Etudes

Data released his embrace, and we both stood up. "I will see you soon," he promised. He brushed some of my hair away from my face and bent to kiss me. It wasn't long enough, but it promised more.

I hugged him, hard. "Travel safe." I said.

"I will try," he answered, never one to promise more than he could deliver. Very softly, he added the two words that made my breath catch in my throat. "My Zoe."

- from For Auld Lang Syne, "Song for a Winter's Night Part IV"

(=A=)

Stardate 45029.18

(Thursday, 11 January 2368, 16:23 hours, ship's time)

In music, an etude is a practice piece, a short composition designed to help you hone a specific technique. Sometimes they're used as recital pieces, but most etudes are for learning purposes only. Through the ages, music tastes and trends have changed, but the etudes most cellists use in their studies never have. David Popper's 40 etudes have been the standard for hundreds of years and represent some of the best cello studies to come out of the Romantic period.

I wasn't at all surprised, then, that when I walked into the quarters I shared with my mother on the day I got back to the Enterprise, I was greeted by a vase of flowers (a mix of sunflowers and irises – my two favorites – flowers that should never have been put together, but somehow worked), and a copy of Popper's etudes. Separately, either the flowers or the music would have been a thoughtful and lovely welcome-home gift, but together, I knew they were a statement: we were partners, Data was saying, in more ways than one. He really was the best boyfriend ever.

Boyfriend. Over the course of a twenty-something hour shuttle flight to Centaurus and a subsequent three-day stay at my father's house, Lieutenant Commander Data, android, musician, artist, scientist, cat-owner, and second officer of Starfleet's flagship had become my boyfriend.

I hadn't seen him in ten days.

"Aren't you going to read the card, Zoe?"

My mother had met me at the shuttle bay, and we'd talked on the walk back to our quarters on deck nine. She'd told me that Ed hadn't officially proposed yet because he wanted to speak with me, but that they were discussing marriage. I'd told her about the change in my relationship with Data, and how my father's concern wasn't my age or his rank, or even that Data was technically a machine, but that he was a Starfleet officer, which came with its own set of troubles.

The kind of troubles that had killed my parents' relationship.

"There's a card?" I felt stupid. Data had written me a letter – I'd have called it a love letter but was it, really, when the man sending it claimed not to feel love, and had, in fact, used bullet points? – within hours of leaving my homeworld ten days before. Of course, there would be a card. I plucked it out of the center of the flower arrangement, read it, and smiled.

"Dinner invitation?" Mom guessed.

"Actually, no," I said. "Data's working on an engineering project with Geordi, and then he's got a dog watch on the bridge until two."

"So, you won't see him until…?"

"Breakfast," I told my mother, holding out the card. "He invited me to breakfast before class. He wanted me to have time to decompress." I grinned at her, then added, "Besides, he knows it's been almost a month since I've seen my favorite mother. Tonight's about us. Is the spa still open? Because I see mani-pedis in our immediate future."

My mother laughed and pulled me into a warm hug. "I've missed you, Zoificus. Spa and supper?"

"Sounds like a plan… but do you mind if I shower first?" I wrinkled my nose. "I smell like shuttlecraft."

"Go! Scoot!"

(=A=)

Over dinner in our quarters, I finally told Mom about my hopes for the summer. "So, we ran into Lachlan Meade from ACT at Red Sands one morning."

"Isn't he the instructor you hated?"

"I didn't hate him, so much as I thought he hated me," I corrected. "I learned a lot from him, though. Anyway, he's directing the summer stock program at Idyllwild this year. He asked me to audition, and offered me the job…"

Mom cut me off. "Job? Zoe, you're still in school."

"I know," I said. "But it's an opportunity that won't come often. Maybe never. It's three months in San Francisco during the summer, and then a tour. I'll be resident ingénue. Three or four plays in rotation, and I'll be in at least two. Featured roles, even. But I'd have to miss the first semester of next year, and…"

"And?"

"And I'm under eighteen, so either a parent or guardian would have to tour with me, or I'd have to be legally emancipated."

"What did your father say?"

"He said it's up to you but agreed it's a really amazing opportunity." I hesitated for a few seconds, then, softly, added, "Data thinks I should go."

"You talked about it with him?"

"He was there when Lach asked me to set up the audition," I said. "But, I'd have asked his opinion anyway. He said it was a 'rare and valuable opportunity' and that it would likely be a beneficial experience. He also said he wasn't eager for me to be away that long, but when I asked him if he'd go, he said yes."

"I can't take three months off to go with you, sweetie."

"I know. That's why I think I need to be emancipated." I outlined all the reasons why, and explained the terms of the contract, as well.

"I suppose you've already done the research on what exactly emancipation means?" My mother knew me too well.

"I might've had help," I confessed. "There are levels anyway. Some of them give me the right to make my own legal decisions, some sever all parent-child obligations."

"Let's set up a conference call with your father and discuss it," she said after eating several green beans, one at a time. "I agree with Data. It is a rare opportunity, and one with value, but it's a big decision, and since there are contracts involved we need to proceed with caution."

"That's fair," I said.

We finished dinner, and I excused myself to unpack, check my schedule, and comm my friends to set up something for the Friday afternoon. Annette suggested booking one of the holodecks for a couple of hours and Josh told me that he and Rryl had created a new program they wanted to share, so once Dana had secured permission from her father, we all agreed to meet around 1900 hours.

