Disclaimer: Star Trek: the Next Generation, the U.S.S. Enterprise, and all the canon characters belong to CBS/Paramount. Anything else is mine. Reviews are better than chocolate; don't be shy.

Warning: This chapter is rated M for mildly explicit, consensual, sexual content.

Fusion

Stardate 45263.04

(Saturday, 6 April 2368, 06:35 hours, ship's time)

For the first time in a week, I woke up with my head on Data's chest. For the first time in over ten days, I had actually slept through the night, and that sleep had been nightmare-free. I smiled against my bedmate's golden skin, then adjusted my position so I could see his face. "Morning."

"Good morning," he responded. "It would appear that you slept well; am I mistaken?"

"Yes, I did, and no, you're not. Actually, I was nightmare-free while you were gone, though part of that is because I kept waking up afraid I was going to have a bad dream. That got better when I told Mom I was sleeping here. I know you didn't mean for me to basically move in."

"You are always welcome here," he reminded me gently, and then added. "I am glad my quarters were the refuge I hoped they would be." As I ran an exploratory hand down the side of his body – I knew he hadn't put pajamas on, but I wasn't certain exactly how undressed he was – his breathing hitched slightly, but he continued his thought even so. "I had not expected to find you here when I arrived. It was a pleasant surprise."

"It was Friday night; where else would I be?" I wasn't snarking at him, really. "I figured you probably hadn't ever had anyone waiting for you to come home, that way. You didn't get a proper welcome though." I caressed his hip – no underwear, after all – and then lifted my hand to scrape my fingernails along his inner thigh, watching and listening for his reaction.

A slight intake of breath, a hint of quaver in his voice when he began to speak. "You do not have to welcome me back with sexual intimacy. Your presence is enough."

"Oh, just kissing you would have been enough of a welcome," I said. "This –" and I repeated my previous action on his other leg "- is separate. Actually, I have a theory. And a question."

"I am intrigued," he said, his voice still a little shaky.

"Okay, theory first. I think I'm less likely to have another flashback when we're engaged in intimate activity if we actually continue to be intimate. We need – I need – us to go slow. Not… not so much with what we do, but… how. I don't know what my triggers are, and I won't unless we try things, but… slowly."

"An interesting theory, and one that has merit."

"I did say I liked what you were doing… before everything went sideways."

"I remember," he assured me. "May I touch you now?" Something must have shown in my face because he asked, "What is wrong?" almost immediately afterward.

"Can you just assume that if we're in bed together, unless I ask you not to do something, you have carte blanche? I know why you keep asking me, but when I'm already touching you intimately it actually takes me out of the moment. It brings everything else rushing back in."

"I understand," he said. Then he asked, "Carte blanche? As in blank check, latitude, free rein, free hand…"

"Data!" I couldn't help the outburst of exasperation.

"I am sorry, Zoe. I have noticed that you are often entertained when I provide a list of synonyms for the words and phrases you use."

In truth, I was amused, but I pressed my face into his shoulder to temper my reaction. When I'd quelled the urge to laugh, I said, "I knew you did that on purpose, at least sometimes." He lifted me off of his chest and rolled onto his side, facing me. "I like this," I added softly. "Touching, talking – laughing." But then I realized, "I wish…"

"Zoe…"

"Just another point for the 'life is inherently unfair' side of things. I wish you could laugh with me. It… I don't know… it feels like I'm excluding you from something."

"But you are not," he insisted. "When you laugh at something I have said, it gives me the satisfaction of knowing that I am beginning to grasp the nuances of humor. In a way, you have given me a 'safe haven,' a place in which I can attempt such things."

"Which sort of leads me to my question."

"Please? Continue?" The words were encouraging ones.

"When I touch you," and I caressed his hip again, then rested my hand in that nest of nether-hair between his legs, and listened for the soft intake of breath, "and you do that, is it just a program 'if partner touches body part x, emit sigh at level y?' Or is it real?"

Data went very still, and for a moment I was afraid I'd insulted him, or worse, hurt him. Two things he would claim not to feel, but I believed otherwise. "It is programming, but that does not mean it is not… real."

