UNACCOMPANIED

A Suite for Actress and Android

Structural Note: First, this story is actually inspired by Bach's Unaccompanied Cello Suites, and each chapter represents a movement in one of the suites. Also, with the exception of the Prelude, much of this story is told in epistolary format (letters, vid-calls, messaging). Unless otherwise noted, all letters are video messages.

I. Prelude

The prelude may be thought of as a preface. During the Baroque era, for example, it may have served as an introduction to succeeding movements of a work that were usually longer and more complex. Stylistically, the prelude is improvisatory in nature.

Stardate 45438.89

(Sunday, 9 June 2368, 3:17 PM, PDT, San Francisco, Earth)

"Bella mia, I feel bad leaving you all alone like this." My maternal grandmother, the woman I knew as 'Nonna,' said, hugging me close to her ample bosom. We were standing in the sun-drenched living room of my new apartment, and I'd been trying to get them to leave for almost half an hour. "You're so young to be on your own."

"Delia, she'll be fine," my grandfather said for at least the thousandth time. I'd grown up thinking of him as 'Nonno,' but in the four days since my arrival on Earth, he'd become 'Papa' instead. "She's not some sheltered infant. She's seen things." He winked at me over my grandmother's shoulder. "Besides, she's probably waiting for us to go so she can call her amichetto without an audience."

My grandmother released me. "Your Mr. Data seems like a nice gentleman," she said, changing the subject, as my grandfather had probably intended. "Isn't there any way we could meet him before the wedding? Your mother introduced us to Ed last year."

"Sometimes," I grumbled, "I think you're forgetting that it's Mom getting married this fall, and not me. I'm seventeen. I'm not sure Data and I will ever get married, but if we do, it won't be for a long time – years , even. Anyway, he works on a starship, just like Mom. He works with Mom. It's not like I'm keeping him from you."

"You, see, Delia?" Papa teased his wife. "She's got a good head on her shoulders, this one. She'll be fine."

"Alright, alright," Nonna agreed, with no small amount of exasperation in her voice. "I'll be waiting in the car." She hugged me one more time, left her lipstick-kiss on my forehead, and flounced out the door in a cloud of guilt and Chanel No. 5, to wait in the family flitter.

Papa waited for her to be gone before he pulled me into a rough hug of his own. "You are my brave, strong, girl," he said. "And your grandmother and I are both so proud of you. Remember, asking for help doesn't mean you're failing, it means you need support in your success." He kissed each of my cheeks, then pulled away. "We'll call you when we get home."

"Okay," I said. "Thank you for everything."

"You're our granddaughter. Spending time with you, helping you get settled here, it's the least we can do. Don't be a stranger, capisce?"

"I understand," I told him. "I'll keep in touch, I promise. We'll see each other lots."

I walked with him to the door, but he paused in the entryway, and pressed a comm-card and a credit-chit into my hand. "Just in case," he said. "Keep them on you, just in case."

Suddenly misty, I squeezed my eyes shut long enough to ward off any tears, but my grandmother's voice screeched up the stairway before I could say anything. "Luigi! I'm roasting in this contraption. Are we leaving, or not?"

Papa and I both burst into laughter.

"It has voice control, the flitter," he said. "But will she use it to turn the cooling on? No…" He was still laughing and shaking his head as he made his way down the stairs.

I waited for his last footsteps to fade into nothing before I closed the door. Then I spun around, surveying my new home.

As apartments go, mine wasn't terribly grand, but it wasn't exactly a slum, either. I'd skipped over the sublets (sleeping in someone else's sheets was too weird for me), and the furnished apartments, and done a short-term lease on a one-bedroom flat on the second floor of a vintage (post-Eugenics War Reconstruction) building on the Haight, across the street from the panhandle of Golden Gate Park.

The hardwood floors had been recently re-finished. The bay window had a bench lining its interior arc, and I knew I'd be having morning coffee there, watching as the city woke up below me. To be fair, it also had a kitchen with real appliances as well as a replicator, and a cast-iron claw-foot tub in the bathroom.

