Fermata

A fermata [ferˈmaːta] (also known as a hold, pause, colloquially a birdseye or cyclops eye, or as a grand pause when placed on a note or a rest) is a symbol of musical notation indicating that the note should be prolonged beyond its normal duration or note value would indicate.

Stardate 45055.51

(Sunday, 21 January 2368, 07:36 hours, ship's time)

I woke up in near darkness in an unfamiliar bed, but the room was anything but unfamiliar, and neither was the man who was currently pressed up against my back. I'd fallen asleep with my head on his bare shoulder, and now he was spooning me. I smiled into the dimly lit room, and then breathed his name. "Data…?"

"I did not mean to wake you," he said keeping his voice low, perhaps in deference to the lack of illumination. "If I am too close to you, or you are uncomfortable in this position, I will –"

"You're not," I said, cutting him off. "And…I'm not. This is nice." I was pleasantly muzzy, in that state where I could happily have gone back to sleep, or equally happily stayed awake. Well, maybe not entirely equally. "We could make it nicer," I said softly.

The innuendo was not lost on him. His hand twitched, grazing the underside of my breast through the cloth of the pajama top I'd borrowed from him, but he said. "While sexual intimacy with you is an appealing prospect, I do not believe either of us is quite…ready." I felt him hesitate for the briefest of moments. "At least, I am not."

I took a moment to analyze my own needs and wants and realized I still wasn't as ready as I'd thought I was. "No," I said. "I guess you're right…but…"

"What is it, Zoe? You know you can ask me anything."

"Alright," I said softly. "Lift your arm for a minute, this conversation should be face to face."

He did so, and I turned over so that I was facing him, smiling when he lowered his arm, resting his hand against my hip. In the low light, I could barely make out his features, but I found his head unerringly, stretched to kiss him, and then mussed his hair as I resettled myself.

"Computer, increase illumination by fifteen percent." The lights came slightly up. "You were going to ask a question," he prompted me.

"There are a lot of reasons why I'm not quite ready for sex with you. It's too much, too soon, and I worry about our being together reflecting badly on you. But also," I took a breath. "This is going to sound utterly ridiculous, because I'm seventeen and no one finds the love of her life when she's seventeen…not in our world, anyway…but…you're not one-night-stand-guy, and you're not fling-guy. You're long-term-relationship-guy. Maybe even forever-guy. And I don't want to mess this – mess us – up."

"I do not wish to 'mess us up' either," he said softly. "But what is your question?"

"Why aren't you ready? Is it something I'm doing wrong, or…something else?"

His hand left my hip to tangle in my hair, and we shared another kiss before he answered. "You are doing nothing wrong, Zoe. It is…are you certain you wish to have this conversation in our bed?"

I wasn't sure if he could see my eyebrows go up, but I knew he'd hear my inflection. "Our bed?"

"Is it not?" His tone was completely guileless. "Zoe, you are the only person who slept in my old bed, and the only woman I foresee sharing this one. If you wish to move this conversation to the couch, or the table, I will understand."

I thought about moving and discarded the idea. "I'm comfortable here," I said. "Some things are easier to talk about when you're cuddled in the dark with the person you love, and honestly, the last thing I want right now is distance from you, even if we're talking less than a meter."

"Very well," he said. "Do you recall our conversation about Tasha Yar?"

"I remember. Is this the part where you tell me I'm competing with a ghost?"

"No, Zoe. It is 'the part' where I tell you that the morning after our…encounter…she told me that 'it never happened' and that we would never speak of it again."

"Oh, Data…" I pressed my hand to his chest. "I hope you know I would never do that."

"I do know that you would never deny or negate anything we experience together, but you did run from me in tears after we shared kisses, and that is not a scenario I care to repeat."

"No," I agreed. "Me either. If it helps at all, I was never running from you; I was running from me. From feelings I didn't think I was supposed to feel, from the thought that I'd pushed you too far…and the second time…I was hurt and angry and didn't know how to handle it, but it was…it was never you."

"Last night when I told you not to apologize for what you feel, I meant emotions like anger, as well. While I cannot experience anger, I have had practice in 'talking people down' from it. You must learn to be angry with me without fleeing from my presence, and to let me help you through it."

I used his phrase, from when he left me on New Year's Day: "I promise to try." We were both quiet for a moment, and then a thought struck me, and I asked, "Data…was Tasha your first?"

"No," he answered, and his hand went to my hip again, as if holding me would soften what he was about to say. "

"Tasha was my friend, and she was special to me because our…encounter…while brief, was the first time I experienced sexual intimacy with someone who wanted me for me, and not just to find out what it would be like to…." He trailed off, and I had the impression he was searching his memory for a specific quote. "…to 'fuck a robot.'"

The coarse language – especially jarring, coming from him – and the implication that he'd been used that way made me gasp. "Data, that's awful."

"It was not 'all bad,'" he said. "While I learned that I am capable of sexual function, I also learned that even scientific curiosity does not outweigh my need to be treated as a person."

"You are a person," I grumbled. "And anyone who doesn't think so…"

He interrupted me. "You do not have to defend me, Zoe, though I appreciate the sentiment." He hesitated for over a second, before he said softly, "You are not the only one of us who wishes for a future together."

"What?" I nearly hissed the word.

"You have asked what your father and I talked about. You surmised that he asked about my intentions toward you, and you were not mistaken. I told him that I believed our association may be permanent, but that planning beyond the next few weeks would be premature. I told him that for now, I wish to simply be with you, to explore the relationship we already have, and to deepen the connection we have already established."

"You said that to my father and he didn't threaten to take you apart and sink the pieces into the eleven seas of Centaurus?" I was boggling a little. More than a little.