"I'm not sure I understand."

He reached between us, and teased the junction of my neck and shoulder with his long, elegant fingers, and my body twitched slightly in response. "In a sense," he said softly. "Your involuntary responses are also 'programmed.'"

He trailed his hand along my collar bone, and then down the center of my chest. A slight shift of his position allowed him better access, and his hand was beneath the pajama top I was wearing. He cupped my right breast, teasing my nipple with his thumb. I gasped, and moved slightly toward him, wanting more.

"When you respond to my touch, the small sounds you make, the fact that you move closer to me, those are responses dictated both by the physical stimulus I am providing and the fact that we are partners in a romantic relationship. I am also reacting to physical stimulus, and the fact that we are lovers provides my neural network with the context for the appropriate 'type' of response." He paused, moving his head so he could meet my eyes. "Does that adequately answer your question?"

"I think so?"

But he could tell I hadn't completely absorbed his explanation. "My subroutines provide an analog for your involuntary responses, as dictated by the parameters of our relationship, our location, the amount of available time we have, and many other conditions," he elaborated.

"So, you respond one way to me touching you, just like I respond favorably to your touch, to your kisses, to the closeness of your body, because we're a couple, but…" My mind racing, I sat up in the bed. "Oh, god… Lore…"

Data sat up as well, in one smooth motion. "Zoe," he asked softly. "Are you having a flashback?"

"No," I said. "I'm sorry… It's just. What you said made me realize… Lore's kisses… the acid flavor. God… Even then. Even before you and I kissed the first time he tasted like acid. I thought… I never thought… Counselor Troi never suggested…" My eyes were filling with tears, and I wasn't sure why. "He tasted like acid because even the first time I didn't want him kissing me."

Data's eyes were moving back and forth in the rapid, birdlike flicker that meant he was processing information. "That is very likely," he agreed after several seconds. "I am sorry for not 'connecting the dots' before; I had always been focused on the fact of what he was doing to you, rather than the nuances of your reactions to him."

"It doesn't matter now, anyway. It's just..." I shrugged helplessly. "Never mind. We should probably get up." I sighed. "The moment's dead, anyway."

"It does not have to be." He reached for my hair, combing through it with his fingers. Something in his face seemed to soften. "Carte blanche?" he asked, the tiniest hint of a smile curving up the corners of his mouth.

I laughed softly, and leaned to kiss him, reveling in the faint cashew essence that was always there. I pulled away and rested my forehead against his, closing my eyes. "I want…" I breathed.

"Tell me."

"You. I want you." I moved my head so I could meet his eyes. "I might still have a flashback, though."

"I am aware." His golden eyes seemed so much warmer than usual. Pools of sunlight or molten honey.

"I'm also a little over-dressed."

"May I?" he shifted his gaze from my eyes to my pajama top and back. I nodded, and he reached for the buttons, opening them and then pushing the sleeves off my shoulders and down my arms, before he finally freed me from it completely, and tossed it to the floor.

Data kissed my lips, my chin, the base of my throat. I reached for his shoulders, and together we moved to more horizontal positions, lying face-to-face as we had so often done before during our most intimate chats.

But we weren't speaking then. Or at least, our communication wasn't with words. One of his arms was beneath me. With his free hand he stroked my cheek, my neck, my side, trailing all the way down to the waistband of my underwear.

"I am going to lift you," he told me, and I had my first taste of how android strength could be used for tenderness as he supported my hips, and then my legs, with one hand and drew the pink lace-edged panties off of me with the other.

"Data, wait."

"Is something wrong? Do you wish to discontinue – " Were his warm yellow eyes that expressive only for me?

"I don't want to discontinue anything," I insisted softly. "Nothing's wrong, and I'd like to keep it that way." My voice sounded vaguely husky to my own ears. "As I said, I don't know for sure what will or won't trigger a flashback, but I think I know how to make one less likely."

"I will do whatever you need," he promised, and I knew he meant it.

