What is it?" If I l lifted my head, stepped backwards half a step, we'd be kissing. Stop it, stop it, stop it.

"It is my…." He hesitated, used the time to move my hand away from his back, but didn't let it go. "It is my power switch."

It should have surprised me. I should have been rocked by the reminder that he was a machine. I should have asked how much pressure it took to activate the switch and deactivate…him. Instead, I asked the one thing I really wanted to know, "Does it show?"

"Show?"

"If you take off your shirt; does it show?"

"Ah. No, it is subcutaneous."

If I asked you to show me, would you? I didn't say.

He was holding my left hand. I placed my right in the center of his chest, felt the power of him, the solidity. He – it wasn't a flinch, really, more of a… start… but he reacted to my hand there. He looked down at it, then lifted his head in three stages, first his eyes, then his chin, and then he was looking at me with his brows furrowed into his 'questioning' expression. "Okay," I said.

"Zoe?"

"I'll…I'll do it. I still think it's a bad idea, but you're not the only one who needs to know Lore's game. I'd rather be an active participant than a pawn, any day." I grinned and gave his chest an affectionate push. "But, just so you know, I'm choosing our videos 'til I'm ninety."

"Agreed," he said. He didn't bother to put his jacket back on, just went to the chair behind his workstation and sat down. "You will need to come here," he reminded me gently.

I started toward him, then stopped. "I should wash my hands first. I'm pretty sure the last thing you need is rosin and cat hair in your head." In his bathroom, I took time to pee, and to splash water on my face, as well. Then I returned to the main room and stood behind him. "Okay, tell me what to do."

He talked me through it in the same matter-of-fact tone I heard him use three days a week when he taught advanced mathematics. Press to open a small panel above, and slightly behind, his left ear. Count the rows of blinking red and green lights to find the socket. Use the pincers to pick up and insert the data solid - smaller end goes down. Have a minor freak-out when the lights change colors.

I tried to pretend it was commonplace to open the head of the man you kind of, maybe, love… or at least might love someday. In the end, I got through it by pretending I was playing one of those "Operation" games where you have to use a fake medical tricorder and brightly colored tongs to put a stylized plastic patient's parts back in order. Except that, at least, had a buzzer for if you messed up. "All done."

"Thank you, Zoe." There was a whirr-click as he reached back to close the panel in his head, and then he spoke again, in the most… computerish… voice I'd ever heard him use. "Accessing."

"Data?"

"Accessing," he repeated.

I had no idea if his behavior was normal, but it was absolutely creeping me out. I left him behind his desk and went to sit on the couch. I could watch him from there.

"Accessing…"

After ten minutes had passed, I wondered if I should call Geordi. After twenty minutes had gone by, I regretted having left my padd at home. After thirty minutes, I stretched out on the couch. At some point I fell asleep.

(=A=)

I woke to the comforting weight of a uniform jacket on top of me, and the equally comforting aroma of mint tea. The room lights were slightly dimmed. "Data?"

"Here," he said. He was sitting in one of his straight-backed chairs, but he'd moved it near the couch – watching me. "Are you alright?"

I sat up. "Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

"I am functioning within norma –" he began but stopped himself when he saw the look I was giving him. "I am fine," he amended.

"And the data solid?"

"I am still assimilating the information stored upon it. Lore's encryption codes presented a stimulating challenge. So far, I have discovered fragments of several memories from my initial activation, as well as my father's final will."

Stimulating? That can't be good.

"Sorry I fell asleep on you. What time is it? Does my mother know where I am?" I noticed something gleaming on the coffee table, and realized he'd removed the collar-pips and comm-badge before he'd covered me with his jacket.

"It is nearly sixteen hundred hours," he said. Vague time estimates were something he'd begun offering when we were alone, and the precise minutes and seconds didn't matter. "Your mother is aware that you are helping me with a personal project."

"You made tea."

"I assumed it would be welcome."

"It is," I said, reaching for the cup he'd clearly meant for me. "Thank you."

"It is the least I could do, pigeon."

