A/N: Thank you for reading, dropping kudos, and/or comments!
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.
Lore dropped his bags on the floor and pulled Beverly into a tight squeeze.
"Mmmm," he keened as he rubbed his head against her neck.
"You're in a good mood," Beverly commented.
He truly was.
Not only had his plan to plant the devices in Data and Tasha's rooms gone off without a hitch – his little surprise run in with Wesley had been a nice bonus.
It was the perfect start to the day.
"How could I not be when I get you all to myself?" Lore asked in response.
Lore felt like he was on cloud nine.
Beverly laughed and slipped out of his arms. She turned toward him and flashed Lore a warm smile.
"Come on," she said.
Beverly took hold of his hand and guided him over to the other side of the room and out onto an ample balcony.
Lore was left speechless as he stepped up to the railing to take in the view.
They were on the twenty-first floor of Starfleet's quest quarters. Beverly had called in a hefty favour to get such a room – it was usually reserved for higher-ranking officials or dignitaries or on the rare occasion that someone had booked months in advance.
But there had been Admiral that owed her favour after Beverly had solved a rather personal medical problem for him in a discreet manner.
There were certain perks to being a CMO and this was no exception.
The crystal blue waters of the Tauphin Ocean were stories below. Lore could see the white peaks of the waves as they rolled in toward the red sand beach below.
Tourists and officers on leave were mingling about, splashing in the water, playing beach volleyball, and soaking up the sun. They looked like teeny tiny nanites from Lore's view so high above.
The ocean stretched as far as he could – a more significant sight given Lore's adept vision which far exceeded human capabilities.
There were plenty of boats on the water too. Sailboats, small paddle boats, and even some larger fishing ships were all dotted about on the horizon.
It was unlike anything he'd ever seen.
Lore had read about tropical beaches. He'd seen picture and video logs of such places and could recall them with perfect memory.
But it was nothing compared to the experience of actually being there in person.
"We can go out on the water," Beverly said. "They have all sorts of boats available."
"Yes," Lore replied.
There was a slight hesitation in his voice.
"What is it?" Beverly asked. "Don't tell me you can't swim."
"But I cannot swim," Lore replied.
Beverly chuckled.
"Then I guess I'll just have to teach you," she said as she poked his chest playfully.
Lore remained still.
"I cannot swim," he repeated.
"Oh it's not so hard," Beverly said, pressing against him.
"No, Beverly. I am not capable of swimming," Lore explained. "This is not a lack of skill. It is a matter of buoyancy. My construction is too dense."
He was unwilling to call it a design flaw.
Old Often Wrong had used the phrase far too often when it came to discussing his middle child.
"You're saying you can't swim?" she asked to clarify.
"That is correct," Lore replied. "I would sink to the bottom of the ocean floor."
Beverly's eyes went wide with fear.
"You mean you'd just be trapped there?" Beverly asked, horrified at the prospect of Lore being alone at the bottom of some deep, dark ocean.
"Theoretically, I would be capable of eventually walking out. However, given the unknown topography of the ocean floor and the possibility for crevasses or seamounts it could take days, if not weeks, for me to make it back to the shoreline," Lore explained.
It was a chilling thought and an awful reminder that his own mechanical nature was not infallible.
However, Lore was ready to deny himself the activities he could enjoy.
"We can still take a ride on the water. In a sturdy boat," Lore assured her before brushing a soft kiss on the top of her head.
Data and Tasha had wasted no time getting in the water.
Tasha had worn her bathing costume – a regulation Starfleet short wetsuit under her casual shore leave attire.
They hadn't even bothered to check the view or the amenities their room offered. They had simply tossed their bags inside and headed for a day in the sun.
Tasha was keenly aware of Data's limitations when it came to the water.
So they had opted to head over to a nearby shallow reef that they could explore together. It was the perfect spot that was both deep enough to permit Tasha to snorkel while Data walked along the bottom and was close enough for him to easily get out.
Data had memorised a map of the reef so he knew which parts were safe and how far they could go before they reached a dangerous drop off.