"He did not. He merely reminded me that you were young, but that he believed – as I do – that you know your own mind."

I lifted my hand from his chest to run my fingers through his hair but when I moved to kiss him, a yawn took over. "Oh, god, I'm sorry," I said, embarrassed.

"Do not be, it is only six point three minutes after eight hundred hours. We are not due at brunch until eleven-thirty hours. Go back to sleep; I will wake you in time to get ready."

"You're coming to brunch?"

"Your mother invited me specifically."

"That was nice of her; should we bring the leftover cake?" I yawned again. "I need to turn over."

He lifted his arm again and I turned onto my other side. I expected him to roll back the other way, continue working on whatever had kept him busy while I'd been sleeping before, but his arm came around me again. "Computer, reduce illumination to previous level." The lights dimmed down to the near-darkness I'd awakened to.

"I love you, Data," I told him.

I wasn't expecting a response, especially after the paragraphs he'd given me the night before, but he surprised me again. "I am devoted to you, Zoe."

I smiled into the dark room and covered his hand – the one resting against me – with my own. I twined my fingers through his, my palm to the back of his hand, and lifted slightly, guiding his hand to my breast. His breathing altered slightly, but he didn't object, and I was silent for more than a minute, hovering in that sweet place on the edge of sleep.

Something he'd said earlier came echoing back to me. "Appealing, really?"

"Appealing," he said. "Really. Go to sleep."

I happily complied.

(=A=)

Stardate 45055.84

(Sunday, 21 January 2368, 10:30 hours, ship's time)

Data woke me with a kiss and a cup of coffee. "It is ten-thirty, Zoe. If you wish to have a 'proper' shower, you must wake up now."

"Are you always going to wake me up this way?" I asked, only half-teasing. "Because I could so get used to this."

"Only on mornings when you wake up here," he said, perfectly seriously. "I believe your mother would object to personalized coffee service in your bedroom."

I stared at him for a moment, then burst out laughing. "Gold star for the frowsy guy," I said noting his mussed (from my fingers as much as the pillows) hair and rumpled pajama bottoms, and then noticing his bare feet and the scattering of hair peeking up from his waistband – like his eyebrows it was just a couple of shades off from his skin - and forming a faint line up to his navel. "Frowsy and all kinds of sexy," I said. "Remind me again why we're waiting?"

"I am going to assume that was a rhetorical question," he responded. "In any case, even if we were not waiting to experience mutual sexual gratification, we would be late for brunch with your mother and Professor Benoit."

"Ed," I corrected, interrupting him.

"Excuse me?"

"He's not your professor, and he's likely to be my stepfather someday soon. That makes the two of you practically family. I had the impression you two had become friends, of a sort. You should call him Ed. I mean, I do, even when I'm sitting in his class."

"You consider Professor – Ed – to be family?"

"No, I consider you to be family. I consider Ed to be…family-adjacent" I got out of the bed. "Am I allowed to use water for my shower?"

"Of course, Zoe."

I headed to the bathroom bringing my half-finished coffee with me. Just before the door closed behind me, I tossed Data's pajama top at him. "Thanks for this," I said, favoring him with a saucy grin.

The look on his face was one more birthday present for me.

(=A=)

I was half-expecting Ed to propose to my mother at brunch, but I realized he'd never do such a thing on my birthday. Instead, the four of us shared a cozy meal, and talked about literature. Ed suggested that I give Sherlock Holmes another chance, teasing me with information about his creator – Sir Arthur Conan-Doyle – and his love of the occult.

"He believed in fairies, Zoe, and used to hold séances. That should appeal to your dark side."

"I'd tell you I don't believe in fairies, but I'm pretty sure if I did you'd start quoting Peter Pan at me," I told him. "But séances are cool. What did he use? Medium? Crystal ball? Ouija board?"

"Both," Ed said. "Or, all, I suppose. At different times. But how do you know about Ouija boards."

"Ouija board…" Data was repeating the phrase as if he were searching for something to connect it with. "Ah. Talking board, spirit board, witch board. I can understand why it is something Zoe would find interesting. She 'likes' the dark."

"You know me too well," I teased lightly. "As to how I know…Gran had one. When my cousins and I would stay at the farm, she'd declare no-tech days from time to time. Actually, there was one month when she got so fed up with all of us glued to padds and vids and games that she instituted Rolling for Technology."

"Rolling for Technology?" Data repeated, making my capitalization audible. "Please elaborate."

"She took a ten-sided dice – die? –" I glanced at him for confirmation. "Die. And every morning we'd gather around the kitchen table and roll it. High numbers allowed us to have more recent technology. Low numbers set our allowable tech level at that of different periods in time. We rolled a 'one' once and were terrified she'd refuse to let us use indoor plumbing – there's an outhouse on the farm, but it's mostly there as a joke. She didn't disallow it, but we had to make all our meals outside on the grill that day, and we only used the storm lanterns for illumination after dark."

"I remember you complaining about that visit," my mother said, her gushy mom-look evident on her face. "You got mad when I supported the idea."

"Yeah, at first, but then we all started liking it. The second time we got an extremely low-tech roll, it was a stormy day, so we lit a fire to ward off the dampness and Gran dragged her Ouija board out of the attic. She told us this great story about how she had a friend who was from a race of Listeners, and they'd imbued the board with the ability to listen to the spirit world."

"There are such races," Data said. "Guinan's people are known as Listeners. However, I do not believe she or any of her kind are able to hear messages from the deceased or imbue a painted board with the ability to communicate with ghosts or spirits." His tone implied that he was perplexed. Was it wrong that I thought he was adorable when something perplexed him?