I nearly dropped the cup. "What did you call me?" As it was, the hot liquid splashed onto my hand, and I hissed in momentary pain.

"I called you 'pigeon'. Are not affectionate nicknames appropriate between close friends? Do you not like it?"

"'Pigeon' is Lore's name for me," I said. "And I hate it. And you know that. Data, are you sure you're alright?"

"Of course," he said. He left his chair and came to sit on the couch with me. "You have injured your hand."

"It's nothing," I said, but he took the tea cup away from me, and drew my hand into his. I shivered, but it was because everything felt weird. I mean, we'd reached for each other's hands dozens – maybe hundreds – of times, but it had never felt wrong before. "Really, I've had worse. This one time, when I was about five, I managed to pull a coffee urn –"

"Shh." He hushed me, and then bent his head to my hand and placed a kiss there. His free hand lifted my chin, but I didn't see my friend in that pale, gold face. I saw a leer that was all too familiar. "Hello, pigeon," Lore's voice, Data's mouth. He brushed his thumb over my cheek. "Data's still here… I'm just an echo… just taking him out for a spin. Think he'd mind if you joined me?"

The leer turned into an expression that could only be described as panic - "Data?!" – but then it was gone, and the cruel smile that was pure Lore had returned. I should have tried to pull away, I suppose, but somehow, I knew that doing so would end up being… dangerous. Instead, I moved closer. This isn't Data, not entirely. It's not really Lore either. Overshadowing, maybe? Software… it's just software. A glitch. What do you do when software's glitching, Zoe? Oh, god. Oh… shit! Ohgodohgodohgod! I turned my hand in his, laced our fingers together, moved close enough to lean my head on his shoulder. I don't want to have to do this. Oh, god.

"Oh, little pigeon's come home to roost." The words were smug, dark, dangerous. Not Data.

Apparently, that chip had enough of Lore's… essence… in it that when I moved closer, he – they? Data? - responded. He lowered his head to mine, nuzzled my hair. Don't kiss me, please don't kiss me. Not now. Not when you're not… you. I lifted my free hand to the back of his neck, traced an abstract pattern there. Would he remember this… after? Did I want him to? I wasn't sure. I shouldn't be enjoying this, I thought, but it was the first time I'd really touched him. Does this make me as bad as Lore?

"Do it!" I felt, more than heard, the words ghost across the top of my head. I let my hand trail down his back. Found the switch. Pressed.

Watching the life drain out of someone you care about is horrifying.

Knowing it was by your hand – even when you also know it's reversible – is a thousand times worse. If I could have disappeared right then, I would have.

Shivering – I was either in shock or the room was suddenly chilly - I pulled Data's jacket on over the tank top I'd worn back when the only thing I'd planned to do that day was a music lesson. It was huge on me, but surprisingly comfortable. I knew he'd probably find it inappropriate, when he was… himself… again, but I figured he owed me one. Or ten. Or fifty. Then I called Geordi.

"I'm in Data's quarters, and we…we did something stupid, and I need your help," I said once he'd answered my signal.

"On my way," he responded instantly. I was pretty sure he'd started running before he'd even closed the channel.

(=A=)

I was still wrapped in Data's uniform, still huddled on the couch opposite him in a grim, alternate version of our usual seating arrangements, when Geordi arrived. The door, I noted, didn't automatically open for him, but evidently, I could authorize entry. I made a mental note to ask about that – it hadn't occurred to me before.

"Are you alright?" Geordi's first words were to check on me. God, he was such a nice guy.

"I'm… I don't know." I said. "He showed me how to… and I didn't think… I was caught up in him… and then…"

"Why'd you do it, Zoe?" he asked quietly.

I couldn't say 'turn him off,' or 'shut him down.'

"Why did I deactivate him, or why did I do what you wouldn't?"