For the rest, my grandparents had cancelled their plans to give me a vacation at the Jersey shore, and we'd spent the last four days shopping and furnishing the place. They'd left me with a fully stocked kitchen and bath, and as much coziness as two older people could buy, borrow, or box so that I'd feel safe and loved.

The only thing that would have made the place better would have been the amichetto my grandfather had mentioned. But that would come. Data and I had spoken nearly every day of my trip so far, and I knew he'd already scheduled time off to see me as often as he could.

(=A=)

My grandparents hadn't even been gone for an hour when the comm-system chimed the alert for an incoming call. I told the computer to route it through the entertainment system, expecting that the caller would be Annette or Wes – the two friends I already had on Earth.

I was never happier to be wrong. The gold-leaf features of the man I loved came into view on my screen, and I sat, cross-legged on my couch so he could see me. "You're early," I accused, teasing him. He generally tried to time his calls to coincide with my approximate bedtime.

"I apologize for the change in schedule. However, I believe you will find the reason acceptable. Captain Picard will be giving the commencement address at the Academy's graduation ceremony next Sunday. The Enterprise will be docking at Earth Station McKinley on Wednesday evening."

"I thought McKinley was only used for refits and repairs?"

"There are other reasons for docking there," he said, "which I am unable to divulge at this time. In any case, Captain Picard has given me seventy-two hours of leave, commencing on Thursday at twenty-hundred hours, local time."

"San Francisco local?" I confirmed.

"That is correct."

"You're coming here?" I tried hard not to bounce on the couch in excitement. "You're coming here to spend the weekend with me?"

"If you are amenable," he said. "You did mention, when we spoke last night, that you were looking forward to 'a weekend of solitude to get settled in.'"

"That never applies to you," I said. I hesitated for the briefest of moments – a breath, really – and added, "To be honest, all day I've been thinking that my bed is too big for just me."

The flicker in his eyes told me he knew what I meant. "Perhaps we can determine whether that perception is accurate," he answered. "I will contact you before I beam down," he added. He seemed about to sign off but then he tacked on one more thing, "If it will not be too late, do not eat dinner. I would like to take you out."

I grinned at his image on my screen. "It won't be too late," I said. "See you soon."

"See you soon," he echoed. "Data out."

(=A=)

Stardate 45450.36

(Thursday, 13 June 2368, 8:00 PM PDT, San Francisco)

By Thursday, my apartment was beginning to feel like home. I'd found plants and throw pillows at a street market, completely unpacked, and met all my neighbors. I'd talked to each of my parents twice, checked in with my grandparents on Earth and Gran on Centaurus once each, and talked to Data – even if it was sometimes only a quick check-in – daily.

By the time eight pm came I had showered, and tried on and discarded three different outfits, finally opting to just wear a scoop-neck shirt and a simple skirt, along with the necklace Data had given me as I was leaving the ship.

I'd also hidden away the last collection of shopping bags and curled up in the window seat with a book, in an attempt to look casual.

I was nervous. Like first-date nervous.

I had no idea why I was nervous.

I answered Data's next comm, which was audio-only, on my padd.

"Go for Zoe."

"This is Data," came his voice. "I am ready to beam down."

It was customary, in apartment buildings, for people to beam into the main vestibule and then walk to the door for whichever unit they were visiting, so I didn't hear the sound of the beam that brought Data to my doorstep, and I didn't get to see him shimmer into solidity.

Instead, I had to wait for him to climb the stairs and ring my doorbell.

It was the most excruciating minute-and-a-half I'd experienced in a long time, but finally the bell rang, and I called out for him to enter.

As soon as the door opened, I'd given up on looking casual, and was on my feet, and crossing the room to greet him.

Data dropped his overnight bag on the floor and met me half-way.

"Hi," I said, almost shyly, stopping directly in front of him. I was trembling. Could he tell I was trembling?