"No, and none of us really believed it either; it's just fun to pretend," I explained. "It's why I like horror, remember? It's fun to be scared, when you know it's not real." I waited a beat. "Besides, the Parker Brother's name and logo are right on the bottom of the board. Kinda takes the magic away when you notice that. Besides we were kids. We asked the board things like 'Will I marry the celebrity I'm crushing on?'"

Mom and Ed both chuckled. Data gave me a look that clearly meant he'd didn't quite understand what was funny but wasn't going to ask just then.

Guinan stopped by our table to see how we were doing and wish me a happy birthday. "I'm sorry I was unable to attend your party," she said, and then she looked at me very sharply as if she was hearing a message from someone or something beyond our comprehension. All she added was, "Zoe, Data, it's good to see you two together."

Somehow, I think we all knew she wasn't talking about proximity.

Data opened his mouth, but I don't know what he would have replied, because his comm-badge chirped, and he tapped it. "Data here."

"Mr. Data, I'm sorry to intrude on your personal time, but the transport carrying the first wave of the Melona colonists is due to rendezvous, and your assistance would be appreciated." The words came in the captain's polite-but-crisp inflection.

"Acknowledged, sir," Data answered. "I am on my way." He rose from the table and thanked Mom for including him in the meal. I wasn't expecting him to kiss me – he was in uniform and we were in public, but he bent to brush a light kiss across my lips anyway, followed by the whispered word, "Etudes." Having a sort of in-joke with him helped me feel less like the entire lounge was watching us, because the reality was…no one was paying much attention at all.

"Zoe, I will be on duty for the rest of the day. Feel free to collect your belongings at your convenience. If you do not mind checking Spot's water, I would appreciate it."

"I don't mind," I said, understanding the implication. I was back on his privacy lock.

(=A=)

Counselor Troi caught up with me as I was leaving Ten-Forward. Mom and Ed were lingering over one more cup of coffee, and I wanted to get my birthday gifts from Data's quarters and change into something other than what I was wearing – the shirt he'd been wearing at my party, belted over my dress.

"Interesting outfit," she observed, her voice tinged with humor.

"Mmm, it's a Zata original," I quipped. "Just picked it from this year's look book."

"'Zata?'" she asked laughing. "I like that. How much shopping did you two do while he was on Centaurus?"

"Not that much, really. A few shirts, a couple of pairs of pants, sandals - he tried to wear them with socks, at first. I made him skip the board shorts; it wasn't a good look for him. But about the outfit. I hadn't planned to spend the night, and while my mother had tucked clean underwear, makeup and a hair brush into the messenger bag she gave me, it didn't occur to her that actual clothes would have been useful."

"So, you improvised. You wear his shirt well."

"Not as well as he did," I teased. She responded with a grin and a slight nod.

The turbo-lift came and we both entered it. "Deck eight," she instructed. "Zoe…?"

"Same," I said. "I have to retrieve all my birthday gifts. And the leftover cake."

"You know," she said, "if you're willing to share the cake, we could talk today instead of scheduling something for tomorrow or Tuesday."

I grinned, "You'll do anything for chocolate, won't you?"

"Not quite," she said. "It's up to you, of course. If you have somewhere to be…?"

"My only definite plan is meeting Ray for swimming at five, but I really want to get home and change as soon as I can."

"Ray?"

"Ensign Barnett. Wesley tried to set us up the day I first met Lore, right after T'vek left the ship, but the timing was bad, and then after that, he sort of adopted me as his little sister. I needed a physical education credit for school, he's a certified swimming instructor, and being a better swimmer and diver only makes me a better surfer."

"You love the water," she observed.

"My parents used to say I was half-mermaid," I told her, echoing what my father had told Data.

Troi laughed at that. "I can just imagine."

"Would it be okay if we didn't talk today?" I asked. "I'm having a really good day and I don't want to analyze it to death." I entered Data's quarters, and she followed me in, pausing to look at the painting of him and me. "That was the rest of my birthday present," I said.

"It's lovely."

"He actually asked me if I liked it," I said, gathering my things back into the messenger bag. "I told him I loved it, and loved him, and he said…"

"He said he didn't love you back?" Troi guessed. She went to sit on his couch and patted the cushion next to me. An invitation.

Suddenly, I did want to talk, after all. I replicated plates and silverware, cut two pieces of cake, and joined her on the couch. "Here," I passed her one of the plates. "Actually, Data asked me if I believed that he would feel love for me, if he could."

"Do you?"

"I know he would." I said. "He went on with a litany of things –." I repeated the words he'd given me. After, all, when an android gives you a paragraph that is basically telling you he loves you without saying those three words, you tend to remember them.

"That sounds like a rather intense conversation."

"Yeah, but it was good intense, just like this morning in bed."

"You and Data are …"

I shook my head. "Not yet. He's not ready to go there yet, and neither am I. He just stayed in the bed and worked on padds or through a link to the computer, while I slept. It wasn't the first time we'd shared a bed that way," I said, and I went on, backtracking all the way to the shuttle trip to Centaurus a month before, and everything that had changed since then.

"And then I told him he wasn't the kind of guy you have a fling with –." She chuckled, and I asked her, "What?"

"Nothing, Zoe, it's just…most people would never refer to Data as a 'guy.'"

I shrugged. "It was early, and it was dark, and…he can be more of a guy than you know, sometimes. Anyway, I said he was long-term relationship material. I called him forever guy. And he said he wished for a future together, too. Not anything permanent, any time soon, obviously. Just…he's thought about me…about us…that way."

"And how do you feel about that?"