"Both, I guess. Which panel?" He had Data more or less upright and was leaning over the arm of the couch to reach our friend's head. "I mean, I know what he's like when he's chasing down a piece of information, but I would have thought with everything you've been through…"

I described which panel we'd used, but in my head, I was trying to form an answer that made sense. My own voice sounded lower than usual, at least to my own ears. Older, somehow. "With everything I've been through, is it so surprising I want answers just as badly as he does? Except… I don't even really know what the questions are."

"He should have killed him when he had the chance," Geordi said.

We both knew he meant that Data should have killed Lore.

"I don't think he could have," I said. I wasn't sure how I knew that; I just did. "I don't think he could kill Lore any more than he could kill you…" Or me, I didn't add, even though I was sure it was true.

"Yeah…" He had his own set of pincers, I noted, in a pouch on his belt. He pulled the data solid free from its socket. "I should destroy this…vaporize it…"

"But you won't."

"No." He set the chip in a container on Data's desk, then returned to close the access panel. "Before we bring him back," Geordi said. "Tell me what happened?"

I did.

"Sounds like it was a personality overlay," the engineer said. "Damn it, Data!" He addressed the still-inactive android. "Why can't you ever just let it go? Why do you have to charge ahead so ruthlessly in your endless desire to know things?"

"When Dr. Soong picked his name, he was more accurate than he knew," It was a random observation, and I said it without thinking.

Geordi turned his VISORed eyes toward me. "Dr. Soong didn't name him, Zoe."

"He didn't?"

"Uh-uh. Data's name was self-chosen. You didn't know?"

I shook my head. "It's never really come up." I glanced at Data, felt self-conscious wearing his jacket without permission, not that Geordi had commented about it. "Is it weird that I'm angry at him?"

"For not telling you about his off-switch before?"

"Well, that… but also for putting me through this. I mean… poking in his head was one thing, but then… having to turn him off. Oh, god." I ran my hands through my hair, mussing my pony tail and not caring. "Did I do the right thing? I mean… he told me to, but…"

"You didn't have much of a choice, Zo'," Geordi said. In the middle of everything it registered that he'd shortened my name.

"No… none I could see."

"You're damn lucky he let you do it."

"I know," I said. "Do you want me to leave before you… 'bring him back'?"

The engineer paused and stared at me. "Would you rather not be here?"

"I don't know. It's… what if he's still…?"

"Hang on." He tapped his comm-badge. "LaForge to Counselor Troi."

- Troi here. Is something wrong, Geordi?

"I'm with Zoe in Data's quarters. There's been an… incident. I know it's your weekend but…"

- It's fine, Geordi. What do you need?

"Do you mind if I send her over for a few minutes. We'll let you know when she should return."

- Not at all. If the counselor thought Geordi was being cryptic, she didn't let on. I'll be waiting for her. Troi out.

"You'll call me, when he's…better?"

"Absolutely."

"Okay." I left the couch, and moved past him, pausing at the door to glance back at Data, who still looked more like a mannequin or a corpse than the person I was familiar with, but just as I was leaving a thought struck me. "Geordi… does Lore… does he have a power switch, too?"

"Yeah, he does," Geordi said. "Why?"

"No reason," I said.

(=A=)

Stardate 44842.98

(Saturday, 4 November 2367, 16:33 hours, ship's time)

Counselor Troi was waiting in her open doorway when I got to her quarters. She didn't speak, just took one look at me, and drew me into a hug. She held me for several minutes, then led me into her personal space. Only after I was sitting in a comfortable chair with a mug of hot chocolate did she comment on my attire.

"Interesting outfit."

I had nearly forgotten I was still wearing Data's borrowed (stolen?) uniform top. "What, this old thing?" I joked, but my humor fell flat. My heart wasn't in it. "I woke up on his couch with this over me, and after… after I did what I did… I was cold, and it was there, and I didn't think I should leave him that way."

Her neutral expression eased into one of sympathy and concern. I don't know what she was sensing from me, but I felt completely muddled – scared, angry, heartbroken, embarrassed – "What did you do, Zoe?"

"I…" I swallowed some of the chocolate and didn't care that it singed my throat on the way down. "I turned him off."