"Mostly, there are things I need you not to do. So, I guess it's carte blanche with temporary restrictions." He rested his hand on my hip and waited for me to continue.

"Don't… don't pin me. I have to be able to move. Don't hold me by the wrists – hands and upper arms are fine. Don't force my knees up or my ankles behind my ears. Don't use teeth, at least right now – and I… I need to see your eyes, your face. I need to know it's you. If you feel me tensing, talk to me, use my name. Babble about whatever… it keeps me centered on you." I closed my eyes for a long moment, then opened them. "I know that's a lot."

Data squeezed my hip lightly. "It is not a lot for me," he reminded gently.

I stretched my neck slightly, to better reach his mouth with mine, kissing him and then telling him, "I love you. I trust you." I knew he was aware of both of those statements. I'm pretty sure he knew I needed to say them.

"My, Zoe." His hand left my hip to smooth my hair away from my face, though he twisted a few strands around his finger, then let it go, while he promised, "I will keep you safe." And in that moment, I knew that he would.

I don't know how long we lay there, just touching each other, exploring. We exchanged as many soft sighs as we did kisses, and the sighs increased to whimpers and moans when his fingers first teased the hair between my legs, then dipped inside me, and pleasured me to climax.

I squirmed closer to him letting my own hand wander for a few minutes while I caught my breath, and then I completed the tour I'd started earlier that morning, finding the distinctively male part of his anatomy, and feeling it shift from flaccid to firm in my hand. There was nothing – nothing – about his responses that seemed anything but organic, and that realization made me smile.

I didn't stroke him to climax, but I made his breathing stutter, and I heard him moan softly under my ministrations. But he stilled my hand. "Zoe, I cannot… that way."

"I'm sorry," I said, momentarily stung by his admission.

"Do not be," he said softly, as our eyes met again. "Are you… o-kay?"

His use of that word made me giggle, just a little, but I assured him, "I'm good." I was actually more than merely good. I felt… I felt all sorts of things at once. Love. Desire. Even a weird sort of pride in the notion that my hands could elicit such delicious sounds from the usually stoic man. Something shifted inside of me and play became want.

He sensed the change in me. "Zoe?"

"I need you…" I didn't quite whisper. "…inside me. Please."

"Are you certain?"

Yes, I thought, and kissed him.

"Zoe," he repeated, "I… need you to tell me. Are you certain?"

"Yes," I breathed. "I've never been more certain of anything else."

His eyes met mine, and never wavered. He guided me with the pressure of his lips and hands, until I'd lifted my right leg to rest over his.

I tilted my pelvis toward him

Data shifted slightly against me.

Our bodies met and merged in a new-for-us but also ages-old way, until we were one tangle of lips and tongues and hands and legs. In a way, it was as though an open circuit had been completed. I didn't know if Data was leading this new dance, or I was.

We paused a moment, once we had joined, and I caught a flash of something on his face. Vulnerability, maybe? It was gone before I had time to really look at him, and then he moved inside me, and I moved in response, and my focus changed.

Pressure. Motion. Heat. Friction. Moisture.

A bubble of pleasure was building inside me in a collection of incoherent feelings and sensations.

Oh, god.

More…

Please…

Higher…

There…

Oh, god…

Yes, there.

Right there.

Faster!

Harder!

More!

Please!

More!

Yes!

Yes, Data!

Oh, god, oh, Data, yes! Yes! YES!

"Zoe…" he crooned my name, and that, as much as our mutual physical exertion sent me over that last edge.

"Data…." I heard myself repeating his name. "Dataaaaa!"

The bubble burst in a wave of connections: pleasure and joy and completion. I was sweaty and happy and beyond speech, but the line I'd written to him in a letter the summer before - made of awesome and wrapped in gold – ping-ponged into my brain.

Wrapped in gold, indeed.

I felt him start to shrink, inside me, felt the brief pang of separation when he pulled himself out, but he didn't let go.

Instead, we lay there, still tangled - him quiet, almost tense, and me panting slightly, and exhausted.