"Hi," he repeated back to me, the monosyllable that never quite fit correctly in his mouth making me grin. He lowered his head, and his mouth met mine at the same moment his arms slid around my waist. It wasn't a long kiss, but it was enough to restore the taste of cashews – his taste – to my mouth, and to make me moan softly into his.

I let my hands roam over his chest and around his neck, where I clasped my hands. We broke apart long enough for me to catch my breath, and then I stretched up to claim another kiss. I was still trembling, but less so.

When I needed to breathe again, Data held me slightly away from him, looking at me – studying me. "You are shaking," he observed. "Zoe, what is wrong?"

I didn't know what I was going to say until the words came tumbling out. "You're so far away, and there's no cat hair everywhere, and I haven't even really slept here yet, and I already want to be home with you. I can't… I can't do this. I'm not ready."

I wasn't quite hysterical, but it was a near thing.

Androids are not programmed to indulge their girlfriends' hysteria. Well, it was either that, or Data knew me too well, because he took me firmly by the hand and led me to the couch. "Sit," he said.

I did as he asked, and he sat with me, taking my other hand in his, as well.

"I am not certain what you believe you cannot do. If it is learning to live on your own, I believe you are just feeling overwhelmed. You once told me that you used to 'revel in' having your house to yourself when your parents were out for an evening. Consider, you now have an entire flat that is 'all yours.'" He glanced around the room. "You have clearly been busy."

"Nonna and Papa took me shopping," I explained. "I think they feel guilty for never being particularly good about visiting, or something, but it made them feel good. I was fine when they left. I spent last Sunday exploring my neighborhood - finding the good coffee between here and the rehearsal studio. I've been doing that all week – exploring. I found a gym I like, and a bookstore that has the perfect blend of classics and trendy new stuff, and a staff who actually reads. I handled all my employee resources stuff, so I won't have to deal with that and getting used to a new schedule when rehearsals begin next week… And then you were in my apartment, and I fell apart."

"You have experienced many life changes in a comparatively short amount of time," Data pointed out. "I believe a few minutes of 'falling apart' were called for, and I am grateful that I could be here to help put you back together again."

"Me, too," I said. I took a deep breath, met his eyes, and smiled. "I'm glad you're here. I'm a little worried that I'll be a basket case three weeks or a month from now, if I'm this bad after only ten days, though."

"Perhaps your extreme reaction is simply because everything is 'new,'" he suggested. "I am confident that you will find your footing, and I suspect once you have begun rehearsals and begun forming friendships, things will 'get better.'"

"Wise words," I smiled. "Thank you." I took a breath. "You said something about going out for dinner? Am I dressed okay?"

"Your attire is more than 'okay,'" Data assured me. "Are you ready?"

"Let me just refresh my make-up, and then I will be."

We went to a small Ethiopian restaurant only a couple of blocks from my apartment. I'm not sure if it was the fact that Data was one of the most recognizable members of the Enterprise crew, or if it was just that he was in uniform and in the company town that San Francisco had become since Starfleet's inception, lieutenant commander's pips had more weight than civvies, but we were seated ahead of several others waiting for tables.

"How did you find this place?" I asked after we'd ordered a selection of vegetarian dishes recommended by our server. "You barely dated before we got together, and from what you told me you never socialized much when you were at the Academy."

"That is true," Data affirmed. "Lt. Alazar overheard Geordi and I discussing my plans for this weekend and suggested this restaurant. Her parents own it."

"You should introduce yourself, let them know she recommended it."

"I will certainly do so after our meal."

Our order was delivered – piles of differently seasoned lentils and root vegetables arranged on a communal plate layered with a sort of sourdough-ish flatbread called injera, and a side of thick, tart yogurt, as well. It might have been June, but the city was chilly at night, and the food was the perfect blend of actual heat and spice-induced heat.

As we ate, Data caught me up on events from the ship. "The Ullian memory retrieval technique seemed to be quite cathartic for those who allowed Tarmin to demonstrate it."