To her credit, she didn't immediately call security. Instead she took several cleansing breaths and went to replicate a second hot chocolate for herself. "I think you'd better start at the beginning."

I explained what I'd walked in on that morning, how I didn't think it was a good idea, and had stretched my lesson out as long as possible. How I'd caved and installed the data solid, after all.

"That must have been difficult," she said. "Seeing inside Data's head."

"It's weird. That first time, when he was tinkering with his arm… it felt like I hadn't earned that level of intimacy. But today? I was more concerned that I might… break him."

"I'm sure he ensured that you couldn't."

"Yeah. I mean… he was incredibly specific about talking me through it, which helped, but… actually it was kind of cool. And… I felt like it was kind of an honor, that he'd even trust me to do it." I hesitated. "I don't think I ever realized before today that Data can be manipulative, when he chooses."

"Does that frighten you?"

I shook my head. "No, it's not that. It's more… We see him as this nice, mild mannered guy. It never occurred to me before today that he has an act, too. That a lot of the way he presents himself is so that we don't perceive him as a threat."

Her expression darkened, and I didn't know if I'd misspoken, or if there was something else. "That's an interesting theory," she said.

I shrugged. "I could be completely wrong. I mean, he and I have talked about masks before, about the way everyone changes their public persona, adapting to different situations."

"Do you and Data often have such philosophical discussions?"

"Sometimes. Sometimes it's all music. Sometimes it's picking apart the plots of videos. We've been broadening our subject matter lately."

"I'm not surprised. Music and math class may have brought you into each other's spheres, but you wouldn't still be spending so much time together if that's all you had."

"I don't think I can be his student anymore," I said. I wasn't sure where the thought had come from.

"Zoe?"

"I always thought that when people talked about crossing lines, they meant sex. But today… he put me in a situation where I had to turn him off. He convinced me to put that… thing… in his head, and I did it, so it's not like I'm not as much to blame – I could have refused."

"Why didn't you?"

I looked away from her, unable to meet her eyes. "Because I wanted to know, too. Geordi was angry with Data about putting knowledge before anything, but…I wanted to know what Lore wanted, probably just as badly, maybe more. And… I mean, if it's hard for me to deal, because I'm lusting after Data…"

"It's lust now, is it?" she interrupted, teasing me, a little.

I blushed. "Well, not really, but… he's so different when he's not buried in… in this…" I held up my mustard-clad arms to illustrate my point. "But that's not really the point. Lore is all he has. I mean… he has all of us, but it's not the same. Lore is the closest thing he has to a blood relation."

"You've thought about this a lot," the counselor observed.

"I've had to," I said. "Data… Data doesn't always understand my jokes, but he gets me in a way no one else does. How could I not do the work to meet him half way?"

"But you don't want to learn from him anymore?" She seemed confused.

"No. I don't want to… can't be… his student any more. Too much has happened between us – nothing physical – but, going back to what I said before… there are other ways we've crossed lines. The things I've gone through today… watching Lore's personality emerge – he called me pigeon – having to do what I did. Seeing his personality – his whole self - go down the drain when I flipped the switch."

"But you're in his math tutorial."

"I know," I said. "With music… it's not a required class, and it's more like a partnership anyway. But in his class… I don't know, maybe if someone else graded my work?"

"It's something you should probably bring up with Data, if you want to continue your relationship with him."

"You're not calling it a friendship anymore," I observed.

"Is it?"

"Only a friendship? No… it's definitely more… but… not really anything else, either. God, this would be so much easier if I were older."

"Well, that will happen in time."

"I wish it could happen faster." I finished the no-longer-hot chocolate in my mug, and then I asked her, "I have to tell him that I'm angry, don't I?"

"'Have to,' isn't quite the phrase I'd use."

"What is?"

"'Should.'"

I laughed. "Yeah, okay, that's fair."

Her door-signal chimed and she called out for whomever was there to enter. We were both expecting Geordi, but it was Data, dressed in a fresh uniform (bling and all) and seeming a bit more subdued than was usual. "Counselor," he greeted, "Geordi said I would find Zoe here. May I see her?"