It might have been hours or minutes before I could form words, but I think it was really only seconds until I said, "Oh… god…"

He interrupted me, "No Zoe. I am only Data." He'd used that line before, and it had made me laugh, then. It did again, but my laughter was softer… something to share only with him.

Slowly, we began the process of de-tangling. Sorting out which limbs were his and which were mine, as post-coital lassitude began to creep up on me. "Love you," I murmured. "So much." I yawned, and then giggled in embarrassment. "Sorry…"

"Do not be." Data kissed my forehead, and then my lips, and then he nudged me onto my other side, folding himself around me and resting his hand on my breast, the way we had so often started the nights in his – in our – bed.

"Sleep," he said softly. "Sleep for as long as you require. I will be here."

(=A=)

Data woke me once around nine-thirty. "Zoe, I must tend to Spot, but I will return to the bed," he assured, as if he were afraid I'd panic if I found him gone.

A while later, I stirred on my own, waking to the sound of his voice talking to the computer, and, alternately, to Spot, as well as to the enticing aroma of coffee. I looked around for the pajama top I'd been wearing the night before, but the bed was a rumpled mess, and I didn't see it on the floor.

Well, it wasn't like he hadn't seen me naked. I got up and padded across the room, pausing on my way to the bathroom to peek around the open bedroom door. "Hey," I greeted him.

"Good morning, Zoe. I have replicated coffee for you, but if you require more time it is no bother to keep it warm."

"What time is it, please?"

"Not quite eleven-thirty hours," he answered. "Was I wrong to let you sleep?"

"No, it was sweet of you." I smiled. "Coffee's good. Bathroom break would be better," I added somewhat sheepishly, as my bladder made itself known.

"I will join you at the table when you are ready," came his quiet response.

I answered nature's call, took a quick shower (and resolved to take a longer one, later) and threw on a soft green long-sleeved t-shirt and my 'weekend' jeans. Still barefoot, with my hair twisted into a messy bun, I joined Data in the main room of his quarters. "I heard something about coffee?" I teased. He glanced up from his console. "I can get it myself, if you're in the middle of something."

"I am not." He tapped a couple more commands into the computer, then pushed his chair back and got up. "I was not certain whether you wished to have breakfast here, or if you would prefer to visit the holodeck or Ten-Forward."

"I'm not really sure," I said. "Can we have coffee on the couch?" I curled into the plush furniture and he brought me a mug, and sat with me. I drank about half of it before I spoke again. "About this morning," I began, but Data interrupted me.

"Please do not tell me that it did not happen."

I nearly spit out the sip of coffee I'd just taken. Instead I swallowed carefully, set the mug down, and slid closer, so I could snuggle him. "I would never do that," I said with soft intensity. "Ever. Actually, I wanted to thank you for being patient with me, and for going slowly when I needed you to. Next time, I won't need you to be quite so cautious."

His arm, which had been resting across my shoulders, flexed slightly. His hand, curved around my arm, squeezed and released. "Then, you wish this aspect of our relationship to continue?"

"Don't you?" I adjusted the way I was sitting, pressed closer to him.

"I do," he said softly, and nuzzled my hair. "Very much so."

I waited a moment, just enjoying our closeness, but then I took a deep breath. "Data, there is something I have to tell you," I began, and then continued with barely a break. "While you were away, I asked Geordi to let me take the final exam for your class. I know I should have talked to you about it first, but I was afraid you'd talk me out of it."

"It is likely that I would have tried," he confirmed. "You will be missed. The class has a better dynamic when you are present. May I know your score?"

"I'm sure it's in your message queue already," I said. "Eighty-six percent, and I'm okay with that. It makes my final grade for the class a ninety-one – I know, you'd already worked that out - and we've already submitted the paperwork to Ms. Phelps."

"May I ask why you made the decision to complete the class early?"

"Do you really need to?" It was a rhetorical question, but I elaborated anyway. "When we made the decision that Geordi would grade my work, we had only just decided we were a couple. We weren't even officially dating. But now? I can't be naked in your bed, and then sit across from you in class. I can't be your lover and your student."

