A/N: What? New chapters. Who dis? Sorry, it's been some time since I've posted an update to this story. Please enjoy the drops!

C/W: Contains abusive behaviour, smut, and dub con/rape. Will contain Data/Tasha fluff and eventual smut. Lore is a master of manipulation. Lore/Beverly (but it's not what it seems).

This is a fic in which Lore (still his lovably flawed, chaotic self) plays the long con before showing his true colours. Also, Lore and Data have significantly greater capacity to feel than canon suggests.

Tasha Yar felt completely numb.

She'd dissociated from her body entirely as they ascended the ladder in the maintenance shaft.

It was after 08:00. For the last three hours the team had managed to make it down to deck 41, strip the old parts, and replace the tubes.

They were now climbing back out with the discarded tubes.

The tubes they had replaced were part of the ship's antimatter containment and they had to be replaced every six months due to the heavy use as the Enterprise criss-crossed the galaxy.

They were approximately a metre in length. Each one weighed approximately one stone. And they were all carrying four of them.

It had taken every ounce of Tasha's willpower to complete the gruelling descent.

The only way she had managed to get back on the ladder had been to go totally numb. It was a technique she had learned during her childhood. She shut down everything, repressing the pain, and completely detaching herself from her body.

It was great plan for masking her trauma.

But it was poor choice for such a dangerous task.

They were just shy of deck 38 when Tasha's foot gave out. She lost her footing, slipping clean off the rung.

If it hadn't been for Commander Riker's quick reflexes, she would have gone tumbling down the shaft – taking Riker with her.

Riker caught her as she came tumbling toward him. Tasha had a white-knuckle grip on the ladder's edge, suddenly very aware of how precarious a position she was in.

"Cut your pack," Riker ordered.

Tasha ignored his order and pulled herself up to the next rung, grateful that she'd spent more than enough hours in the fitness centre to do so.

She still had one good leg.

"I said cut your pack," Riker repeated.

The tubes could fall and be collected later. The safety of those on the ladder was a far greater priority.

"I can do this, sir," Tasha assured him.

She didn't hold the ship's chin-up record merely for show.

But Riker didn't care. He was tired of her bravado.

She wasn't just pulling her own weight, she was carrying nearly sixty extra pounds of weight from her pack, strapped to her back, and dangling dangerously above Riker's head.

"Tasha!" Riker snapped.

"I'm almost to the Jefferies tube on deck 38," Tasha advised as she heaved herself up another rung.

"You need help?" Ensign Phillips hollered back down the shaft.

The rest of the team was a ways ahead of them. Tasha had been so out of it that she hadn't realised just how slow a pace she'd been moving at.

It had not gone unnoticed by Commander Riker who had been growing more nervous with each rung they passed.

With great effort, Tasha managed to pull herself into the horizontal Jefferies tube on deck 38.

She rested back against the wall and took a series of heavy breaths.

A minute later, she could feel a pair of eyes watching her.

Tasha opened her eyes and turned back to the ladder where Commander Riker was waiting.

He looked thoroughly displeased.

Tasha's mouth went dry as she braced herself for a dressing down.

Upon seeing her reaction, Riker glanced up the shaft and then back to Tasha as he weighed his options.

They were still too far down for a transporter and even communicators were sketchy at best in this part of the ship.

"You guys go on ahead. I'll take care of signing your duty paperwork later. Good job today!" Riker shouted. "And Ensign Phillips, please have Commander Data report to this location."

Riker knew he didn't have the strength to carry Tasha up another four decks to the access point. And she was in no condition to climb.

Tasha panicked.

"I'm fine, sir," she said.

Riker studied Tasha. Her voice had been full of alarm. And he couldn't fathom why she seemed terrified of Data.

"Is there something wrong with Data?" Riker asked.

Tasha froze.

"Lieutenant?" Riker prompted.

"I'm fine, sir," Tasha insisted. "I just need a break and then I can resume."