I took half a minute to formulate my reply. "I think I'm incredibly lucky to have someone like Data so devoted to me. I feel…cherished and special and flattered and…and loved. But I also feel that he's right and committing to something years away is premature. We should focus on here and now and explore what we already are to each other."

The counselor stared at me for a long moment, as if reading my emotional state. A slow smile spread over her face. "I think the two of you are already very connected," she said. "But there's a…settling….in you, as if you've found where home is, that is very reassuring to feel."

"I do feel settled. I mean…I know we're going to face a long separation, but...I think we can handle it."

"I suspect it won't be as long as all that. Data will visit you on tour when he can; you must know that."

I smiled, "I do know that. I also know that I should get my things and head home. I'm not entirely sure having this conversation here was kosher. I'm on his privacy lock but I don't want to abuse his…what now?" She was giving me a look.

"Data suggested I talk with you when I caught him in the corridor," she revealed. "I might have commented on him kissing you."

"That was barely a kiss."

"But for Data…"

"I know," I said. "For him it was a public declaration. He calls these things…when I first got back, he started asking me to play etudes – they're practice pieces for musicians – each one is designed to help hone specific elements of technique. He calls things like going to concerts and minor public displays of affection relationship etudes. I think it's kind of a riff on your suggestion that we be more visible together, even before we admitted we were dating."

She nodded. "I think it's good for both of you to be comfortable with little displays of affection, and for people on the ship to see you together."

"I'm always convinced people will be staring at us, but no one seemed at all fazed by our relationship at home, and even this morning, no one stopped what they were doing to gawk. I just…I don't ever want to reflect poorly on him."

"You won't, if you continue to be open and honest about your worries, and your needs. You are young, as we've discussed, but in many ways you and Data are very evenly matched."

"And then there are the ways in which he'll always be eons ahead of me."

"Yes, but there are ways you're ahead of him, as well. It balances out."

We both stood and, impulsively, I hugged her. "Thanks for listening," I said.

"I'm happy to do so, Zoe. As a friend, as well as a counselor."

I grinned. "Okay."

She left, and I checked on Spot who had been hiding in the bedroom. Her water was fine. I gathered my belongings and the cake, left a note on Data's computer, and returned to Mom's quarters where I alternately read and dozed until it was time to head to the pool.

Ray had missed my party because he was on duty, but before we started swimming he presented me with a small wrapped box. "It isn't much," he said. "But I couldn't ignore my non-biological sister turning seventeen."

Inside was a pair of earrings – surfboards made of silver – and I laughed and hugged him. "They're awesome. Thank you."

"So, I heard things had changed between you and Commander Data," he said after I let him go. "Annette says you seem really happy."

I smiled. "Yeah. I really am." Then I had to ask, "Wait…'Annette said?' Are you into my friend?"

"Would you mind if I was?"

I shook my head. "Why would I? She's awesome; you're awesome. You're kind of perfect for each other. I'm not sure what's going on with her and Wesley, but… I guess that's between you and her."

"So, if I asked her out?"

"I'd say have an amazing time, and her favorite flowers are Orion zinnias."

"Good to know," he laughed. "In the pool, Sis. Fifty laps, please?"

"Slave driver," I grumbled good-naturedly. Half-way through my laps he joined me in the pool and we made it a race, but I don't think either of us paid attention to who won.

(=A=)

Stardate 45092.82

(Saturday, 3 February 2368, 23:25 hours, ship's time)

I finished the last bite of the crepe I'd ordered and smiled sweetly at my dining companion. "When you said, 'dance lessons,' I was expecting a holodeck program, not a jazz club on a starbase on a Saturday night. I ought to be really annoyed with you."

Data met my eyes with his own level expression. "But you are not angry, because even though you protest that you dislike being 'stared at,' you enjoy it when people notice us together."

I rolled my eyes at him. "Do your friends know what a conniver you can be, or is this a new thing, since you've turned thirty?" The anniversary of his activation day had been two days before, and while he didn't generally celebrate the day, or have any kind of reaction to the change in his chronological age, I was having fun twitting him about it, and he'd been gracious about letting me.

"My age has nothing to do with the fact that you have conceded my point." Was there a hint of smug exultation in that statement?

"Not entirely."

"Zoe…" his tone was as exasperated as he ever got, and I was fairly certain I was the only person who'd ever pushed him so close to the edge of even that much emotion.

"Data…" I mimicked his inflection, but then I reached across the table for his hand, first gripping his fingers, then twining mine with his. "I'll concede that I enjoy being with you, and doing things you enjoy, and while there's an element of being stared at that I'm not in love with, it's something I'll eventually get used to, because I suspect people are always going to notice you."

"Did you not pay attention to the comments the people around us were making, Zoe?"

"I was trying not to listen."

"The general consensus among older patrons was that it was a nice thing to be around 'young love.'"

"They said that?"

"Yes."

"Do you mind it? Being stared at?"

"I find I prefer being noticed because of the apparent connection between us rather than because I am 'Starfleet's android.'"

"Do we have time for one more dance before we have to be back on the ship? I know you promised my mother we'd be back aboard by midnight."

He called over a server and settled our tab. "We do," he said, "have time for one more dance."

"Am I allowed to kiss you while we're dancing, or is that too much PDA?"

He didn't answer, but midway through the dance – he wasn't counting for me that night – he bent his head to kiss me.

We finished the dance and walked back to the umbilical bridge that led from the starbase to the ship, hand in hand, passing other couples and small groups. Some knew me; most knew Data. Polite greetings were exchanged but little else, until a small form came barreling toward us yelling, "Zooooooooeeeeee! Zoe-Zoe-Zoeeeee!"