"It is possible that we all erred in allowing the arrangement we have had," he agreed calmly. "It was an acceptable solution at the time, but given the choice between the evolution of our relationship and your presence in my tutorial, I must confess that my preference is for the former."

"Good," I said, stretching up to kiss him. "Mine is, too." I waited a beat and then declared, "Out. We should go out."

"Zoe?"

"For breakfast?" I clarified. "Well, more like a late lunch, now, but still…"

"I must shut down the program I was working with," Data said.

"I need to do something with my hair, and put shoes on," I added. Reluctantly, I left the circle of his arm, and recycled my coffee mug. "Ten minutes?"

"That will be acceptable."

(=A=)

Stardate 45273.04

(Tuesday, 09 April 2368, 22:27 hours, ship's time)

"Jab! Cross! Jab, jab! Cross!" Captain Picard's voice instructed me from the other side of the bag I'd dubbed 'Mr. Hefty.' A month into my accidental boxing lessons and I was actually making the bag move enough that it had to be held. I did the combination of punches he'd called for, and felt him push to steady the bag.

"Was that okay?" I asked, stepping away from the range of the heavy bag's arc. "I think I'm a little tired tonight." With rehearsals for Little Women under way, both the officers' poker game and our boxing sessions had been shifted two hours later, and as this was the first night of the new schedule, I hadn't yet adapted.

"You're doing very well," he said. "How do you feel about your progress?"

I sat down on the bench, pulled a glove off, and picked up the pink water bottle that had become usual for me, once these sessions had become a regular thing. After drinking some of the cool water, and using the time to formulate a response, I answered. "I'm never going to be a competitive boxer, but coming here and whaling on Mr. Hefty has really helped me release my anger over… everything." I was treading too far into mushy stuff, and I was pretty sure the captain wasn't comfortable with that, so I added. "Aside from that? It's kind of empowering."

He surprised me by sitting next to me. "I think you underestimate your potential as a competitor. Mr. Data says you're a swimmer and a surfer, yes?"

I nodded, and then remembered who I was sharing the bench with and added aloud, "Yes, sir. This is the first sport I've ever tried that doesn't involve water of some kind."

"Do you surf competitively?"

"Only in local meets. I'm decent, but not exceptional."

"Do you enjoy the competition?"

I grinned. "Sometimes. I mean, I like to win, obviously – who doesn't? – but, I like the challenge, also."

"And do you find boxing challenging?"

I had the impression he was leading me toward some resolution. "Yes. It's learning new ways of using my muscles, and I can see how, if I were boxing with another person, instead of our silent friend here, there would be strategy involved as well."

The captain's deep hazel eyes focused on me, as if he were analyzing both my answer and my character. "That's quite an astute observation." He took a beat, apparently coming to a decision. "If you would care to continue working with me, Zoe, I invite you to meet me again next week, when we will spar."

"Spar?" I asked, not quite believing him. "As in… me… and you?"

"I may be old, but I'm not dead yet," he snarked.

"I don't think you're old; I'm just not sure what makes me worth your time. I mean, you're the captain of the flagship, and I'm just some… student… who didn't even want to be here, at first."

"You are a student," he agreed. "And you're correct that I typically distance myself from my crew, let alone the civilians who live and work on my ship. However, you are also in a relationship with my second officer, a relationship that is, apparently, responsible for significant progress in his quest to understand the human condition."

I blushed. "I was pretty certain I was just dating him, not, you know, expanding his mind."

"And I am certain you don't really believe that."

"Sometimes I do," I shrugged, embarrassed. "Most of the time, Data is just Data. Sometimes though, there are these moments when I remember who he is – who you all are – and I freak out a little."

He chuckled his response. "I see. Does that mean you do not wish to spar with me?"

I flashed him my most innocent grin. "I thought we already were, sir."

That earned me a barking laugh from him. "And that is why you are worth my time," he said. But his mood shifted almost immediately into something more serious. "I'm afraid I have to cut this evening short. I've been asked to speak at the memorial service for Ambassador Sarek, and I have a eulogy to prepare."