"Tasha, I can't carry you out of here," Riker said.

"I'm fine!" she repeated.

Her lip began to quiver.

Tasha turned her head away as she felt hot tears start to stream down her face.

"I can do this," Tasha said, flustered. "I can do my job."

Riker climbed into the Jefferies tube and sat down across from her.

"No one is suggesting otherwise, Tasha," Riker said in a reassuring manner.

She sniffed, wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her uniform. She couldn't look at Commander Riker. And she felt weak for breaking down in front of a fellow officer – the First Officer, nonetheless.

Riker didn't say anything in order to give her time to find her voice.

Tasha cleared her throat.

"You can go. Commander Data doesn't need to waste his time coming down here. I'm alright," Tasha said, feigning confidence she didn't feel.

She couldn't bear the thought of having to face Data like this.

Not after the way she'd treated him.

"Tasha, please talk to me," Riker implored her. "You're scaring the shit out of me. You nearly got us both killed back there."

Riker had always thought she was the most unflappable officer on the ship.

And it frightened him to see her like this.

Riker had been in Starfleet long enough to know that there were some officers that struggled with trauma – especially those that had served during the Border War.

He had a vague understanding that Tasha had experienced a rough childhood. Stories about the conditions on Turkana were common knowledge.

And Riker knew she had a high stress job. As the Chief Tactical officer she had been the one on the metaphorical button in more than enough combat situations.

It took a toll.

But Riker had never seen her break down like this.

Before she could stop him, Riker reached for her injured foot.

"Why don't we take a look at this foot, huh?" Riker offered.

It had meant to be friendly offer to help. His goal had been to take her mind off whatever mental trauma was plaguing her thoughts and redirect it to the immediate problem of her injury.

He hadn't anticipated she would react violently.

On instinct, Tasha delivered a swift kick without regard for her injury.

She howled in agony as the pain radiated out, shooting straight up her leg and into her lower back.

Riker coughed and inhaled sharply - the wind being quite literally knocked out of him at such a hard blow.

"I'm s-s-sorry," Tasha sobbed upon realising what she had done.

Riker was lucky she hadn't kicked him down the shaft.

"It's alright," he managed to choke out through gritted teeth.

Tasha was crying openly now, all sense of self-preservation gone. She felt like her career in Starfleet had to be over after this.

"Tasha," Riker said as he caught his breath.

He put his hands up in the intergalactic sign of surrender to show her that he meant no harm. He kept his movements slow, having gotten the message loud and clear not to touch without permission.

"Can I please take a look at your foot?" Riker asked.

Tasha shook her head in the negative.

She really didn't want anyone touching her – let alone discovering that she'd concealed her injury for so long.

There would be questions. And they were questions Tasha wasn't ready to explain.

Not to Deanna or Data.

Certainly not to Commander Riker.

Or Beverly.

Or even Captain Picard.

In addition, Tasha was certain she would probably have to cut her boot off just to get her foot out at this point.

It was throbbing. The pain was nearly enough to make her dizzy.

"Tasha, I have an emergency medical kit in my pack," Riker advised. "Now I can see you're in pain. Please let me help you."

Tasha sniffed and thumbed away a fresh batch of tears.

"Can I see it?" she asked.

Riker unhooked the latches across his chest and slipped his shoulders through the sleeves of his pack.

He unclasped the tubes and then pulled the pack itself into his lap. After rummaging around for a few seconds he triumphantly produced the medical kit.

"Ah ha," he said with a grin.

Tasha held out her hand, expecting him to hand it over.

"On the condition you let me see your foot," Riker said, holding it just out of reach.

He didn't want to withhold treatment, but it was his only leverage.

If she refused, he would hand it over. But it was a bluff he was willing to try if it meant getting some answers.

Tasha sighed and averted her eyes as she considered the offer.

Pain medications were carefully regulated. Outside of sickbay, crew members were limited with how much they accessed at a given time.