Normally, I would have curled up with a book after that, as it was still relatively early, but that night I felt the need to do something physical. And musical. I took my cello out of its travel case, tuned it, and started working on the first of the etudes in the Popper book. I used it as a warm-up, playing it through a couple of times and then actually picking it apart, paying special attention to the trickier parts. I wasn't sure exactly what Data's plan was, with regard to these exercises in pitch and dexterity, but I was certain there was a plan, and I knew preparation would be in my best interest.

(=A=)

Stardate 45030.30

(Friday, 12 January 2368, 02:13 hours, ship's time)

I shouldn't have played music, even just etudes, so close to bedtime. I'd turned out my light around eleven, but I couldn't fall asleep. Or, rather, I couldn't stay asleep. Like a small child on Christmas Eve, I kept waking up and staring at the clock, convinced breakfast time would never arrive.

By one, I was frustrated with myself. True, I hadn't seen (or touched, or kissed) Data in more than ten days, but surely, I could manage seven more hours. I adjusted my pillows, closed my eyes, and used the breathing techniques I'd initially learned from T'vek and still used. Meditative breathing. Calming, cleansing, breaths.

I was awake again in seventy minutes.

I rolled over and picked up Data's card from where I'd left it on the nightstand, not so much to reread as to hold something he'd touched recently. For an instant, I thought about just going to see him right then, but I knew that was just being over-tired.

I closed my eyes again, and tried the meditative breathing, but it wasn't working. Finally, I touched the comm-badge that I'd left on the table with the card. "Zoe Harris to Lt. Commander Data."

- "Data here. Zoe, is everything alright?"

"I'm sorry to bother you," I said. "And it's silly, and I won't abuse the comm-system like this again but…" I hesitated, because I really did feel a bit silly once I'd heard his voice.

- "You are not 'abusing' the comm-system, but please tell me how I can help you?"

I just wanted to hear your voice, I didn't say. Out loud, I told him, "I wanted to thank you for the flowers," I said. "They're lovely and it was a nice surprise."

- "Most literature on the subject of romantic relationships suggests that roses are the optimal choice of flower for one's partner, however, I recall you saying that you dislike roses."

"Irises and sunflowers are my favorites," I confirmed. "And you're right, I do hate roses."

- "Then, this is not a time you will be frustrated that I am right?"

He said it in a slightly teasing tone, and it was exactly what I needed to hear. "No, it's a time when you get a gold star for sheer awesomeness." I hoped he could hear the smile in my voice. "I should go back to sleep. I just… needed to hear your voice."

- "I understand, Zoe. I have missed you, as well. Rest well. I will see you at breakfast."

"I'll be there. G'night, Data." I cut the signal.

When I tried the breathing exercises again, they worked.

(=A=)

Roughly six hours later, I stood outside Data's door, and pressed the annunciator button, not sure if I should be excited or worried that he'd removed me from his lock. Actually, I was more than a little nervous just in general. His letter had been amazing, but we were still so new, and being on the ship was different than being on vacation.

"Come in!" he called out. He met me just inside and made the two syllables of my name into the sweetest greeting I could imagine. "Zoe…"

I set my padd on the edge of his desk, stepped close to him, and rested my hands flat against his chest, feeling the subtle thrum of him, as well as his pulse. The former moved all through him, not just at the places where human pulse-points were located, and I was rapidly becoming attuned to it. "I missed you," I said, looking into his eyes. "I'm sorry about comm-ing you in the middle of the night."

"Do not be. As I stated, I have missed you, as well." His hands went to my waist, and we kissed, but then he held me away from him. "I am afraid we must delay any further intimacy until after our meal. I do not wish to risk being late for class."

My stomach growled, emphasizing his point. "I'll try to cope," I said drily, "what are we having."

"Nothing that you would term 'fancy,'" he said. "I simply did not believe our reunion should be in front of your classmates," he added, guiding me to the table. There was a small vase on it, I noticed, with more sunflowers, and he'd replaced the couch.

"No, private is good," I agreed. "You've been redecorating."

"Reviews of the design imply that this couch should be fifty-three percent more comfortable and seventeen percent more conducive to 'cuddling' than the previous model."

I had to chuckle at that. "I look forward to finding out."

"As do I." He presented me with a spinach and mushroom omelet, slices of melons from three different worlds, and a mug of coffee with exactly the amount of milk I preferred. "Please eat."

I didn't have to be asked twice. We split some of my omelet and some of the fruit onto a second plate, and as we ate, he told me what he could of the mission that had pulled him away from Centaurus earlier than planned. "It was not until I questioned him that Captain Picard assigned me to command the Sutherland," he told me.

"So, you were Captain Data?" I asked, unable to keep from smiling. "Did you get to wear red?"

"My uniform did not change," he said. Reacting to my look of confusion, he explained, "In Starfleet, 'captain' can be a position as well as a rank. In this case, I was given the position of captain and command of a vessel, but my rank remained unchanged."

"So, you could have technically been in charge of people who outranked you?"

"That is unlikely," he said. "As any more senior officer would likely have been given command."

"But, in theory…"

"Yes, Zoe, in theory it could have occurred. However, it did not."

"I'd have liked to see you be in charge. In command. I don't suppose there's video?"

"There is a 'black box' recording, of course, but that is not typically accessed unless a ship takes on significant damage or a breach of security has occurred."

"I guess we'll just have to stay together long enough for you to actually become captain, then," I said loftily. I was teasing – mostly – and we both knew it, but the words seemed to charge the atmosphere in the room. "I'm sorry," I said, "I didn't mean...I mean...I don't really expect...I hadn't meant to be presumptuous."

"You were not," he said softly.