After exploring the reef for an hour, they had waded back to shore where they had staked out a spot on a secluded beach.
They had packed a lunch.
"What were those little green fish?" Tasha asked.
"To which green fish are you referring?" Data inquired as he opened their ration boxes and began to set out their picnic.
Tasha sat back on her knees and rubbed her hands together as she tried to think of how to best describe them.
"They were the smaller ones. Sort of bright green. With the little yellow stripe on their tails," Tasha recalled.
They had seen a number of interesting lifeforms. The Tauphin Ocean was home to a vast range of biodiverse marine life – everything from schools of tropical fish and vibrant corals to the great Tauphin whales that swam the depths of the open ocean.
They had seen plenty of bright blue, yellow, and orange fish about. And there was certainly a fair share of darker, dull green shades that Tasha surmised was an evolutionary development intended to help camouflage them from predators by blending into the reef floor.
But the vibrant, unusually bright shade of these wee fish had stood in stark contrast to the rest of the fish they had seen. They had beautiful, almost feathery-like fins that seemed to dance in the water.
Tasha had thought they were one of the most stunning animals she had ever laid eyes on.
"Ah! Those are betta splendens," Data informed her.
His exobiology degree wasn't for nothing.
"They come in many colours, of which green is the rarest," Data went on. "They are prone to aggression against one another. In the wild, they will typically only spar for a few moments before moving on. However, domesticated species are another story."
"What do you mean?" Tasha asked as she looked back at Data, her brow furrowed.
There was something in the way he'd said it that indicated he found the idea unpleasant.
"Their scientific nomenclature means 'splendid fighter'," Data said. "And domestic breeds were trained to be more aggressive. Over the centuries, they have been specifically bred for heightened aggression. Humans have pitted them against one another to fight as a form of entertainment."
Tasha was appalled.
She was no stranger to the idea of violence being used for entertainment – fights pitting dogs, people, and Turkanan boars against one another were a common thing on her home planet.
"Tasha?" Data asked, noting the look of sadness in her expression as she stared at the water.
"Sorry," she said, shaking her head.
She glanced down at her lap.
"It's just hard to think about anyone doing that to such a beautiful creature," Tasha commented.
She may have maintained an unflappable exterior while on the job. But underneath it all, Tasha had always had a soft spot for animals.
She couldn't stand to see them hurt or suffering.
"The practice was banned a century ago," Data shared as she gave her hand a small squeeze.
"Sorry," Tasha repeated, turning her attention to laying out their utensils.
"Would it be permissible for me to tell you about the engrisocto apollyon we saw?" Data asked.
He had been most keen to discuss it and thought it would be a polite way to shift topics to something more pleasant.
They'd spotted a rather large female swimming about with her long, spindly tentacles probing the reef for food.
"Cephalopod intelligence is a most fascinating subject," Data added.
"Data, I understood about six of the last fifteen words you said," Tasha teased as she took a bite of her sandwich.
"The purple octopus," Data said.
"Oh! She was lovely," Tasha replied.
Data's eyes lit up.
"They are one of the most prolific species on this world. Hatchings start out small, approximately the size of a grain of rice and will eventually grow to a length of around four metres," Data began.
Tasha listened with rapt attention as Data babbled on about their feeding habits and lifecycle, habitat and distribution, and eventually shifted into a Tauphin legend about one of the octopuses saving a fisherman and leading him to a hidden kingdom of gold.
The fisherman eventually fell in love with the octopus, and it was revealed she was really the princess of a hidden underwater kingdom that had been cursed by an evil sorcerer.
Captain Picard was relaxing in his ready room when his computer system chimed to alert him to an incoming message.
"Captain, you may want to check on acting Ensign Crusher," a voice said. "He appears to be drunk and disorderly on deck 9."
Captain Picard paused and frowned.
Drunk and disorderly?
Wesley Crusher?
Intoxication was such a rare thing on any starship. With the availability of synthehol, it was uncommon for crew members to consume real liquor.
Furthermore, the notion of a drunk and disorderly Wesley Crusher was highly unlikely.
Captain Picard grumbled to himself.