The only time anyone needed them was in the event of injury or illness. And since injury and illness required treatment, it was commonly accepted that there was no need for any potentially addictive substance to be readily available without some oversight.

Under Doctor Crusher's supervision, Tasha had been given a small dosage of analgesic tablets. As the ship's Security Officer, she was more prone to sprains and strains because of her job.

After so many visits to sickbay for minor injuries, Beverly had suggested she keep a few on hand.

Tasha had been rationing her low-level tablets. But they were hardly enough to make a dent.

And she only had three left.

The thought of pain relief was tempting.

Reluctantly, Tasha nodded.

She tensed, trembling as Commander Riker carefully guided her boot down and off her foot.

Tasha winced when he peeled off her sock.

It wasn't just the pain that caused it, his horrified reaction made her face burn with shame.

"What happened?" Riker asked without tearing his eyes off her injury.

Tasha didn't respond. She hadn't worked out a cover story.

"Did you take a shot at the duranium hull?" Riker quipped, hoping a little humour would set her at ease.

"Something like that," Tasha responded cryptically.

A swing and a miss. Riker thought.

Will opened the medical kit and grabbed a routine mini-hypospray. It offered a few shots of a handful of common treatments – pain relief, adrenaline, a clotting aid, and a minor sedative.

He set it to pain relief and handed it Tasha, figuring it was best to let her administer it herself.

Next, he grabbed a cold compress and activated it.

Riker carefully unwrapped her swollen foot. Tasha hissed as she felt the icy pack against her exposed foot.

"We'll get you to sickbay," Riker assured her.

"No!" Tasha said quickly.

Riker stopped and looked up at Tasha, confused by her response.

Her breathing had increased. She looked terrified at having to report to sickbay for treatment.

"Tasha, you need to be seen by a doctor," Riker advised.

"It's an old injury," Tasha lied. "Just a little aggravated by the climb."

She prayed he would buy her excuse.

Riker shook his head.

"No, you need to report to sickbay. Don't worry, I'll make sure Data takes you there straightaway. I'm sure Doctor Crusher will get you sorted out and back on your feet in no time," Riker explained.

"No," Tasha replied, pulling her foot back.

She was rocking against the wall, nearly hysterical.

"I can't go to sickbay. I'm fine. I've told you I'm fine. Why won't anyone believe me?" Tasha ranted.

Riker wasn't sure what to say so he decided to try a different approach.

"I'm really worried about you, Tasha," Riker said in a soothing voice.

"Don't," Tasha warned as he slid over to her side of the Jefferies tube.

Tasha scooted away from him, moving further down the tube in an effort to give herself some space.

She knew that this tube didn't lead anywhere except to various maintenance access points for the navigation system.

Tasha looked around desperately for an escape. She felt trapped between a tunnel that led nowhere and Command Riker.

"Whoa," Riker said as he backed away.

There wasn't too far he could go without getting uncomfortably close to the edge.

"I'm going to stay over here, okay?" Riker said.

He picked up the hypospray. As a precaution, he clicked the switch and activated the sedative.

Call it his poker skills, but Riker had a feeling this standoff was only going to end one way.

"Data is going to be here any moment and then we'll get you out of here," Riker said.

It was like a switch flipped in Tasha.

A fight or flight response had been triggered.

And in that moment, Tasha knew she had to get out before Data got there.

She scrambled for the ladder.

"I can finish the climb," she said. "I don't need your help."

Riker caught her as she tried to reach the ladder.

She was like a wounded animal, flailing and fighting for her life as Riker pulled her back into the tube.

Using his body weight, he pulled her back into safety and away from the ledge.

"No, Tasha. You are done. You are done now," Riker said in a commanding voice.

They struggled for a moment. When Tasha's injured foot impacted the wall, it was the opportunity Riker needed to gain the upper hand.

Pinning her against the floor with his bodyweight he reached for the hypospray.

For Tasha it was all too familiar a feeling.