"My father really did ask about your intentions, didn't he?" I hadn't really believed it when I'd originally asked about the conversation they'd had while I was surfing.

"He did," Data said. "And I have not forgotten that I promised to share the details of that discussion."

"But now isn't the time?"

"I am afraid not."

"I should make you wait to hear about my Idyllwild audition," I said, "but you were there when Lach said it was basically a formality, so I guess you should know they offered me the contract, but since I won't turn eighteen until a couple months after the tour ends, either a parent or guardian has to go with me, or I have to be legally emancipated – either way, they're required to provide a tutor, so my grades won't suffer any, and Dad said the money they're offering is pretty generous."

"Your father is unlikely to be able to go with you, and I know that your mother does not have that much accrued leave."

"True on both counts. I asked Nick if he could help with the legal stuff, and we're setting up a conference call with Dad, and then with him and Dad to discuss options."

"If I can be of any assistance, please do not hesitate to ask."

"Actually, there's some question of whether I can be legally emancipated without losing my status as my mother's dependent, which wouldn't matter, except if I'm not in her care, I don't think I'm allowed to be a student here."

"I do not believe you have cause for concern, Zoe. Whether or not you are a legal dependent of your mother, you will be welcome here."

I reached out to cover his hand with mine, and he immediately turned his hand beneath it and interlaced our fingers. I wondered if that had become an automatic response and resolved to ask him, but that, too, was for another time. "Thank you."

"If you are finished eating, we have one more subject to discuss before class."

"You mean, whether or not my friends have a problem with me being there, even with Geordi grading my work?"

"Precisely."

"What's to discuss? We tell them we're dating, and that you won't be grading me. We answer any reasonable questions. We let them vote on whether or not I get to stay. Besides, Annette and Dana already know I wanted this – us. Annette knows more, but, you can't be my entire support system and Mom is… Mom."

He took a beat, apparently processing the information that I'd spoken of our burgeoning relationship with my friends. "It is good that you have that support," he said. "Despite that, have you considered what to do if your friends are not comfortable with your continued presence in my tutorial?"

"They won't be uncomfortable," I insisted. He held my gaze until I looked away from him. "I have a contingency plan for that - three different contingencies, actually," I admitted. "I assumed Geordi had told you."

"He did not. We have had other matters that took priority, and we were both off the ship during our mission."

I nodded to show him that I understood and explained. "I can either go back to regular math – just to have the credit - or, I can challenge for a credit in regular math, so I don't have to sit there and be bored five hours a week, or I can do an independent study, which Geordi will still grade, but I'd have to do it on my own, and I don't think I'm that bright."

"You are underestimating yourself in that regard," Data said. "You have never been the 'abysmal' math student you claimed to be when you first petitioned for a place in my class, and you have more than 'held your own' since then. Your scores on the college board examinations demonstrated as much.

I chose not to argue is point. "Well, I'm open to other ideas, if you have any."

"I do not. Even if we ended our relationship –" We were still holding hands; he felt my muscles tense at that. "- which is not an option I wish to exercise – it would be inappropriate for you to return to class if I am scoring your work."

"I know that." I shook my head, as the absurdity of the situation hit me. Then I started laughing.

"What is funny?" He was honestly confused.

"I'm fighting to stay in a class I didn't originally want to be in, for a subject I don't even like," I said. "Even if you can't actually laugh at that, you have to appreciate the irony."

He took a fraction of a second to process. "It is ironic," he agreed.

"But I don't really have a choice, if I don't want my GPA to suffer."

"No, you do not. And your continued absence changes the dynamics of the class in ways your friends do not appear to appreciate."

I slipped my hand from his and stacked our empty plates to be recycled. "How much time do we have left?" I asked the question as I cleared the table.

"Based on your average walking speed, the shortest route to the conference room, and the likelihood of the turbolift cars being in their optimal positions, we have fifteen minutes before we must leave."

"Perfect. Let's spend ten evaluating that couch."

"Evaluating?"

I smirked at him. "I'd like a little more 'physical intimacy' before I have to go be a student."

"Why ten minutes?"

"Five to use the bathroom, after."

"Ah."

We moved to the couch where, instead of taking my usual position curled into the corner farthest from the door, I cuddled against him. "I approve of the upgrade," I said softly.

Data's answer was to ghost a kiss across the top of my head and tell me softly. "You wished to know how we will 'be' here on the Enterprise. We will be like this. We will do it by spending time together, as we always have, but with…"

"More." I finished for him.

"Exactly, Zoe. With… more."

I smiled. I liked…more. But ten minutes ticked by too quickly, and when Data quite literally called 'time,' I excused myself to use the bathroom and put on the lipstick I'd intentionally left off before. Walking through his bedroom, I noticed the other furniture changes – he'd installed a larger bed with ledges on each side - and made a note to twit him about it later. Feeling more prepared to face the rest of the day I returned to the main room. "Should we leave separately?" I asked, mostly teasing.

For a change, the person offering a pointed look was him, not me. "That would be unnecessary," he said matter-of-factly.

(=A=)

Stardate 45032.10

(Friday, 12 January 2368, 18:00 hours, ship's time)

"Dana, it's your turn."

Annette, Dana, Josh, Rryl, and I were sitting on the floor around the coffee table in my quarters, the pieces of a board game scattered on the table in front of us. We'd ended up coming there after our last classes of the day and had decided that board games and junk food were more compelling than playing on the holodeck.

"I want to make an accusation," Dana said. She placed a yellow marker in a round space on the game board and added a game piece meant to represent a medical device. "I think the killer is Lt. Commander Mustard, in the astrometrics lab, with dermal regenerator."