I nodded. "I had a letter from Keiko, telling me about the way he helped her remember her grandmother's brush paintings."

"Are there memories you wish you could retrieve?"

"I have a vague memory of meeting you for the first time, when I was… twelve, I think? I wouldn't mind a better recollection of that…" I trailed off. "How's Counselor Troi doing?"

"She has fully recovered from the coma she was in," Data answered.

"No, I meant…" Again, I let the sentence trail into nothingness.

"You wish to know if she has recovered from being… violated?"

"Yeah." She'd told me what had happened in our last conversation, a couple of days before. I was pretty certain she hadn't meant to blurt it, but I also had an understanding that her colleagues didn't, about what she'd gone through.

"I am afraid I am not privy to that information. She requested leave while the Enterprise is here on Earth, but I do not know where she went."

"It's good she's taking some time," I said. "Time helps." I took a drink of my sparkling water. "Having someone solid to lean on helps more." We reached across the table for each other's hands at the same moment, and I wondered if he was anticipating me, or if the desire for contact was as much his as it was mine. I shuddered. "Being raped… physically, I mean, it's horrible. You know – you saw. I can't begin to imagine what it must be like to have your mind taken away from you like that."

"I do not have to imagine it," Data said, pitching his voice low for privacy. "Several years ago, a man who was, in a sense, my grandfather transferred his essence – his consciousness - into my body and was nearly successful in pushing my own 'self' out."

I turned my hand in his, lacing our fingers together, and squeezing. "Data, that's… I don't even have words."

"You do not need words," he said. "Dr. Graves saw the error of his choice when he caused physical harm to a woman he loved, and fled into the Enterprise's computer, restoring my persona in the process. It is not an experience I would care to repeat."

"I don't blame you." I said. "It must have been frightening for you."

"It was… disconcerting," Data admitted. I wonder if he'd made a conscious decision to discontinue his practice of denying the possibility of emotional responses for my sake, or for another reason, but I didn't ask. I also didn't ask how a human could transfer themselves into an android body. Those questions could wait.

"I believe Commander Riker will be joining the Counselor," Data added, for my benefit, "after I resume my duties on Monday. I believe he would qualify as her 'someone solid.'"

"I thought you only had the weekend because the Enterprise wasn't staying that long."

"Initially that was correct" he said. "However, we will likely be here longer than originally anticipated. There was… an incident with one of the flight teams at the Academy. A cadet was killed."

"I saw that in the news, but it didn't occur to me that the Enterprise would be involved." I took a beat. "Wait… the cadet who died… it wasn't Wes, was it?" I'd been meaning to contact my former classmate since getting back to Earth but hadn't yet.

"It was not," he said. "But he was a member of the flight team in question."

"But he's okay?"

"As far as I am aware, yes."

The server returned then, to clear away the remains of our meal, and Data asked if she would let the owners know that he worked with their daughter.

Both of Lt. Alazar's parents came out from the kitchen, listening first to me gushing about the food – it really had been delicious – and then to Data assuring them that their daughter was a 'competent and well-liked member of the engineering staff.'

They seemed a little in awe of my boyfriend, and I had to hide my giggles behind my napkin. They also tried to comp our meal, but Data insisted that they didn't have to. Coffee -strong coffee with sweetened milk – was brought out, and they joined us at our table, teasing us about being very obviously in love.

Data, again, did not refute their statement, though in that case it was likely for polite reasons, rather than anything stemming from changes to his psyche.

"It must be an exciting experience to be living on a starship, and dating an officer," Tsage said, her dark eyes sparkling with joy. "I hope my daughter will find such love someday."

"I'm afraid I won't be returning to the ship with Data," I told her. "I'm doing a six-month apprenticeship with the Idyllwild Troupe, and even this weekend is sort of an unexpected gift, but I'll be living in the neighborhood and I'll definitely be back."

"Yes," the older woman said. "You must come back next Saturday, when we do the women's coffee ceremony. You will be our daughter for that day," she said. "Since Tewoldi is busy working in the stars."