"Data mentioned that you and the ambassador were… friends, of a sort…" I said softly. "I'm very sorry for your loss, sir. I only met him for two seconds, and I've been sad since hearing the news."

"You met him?"

"When he and Lady Perrin were aboard a couple years ago. Data's quartet played, and he graciously arranged for me to be part of the audience. Lady Perrin was funny and kind, and helped me not be nervous, and the ambassador gave me some unsolicited advice."

"Oh?"

"He mentioned that his son had played the piano in his youth, but gave it up as an adult. When he heard I was a musician, he encouraged me to stick with it, even if I never make music a career."

"Wise advice, don't you think?"

"Oh, definitely, sir." He didn't respond, so I added. "If you can really afford to sacrifice your workouts just for me, I'd love to spar with you."

"I'll expect to see you here at twenty-hundred hours, next Wednesday, then, Ms. Harris."

"I'll be here with bells on, Captain Picard."

The hint of a smile spread across his face, and his eyes sparkled just a little. "Dismissed," he said with a touch of what I had learned, by then, was gruff affection, but before I could return my gloves to the replicator, he called me back, "Wait one moment, Zoe."

"Sir?" I asked.

"If Mr. Data were to invite you to attend Ambassador Sarek's memorial, would you care to attend?"

I didn't have to think about it. "Yes, sir, I would."

(=A=)

Stardate 45274.21

(Wednesday, 10 April 2368, 08:43 hours, ship's time)

Data had contacted me by comm the just before midnight to invite me on the trip to Vulcan so I was surprised when my mother came into my bedroom before nine in the morning.

"Hey, kiddo, you awake?" she asked, as she came to sit on the edge of my bed.

"Kind of," I answered. Not having a class three mornings a week meant I was staying up far too late either reading or memorizing my lines. "What's up?"

"The ship's protocol officer just called to 'ensure Ms. Harris's attendance' in a briefing tonight at six-thirty. Why is Lt. Prerr asking for your company?"

"Lt. Prerr?" I asked blankly.

"Tlassam Prerr," she explained. "The ship's protocol officer?"

"Oh. Oh!"

"Zoe?" My mother's tone was bordering on frustration.

"Data comm'd after you were in bed last night, inviting me to accompany him to the memorial for Ambassador Sarek. I told him I'd love to go, as long as you don't object." I eyed my mother through bleary eyes. "You don't, do you?"

"Would it matter if I did?"

"Mom?" I was honestly perplexed.

"Ms. Phelps called me on Friday to confirm that I knew you'd tested out of your math tutorial."

With everything that had happened since I'd taken the final, I'd forgotten to tell her. I sat up in my bed. "Friday… it happened on Friday, and then Data came home in the middle of the night and… Mom… please don't be upset, but even with Geordi grading my work, I cannot be in that classroom."

My mother gave me the kind of look that only mothers are capable of executing well. The kind that goes right through to your soul, and reads ever secret you think you're keeping. "You slept with him."

"Technically, Mom, I've been sleeping with him since my birthday." She arched an eyebrow at me but I pretended not to notice. "But if you mean that we had sex, then yes, we did."

I expected her to yell at me. I expected that she might lecture. Instead, she pulled me into a rough hug, squeezing me tight, and then letting me go, though she reached for my hands, and I let her hold me that way. "Oh, Zoificus. I wish you'd waited."

"Mom, I'm over the age of consent. Seventeen is legal on Earth and Centaurus, and every predominantly human world in the Federation." I paused, and added, "And Data would never hurt me. He would never take advantage. He couldn't. He can't."

She released one of my hands so she could tuck a stray strand of my hair behind my ear. I resisted the urge to do the same to her. "I know that. It's just going to be much more difficult now for you to be away from him for six months."

"It's not going to be all sunshine and roses for him, either," I pointed out.

"No, I expect it won't be."

"So may I go to Vulcan?"