Data caught the child in firm but gentle hands. "Young man," he said. "Running down the corridors of the Enterprise is generally not recommended."

The boy, an eight-year-old named Charlie who was wearing starship pajamas, looked up at Data and said, "Wow."

I couldn't hide my chuckle fast enough, but after a beat I touched Data on the shoulder, "This is Charlie Simmons. His parents are part of the Melona colony. Charlie, this is Lt. Commander Data, he's third in charge of the ship."

Letting go of the boy, Data adjusted his posture, "It is good to meet you, Charlie."

Charlie grinned up at him. "Good to meet you, too, sir. Zoe's my friend. Is she your friend, too?"

Data and I shared a look, and I shrugged at him. "Yes," he said to Charlie. "Zoe and I are friends."

"Does your mother know you've escaped again?" I asked the boy.

"She and Dad are on the starbase. Sierra's supposed to be watching me, but she fell asleep and I got bored."

"Mmhmm. I bet you did. How 'bout if Data and I take you back to quarters and he calls your parents?"

"He can do that?"

I glanced at Data over Charlie's head and mouthed a question. Do you mind? He answered me with a slight shake of his head, and then directed his attention back to Charlie. "Yes," he said, "I can 'do that.'. Will you lead the way back to your quarters?"

"Okay."

Charlie turned around and started back the way he'd come, pausing to come back and grab my hand, tugging. We let him lead us around two curves of corridor and followed as he turned toward the interior of the ship at one of the junctions. "We're staying here."

The door opened just as we arrived and a girl about four years younger than me came out, "Charlie! There you are! Charlie, you're going to get me in so much trouble." She noticed Data and me. "Oh, hey, Zoe. If you're looking for Kim, she and Jason are on the starbase."

"Hey," I said. "Charlie already told us that."

"Sierra," Data said, stepping forward as Charlie slipped past us all, into the Simmons's quarters. "You may go home. Zoe and I will wait with the boy until his parents return."

She looked at him, and I saw her count his pips, but all she said was, "Yes, sir. Thank you."

After she left, I made sure Charlie was tucked back into bed, bringing him water but refusing to read a story, and Data contacted the Simmons apologizing for the abrupt ending to their evening. While we waited on their couch, he asked me how I knew the colonists.

"I only really know the Simmons. Gran has college kids come work on the farm sometimes for their externships and Kim was one of them. I was Charlie's age when we met, and she's stayed in touch with the family. I was there when she and Jason got married a few years after Charlie was born."

"I hope to meet your grandmother one day," he said.

"You will," I said. "And she'll love you."

Kim and Jason arrived not long after that, and after apologizing for Charlie's behavior, my old friend said, "I'm glad he ran into you."

Jason added, "Commander Data, I'm so sorry you were involved. Please don't let this reflect poorly on our project."

"I have some experience with children who enjoy testing limits," Data answered diplomatically. "Please think nothing of it, though you may wish to choose a different babysitter in the future."

"We had originally asked Zoe, but she said she had plans…" Kim admitted.

(=A=)

We left the Simmons around one in the morning, taking the turbo-lift back up to the officers' decks. The Bajoran ensign who'd come aboard a week or so before – I think her name was Ro or Laura, or some combination of the two - was in the lift with us, but she didn't say anything. In fact, her only acknowledgement of us at all was a curt nod, and she exited on a deck that I'm pretty certain was one below where she actually lived.

"Is she as prickly as the vibe she was giving off?" I asked once we were alone.

"Ensign Ro has a challenging personality but has offered some innovative suggestions to improve standard procedures," he said. "Once she has had more time to 'settle in,' I will be happy to introduce you. I believe she could use friends who are not officers."

"I'd like that," I said honestly. The 'lift stopped again on deck eight, where Data lived, and we got out, and walked to his quarters, where I immediately began collecting the belongings I'd left there when I'd first arrived. The messenger bag I'd used to carry my 'date' outfit and a few personal items was waiting on the table, but I'd never bothered to pack my cello into its gig bag.

"You are leaving?" Data asked. "You do not wish to continue our evening?"

"It's kind of late," I pointed out. "And I spent the night last night, and both nights last weekend. We've never discussed whether me spending weekend nights here was supposed to be a regular thing, or on a case-by-case basis."

"I have come to expect your presence here on weekends," he confessed. "If you are comfortable staying, I would like you to," he added, joining me near the table.

I turned and stepped into his space, reaching up to muss his hair and guide his face close enough to kiss. "I'm very comfortable here," I assured him. "Would you mind making tea while I change?"

"My pajama top is where you left it, on our bed," he told me.

(=A=)

Stardate 45114.81

(Monday, 12 February 2368, 00:30 hours, ship's time)

It was hours after our Saturday Session had ended but I was still playing my cello in his quarters. Instead of playing a duet with Data, though, I was playing a solo piece for him, while he recorded it – audio and video – to send to Hugo Rodriguez. Hugo was the cellist in my favorite chamber ensemble, the Tantalus Quartet, and had been my instructor at the Suzuki Institute in San Francisco the previous summer, and he'd agreed to evaluate my performance.

The piece I was playing was one of Bach's most famous, the Prelude to his first cello suite, and it was a required audition piece for The Martian School, as well as almost every other music conservatory in Federation space. I'd played it for Data before, with him picking apart my technique, but since then I'd matured as a person and a musician, and I'd also memorized the piece, so, I tended to play it…differently.

I finished playing and waited until Data had ended the recording before I moved, but it was he who spoke first. "Your interpretation of the Prelude has changed since you last played it for me."