"I'd be honored," I answered, accepting her invitation. "But you barely even know me."

"Not yet," she smiled, her accent musical even on those two syllables. "But if, as you say, you are living in the neighborhood, I am certain we will come to know you. And when you become a well-known actress, we will be the first to have your autographed picture on our wall."

She was teasing me, a little, but I didn't mind, and even Data had a hint of something like smug satisfaction on his face. I glanced at the wall and saw a mix of famous faces – celebrities and politicians – and allowed myself a second or two to indulge in that dream.

"It will be good for you, to have an adopted family here," Al said. "I'm sure Commander Data will be reassured knowing there are people watching out for you."

We talked with them a while longer, and then left the restaurant, walking back to my apartment at a leisurely pace. "You knew," I accused him, pausing on the sidewalk to kiss him on the cheek. "You knew they'd do that. Exactly how much do you talk about me during the course of an average day?"

"There is no static number, Zoe. When we are waiting for diagnostic results, or in station-keeping on the bridge, we engage in the same kinds of discussions that one is likely to hear in any workplace."

"You complain about spouses and partners, you mean?"

"I do not recall anyone complaining, recently. I was discussing the fact that being in Earth orbit meant being able to see you this weekend and asked for suggestions of activities you might enjoy."

"You lived here for four years…"

"Yes, and as we have established, I did not socialize much."

"Your classmates got the short end of the stick by not accepting you," I said. "Just thinking about it… I get so… " I clenched my fist and swung it through the air.

"Zoe," Data had to call my name twice before I could focus. "Zoe, it was many years ago, and I prefer to focus on the social interactions, the friends I have now, rather than the memory of my Academy experiences."

"I'm sorry," I said. We had arrived at the outer door to my building, and I hesitated before passing my keycard over the scanner. "So, do you reserve the complaining for your poker games, then?"

"I have… sought advice… about our relationship during poker games."

"Advice? Really?"

"I have no complaints about you, Zoe. While it is true that you sometimes perplex me, and that often confused me when our relationship was first forming, there was never any fault to be found. Only explanations to be discovered."

"Oh." I scanned the key and the door popped open. Data caught it and held it, letting me precede him into the building, and then pulling it closed as if he'd lived with such doors all his life. There was an elevator, but it seemed silly to use it for one story, when neither of us were carrying anything, so I headed up the stairs, smiling as his steps fell into synch with mine. "What kind of advice?"

The door on the landing – the door to my actual apartment – required me to slide the keycard rather than scan it before the door would open. Once Data and I stepped inside, I engaged the locks, as he answered. "I initially solicited advice about your discomfort when we relocated our Saturday Sessions to my quarters, and later, I asked for aid in selecting an appropriate birthday gift. More recently, they provided guidance about how to ask my girlfriend to move in with me."

I put my keycard back into my purse, which I hung from the hook near the front door. "I didn't realize the senior officers of Starfleet's flagship were also a relationship brain trust," I teased lightly.

"They are a remarkably talented group of people," he said. "And they think well of you."

"Lt. Worf doesn't like me."

"Worf has a personality that I believe is best described as 'prickly,' but he has been impressed with all of your interactions with his son, and with the way you have handled yourself since… Melona."

"Alexander's a nice kid," I said. "It's not his fault so much has been thrown at him lately. Does Lt. Worf know… about what happened to me? I mean… Geordi didn't."

"I do not believe so," Data said. "Certainly, I did not inform him, and I do not think the counselor did, either."

I nodded. "Okay." Then I smiled. "So, you've seen the living room, and the dining area. The kitchen is through there…" I gestured past the dining nook. "There's a replicator, but I only have a limited number of credits, so there's a tea kettle on the stove and a coffee maker on the counter. Want to see the rest?"

In answer, Data hoisted the bag he'd dropped on the floor earlier. "Please."

We didn't leave the bedroom again until late the next morning.