"I can disprove that," I said, flashing her a peek at the evidence - Lt. Commander Mustard's character card was in my hand.

"Arghhh! I was sure I had it! Ryll, it's your go."

Rryl tapped the data flimsy with his notes and moved the requisite pieces into the proper section of the board. "You have all missed the obvious clues to our mystery, my friends," he intoned. "The murder of Ensign Boddy was clearly committed by Doctor Peacock, in the arboretum, with a circuit attenuator!"

We all stared at the usually-quiet Akkallan boy. "No way," I said. I'd actually suspected the doctor, but not the weapon or location.

"Can anyone disprove this?" Annette asked.

None of us could.

"Shall I check the dossier?" Josh asked.

"Do it," Dana said."

Josh flipped over the three translucent cards which proved that Rryl was right.

"And the winner of Starship Conundrum is Rryl!" I announced. "You get a prize."

"Wait, there are prizes?" Josh asked. "How did I not know there were prizes?"

"Actually," I said, standing up, "Everybody gets a prize. I'll be right back." I went into my room and retrieved the presents I'd brought home for all my friends. "Rryl, Josh, Annette, Dana…"

"Zoe, you didn't have to…" Dana began, while the boys were already ripping into their packages.

"Are you kidding? You all proved what great friends you are when you were completely cool about Data and me in class today. I was convinced you'd make me leave."

"Are you kidding?" That was from Josh again. "We're counting on you to get us early access to exams."

"Keep dreaming, Joshua," I told him, using the hated full version of his name intentionally.

"Zoe, these are lovely!" Annette held up the coral necklace and earrings I'd brought back for each of the girls. The boys each got a tooth from one of Centaurus's pelagic toothy fish strung on black cording, and all four of my friends had t-shirts from the Great Oreas Lighthouse.

Dana hugged me impulsively, "I love these." Her coral was blue, while Annette's was orange.

I hugged her back. "I wish you all could have come with me."

Rryl and Josh were equally pleased with their gifts, and I was delighted that my friends liked what I brought them. "Seriously, Zoe," Josh said, "could you visit more places, so we can get more loot?" I was sitting against the couch, so it was easy enough to grab a throw pillow and lob it at him. "Hey!"

He lobbed it back at me, but his aim was off, and it sailed harmlessly through the gap between Annette and Rryl. "Your pillow-tossing skills need serious work, my friend," the Akkallan boy observed. He began gathering the pieces of the game, "Should we play another round, or should we try something else?"

"Wait, is Zoe even available for another game?" Josh asked the room.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Friday night? You and Data don't have plans?" the blond boy waggled his eyebrows on the word plans, earning a glower from his girlfriend.

I rolled my eyes at him. "We're dating, not attached at the hip." I was pretty sure it was more than dating, but the details really didn't need to be explained just then. "Besides, I spent a good chunk of my holiday with Data – he came to the house on his way back from Kneriad – I haven't had decent hang-out time with all of you since… November? God, I'm a horrible friend."

Both Dana and Annette wrapped their arms around me. "You're not," Annette said. "You've just had a lot on your plate. We get it."

"Okay, but… you're leaving for college at the end of this school year, and the rest of us only have a year left, and I might not even be here for half of it… so… let's agree to hang out more regularly? Maybe every Friday? It doesn't have to be all night -just after classes. As it is I'm pretty sure it's about time for Dana and Josh to go off and do some couplish canoodling."

"Actually," Rryl said, "I have a date tonight."

All four of us were keenly interested. Dana leaned toward him. "Do tell?"

"It is with Serena, from our Federation History class."

"Oh, she's cool. I've run into her at the pool a couple of times," I said. "So, how much longer do we have you for tonight?"

"About an hour," Rryl answered.

"Mmm. Not enough time for another round of Conundrum." Being on Centaurus had reminded me of the games we kids had played at Gran's farm, though - the games that didn't require pieces or dice or cards. "What if I told you that we could lift Rryl over our heads using only two fingers each?"

And so, I introduced my friends to some decidedly low-tech fun. I'm betting it was the first time anyone had played "Light as a feather; Stiff as a board" on a starship. It definitely wouldn't be the last.

(=A=)

By nineteen-thirty, Rryl had gone to get ready for his date, and Josh and Dana had excused themselves, as well. Annette and I looked at each other and made matching wry faces.

"It's kind of ironic," she said, "that we're both in relationships, and yet we're alone on Friday night."

"How is Wes, anyway?" I asked. "He said something about being on Caldos over Christmas, the last time we exchanged mail?"

"I was there with him," she said. "I don't think we're going to last much longer."

"Oh, Annette, I'm sorry." I moved onto the couch and she did the same.

"Don't be. We're growing in different directions."

"It happens, I guess."

"It won't happen with you and Data."

I shook my head. "You don't know that. You can't know that. Anyway, we're brand new. I mean, the holidays were amazing, but then he got called back here and I realized what my father used to go through with Mom."

"I thought he was just transporting you to Centaurus, not staying. How was that, anyway, twenty-six hours in a shuttlecraft?"

I smiled, remembering. "It was… it was good. We talked. We played poker. We had a sing-a-long."

"A sing-a-long."

"Mmhmm. Every road trip must have a sing-a-long; it's a rule."

My friend burst out laughing. "I'm sorry, Zoe. I'm trying to picture Data participating in a sing-a-long, and I just can't do it."

"He has a lovely voice, Annette. Really. But if you have a hard time picturing that, your brain's going to explode when I tell you that he came to the beach to watch me surf and wore khakis… and sandals."