"A lot has changed since the last time I played it," I said. "For anyone, not just for you. The last time you heard me rehearsing it, we'd never even kissed."

"Hm." The non-verbal noise usually meant that he'd been presented with new information but didn't yet have a proper verbal response. "I did not realize being part of a couple could affect so many things."

"You've been part of a couple before," I reminded him gently. "What's changed for you?"

I hadn't meant it as a particularly serious question, but Data, being Data, I was given a thoughtful, serious answer. "With you, while I am not always entirely certain I am 'getting everything right' there is a sense that even if I make mistakes, it will not cause our relationship to fail, but instead will help it grow. Where before I was…I believe you would say 'floundering,' in this relationship, there is only connection and belonging."

I'd set my cello down and crossed the few feet separating us before he finished speaking. "We're both going to make mistakes," I said. "But I still think most of our issues are going to be less android vs. human than male vs. female and Starfleet vs. civilian. Besides," I added softly, "I told you: we fit."

"I concur." He set the recording device aside.

I slipped my arms around him for a hug, resting my head against his chest for a full minute. When I released him, when we released each other, I stretched up to meet his lips in a kiss, but something shifted and what normally would have been sweet and tender turned into something more.

I kissed him again, slower, deeper, tasting the faint cashew essence that was uniquely his, and I moved my hands back to his waist, sliding them under the bottom of his uniform jacket. He'd been wearing civilian clothes more during his off-duty hours, but his dog watch on the bridge had only ended a couple of hours before our recording session, so he was still in uniform. "Can you take this off?" I asked softly.

Wordlessly, he complied.

I tugged the hem of his black t-shirt from his trousers and insinuated my hands between the fabric and his skin. We'd officially been a couple for two months, and this was the fourth weekend I'd spend the night in his quarters, but touching him that way – being allowed, and even encouraged to do so – still felt like a gift, partly because he was so buttoned up so much of the time, and partly because he constantly surprised me with how responsive and tactile he could be. I was never sure what was choice and what was programming, but more and more, I also wasn't sure it mattered.

His hands were tangled in my hair, both of them, and he continued to kiss me, massaging my tongue with his, wiggling the stud I still wore there, then moving away to nuzzle my neck or nibble at my earlobe. My breath caught, and I let out tiny gasps whenever his tongue or teeth touched my skin.

I stopped stroking his skin to tug on his t-shirt. "Off."

"Zoe…?" His lips formed my name over the surface of my skin.

"I just want contact," I said. "I like touching you. I love your skin." I let go of him – and he of me – long enough for him to divest himself of the t-shirt as well. I caught his hands and guided them to my waist, under the blouse I was wearing. His fingers were cool against my skin. "I like it when you touch me too, you know."

The skimming touch of his fingers slid upward under my shirt, hovering just below my bra, hesitating, until somewhere inside of him a decision was made, and he was cupping my breasts over the fabric, his mouth returning to meet mine, but not before asking, "May I remove your blouse, Zoe?

"Yes…" I was teasing his nipples, feeling the darker gold harden into tiny nubs in response to my fingers. "Data…not…not here."

"No," he agreed. "Not here." By mutual decision, we relocated to the bedroom, to the bed he insisted upon referring to as ours rather than merely his. I sat on the end of it and he knelt in front of me. We shared another slow, deep kiss while he gently unbuttoned my blouse and slid it off my shoulders but then he trailed kisses down my neck to the hollow of my throat, and then down the center of my chest, between my breasts.

"Ohhh, Data…" My hands were gliding over his chest, his sides, his shoulders, touching and exploring, finding the physical contact I'd been craving. Except for the places where there was scant hair – the line from his navel down – his skin was smooth, but it was also soft and pliable, belying his strength, and he, too, was responding with minute – barely detectable, even – changes to his breathing.

"Zoe," he said my name softly, like a benediction, and then he repeated it with the added word that always made me melt. "My Zoe."

I kissed his bare shoulder, then clasped my hands behind his neck. "You should know…I'm not…" I was going to say that I wasn't 'not ready' any more but hiding behind my usual flippant turns of phrase seemed unfair, and somehow wrong. I took a breath. "The morning of my birthday, I told you I wasn't ready. I am now, but we still don't have to rush, if you're not…"

I literally saw him process my statement. Finally, he said, "I am."

We kissed.

He released the clasp on my bra.

A voice sounded over the comm system. "Senior staff, please report to the captain's ready room. Urgent"

"Seriously?!" I couldn't help my frustrated shout.

Data's face was impassive - too impassive, even for him - as he stood up. "I am sorry, Zoe. I must go."

"I know," I said. "It's the job."

"Will you remain here? Our alert status has not changed; it is conceivable that this will be a brief meeting."

"I'll stay," I said. "I might not be awake when you get back though."

"I will accept that risk." He had already retrieved the pieces of uniform we'd removed and put them back on. He came to kiss me one more time before he left. "This is not an away mission," he said; "merely a meeting, and I will tell you what I can when I return home."

"Go," I said. "The sooner you go, the sooner you get back."

He left, and I changed for bed, wearing the pajama top that had become mine rather than his over the last four weeks of sleepovers. Spot jumped onto the bed to curl up with me, and I scratched behind her ears. "Welcome to 'Lifestyles of the Rich and Sexually Frustrated,'" I said to her. "Here's hoping this isn't a continuing series."

(=A=)

Stardate 45121.01

(Wednesday, 14 February 2368, 07:00 hours, local time)

Melona Colony

"Zooooeeeeeeeeee!" If I'd been sleeping, the sound of an exuberant eight-year-old screaming my name would have woken me, and everyone else in the quadrant as well.