She was quiet for a long moment and then she sighed. "I don't think I have the right to give or withhold permission anymore, kiddo. As you said, you're seventeen. You're emancipated. You've been honoring your promise to be home on school nights, and even though I wish you'd talked to me, I'm pleased with your solution to the issue of being Data's student as well as his…"

"Girlfriend?" I finished the sentence for her, so she wouldn't have to say 'lover.'

"Mmhmm."

We were both quiet then, each trapped in our own thoughts. Finally, I asked. "Mom?"

"Yes, darling?"

"What does one wear to a Vulcan memorial service for a Federation icon?"

My mother laughed. "I have no idea."

"Guess that's what the protocol officer is for."

"I guess so," she agreed."

(=A=)

Stardate 45284.05

(Saturday, 13 April 2368, 23:06 hours, ship's time)

(The 10th day of T'keKhuti, 17 minutes before the 18th hour, Vulcan time (estimated))

By the time Data and I had returned to his quarters on the Enterprise, it was sometime between eleven and midnight, at least according to the clock I typically lived by, and I was tired enough that all I wanted to do was kick off my shoes, strip off the dressy black linen outfit I'd been wearing all day, and crawl into bed.

Lying there in low light while Data tended to Spot and checked his messages to see if there was anything he had to handle before the beginning of the next day's alpha shift, I reflected upon everything I'd just experienced.

Vulcan funerals may have been elegant, private, low-key affairs, but the main event of the day had been a very public memorial service designed to honor Sarek's contribution to the Federation as a whole, not just to remember his life on Vulcan.

I had catalogued twenty-three eulogies before I'd lost count, and those were only the ones in languages I sort of understood. Translation had been provided for those attendees who weren't tricked out with Universal Translators of their own, but while the interpreters were fairly good, they never quite caught the nuances of the original speakers.

The actual memorial had been four hours long.

Then there had been a reception.

And then there had been a dinner.

I'd enjoyed most of it. Despite my initial shyness when meeting Data – I had, after all, been petitioning him for a place in the class I'd just tested out of – I generally enjoyed meeting new people, and I was happy to get to use a little bit of the Vulcan I'd been studying for three years, the latter two of which had been on the Enterprise.

Lady Perrin had remembered me. That had been a pleasant surprise. She had really good advisors, I think.

Rather than being seated all together, Captain Picard and his officers had been dispersed among several tables at the last event. It was sheer luck that had placed Data and me at the same table as Admiral Nechayev and Ambassador Uhura. The former had adopted me as an affectionate niece when I'd spent part of my summer as her nephew's guest in San Francisco, and the latter had been a hero of mine for as long as I could remember.

Only the fact that I hadn't wished to embarrass or disappoint my charming and handsome companion kept me from fan-girling all over the older woman, who was just as much of a legend as the ambassador we had come together to remember.

The mattress dipping slightly from Data's weight as he joined me in bed drew me from my contemplation. "Hey…"

"You have been unusually quiet since we transported back to the ship," Data observed. "Are you merely tired, or is something wrong?"

"I am tired," I said, rolling over so that I was lying on my side, facing him, with my head propped on my hand, "but also… I think I was actually a little bit star-struck today."

"Star-struck?"

"Mmm. Yes. I've been attending parties with my father – if not hosted by my father – practically since I could walk. I thought I was used to rubbing elbows with the rich and famous. Or at least the elite and illustrious. But today? Today I was at a memorial for one legend, and sharing a dinner table with three others, one of whom I'm in an intimate relationship with. It's a lot to take in."

"I am not a legend, Zoe."

"Aren't you? You're third in command of the flagship. You've got enough fruit salad on your chest to feed a small colony for a year. You're a Hero of the Federation." I wasn't actually ticking things off on my fingers, but it felt like I was. "You're -"

"I am your confidante, your partner, your lover, and the one who is devoted to you."

His words made me melt inside, but the intensity with which he spoke them also made other feelings stir. I moved so that I was above him, one hand on either side of his body, and I lowered my face to his for a kiss.

His tongue danced with mine, and arousal chased my fatigue away. Impulsively, I moved again, straddling him. I felt certain parts of his anatomy twitch beneath me, and I wriggled playfully.