(=A=)

Stardate 45454.21

(Saturday, 15 June 2368, 5:48 AM, PDT, San Francisco)

I woke up from an amazing dream to the sight of a pinkening dawn sky and the familiar warmth of Data's yellow eyes. "Have you been watching me sleep?"

"I have been watching the way the changing light of dawn illuminates your skin," he answered. I had left the blinds open the night before because I'd wanted to see him in the starlight. "The way the different pastels make you glow is… intriguing."

I chuckled softly and shifted positions so that I could prop my head up with one hand and reach for him with the other. "You look pretty good in morning light, too," I told him, my voice huskier than usual because I was just waking up. I scraped my fingernail very lightly over one of his nipples, and watched it harden to a tiny nub. "Really good, actually."

Data moved slightly, dipping his head to kiss me, darting his tongue between my lips, and teasing my tongue with his.

I shifted more, trying to close the little bit of space between us, chain breathing as we continued to kiss. I trailed my hand down his body and tangled the tips of my fingers in the dark-gold hair between his legs, feeling him press himself into my palm. He was using his free hand to give attention to my breast, but when I moved, he did too, trailing his cool fingers down my side, caressing my backside, and then resting against my thigh for a moment before he nudged his knee between my legs.

"No," I said. "Not this way."

"Zoe?" He froze, and for a fraction of a second, the fear of rejection he denied he could feel was evident on his face. Almost instantly, his features smoothed into their usual configuration, as he realized that I wasn't rejecting him – that I would never do such a thing – but was just altering the dynamic a little.

"The first time we did this, I was afraid I'd have a flashback, and I needed to be in a position where I felt equal to you. I'd like… I'd like to try you being on top. I mean, if it's not too much effort for you to hold your own weight." Two hundred kilograms of android was a lot of mass.

"It is not, but you said you did not wish to be pinned down. I do not wish to cause you distress."

"As long as I can see your face, as long as you'll babble if I need you to, I think I'll be okay. I want… I'm tired of worrying about how we do things. I know I might still have… I could still flash-back. I know I'm asking a lot, but I also know you can find a way for you to be on top without it reminding me of… I mean… a way to make it ours."

Data seemed to gather himself back into himself, as if searching for a way to make the missionary position – the one humanoid sexual position that everyone seemed to default to at one point or another – into something unique to us.

"Lie back," his voice managed to be both soothing and encouraging at once. I rolled onto my back, and he knelt over me, and kissed my lips. "This is already ours," he said. "Everything we experience together is ours."

He repeated the ritual he had created months before in his bed – our bed – on the Enterprise, the night we'd pulled the stud out of my tongue for good. Small soft kisses on each of my breasts, on my abdomen, over my pubic bone. I knew what Data was doing. He was helping me find that bubble where the only things that existed were him and me.

Data didn't stop his ritual this time. Instead, he moved backwards, placing kisses on the insides of each of my thighs. I felt his breath between my legs, felt the hair there move first from just his breathing, and then from his fingers, his long slender fingers - God, I loved his hands - parting and teasing.

"You say I taste of cashews, when we kiss, or when you lick my skin," he said, his voice low and intense. "I would like to know your flavor. May I taste you here, Zoe?"

It crossed my mind to ask him for clarification. I'd had it on good authority he couldn't taste things, after all, but it wasn't the time to ask. His use of my name, his intense tone, his soft kisses, already had me feeling open and trusting. "Yes," I said. "Please, Data."

He kissed me between the legs the same way he had so often kissed my lips. His tongue darted and danced, finding my center and flirting with it, slow, then fast, until he'd brought me almost to the edge of climax. He made me feel like every single one of my nerves was bathed in warmth.

And then he flicked, and I fell apart in the best way possible, shivering and weeping and deliciously out of control.

I was still trembling when he moved back up the bed, stretching himself along-side me. "Are you alright?"