The counselor glanced at me, but I was already unfolding my crossed legs, and getting out of her chair. "I'm right here," I said. "I'll join you, if you want?"

"Please," he said mildly.

I flashed Counselor Troi a grateful look and went to have the conversation that would either make or break whatever it was Data and I had.

(=A=)

"Have you eaten today?" Data asked as we re-entered his quarters. He'd taken time to put away the music stands and prop my cello against the wall, I saw.

It wasn't a question I had been expecting. "What? Oh… not since… not since breakfast this morning."

"Will you eat something before we have our talk?"

"Why do I feel like you're about to –" I almost said 'break up with me' but if we weren't just friends anymore we certainly weren't a couple either "- end our… friendship?"

"I have no such desire," he said. "However, Geordi informed me that you are feeling emotionally vulnerable, and my own experience with you has shown that your responses tend to be erratic when your blood glucose levels are low."

I shrugged, "I guess I could eat. You're probably right that I should. You usually are." It came out as a grumble, proving his point.

"Please sit. I will bring food to you." He nudged me toward the couch, rather than the table, joining me a few minutes later with a tray containing macaroni and cheese and a glass of ice water with lemon. "I believe you have referred to this dish as 'comfort food,'" he said. He sat down next to me and gave me an appraising look. "You are wearing my uniform."

"Only part of it," I said between bites of cheesy pasta. "I was freezing, and I didn't think I should leave you…like that…and you'd already removed all the jewelry."

"Jewelry?"

"Your pips and comm-badge."

"Ah." He took a beat, then added, "It 'looks good' on you."

I nearly aspirated macaroni. "Don't get any ideas. I still have zero interest in the Academy. This is the closest thing to any kind of uniform you'll ever see me wear."

"I have never disagreed with your assessment of your lack of suitability to a Starfleet career. I merely meant that there is a degree of aesthetic appeal to the image of you in my jacket."

"I guess it's a day for crossing lines," I said. "Maybe we should mark it on the calendar and avoid it next year."

"I do not understand."

I rolled my eyes. "It's a… thing. Women wearing their… You know, you can ask Geordi about this one. I'm not entirely comfortable explaining it. Not today, anyway." Especially not today. I finished the food he'd given me, and then I scooted back into the corner of his couch. Comfort in familiarity, and all that. "I'm ready to talk now," I said. "But you should know that I'm really angry with you."

He gave me a nod of acknowledgement. "I should not have asked you to install Lore's data solid," Data said, matter-of-factly.

"No, you shouldn't have," I agreed. "And I shouldn't have agreed to do it. We crossed a line, Data." I said to him what I'd already said to the counselor. "I always thought that the line between friends and… and more… was all about sex. But today? Today we crossed another kind of line, and I wasn't ready for it. You put me in the position of deactivating you."

"Zoe…"

"No, let me finish. Installing the data solid? I knew it was a bad idea, but I wanted to know what was on it as badly as you did. Maybe even more so. I mean, I know Lore's your brother, but I'm the one he violated. Even so, the actual act… even though I knew it was wrong, I was kind of… honored… that you asked me to do it. That you trusted me to."

I saw his brow rise slightly in reaction to that, but all he said was, "Please go on."

"Showing me your off-switch… I'm guessing you don't give that information to just anyone?"

"No, I do not."

"Showing me, and then putting me in a position to have to use it… it's more intimate than anything else we've shared. Data, you put your life in my hands, and then you made me have to take it away. I'm not… I can't handle that responsibility and then sit in your class and worry over whether or not I'll pass the next pop quiz. If we're going to keep exploring… whatever this is… whatever we are… I can't be your student anymore."

"What do you wish me to say?"

"I don't know. Tell me I'm not imagining that the slow trajectory we talked about is getting faster. Tell me that when you kiss the top of my head, or play with my hair, or hold my hand that it actually means something. Tell me…" I stopped, and stared at him for a long moment, and then I couldn't help it. I had to do something.