He was supposed to be enjoying the benefits of a quiet ship.
He did not have the time nor patience for practical jokes.
"Computer, who sent that message?" Picard demanded.
"Lieutenant Adam Nelson," the computer answered.
"Computer, page Lieutenant Nelson. Now,' Picard barked.
A moment later, the computer had opened a channel to Lieutenant Nelson.
"Nelson, this is Captain Picard. Where are you?" Picard asked.
There was a short pause.
"Uh, I'm in the library, sir," Nelson responded.
He couldn't imagine why the Captain would want to see him. Nelson was a researcher with the geology team. He didn't handle anything particularly notable or dangerous.
He wasn't even the departmental head.
"Is Ensign Crusher with you?" Picard inquired.
"I'm sorry, sir. Who?" Nelson questioned.
Captain Picard could hear from his voice that Nelson was being honest.
"Never mind, Lieutenant. I'm sorry to have disturbed you," Picard responded a few seconds later. "Enjoy your leave."
Captain Picard closed his book and sat up, deep in thought.
"Computer, where did the last incoming message originate from?" Picard asked.
"Unknown," the computer responded simply.
Captain Picard dropped his book onto the sofa and stood up.
It was another mysterious message of unknown origins.
Jean-Luc scratched his chin.
He had seen Lore leave the ship hours earlier. This was starting to cast doubt on Lore's involvement in the previous two messages – and this message didn't involve either of the Soong brothers.
"Captain Picard to Ensign Crusher," Picard said as he tapped his communicator badge.
There was no response.
"Picard to Crusher," he repeated urgently.
There was only silence.
"Computer, what is the location of Ensign Wesley Crusher?" Picard inquired.
"Ensign Crusher is on deck 9. Room 917," the computer answered.
Tasha's quarters. Picard realised.
Abandoning all plans for a quiet afternoon, Captain Picard set off in search of Mr Crusher and some answers.
His discovery of Mr Crusher did not lead to any answers.
Rather, Jean-Luc found his head was swimming with questions.
"Medical team to Lieutenant Yar's quarters," Picard ordered.
Wesley was breathing and he had a pulse – but it was clear he'd taken a rather nasty blow to the face.
As he surveyed the damage to the room, Captain Picard couldn't fathom how or why Wesley could have caused such damage.
The carpet reeked of the pungent smell of alcohol. There was a broken mug and the half-empty bottle of vodka on the table.
However, Jean-Luc was surprised to see that it didn't appear Wesley had vomited.
Captain Picard was grateful for this.
Yet it struck him as odd.
In his old wild youth, Jean-Luc had spent more than a few nights nursing a queasy stomach after too much to drink.
Data and Tasha had left a few hours earlier.
Captain Picard didn't think it was possible for Wesley to drink that much in such a short time without throwing it back up.
Unless the person responsible didn't know that would happen? Jean-Luc considered. Someone like an artificial lifeform that couldn't get intoxicated.
It was a dark thought.
He had no evidence that pointed to such a conclusion.
And yet.
"Carruthers, get a hold of the Starfleet concierge desk. Have them relay a message to Doctor Crusher," Doctor Selar said as she stepped into the room with a medical team.
"Belay that order," Captain Picard said, countermanding her instructions.
"Sir?" Doctor Selar inquired.
Jean-Luc knew that if he notified Beverly that it would result in her rushing back to the ship – and with her, Lore.
Additionally, word would get to Tasha and that would force Data and Tasha back too.
The didn't need to worry about this.
At least, not yet.
Jean-Luc needed time to investigate before Lore could get back to the ship.
He had a hunch this had something to do with the rivalry between the two brothers. Data had commented that he felt Lore had targeted Tasha to get to Data.
It would only make sense that he would escalate his actions if he'd managed to get away with it the first time around.
But there was one question looming over all of this that remained unanswered.
Why?
Jean-Luc knew Wesley Crusher would require some time with a bone knitter before he could speak. His jaw was shattered.
I do love a good mystery. Jean-Luc said to himself.
Although he loathed the fact that this was a very real mystery involving people he considered dear friends.
A sexual assault.