She felt like her consciousness was leaving her body, her eyes glazing over as she mentally detached – eager to be anywhere other than in her own body.

It was a trick she had learned at an early age, a way to cope with the unbearable act of being under another one of Turkana's unwashed men.

By the time you were on your back, there was no use fighting it. They used to say.

If you couldn't outrun them or fight them off, it was usually better to just accept what was coming with as little protest as possible.

It left fewer scars.

Tasha had learned to let her mind wander, drifting through imaginary, happier places and praying that compliance was enough to spare her the worst of it.

She had become accustomed to being nothing more than an object, a hole for whatever use they saw fit – after all, that was all they saw her as.

There was only one thing she ever said – unless prompted to speak.

It was something her mother had taught her.

A survival tactic that had endeared her to them, preying on the last bit of humanity that any of Turkana's men had left in them not to kill her when they were finished.

"Would you prefer to watch me cry? Or that I look away?" Tasha asked in a meek, completely lifeless voice.

Riker froze.

"Tasha, what the hell?" Riker asked.

The use of her name barely phased her.

She sat there, blinking up at him as she awaited instruction.

A moment later, everything grew hazy as the sedative kicked in.

By the time Data reached the Jefferies tube, he found an unconscious Tasha and one very shaken Commander Riker sitting against the wall of the tube.

"What happened?" Data demanded.

Riker shook his head slowly.

"I'm not exactly sure," he answered honestly.

Deanna was getting ready for her shift when she heard her door chime. It was early, and she didn't have any appointments for another hour so she was curious who it could be.

"Come in," she called out from her vanity.

In the mirror, she could see the door slide open to reveal Commander Riker.

"What's wrong?" Deanna asked, concerned.

She dropped her hairbrush and turned around to face him.

His hands were trembling as he stepped into her quarters.

"Will?" Deanna inquired as she got up and went to him.

She guided him over to her sofa and encouraged him to sit down.

Deanna could sense there was something terribly wrong. His emotions were all over the place – confusion, sadness, and an uncontrollable fear.

"Talk to me, Imzadi," Deanna urged as she took his hand.

"I don't know where to begin," he said in a strange, faraway voice.

Deanna rubbed his back, hoping to bring a sense of familiarity and remind him he was in a safe place to discuss whatever was on his mind.

Riker took a heavy breath and ran his hand back, ruffling his hair.

He explained that there had been an incident during the morning report task. He shared with Deanna that they had been hauling tubes out from the antimatter maintenance room and that Tasha had been physically struggling with an injury.

As Will summarised their back and forth and her reluctance, Deanna could feel he was building up to something.

It was something that had left Will Riker questioning everything about himself and the way he interacted with the crew.

He felt awful.

He had always been intimately aware that his imposing stature could be intimidating to others. He was careful about where he stood, how close he leaned over, and mindful of personal space. He kept his booming voice in check and tried desperately to maintain a genial attitude in hopes of having a reputation as a good officer that gained trust through respect rather than fear.

But his experience in the Jefferies tube had shaken him to his core.

"I was just trying to stop her from climbing back onto the ladder. She nearly fell down the shaft," Riker explained.

A fall from that height would have resulted in death.

"She was wild, Deanna. I didn't know what else to do," Riker went on.

He was still having trouble processing it.

"And you're worried because you think you frightened her? And that bothers you?" Deanna clarified.

Riker rocked his head from side to side. That was part of the issue.

"I know I frightened her," Riker admitted.

"I'm sure that deep down, Tasha knows that," Deanna said. "It's a trauma response, Will. It wasn't you."

Riker blanched.

"I know, Deanna," Riker said quietly.

His shoulders shuddered as he took a shaky breath.

"Will?" Deanna pressed.

Riker bit down on his fist, willing himself not to cry.

"When I finally got her to a spot where I could administer a sedative, she…she," he paused in order to collect himself. "She was terrified."

He shook his head in an effort to push away the memory.

The way she had looked at him would be burned in his mind forever.