"I believe you are being paged," Data said from his position at the desk in the tent we'd been sharing for two days. Well, really it was more like a small yurt than an actual tent, but it had a canvas roof.

"You're enjoying this," I accused him. I jammed my feet into the purple combat boots I'd chosen as my main footwear for this little excursion, then stood and dropped a kiss on the top of his head for a change. "In fact, I'm certain you finagled me onto this trip just so you could watch me being tortured by the combination of early mornings and small children."

Three days earlier, an urgent staff meeting had killed an amorous moment between us. By the time Data had returned from said meeting, I had fallen asleep, just as I'd warned him I might. He'd let me sleep, then roused me with kisses and coffee telling me that he was leaving that evening to help plant the Melona Colony.

"How does that even work?" I had asked him. "I'm guessing it's absolutely nothing like that board game, 'Colonies of Catan?'"

"Ah, no," he'd said. "I could explain in detail; however, we have long agreed that you are more receptive to a 'hands-on' approach to learning."

"'Hands-on' was certainly the operative phrase last night," I'd responded in a flirtatious voice, but then, more seriously, I'd added, "I meant what I said. I'm ready when you are."

"I am aware," he'd said. "But we will have to wait a while longer, as it would be inappropriate to engage in sexual intimacy while on an away mission."

It had taken me a minute to parse what he was actually saying. "Did you just imply that I'm coming with you? Are you glitching? Me civilian; you Starfleet."

His face had gone blank at my use of the word 'glitching' but a fraction of a second later he realized I wasn't actually insulting him. "No, Zoe, I am operating within normal parameters. However, I am inviting you to join the away team. It is not an uncommon occurrence for students such as yourself to be included on missions that are purely educational or cultural in nature, and you already have a rapport with several of the colonists."

"Won't they be camping for the first couple weeks? Have you met me? I'm the girl who thinks 'roughing it' is a hotel that doesn't have in-room dining and a real bathtub."

"Perhaps, but you are also the young woman…" There had been a minor note of correction in his voice. "…who is familiar with farm life and has successfully navigated 'Rolling for Technology.'" He paused, then added, "Not only will this give you another opportunity to see me 'on the job,' you will also be able to count the experience as 'community service' on your college applications."

I'd sat back down on the bed. "You're not kidding. You're really bringing me with you?"

"Yes."

"So, you and Counselor Troi were testing me when I was here while you were working." It hadn't been a question.

"We were evaluating how you handled linguistics challenges, and problem solving, yes."

"Did my mother approve this?" I knew she'd been working with the colonists as well, assisting with planning and prioritization of tasks.

"I would not be bringing it up with you, if she had not."

"Am I only being given this opportunity because I'm your girlfriend?" I had hesitated to ask that, but it was a valid question.

"It is true that our relationship has made you more visible to people like Commander Riker and Captain Picard," he had answered honestly. It is equally true that your relationship with the Simmons, and other members of the Melona group had some bearing."

"Okay, fine, I'll go, but only if I get to share a tent with you."

"Zoe, I do not think that would be…." He trailed off, reacting to the pointed look I was pinning him with. "If you wish," he'd finally acceded.

But that had been three days before. Once we actually arrived at the colony site, I'd been drafted to help with kid-wrangling, cooking, and to offer my opinion as a performer in my own right and as Zach Harris's daughter (and Irene Harris's granddaughter) about the proposed arts facility.

"Zooeeeee, come on! Mom made extra bacon rations this morning!" Charlie Simmons's voice came insistently through the entrance to the tent.

"Be there in a minute," I called out to him. I grabbed the messenger bag with my padd and the small harp I'd replicated to bring on this trip, twisted my hair into a messy bun, and moved to leave Data, and his own work, behind. I paused though, remembering the date, and drew a card out of my bag. It, too, had been replicated for this trip. Resting my hands on Data's shoulders, I leaned around him for a brief kiss. "This is for you," I said, putting the card in front of him.

I started to move away, but he caught my wrist, "Wait."

"Data?"

"I have not forgotten that it is Valentine's Day," he said. "I had thought to bring your gift with us but decided it would be best left until we are back aboard the Enterprise. However, I would not let the day go unmarked." He pulled something from his own collection of things – admittedly, a much smaller collection than mine – "This is for you," he said handing me a silver and blue item about the size of a walnut.

I opened the metallic wrapping to find a single chocolate with a piece of translucent paper wrapped around it. Closer inspection of the inner paper revealed that it was printed with text, similar to a fortune cookie. I read the note, "'If you gave me all the kisses in the world, they would still be too few.' Data, why do I get the feeling you sorted through a box of these to choose an appropriate quote?"

I popped the chocolate – it turned out to be a truffle wrapped around a hazel nut – into my mouth while he answered, "Would you expect anything less?"

I laughed, "No. No, I wouldn't."

He handed me a small bag, "You would not be the Zoe I know if you could not mark this day for others as well. These are to share."

I looked, and then laughed more. "Message hearts? Really?"

"I suggest you ensure that your young friend eats his breakfast before you offer him any."

"Oh, no worries on that count. See you at campfire, if not at lunch?" The colonists had instituted an evening campfire to reconnect after their days of construction.

"Of course."

Smiling, I ducked out of the tent. "Sorry to keep you waiting, kidlet."

"Were you and Commander Data kissing?" Charlie demanded.

"We might have been."

"That's gross. Kissing is gross. Girls are gross." He was such a typical eight-year-old. Girls had cooties, and fart noises were the best thing ever, in his world.

I arched a brow at him. "Oh, really? I'm a girl…does that make me gross, too?"

"You're not a girl. You're Zoe."