A bitter rivalry between brothers.
And now a child had been physically assaulted.
"Sir?" Doctor Selar prompted, pulling the Captain back from his thoughts.
"I, uh, I'd like to notify Doctor Crusher myself. I'll see to it personally. And I'll see to Lieutenant Yar as well," Captain Picard advised.
Doctor Selar nodded and turned her attention back to Wesley.
"And Doctor, run a blood screen immediately. I want the results within the hour," Picard ordered.
As the afternoon grew later, Data and Tasha eventually moved back down to the water.
They were lying hand-in-hand at the water's edge in a comfortable silence. With their heads resting against the sand, they watched the clouds drift by, the waves lapping gently against them.
"Data?" Tasha asked.
"Yes, Tasha?" he responded.
"I'm really glad we came here," Tasha said.
Data gave her hand a soft squeeze.
"Me too," Data replied.
"Thank you for not giving up," Tasha added. "Especially when I pushed you away. I'm sorry I was rotten."
"You have no need to apologise," Data assured her. "I will not be giving up. You are special to me."
Tasha sat up and looked down at Data.
Concerned he had said something wrong, Data sat up as well.
Tasha shifted her gaze to where their hands were joined and stroked her thumb across his fingers.
"You're very special to me too," Tasha said.
It took Data a moment to process that her lips were touching his.
It was a soft, unassuming kiss as she tested the waters, judging if it were unpleasant or if she wanted to continue.
Data let her take her time. He made no move to deepen the kiss, content to go at a pace that was comfortable for Tasha.
After a few seconds, Tasha's tongue wandered out of her mouth and ran across the part of his lips. Data opened his mouth, welcoming the advance as she delicately took another step forward toward more intimacy.
Slowly he reached up to caress her face, mindful not to move too quickly or in a manner that made her feel suffocated.
He stroked her hair and felt a sense of relief when she seemed to relax.
Tasha wasn't sure if it was the atmosphere or the thought of being away from Lore that made her feel safe.
But she didn't care.
She wanted this closeness with Data.
Their touches weren't ardent. This was no act of passion.
Rather, it was unhurried.
Sweet.
The kind of comforting touch intended to reassure one another that their bond wasn't going to be severed just because of this setback.
After several minutes, Tasha took the initiative.
Data let himself lean back against the sand as Tasha climbed on top of him.
He focused all of his processing capacity on ensuring his sexuality programme did not engage.
This wasn't leading to sex.
Just like the earliest days of their relationship, Tasha wanted the feel of familiarity of being in such close proximity to his body without going any further.
Data kept his touch light as he caressed her back.
Internally, Tasha was walking herself through her checklist – she felt safe with Data. She liked the sensation of the waves lapping against them as the tide began to come in around them.
Data's lips were soft and familiar, his tongue just the right amount of pressure to let her know that he desired her without feeling pressured.
Most importantly, she felt like she could breathe.
She was totally in tune with her own body, and she was enjoying the experience.
All of a sudden, a larger wave splashed over them, causing Tasha to stop.
Data had been fully aware of the rising water level as the tide was coming in around them.
What had been an inch or so of water around his head was now almost covering his face.
Above him, Tasha bit back a grin.
"Thank you," she said.
"For what?" Data inquired sincerely.
"For being you," Tasha replied. "For always being so wonderfully you."
"I am always me," Data remarked.
Tasha collapsed his chest laughing just before another wave impacted, hitting them with another spray.
"Tasha, I believe we will need to move further up the beach," Data advised. "We cannot remain in this position much longer or we will find ourselves underwater."
"Let's head back, eh?" Tasha proposed. "I'm sure I smell like a fish by now."
She made a face indicating her discomfort.
"And there's sand in my wetsuit," she added quietly.
Wesley Crusher reached up to touch his jaw.
He kept his eyes closed.
Everything hurt and his head felt like it was spinning.
"Welcome back, Mr Crusher," said a familiar voice.
Wesley recognised the tenor of Captain Picard's voice.
A few seconds later, he felt a hypospray being administered to his neck.
"That should help ease the pain," Doctor Selar said.