"Deanna, she thought I was going to assault her down there," Riker confessed.

His concern wasn't for himself. He wasn't worried about Tasha accusing him of anything.

He was feeling wretched that he had hurt a friend.

In his mind, Riker was just as guilty of causing her mental distress.

"You were concerned she was going to hurt herself by trying to climb out. You did what you had to do in order to prevent that," Deanna assured him.

Would you prefer to watch me cry? Or that I look away?

Every time he closed his eyes, all he could her was that stupid question.

And all he could see was her dead, cold blue eyes staring up at him – devoid of any kind of warmth that typically characterised the sarcastic, energetic Tasha Yar they all knew and adored.

It made him feel sick.

Deanna sat back, rubbing his back as she contemplated her next steps with Tasha.

Over in sickbay, Data was standing behind glass watching over Tasha as she lay unconscious on one of the exam tables.

At his insistence, Beverly had administered one of the stronger substances in order to keep her sedated for the time being.

Doctor Crusher had been mortified to discover her untreated injury.

Between having concealed the injury and the subsequent further damage she'd subjected it to, it would now require surgery.

A bone knitter wouldn't be enough to heal the damage. Without surgery there was a possibility of non-union or delayed union of the broken bones.

Beverly had Nurse Ogowa prepping the operating space and they would begin within the hour.

Doctor Crusher came up to next Data where he was keeping vigil at the window that separated the main portion of sickbay from the pre op area.

She knew they were close, although she had no idea how close.

"She's fractured the first, second, and fourth metatarsals. And there's a Lisfranc fracture between the cuneiforms and metatarsals," Beverly explained. "There's some nerve and blood vessel damage too that we'll need to repair in surgery."

Data didn't take his eyes off her as Beverly walked him through the damage.

"It's some damage," Beverly remarked. "And I've been in this job long enough to know that didn't just happen slipping on a ladder."

Data felt like this was all his fault for pushing her too far, too fast.

If only he'd left her alone then she wouldn't be in this position.

And if only he'd never initiated a relationship, then the assault by Lore never would have happened.

"Data, do you know anything about what happened? Or why Tasha felt like she couldn't come to sickbay?" Beverly inquired.

It was important to investigate.

If there were other injuries Tasha was hiding, then it could mean she was unfit for duty.

Data knew that when Tasha woke up, she was liable to panic.

She had shared with him just how mortified she was at the thought of anyone touching or examining her body.

It reminded her of when she had been rescued by Starfleet and, in a way, was like being violated all over again.

"Doctor, I must ask that you not allow anyone other than yourself, Nurse Ogowa, and Counsellor Troi access to Lieutenant Yar. Do not permit any of your other medical staff to interact with or treat her," Data ordered.

Beverly was taken aback.

She had a large staff, and it was difficult to regulate post-operative treatment to a limited personal list.

"In addition, you will keep her in a secured, private room after the surgery. No one other than yourself, Nurse Ogowa, and Counsellor Troi may be permitted to enter," Data went on.

"Data, may I ask why?" Beverly inquired.

She felt like there was something going on. Something that should probably be looped in on.

" Please , Doctor," Data said simply.

"You see, Data. Surgeries are such a rare occurrence, I was hoping to use this as a training opportunity for some of my staff," Beverly advised.

For the first time in their conversation, Data turned to the Doctor.

"If you are referring to my brother, that is unacceptable," Data said in a stern voice.

It was so unlike Data that it left Beverly's mind reeling with questions.

She knew there had been some disagreement between the two – including a physical altercation. But it hardly seemed fair for Data to use his position as Second Officer to make orders that were detrimental to Lore's career.

"He is not to come near nor be permitted any access to view or participate in her treatment," Data ordered.

"I'd really like to discuss this," Beverly protested.

"If you are unwilling to comply then I will take her by shuttle to the nearest starbase," Data said, making it clear that he would not waver.

"Alright, alright," Beverly agreed reluctantly.