"Mmm. We'll have to revisit this later. I heard something about bacon…?"

"BACON!" He ran off to the communal kitchen. I walked after him until I was sure Data wouldn't be able to see me, and then I took off running, too.

(=A=)

Stardate 45123.69

(Thursday, 15 February 2368, 06:30 hours, local time)

Melona Colony

Valentine's Day was massacred shortly after 18:00 hours, by a giant space-going snowflake.

Data and Commander Riker saved all our lives by ushering us into a series of nearby caves as quickly as possible, but I overheard them after they'd taken a head-count, and I knew that Will's friend Carmen and one of the older men had been killed.

I watched the two of them and Doctor Crusher try to keep everyone calm, but I could tell that the doctor and Riker were as worried as everyone else there. Data was calm, of course, standing guard over us all, ready to face down whatever might breech the entrance of our temporary sanctuary, even though said entrance had been sealed. I never wanted to run to him more. I knew I absolutely couldn't.

As people around me – the older men first – began to react to the elevated CO2 levels, becoming faint and lethargic, I found a piece of cave wall to sit against, crossed my legs lotus-style, and tried to regulate my breathing. Charlie and a couple of the other kids moved away from their fading parents and came to sit with me.

I still had my messenger bag – I'd been about to stow it in our tent before campfire when the attack had come. We'd been told to be calm, and as still as possible, but keeping kids from being squirmy is pretty hard when you're also not supposed to talk.

I reached into my bag, found the message hearts Data had given me that morning, and pulled them out. I gave one to each kid, and then I pulled out my padd as well and turned it to a text-display mode.

"We're going to play a game," I typed. "Be as still and quiet as you can, and whoever can go the longest without moving or talking gets another heart. Okay?"

Three small heads nodded.

I typed, "Go," and set a timer.

Eventually, the only kid still awake was Charlie, so I loaded a game on the padd – just Hangman – and we played that until he, too, began to nod off.

I must have fallen asleep, as well, because the next thing I knew people were blasting through the cave entrance from outside, early morning light was shining into the cave, and Data was pulling me to my feet. "Are you alright?" he asked.

"I'm fine," I said. I was a little tired, a little slow, but nothing hurt, and I knew my sleep had been just sleep, not a loss of consciousness. "I'm fine," I repeated. I bent down to retrieve my padd, sliding it back into my bag. My bracelet caught on one of the closures and for a panicked moment I thought the strings had broken, but then I realized they had only pulled loose.

Data looked me over from top to toe, as if he needed to reassure himself that I was whole and alive, and then he said, "Doctor Crusher and I are prioritizing beam-up. I am afraid you will be in the last group, as you are one of the least affected by the overload of carbon dioxide."

"Can I do anything, in the meanwhile?"

"Continue to help with the children, if you do not mind. They seem to trust you." He took a beat before adding, "Your actions last night kept them from panicking. If I could feel pride, I believe I would be proud of you."

I grinned, "Yeah, I bet you say that to all the women who share your bed," but the truth was, his words meant a lot. He turned away, and we followed him out of the cave to what was left of the once-beautiful planet.

I must have been more altered than I knew because the next few minutes were a blur. I remember Charlie yelling that he had to pee, and me running after him, to make him wait – Kim had lost consciousness and been in the first group to go back to the ship. I remember stumbling on ash and rock, and a familiar gold hand reaching for mine.

I remember wondering when Data had changed to an all-black shirt.

I remember feeling that something was wrong, trying to pull my hand back, and my bracelet snapping.

"Data! Help!" I screamed it, or thought I did, but it might have been just inside my head, and then I was caught in a transporter beam, one that took longer than the transport down to the planet had been a few days earlier.

When the beam released me, I wasn't in the transporter room on the Enterprise, but on a single-person pad in what looked like a storage room, chest to chest with someone wearing body armor.

Gold hands in heavy non-Starfleet black sleeves reached for my face and forced my gaze upward. Malevolent yellow eyes met mine, and a too-familiar voice smarmed at me, "Hello, Pigeon."

Notes: Revised 5 April 2018. This chapter covers about a month of time and refers to the episodes "Ensign Ro" and "Silicon Avatar."

Data and Zoe first talk about Tasha in Crush, chapter 47 ("Legacies"). Data speaks with Zoe's father in chapter 5 of For Auld Lang Syne ("Song for a Winter's Night, part IV"), and the entire conversation is revealed in chapter 1 of Intentions. "Rolling for Technology" is something my friends Sage and Todd Tyrtle created several years ago when they and their teenaged son were snowed into their Toronto apartment. Using a standard 6-sided die, they'd roll to see what tech they played with. A six would give them smart phones, Wi-Fi, streaming everything, etc. A 4 would drop them down to the 1970s: VCR tapes, live television, vinyl albums, books, and board games. Arthur Conan Doyle was a contemporary and friend of Harry Houdini, and a fan of the occult. He did actually participate in séances.

Zoe's pre-screening piece is the Prelude from J.S. Bach's first cello suite (Suite No. 1 in G major, BWV 1007). A version of it performed by Ophélie Gaillard has been added to the "Crushing on Cello" YouTube Playlist, linked in my profile. This is one of the most popular cello pieces ever and is required for almost all conservatory auditions. The candy Data gives to Zoe is based on a Perugina chocolate called Baci, which really does come with 'love notes' inside. (Ferraro Rocher is a cheap rip-off of Baci.) They're typically written in four languages, and it's fun to see the different translations.

Special thanks to: KoraM852 for being an awesome sounding board and brain trust. Ditto saya4haji and Moonlady. Ahaszu and Red, thanks for your reviews.