"Thank you, Doctor," Captain Picard said. "Would you please give us a moment alone?"
"Of course," the Vulcan physician replied before giving them the room.
Wes opened his eyes and was immediately struck by how bright everything seemed.
He'd been in sickbay countless times – both as a patient and a visitor but the soft lighting had never seemed so painful.
Wesley opened his mouth to speak and was hit with a wave of pain radiating out from his jaw.
"Sssssir?" he managed to get out.
"You were injured," Captain Picard explained.
Jean-Luc grabbed a tablet off the nightstand and handed it to Wesley.
"I believe it may be more comfortable for you to communicate in this manner," Picard suggested.
Wesley nodded in understanding.
What happened? He typed.
Wesley turned the tablet so Captain Picard could read the text.
"I was hoping you could tell me. I discovered you injured on the floor in Lieutenant Yar's quarters," Picard said. "Do you know what brought you there?"
Wesley set the tablet back in his lap and typed away furiously. As soon as he was done, he held the tablet up for Picard to read.
Lieutenant Yar asked me to keep an eye on them while she was gone.
That certainly didn't seem out of the ordinary. Wesley was a responsible young man and he got on well with the other bridge officers. And it would only make sense for Tasha to ask someone to check on her living space – especially given their recent incidents with Lore.
"Do you remember what happened before you were injured? Was there anyone there with you? Or did someone come in while you were there?" Picard inquired.
He was doing his best to keep his questions open-ended.
Jean-Luc didn't want to name his suspect lest it influence Mr Crusher's memory.
Doctor Selar had advised that Wesley had taken quite a blow to the head, and it was possible he may not remember much leading up to the accident – particularly if he had been drinking.
However, his blood screenings had shown no trace of any alcohol in his system. But it had shown a number of sedatives and a powerful muscle relaxant had been administered within the hours leading up to his discovery.
Based on the amount found, Doctor Selar suspected it had likely been administered three to six hours prior to the Captain finding him.
Wes's face contorted as he tried to recall what had occurred.
He had finished his first set of readings on his experiment and had decided to head up to Tasha's quarters for a while so that he had a quiet place to review the data.
Wesley could remember walking in, but he couldn't recall much after that.
Wes shook his head.
Panic gripped him at the thought of having lost a part of his day. It was unsettling – particularly since he had been injured.
"It's alright. Take your time," Captain Picard instructed.
But it was clear the young acting Ensign was distressed. He tapped away rapidly at the touchscreen to pen another message to the Captain.
I don't know, sir. I am sorry. Is my experiment alright? It's 30% of my grade. It requires the energy source be refuelled every eight hours. I can't start over once it's begun.
"No need to worry, I'll be certain that someone monitors your experiment to maintain the power supply and collect the necessary readings," Picard promised.
Although Wesley couldn't recall what had occurred, it satisfied the Captain's curiosity about one thing.
There was no way a kid this preoccupied with an experiment for his schoolwork would have gotten drunk on a Saturday morning.
"You sit tight and heal up, Mr Crusher," Picard ordered.
The lift chimed and Data and Tasha stepped off into the corridor on their floor.
They were both in a good mood.
On their way back to the resort, they had stopped by and picked up some Raktajino from one of the vendors on the boardwalk.
They had agreed it would be fun to stay up late and play cards. Being in the sun all day had left Tasha feeling a bit worn down and there was nothing quite like the pick-me-up of a Raktajino in the late afternoon.
"What do you think about heading down to that lighthouse tomorrow?" Tasha asked.
"I am eager to see it," Data replied. "It is the last functioning lighthouse and there is a historic museum nearby."
All of a sudden Tasha stopped dead in her tracks, her Raktajino slipping straight out of her hands and falling to the floor.
"Thank gods your back!" Beverly exclaimed.
She was sitting on the floor against the wall with her head in her hands.
"Doctor?" Data asked as he rushed toward her.
She was alone and she had been crying. Data and Tasha helped Beverly to her feet. She was nearly hysterical.
"Doctor, what has happened?" Data asked.
"It's Lore," Beverly sobbed.