I got off the couch, took my used dishes to the replicator, and returned, but I didn't go back to my spot, I stood in front of him.

He lifted his eyes to meet mine, confusion evident on his face. "Zoe?" He made my name a question, or maybe it was several questions, or even several thousand.

"Stand up," I said. "Please?"

He was still obviously confused, but he complied. "Zoe, are you alright?"

"No," I said. "But I will be."

I rested both my hands against his chest, and when he looked down at them, as I knew he would, I made my move, rising onto my toes to press a tentative kiss to his lips. He pulled back slightly, opened his mouth to say something, but I shook my head. "No more talking."

My lips met his again, less tentatively, and this time, just as when I'd kissed him back in September to get that data solid out of my tongue, he responded, moving his mouth against mine, deepening the kiss.

Our tongues met, and I tasted that same sweet nuttiness… or maybe it was a nutty sweetness. I'd thought the hint of cashew was from the food we'd eaten, that night, but in that moment, I learned it was just him.

His right hand went to my waist, beneath his open uniform jacket that I was still wearing, and he pulled me closer. His left hand released my hair from its elastic band and then tangled into it. I paused a moment for breath, and then recaptured his mouth.

I was almost out of breath again when his left hand joined his right at my waist and held me at arms' length. "Zoe, we must stop." Android strength. Barely any pressure. I couldn't have closed the distance if I'd tried.

"Data?" It was my turn to be confused.

"We cannot continue this."

"Why?" I demanded. "You didn't stop me in September. You didn't stop me five minutes ago, why now? If it was because of my age, your ethics program would have kicked in. Is it your rank? Is it something else?'

"While you are correct about my ethics program, and the other two items are valid points to consider, we must stop because of your mother."

"What?" He was still holding me but let go when I squirmed. "What does my mother have to do with anything? She knows I spend time with you. She knows what we've been… exploring."

"When you were away this summer, I promised your mother I would not allow things to progress beyond a certain point before you were eighteen."

"What?! You promised what? No progression beyond a certain point? What point, Data? You can kiss me on the head, but not the lips? I can hold your hand in private, but I can't touch you?"

"I believed it to be a safe promise to make. Zoe, when you left, our relationship, while intimate in its way, was considerably less so. If you will be calm I will relay the entire conversation."

Yes, and he'd probably do it in my mother's own voice, too.

"I'm not sure which is worse… that you discussed… us… with my mother when there wasn't even an 'us' to discuss, or that you made a promise involving my life, or that you didn't tell me." I shook my head. "I can't… any other day – night – I've lost all track of time –"

"It is nearly twenty hundred hours," he supplied helpfully.

"Data!"

"I should have discussed it with you," he agreed. "I did not… I was wary about attempting to define our relationship."

"I have to go." I moved toward the door, stopped, and moved back to pack my cello into its gig bag. "I can't… I can't be here right now. I have to go." I couldn't get the gig bag unzipped, so just picked up my cello. I'd get the bag later. Tomorrow. When I could think.

"Allow me to help you," he offered, and stepped toward me.

I hadn't planned to throw my cello at him. I hadn't even realized you could throw a cello, what with their complete lack of aerodynamic design. But I did. Or maybe it flew, because suddenly my hands were empty, and he had caught it.

It's a strange thing, to see a normally placid, allegedly emotionless android with an expression of stunned confusion.

I couldn't help it. I used the opportunity to leave.

It isn't technically fleeing if you're not actually running, is it?

Notes: Revised 10 March 2018. Faure's Pavane Op. 50 is one of those pieces recorded by pretty much every instrument ever. There is a version for violin and cello, and if I haven't already added it to the "Crushing on Cello" YouTube playlist, I will do so later today. As I'm writing this we're in (another) severe thunderstorm, and the power keeps flickering. Data's off-switch is first mentioned in the episode DataLore. His name being self-chosen is in the novelization of the ST:TNG pilot episode Encounter at Farpoint, but I can't remember if it's in the aired version, and I didn't bother re-watching that episode to confirm.