Data's yellow eyes grew slightly wider. "Zoe... if you are tired."

"Not that tired," I countered.

"Zoe…" he said again, but he made my name into the most wondrous sound in the universe. He lifted his hands and cupped my breasts, teasing them with his fingers and thumbs, then lifted his head to take first one nipple, then the other, into his mouth.

I shivered, and my breathing became irregular for a moment, but I managed to remind him, "No… no teeth." I leaned forward, my weight divided between hands and knees and balanced by the man I loved.

The slight creasing and un-creasing of his eyebrows was enough to confirm that he remembered my list of warnings. His mouth kept working at my breasts, kissing, licking, sucking, but his hands moved to my waist, and then to my backside, kneading and caressing.

My experience with sex was limited enough that I'd never been on top before, and even though I was ready, and could feel that he was ready, I wasn't sure how to accomplish my goal. "Data," I asked softly. "Show me how to…"

He released my right nipple and said, "Lift slightly, then rock backwards in small increments until…"

"There."

"Yes…" his hands were lightly gripping my hips, guiding me as he pushed upward and into me. "Now, we rock together…"

I took a moment to reach back and release clip holding my hair. I tossed the metal and plastic contraption aside, and my hair tumbled around my shoulders. I saw Data's expression soften, but I didn't comment, just started to move on top of him.

His face, and the small sounds he made as we learned each other's rhythms, matched them, and improvised new ones, told me what I needed to know: he may not have experienced pleasure the same way I did, but he had his own form. Eyes fixed on mine, lips parted, he seemed so open, so… vulnerable.

I wondered if my face showed the same things.

My climax was quiet but intense, built slowly from my deepest center, and I felt his release mix with mine.

Spent, I disengaged just enough so that I could collapse on top of him, and his arms came around me, holding me there. I lifted my head a bit, stretched to share another kiss with him. "Thank you," I whispered. "For the day, and for this. For… us."

Data let go of me with one hand, stroking it through my hair, apparently wordless. I closed my eyes and listened to the thrum of his internal systems, let it pulse through me.

Finally he said, "When we took this step last week, and our relationship changed irrevocably, I neglected to tell you that I had never experienced a second time with a partner. Activation of my sexuality programming always signaled the end of any potential relationship." His words were matter-of-fact, but his voice was uneven. "You have taught me that our second time is a mere beginning."

There was only one response I could make, three words that were so often used too casually, but when I used them with him went deeper than I knew how to express: "I love you."

We lay quietly in the near-darkness as I grew muzzier and muzzier. Eventually we changed positions, and when I fell asleep I was facing him, our arms twined and hands clasped, legs tangled together.

I'm pretty sure he was as loathe to let go as I was.

Notes: Confession: I almost titled this chapter "FINALLY!" but ultimately decided not to.

For Data's reaction to the events of this chapter, please see the one-shot Carte Blanche. Note: It's rated M.

Special thanks to ReLive4Love and saya4haji for their insight (in general) and advice (on this chapter) as applicable, and to my non-biological brother wintermute75 who usually lets me read chapters to him so I can hear the flow of dialogue and fix phrasing (and typos) and who totally didn't mock me when I couldn't read the first-person sex scenes out loud.

The away mission Zoe refers to is from Unification I & II, when Picard and Data went to the Romulan homeworld. Tlassam Prerr is my own invention; you'll get to actually meet him in a future installment. The Vulcan calendar does NOT mesh with the Terran calendar AT ALL, so I picked month in the same general time of year. Go with me on this.

There are actually NO canon episodes that take place in the range of Stardates that coincides with April, 2368, so it seemed appropriate to put this chapter there.

Zoe's line about 'made of awesome and wrapped in gold' comes from the last chapter of Hello From Earth...

I am in the final stages of editing a collection of holiday essays for publication via Amazon's CreateSpace, so the next chapter may not come before December 15th, and may be closer to Christmas, but there's a one-shot coming (hopefully before then) that explores the events of this chapter from Data's point of view.

Thank you all for reading. I have the best readers on ffnet, and I appreciate every one of you.