Her jaw literally dropped. "Please tell me you have photographic evidence."

"I do, but I don't have Data's permission to share, so you'll have to wait to see."

"Zoe?"

"Yeah?"

"Amazing? Really?"

I smiled softly. "Amazing. Really."

(=A=)

Stardate 45033.86

(Saturday, 13 January 2368, 09:30 hours, ship's time)

"Good morning! Happy Saturday!" I was so excited to be playing music with Data again that I couldn't help the loud and somewhat sing-songy greeting I offered as I breezed through his door with my cello. I was half an hour earlier than usual, but the change in time had been at his request.

"You seem very exuberant this morning," he said, rising from his console. He took my cello and set it against the wall, and then turned back to me and kissed me very gently. "Exuberance suits you."

I laughed and hugged him briefly. "I'm jazzed about playing with you, is all. I started working on the first etude the first night I got back to the ship. Why etudes? They're not part of the audition requirements."

"No," he agreed, "they are not. Nor is their study a requirement of our coaching agreement. I will leave it to you to determine the reason for asking you to work through Popper's collection. However, before we can begin our new agenda, there is a final examination for you to complete, which is why I asked you to arrive early."

"Oh?"

"Yes. By beginning now, there will be time for us to break for lunch and still have two hours to play music." He paused for a beat before adding, "Commander Riker's jazz combo is playing a concert in Ten-Forward tonight. Would you like to attend with me?"

"Are you inviting me on a date?" I was pretty certain he was, but it didn't hurt to confirm.

"I am." His eyes were wide, steady, locked on mine.

"What time?"

"They will begin at twenty-hundred hours. If you would like dinner, we can eat before or afterward."

I smiled. "I'll want to change first."

"Then we should begin your examination."

"I'm ready when you are."

He cocked his head slightly, his demeanor shifting into a more professional mode. "Please be seated, Ms. Harris, and we will begin." I took a seat at his table, and he put a padd in front of me. "Press the start button when you are ready." He went back to his console, and whatever he'd been working on when I'd arrived.

The computerized music theory exam wasn't as in-depth as Data's test would have been; there was no hands-on section, for one thing. Nevertheless, it took me the full two hours to complete it. Interestingly, the padd also took longer to generate a score.

"Did I pass?" I asked.

"Did you doubt that you would?"

"With you as a teacher? Never." I took a beat. "But I prefer the partnership we're starting after lunch. Playing with you… when we do play together… Data, it's better than surfing."

His eyebrows lifted. "I have seen how much you enjoy surfing. That is 'high praise.'"

"So, it is." I agreed. "You mentioned lunch, but unless you actually want to eat, I'd rather just replicate a protein shake or a smoothie and get to music. I'm itching to play."

"I will get my violin."

I requested a chocolate raspberry protein shake and drank it while I unpacked my cello, and Data set up our music stands. We tuned our instruments together, or rather, Data tuned his violin and then played the 'A' I needed to hear to tune my cello.

"Shall we begin with the first of the Popper etudes?" he suggested. "I will play it with you."

We played it through together once, and then began picking it apart, just as we'd done other pieces in the past, but there was something different about the way we interacted. Before, he had critiqued my technique and given me pointers on improving intonation, but something about knowing we were doing this as partners rather than teacher and student made me more confident about giving him advice about making his playing more expressive.

An hour flew by and I was giddy from the music. "God, Data, that was awesome, and it was only an etude."

"We do seem to have achieved the 'meshy-ness' you used to talk about when we first began working together."

I laughed. "Understatement of the year."

He tilted his head slightly, and then straightened it and tapped commands into his padd, thus changing the display on my music stand. "This is another etude, called 'Train Whistle.' It was written by an American composer who also referred to himself as Von Cello. I would like you to try it."

I scanned the music. "It's really different. Kind of avant garde. Those chords are intense - are they in fourths?" I played it through as best as I could, wrinkling nose as I finished. "That sucked."

"For a first attempt, it was not as bad as you believe," he said diplomatically. "Take a closer look at the way some of Minsky's chord progressions echo the Popper piece." He demonstrated on his violin. "Similarly, the controlled glissades are in both pieces. Then consider the title. Have you ever heard the whistle of a train?"

"Only on vids," I said. "Grav trains don't whistle."

"Allow me." He opened his mouth and a multi-toned whistling sound came out. I was caught between wonderment and amusement. He repeated the sound, then, in his usual voice, asked me to play the piece again. That time, I could hear the train whistle in the music I was playing, and almost feel the chugging of an engine.

From there, we moved on to a duet we'd played before - the Vulcan piece we'd performed for my father when he'd come to see me the previous May. That had been before my summer in San Francisco, and before Lore had pierced my tongue, and we'd played it well, but eight months later we'd both matured as musicians, and our relationship had evolved. What had previously been a technical exercise had become something like... foreplay.

"Wow," I said breathlessly, sitting all the way back in my chair. "Just… wow." My pulse was racing almost as much as it typically did whenever Data kissed me. That thought spurred another. I set my cello down on the floor, resting it on its ribs, and stood up, crossing the few feet of space that separated Data and me.

"Zoe…?"

"Could you put your violin down, please?" I asked him. He complied, and I took his hand, and pressed his fingers to my neck, over my carotid artery. "Do you feel that?" I asked him.

"Your pulse is racing," he said, and then specified the beats per minute. "Your respiration rate is altered as well, and your pupils are dilated. You are…"

"Aroused," I said. "Music does that to me sometimes." My tone was wry mixed with something else, but it didn't matter, because I didn't want to talk about music just then. In much the same way I had bent over him when he had been sitting in a beach chair on Centaurus, I lowered my head to capture his mouth with my own, kissing him, and then pulling back to watch his face.