I nodded. Speech eluded me. Finally, I managed. "More. I want more. I want you… all the way." I felt like someone had hijacked the bulk of my vocabulary, and tiny aftershocks of pleasure were still coursing through me, but he nodded.

"I will not pin you. I will stop if you need me to." I wondered if it killed him a little, to have to say it, because it did so for me.

Data had been right about supporting his own weight. His body over mine didn't feel oppressive or frightening. It just felt… comfortable. It felt right.

He entered me with the part of his body that was absolutely not his tongue. Somehow, this position was more intimate than others we'd tried. Maybe because I was more vulnerable. Maybe because there was some vestigial, primal memory connected with it.

"If you bend your knees," he said, "you will be able to participate, and it will be more pleasurable for us both.

For the briefest second, I was back on Lore's ship, and he was forcing my knees back. I closed my eyes against the oncoming flashback, but Data called my name, and I opened them again, and found his eyes, his face, his dear, gentle face. I stretched up to kiss him, tasting a hint of something - me – on his lips. It wasn't gross, but it wasn't my thing, either. "I'm fine," I said. I lifted my knees, and found that he was right, the angle was better, and I could… help.

Data moved inside me; I moved against him. His lips were parted, the way I'd so often seen them when something surprised him, and I felt as though I was cradling his body within mine.

When I found release that time, I felt his own completion barely a second later.

Of my own accord, my hands had been stroking his back, but I lifted one, to ruffle his hair and then smooth it back into place.

"You are alright?" he asked, varying the question slightly, as if he were just making sure instead of really asking.

"I'm fine," I smiled. "I'm a little tired, but I'm fine."

"It is still very early. If you wish to sleep longer, I do not mind."

I laughed softly, feeling myself blushing, "I didn't mean that kind of tired," I wriggled closer to him, "although I am very comfortable."

"You should sleep, Zoe," he said.

"Mmm. Maybe. Are we playing tourist again today?"

"Is that what you wish to do?"

"Honestly?"

"Always."

"I'd like to know if there's something you want to do. You lived here for four years as a cadet. You've been back for more than one leadership seminar or science conference. You must have left the Academy grounds at some point. Wasn't there any place that was special to you?"

"There was one place," he said, "where I would often spend time when I was overwhelmed by growth in my positronic net. I believe you would appreciate it," he said. "If you would like to go."

"Are you going to tell me what it is?"

His lips curved into the tiniest of smiles. "I believe I will surprise you."

"Mmm. I like your surprises."

"I am gratified to hear that, but I believe you will enjoy this one more if you are better rested."

"You just want to watch me sleep some more," I accused. "Are you memorizing my sleep habits for when you miss me?" I used a tone of voice that made it obvious that I was teasing.

"Perhaps," he responded, also teasing a little.

"Lie flat," I suggested. "And move your arm." He complied, and I made myself comfortable, laying my head in the crook of his arm, and resting my arm across his body. "If I'm not up by nine-thirty, wake me."

Data kissed the top of my head. "I will do so."

I closed my eyes and let myself relax into the subtle thrum of his internal systems.

(=A=)

"The San Francisco Museum of Modern Art?" I asked Data as we arrived at our destination. The most recent incarnation of the museum featured a lot of bottle-green glass and exposed titanium sub-structures. "This is the place you're most drawn to?" I don't know why I was surprised. I knew he painted, after all. It just seemed incongruous, somehow, with the science-minded man I knew.

"Specifically, the wing devoted to non-representational pieces" he clarified. "Shall we?"

"Lead on, lover-mine," I encouraged, grinning when his eyes widened in response to my snark-laced endearment.

"As you wish," he said, and directed me up the stairs into the building, and toward the entry for members.

"You're a member of the museum?" I couldn't help but goggle at him. "Seriously? I mean, I know you paint, but you're not back here that often."

"I have been a member for many years," he confirmed, registering me as his guest for the day, and then leading me further into the brightly lit space. Our voices should have echoed, but someone had apparently found a way to make acoustic dampeners invisible, because there was no echo, despite the size of the main lobby.