Given her falling out with Wesley and the tension with the Captain, Beverly didn't have another fight in her at the moment.

She stepped away to fill in her staff on their instructions.

Data remained at his post, watching over Tasha as she waited to go into surgery.

He was struck by the fact that she looked smaller than he had ever thought possible.

Data had watched her sleep on numerous occasions.

And he had always admired her strength of will and unbreakable spirit.

But watching her lie there as the heart monitor beeped along, Data thought she looked helpless – and he surmised she would feel that way upon regaining consciousness.

Beverly had advised that the surgery would take around ninety minutes and that she would likely be out for another two or three hours afterward.

It would be just enough time for Data to implement his plan.

Her injury had forced him to move up his timetable, but he was confident that it would work.

"It's a strange thing to see the humans like this," Lore said as he came up behind Data.

Data's posture stiffened upon hearing his brother's voice.

"When they're in that state they're just so powerless. So… vulnerable," Lore chuckled.

It was a taunt.

He was dangling bait in the hopes that Data would bite.

Data did not respond.

"Utterly defenceless. But I suppose that's best given that she'll require surgery," Lore said, making another attempt to lure Data into an argument.

Data remained steadfast.

"The Captain has ordered us to avoid one another," Data reminded his brother.

"You know I usually prefer when they wiggle. I like to watch them squirm before I get my hands on them. You know she fit so well in my lap," Lore went on. "Pity she won't know it's me assisting in her operation. But I'm sure she'll cherish the thought of it once she wakes up."

Data's synthetic biofluid coolant system was boiling.

"She did so enjoy having my hands all over her body," Lore said, his voice dripping with malice.

He laughed softly.

"And intend to ensure she receives only the best care," Lore continued. "You can be sure she'll be well tended in my hands, brother."

Data tilted his head to the side. He was struggling to stop the dark thoughts that had entered his mind as he fought the urge to break his brother's spinal support column.

It would only provide fuel to Lore and play into his victim narrative if Data were to start a scene in the middle of sickbay.

But Lore could spot the obvious signs of Data's internal battle between logic and emotion, and he understood it was time to move in for the kill.

He leaned in close to Data's ear.

"I can fulfil all her needs of her neglected little body, including all the ones you can't," Lore hissed.

Data clenched his fists as Lore activated his memory recall system, forcing Data to listen to the sounds of her assault.

"I believe now I agreed to help you with your problem. Do you like this?" Lore said dangerously.

"Yes," Tasha said loudly. "Oh, please."

Data snapped.

He turned and gripped Lore's neck, catching him in a powerful hold.

"Data!" Captain Picard said sharply as he stepped into sickbay.

He had been informed that Tasha had been injured during the morning report task and that it was serious enough to require surgery. She would be off duty the rest of the day, and on light duty for a few days afterward.

Given the recent issues with Lore, Captain Picard felt it was necessary to personally visit sickbay to ensure he was reassigned somewhere else for the day.

The last thing he had expected to walk in on was another violent outburst between the android brothers.

Data immediately dropped Lore to the ground.

Doctor Crusher rushed out of her office and knelt down next to Lore as he pretended to be more injured than he really was.

"What is wrong with you?" Beverly asked in anger.

Data took a step back, keeping his eyes firmly planted on his brother.

Lore rubbed the bioplast on his neck as he let Beverly help him to his feet.

"Mr Lore, I require your help today," Captain Picard announced gruffly.

Beverly's jaw dropped.

She felt like she suddenly had a clearer picture of why Captain Picard was so cold toward Lore. It was like the two of them – Data and Picard – had some kind of grudge against him.

In her opinion, this was sibling rivalry, and the Captain was backing up his friend.

Men! She fumed.

They were always like that – throwing reason and compassion out the airlock just so they could blindly stick up for one another.

Lore, keen to play the part of the compliant and victimised brother, dusted himself off.

"How may I assist you, Captain?" Lore asked innocently.