His golden eyes were fixed on me. He lifted his fingers from my neck, but only for the briefest fraction of a second. Then he touched my skin again and stroked my neck with infinite gentleness.

His fingers were cool against my hot skin, and I gasped softly.

Data repeated the motion with slightly more pressure. I could almost sense him cataloging the way my responses changed, the way my pulse got even faster. "Zoe…" His voice was a whisper, a breath, and he swallowed reflexively, something I rarely saw him do.

I kissed him again and smiled. "Can we take this somewhere more comfortable?"

"Yes, we can."

I stepped back, giving Data space to stand up. I expected that we'd relocate to the couch, but he surprised me, lifting me into his arms. I almost thought he meant to take me to his bed, but common sense prevailed. We weren't ready for that step, neither of us, and I knew that there would be talking – a lot of talking – before we were. The couch had been his destination all along, and he sat down and settled me onto his lap, the way he had on our shuttle flight to Centaurus.

"Is this better?" he asked softly.

"This is perfect," I answered. He was wearing civilian clothes, and the shirt he'd chosen – a red pullover – was close-fitting and had a lower neckline than his uniform. I ran my hands over his shoulders, reveling in the new freedom I had to touch and explore. He was solid and pliant at once, and the more I touched him, the more I wanted to.

Data's right hand was at my waist, but his left was teasing my neck again, as if, once I'd given him permission, he needed to investigate every nuance of what touching me there might do. He traced my ear with his fingers and teased my earlobe, but his attention kept moving back to my neck, to the pulse-point there.

Deciding turnabout was fair, I kissed him again on the lips, but then I pressed a kiss to where his carotid artery would have been if he had one. Note to self: ask if he has an analog. I was pleasantly surprised when his breathing changed subtly in response to my kiss - a barely perceptible hitch - and I impulsively flicked my tongue out to taste his skin. I expected it to taste like…nothing…or plastic, I suppose. I certainly wasn't expecting the salt and sweat of organic skin, but it had the same faint flavor of cashews that his kisses did.

I opened my mouth to tell Data he tasted really good, but he'd given up on using his fingers and was placing a series of tiny kisses along my jawline and neck, nibbling softly as if he could taste my pulse. Maybe he could. He nuzzled, and then ever-so-gently sucked, the tender skin at the juncture of my neck and shoulder and I shivered. When he did it again I cried out, "Oh, God…"

"No, Zoe," his voice was so close to my ear. His breath tickled my skin. "I am only Data."

I laughed softly. "That's even better." I pressed my forehead to his. "We have to stop, don't we? Right now, I mean."

"We… should," he agreed, though he seemed as reluctant as I was.

"I saw your new bed," I said softly. "Data, will there ever be a time when we don't have to stop?"

"There will… when we are both ready."

"Are you going to tell me now why you're suddenly into etudes?"

"I believe I will let you figure it out."

I laughed again and slid off his lap. "I love it when you show your dark side," I teased. "I should go. Apparently, I have a hot date tonight."

"I will pick you up at nineteen-thirty hours," he said.

"I'll be ready."

(=A=)

Stardate 45035.00

(Saturday, 13 January 2368, 19:30 hours, ship's time)

My mother wasn't home when I got back to our quarters, so I called Annette and Dana for wardrobe help. We chose a winter-white V-neck sweater and a soft black skirt that worked with my favorite chunky boots, and I accessorized with a simple pair of silver earrings and the scarf (midnight blue with small metallic stars) Data had given to me on New Year's Eve. On my friends' recommendation I also left my hair down and kept my makeup to the bare minimum.

Data, of course, was right on time, still wearing that red shirt, paired with charcoal grey trousers and the soft black shoes he'd picked out in Beach Haven.

"I'm ready, I swear, but come in a minute?" I asked him.

"Zoe, are you alright?"

"Kiss," I demanded, and we shared a brief one. "I'm nervous," I explained. "I know it's just Ten-Forward, and no one's going to eat me alive or anything, but, I'm still nervous. And I need you to help me not to be."

"How do I help?" he asked.

"Ground rules." I began pacing back and forth in front of him. "You said we'd have to figure them out, but for tonight… Am I allowed to touch you? Can we hold hands? Am I supposed to pretend like we're just casual friends who happen to be sitting together? And… oh, God, why do you have to look so good in red?"

He held me by my upper arms, stilling my agitated pacing, but not hurting me. "We have traversed the corridors of the Enterprise arm-in-arm on at least one occasion," he reminded me. "We have attended functions together before, as well." His eyes were locked on mine, his gaze holding me with far more force than his hands.

"Yeah, and the last one ended in you all being zapped into Sherwood Forest," I pointed out.

"I do not think it likely that anyone will be 'zapped' anywhere this evening. We are going to listen to music, and then if you are hungry we will share a meal. These are things we already do, Zoe; it is just that now we will be doing them in public."

I lowered my eyes. "Intellectually, I know all this." I said softly. "I just… People will talk."

"As we have discussed before, people are already 'talking.'"

I looked back at him, let myself get lost in those warm golden eyes of his. I took a deep breath and released it. "Okay," I said.

"O-kay?"

I smiled at him. "I'm better now. I might get jittery later, but I think I'll be okay."

He slid his hands down my arms and took my hands. "I am certain that you will be more than o-kay," he said, and I laughed, and stole another kiss.

He held my hand on the way to the turbo-lift, and then on the walk from the 'lift to the lounge.

(=A=)

Ten-Forward was pleasantly crowded when we arrived, and Commander Riker and the other musicians were in the middle of a warm-up on the raised platform serving as a stage. Guinan, or someone, had arranged the tables to feel like a club – two-tops and four-tops with all the chairs facing the stage, and candles flickering on each one.

It probably should have occurred to me that Data would want to sit near the people he considered friends, but it didn't until I realized that he'd chosen a table for two that was right between a table being shared by Lt. Worf and Reg Barclay, and another that was currently occupied by Geordi and Counselor Troi, with two chairs remaining open between them.

The counselor greeted me warmly when we arrived. "Zoe, I'm glad to see you here. You look tan and healthy." She gave me a brief hug.

"Three weeks of sun and surfing will do that."

"So, they will," she agreed. "But we're glad to have you home."

"Thank you," I said, feeling more comfortable already. I exchanged greetings with Geordi and Reg, the latter of whom complimented my scarf. "Oh, it was a gift," I said, glancing at Data.

We all chatted for a few more minutes before the lights flickered and we took our seats. Just before the concert started a server came by asking for drink orders, and I'm pretty sure my request for sparkling Altair water with a twist of lime surprised my companion. "I was not aware mineral water was something you enjoyed."

"I'm too jittery for coffee," I said softly. "And I didn't think you'd appreciate me ordering a martini. Although if you did…"

"Perhaps next time," he said. Our drinks arrived just as the music started.

The jazz combo was surprisingly good. More importantly, all the musicians seemed to be really enjoying themselves. I'll take adequate players who are having fun over technically perfect zombie players with no personality any day, and Commander Riker had this mischievous glint in his eye whenever he played a solo on his trombone.

Three songs into the set, a singer joined the group, for a smoky version of "Fever" followed by a Risan love song (Number Seventy-three, actually – there were so many Risan love songs they only ever got numbers.) The next piece was an instrumental one – "Jazz Etudes."

"Did you put them up to that?" I asked Data in my quietest whisper.

"I… may have," he admitted.

There was a ten-minute break between sets. Our drinks were refreshed, and I noticed that Captain Picard and Doctor Crusher had taken the seats between Deanna and Geordi. Well, at least I wasn't ill or in emotional turmoil, and there was very little chance he'd speak to me anyway.

Of course, I would have to be wrong.

Commander Riker came over to say hello to his colleagues – his friends – before the second set. I heard him conversing with the captain, and heard the latter ask softly about the "identity of the young woman who had convinced Commander Data to wear something other than his uniform off-duty."

If I had heard, I knew Data had as well. I met his eyes, certain I was blushing, and he leaned close to assure me, "You have nothing to worry about."

I nodded. There was really nothing to say.

"It's Zoe Harris," I heard the counselor answer. "And I think they look good together," she added. "I'm certain," she said pointedly, "that they can hear every word, as well. And if Zoe can't, we all know Data can."

"Quite true, Counselor," the captain said, and though I didn't know his tone enough to read him well, he sounded more amused than anything. "Mr. Data, Ms. Harris, are you enjoying the music?"

Data looked to me, and I smiled politely. "We are, sir, thank you," he answered for both of us.

"Are you a fan of jazz, Ms. Harris?" he persisted.

"I like pretty much all music, sir, although certain Kzinti chord progressions challenge my sanity. My grandfather played sax in a small jazz ensemble, from time to time."

"Kzinti music can be a bit grating to human ears," the captain agreed. "Who was your grandfather?"

"Parker Harris, sir. I'm told he was fairly well known in his time. He died when I was ten, so I didn't know him very well."

It was Commander Riker who reacted to that. "Zoe is there anyone in your family who isn't extraordinary or famous?"

"Aside from me, you mean?" I was only half kidding.

"I have a feeling you'll be impressing us all, and not too long from now," the trombone playing first officer said, grinning. "Captain, everyone, we have a second set. Data, are you and Zoe joining everyone for dinner after?"

"I had not realized everyone would be dining together," my gold-skinned date said. "In any case, it is up to Zoe."

"I wouldn't want to intrude," I said, meaning it. "I'm sure the last thing you all want to do is make inane conversation with a student." I'd been hoping Data would read into what I was saying, and beg off, even if it was just to escort me home and return, but I forgot who I was with, and how often he missed social cues.

"You will not be intruding," he said to me. "And I have never known you to be inane." To Commander Riker, he said, "Zoe and I would be happy to join you."

"I look forward to it," Riker said. "Zoe, do you have any requests?"

"I'm not that familiar with trombone solos," I said apologetically, "but I've always liked 'A Night in Tunisia.' If your axe man can handle it, 'Autumn Leaves' is a favorite, also."

They ended up playing both, and dinner after was not entirely horrible, partly because the captain, the doctor, and Lt. Worf all excused themselves almost immediately after the concert, and partly because when we gave our next drink orders, I asked the server to bring Data a dirty martini, and I kept stealing sips of it, causing him to give me sidelong glances, though he never objected.

When the group finally broke up, it was only midnight, though it felt much later, and I was quiet on the walk back to the turbo-lift, and the ride to the deck and section where Data's quarters were located. In fact, I only realized we were at his quarters instead of mine, when I halted outside his door.

"Zoe, is something wrong."

"Not exactly," I said. "I wasn't paying attention, and I should have asked you to take me home."

"You do not wish to have tea before we end the evening?" He seemed almost disappointed that I was ready to end our date.