"Please head to the stellar cartography lab on deck 15," Picard ordered. "I will join you there shortly."

Beverly made a face.

There was no legitimate reason for them to send Lore off on some meaningless task in the stellar cartography lab. It was a complete waste of his skills.

"Stellar cartography?" Lore inquired, surprised.

It had been the last thing he'd expected.

"Yes," Picard barked.

"Right away, sir," Lore said.

With a polite bow, he exited sickbay.

Captain Picard turned to Data.

"Commander, I recommend you make yourself scarce," Picard suggested.

Data nodded.

He had something very important see to.

Tasha felt hazy.

And nauseous.

It was like the kind of sensation that came on in the early morning hours after a night of heavy drinking. Her mouth was dry, and her lips felt parched. But she was worried that if she sat up too quickly she might blow the contents of her stomach all over the place.

In the distance, there was a soft beeping. Tasha was vaguely aware that there were sticky sensor pads attached to her forehead, chest, and arm.

She suddenly realised she was sickbay.

Tasha bolted up, scanning the room in a blur, and ripping at the sensors on her body.

A second later, she felt a hypospray against her neck.

She felt a wave of nausea as she grew warm, and the lights above became fuzzy.

"He is not here," she heard Data say.

Beverly paused. It took her second to process what Data had said.

He is not here.

His statement echoed in her mind.

Lore? Beverly thought, confused.

She couldn't imagine what Tasha would have against Lore – unless Data had turned her against his brother.

Beverly knew they were close friends.

But it didn't make sense that Tasha would react so violently to the thought of Lore being present in sickbay.

It was where he worked. And he had done nothing but try and find a place among the crew.

Although, if Tasha did have something against the android it would explain why she had avoided sickbay despite suffering such a severe injury.

"Doctor, may we have some privacy?" Data requested.

"Sure," Beverly said absentmindedly as she left the room.

Tasha was just starting to come back to the world. The sedative that Doctor Crusher had administered was enough to make her feel relaxed, but not enough to knock her out.

Deanna had stopped by after Captain Picard and had advised that in professional opinion, it was best to keep her heavily medicated for the time being.

All around, Beverly felt like she had been left out of some great secret.

As a medical professional, this was disconcerting. As Tasha's friend, it felt like being spurned.

Even Commander Riker had been scant on details when he had accompanied Data to bring her in. It was as if he were withholding something.

A dark thought crossed Beverly's mind.

She hadn't exactly announced her romantic relationship with Lore to the ship – but it certainly wasn't a secret either.

It was common knowledge that they spent time together outside of their working hours.

Had the rest of the crew excluded her because of that relationship?

Had they now found her untrustworthy?

Frowning to herself as she sat down at her desk, Beverly reasoned it might be time to ask Lore for more information about the feud with his brother.

Tasha initially flinched when Data reached for her hand, but after a few seconds, her fingers closed softly around his and Data relaxed.

"We are alone," Data said. "Lore has been reassigned from sickbay for now."

Tasha stroked her thumb across Data's hand.

"He will never hurt you again," Data promised.

It felt nice to have Data there. She welcomed his touch, even a part of her was screaming that she didn't deserve it.

She'd betrayed him.

Then she'd rejected him.

And when he had offered her patience, support, and steadfast love, she had screamed at him.

"I'm sorry I shot you," Tasha said.

It didn't begin to cover the list of offenses she felt she had committed against Data, but he understood the meaning.

"You have no reason to apologise," Data replied.

Tasha turned her head to the side to look at him.

She rocked back against her pillow and blinked slowly.

"Tasha?" Data prompted.

"I think I'm having an adverse reaction to the drugs," Tasha said, feeling queasy.

The colour was drained from her face, and she seemed to be struggling to focus.

"Data, I think you better get the Doctor," Tasha said.

She swallowed hard, trying to keep herself from tossing her cookies.

"You've got blue eyes," Tasha said.

"Ah," Data said, moving his eyebrows in acknowledgement. "Yes."