"I always enjoy sharing late night tea with you," I said truthfully. "But it's been a long, and very intense day, and I'm still feeling weird about having dinner with all of you." Still, I moved fully into his space, so the door would close, and then I continued, practically on autopilot, to the couch.

"I do not understand? What was 'weird'?

"Commander Riker included me to be polite," I said. "He wasn't expecting you to accept. Or at least, he was expecting that if you did accept, you would take me home first, then return."

"But you did not object."

"Actually, I did, sort of."

"Ah." He joined me on the couch. "When you said you did not wish to intrude, you were expecting me to 'get you out of there.'"

"Something like that, yes."

"Why did you not just say so?"

"I didn't know how to tell you without embarrassing you or making things more awkward. Next time I'll be clearer."

"And I will try to read your signals more effectively."

I chuckled at that. "Deal," I said softly. "Thanks for not freaking out when I stole half your drink."

"I do not 'freak out,'" he reminded me. "But no one would have prevented you from ordering a martini of your own."

The drinking age for synthehol was sixteen if it was at a restaurant, eighteen at a bar or club – at least for human-controlled establishments. "I know," I said. "But it was more fun to sneak sips of yours and see who noticed. And having a game to play made me feel less self-conscious about being there."

"Ah."

"And it kept me from touching you."

"Touching… me?"

"For the better part of a year, I've had this awareness of you… It got stronger in September when my tongue got perforated. It's different now that we're exploring intimacy in private, and I know we don't have to rush into anything… but after all these months of wanting to touch you, but knowing it would be inappropriate, and now having permission – I do have permission, right?"

"You do."

"Now, having permission. It's like… god, a typical teenager, I guess. I just… the solidity of you, the feel of your skin, the way you lace your fingers in mine. I can't get enough of it."

"Hmm." He made the sound I'd loved since I first heard it. "I believe I understand. All through dinner, I was considering the different textures and colors of your hair." His mouth quirked up at the corners. "It was distracting."

I laughed softly. "Well, I'm glad it isn't just me." I stood up, then. "I really should go home, Data. It was a good first date, really."

"I will escort you." He rose also. It was only one deck down, and a very short walk, and I was going to object, but he placed a gentle finger against my lips. "It is appropriate, is it not, for someone to walk his girlfriend home?"

I favored him with a wicked smile and kissed his finger before he took it away. "I'd like that," I said.

We held hands on the way back to the quarters I shared with my mother, and he stepped inside with me, so we could share a proper goodnight kiss. We were just moving apart when I realized what he was doing with the etudes, and I couldn't help it; I started laughing.

"Zoe, have I don't something amusing?"

"No," I said. "You're just… you're amazing, you know that?"

"You have said so many times."

"No, I mean with the etudes. They're meant to be practice pieces… ways to hone skills. But…but that's what tonight was, too. Going to a concert, staying with your friends for dinner. It's all etudes… relationship etudes."

His expression told me that I was right, that I'd figured it out. "I wished to demonstrate that the way for us to 'be' here on the Enterprise is simply to do so. To interact here in the same manner that we did on your homeworld, but with slightly less physical intimacy when we are in public."

"How long do you plan to keep this up?"

"There are forty etudes in the Popper collection, Zoe, and ten in the Minsky." I glared at him and he added, "I have no specific plan for us, except to continue as we are. There are times when, of necessity, you will be required to interact with my friends and colleagues among the senior officers."

"And the… more… we had yesterday morning, and today?"

"Will also continue, as I said."

"We will eventually pick my audition pieces and work on those?"

"Of course, Zoe."

I laughed and hugged him. "You awesome, wonderful, fantastic man!"

His arms came around me, holding me close. He kissed the top of my head and ran a gentle hand through my hair. "I will leave you to your rest now, Zoe. Contact me when you wake."

"I'll do that," I said. "G'night, Data. Thank you for today, for all of today."

"Goodnight, Zoe."

He left, and I went back to my room and went to bed, but before I went to sleep, I asked the computer to play the entire collection of Popper etudes.

Notes: Revised 11 March 2018. A brief reminder: in the CRUSHverse the age of consent is 16 (for humans and humanoids with similar lifespans). Starship Conundrum is obviously a redress of Clue. (In my house we turn Clue into a role-playing game and Ms. Scarlet conceals the revolver in her bra a lot.) Data's use of the word 'meshy-ness' has to do with a conversation way back in chapter 7 of the original Crush, and Zoe's first theory tutorial. The shuttlecraft ride and the time spent at Zoe's house are all from the holiday interlude For Auld Lang Syne, as was the conversation between Data and Maestro Harris (in pieces). The entire conversation is in the first chapter of Intentions.

David Popper (1843-1913) was a cellist and composer. His collection of cello etudes, "Op. 73, High School of Cello Playing (Hohe Schule des Violoncellospiels): Forty Études for Cello Solo," is considered one of the most important collection of technique practice pieces for cellists, and some of the pieces are performed in recitals. Aaron Minsky (aka Von Cello) is both a classical cellist and an avant garde rock cellist and is the composer of ten modern etudes for solo cello, the only recent composer whose creations have become part of standard studies and repertoire.

"Jazz Etude" is a piece performed by the Moe Koffman Quartet. "A Night in Tunisia" was written by Dizzie Gillespie and Charlie Parker. "Autumn Leaves" is an English translation of a French song called "Les feuilles mortes," with music by Hungarian-French composer Joseph Kosma and lyrics by poet Jacques Prévert. It's become a standard of American music. (Sadly, Brent Spiner has never recorded it, but he totally should.)