We browsed the visiting exhibits first – including a display of contemporary Nausicaan sculpture, which fascinated me with its sharp angles and spiky protrusions. "It looks just like the way you'd expect their art to look," I observed.

"Indeed," Data agreed.

Eventually, he steered me toward the wing he had mentioned earlier – the 'non-representational' art that formed the permanent collection. We looked at pieces by Klee and Kandinsky, but it was at the very end of that gallery, at a solitary bench placed in front of a canvas sporting black lines forming squares and rectangles, with occasional pops of primary colors.

It was complex, but seemed simple, and was both artistic and architectural. I could see how an android would find it appealing. I looked at the identifying tag and read it out loud. "Piet Mondrian, Composition C, 1920." I sat down on the bench, and Data joined me. "It kind of reminds me of a simplified version of the inside of your head," I said.

"I had not considered that. I am simply…" He trailed off, lacking the ability to expression

"Connected to it?"

"Yes."

"The print you had in your quarters… that's one of his, also, isn't it?"

"In our quarters," he corrected. "It is a print of Tableau I."

I scooted closer to him, sliding my arm around his waist and leaning my head on his shoulder. "Did you take it down because it reminded you of Lal?" I don't know what made me ask that; it just seemed logical.

"In a sense," he said.

"You should put it back up. You should put her picture back up, too. Maybe not the wall-sized one, but… the holo-pic, at least."

"Zoe…?"

"She's part of your life, Data. Part of you."

His arm came around me and squeezed lightly. "I will do as you ask."

I smiled. "Good."

(=A=)

Stardate 45458.07

(Saturday, 16 June 2368, 3:44 PM PDT, San Francisco, Earth)

"It's good to be home," I said, kicking off my shoes and sprawling on my back, on the bed. "Would you open the window a little please? It's stuffy in here."

Data crossed the room and pressed the button to slide the window open. Then he sat down on the bed next to me. "Zoe…" he began. "I am afraid it is time for me to return to the Enterprise."

He'd been asked to return a few hours early to investigate the truth behind the accident with the cadet flight squad Wes was in. They'd held it until after the commencement exercises out of courtesy to the graduating class.

Graduation had been more subdued than I'd expected. I hadn't expected to go, but when Data said he was going, I'd reluctantly agreed. Captain Picard's speech had actually pretty good, and while the lunch and mixer afterwards were a bit understated, and moods were understandably somber, it had been interesting meeting some of the instructors who had been at the august institution that was Starfleet Academy, many of whom had been teaching there for decades.

I'd been a little nervous, actually, being there is 'Commander Data's girlfriend,' but no one seemed to even notice my age or care about my civilian status, and the one person who did realize how painfully young I was turned out to be one of the few instructors who had not only lobbied for Data's admission, but had recommended he be commissioned, and remained something of a champion for him over the years.

Commander McInerny had smiled at me, shaken my hand, and said, "Call me Rose," before asking about my plans for the future. Before leaving us to mingle with others, she'd given me a head-to-toe appraisal and announced, albeit only loudly enough for Data and me to hear, "It makes sense for someone who's functionally immortal and young-ish in the ways of humanity to gravitate toward someone a bit young. I'm glad Data's found someone who appreciates him. Be happy, you two."

But that had been hours before. Late afternoon had come, the party had ended, the investigation and tribunal had begun, and Data's skills were required.

I sat up and swung my legs over the side of the bed, so I was sitting next to him. "Right this minute?"

"As soon as I am packed and ready. I am sorry I cannot stay."

I shook my head. "I knew we only had the weekend. I'm glad I got to see you at all, and having you here helped make this place feel more like home."

"Thank you for saying so." Data got up, and moved to the bathroom, shedding the dress uniform he'd worn to the graduation, and replacing it with his standard duty attire. Then he began putting the few things he'd brought into his weekender. "I will be back as soon as I am able."

"I know." I slid off the bed and moved to stand in front of him.

"I will try to beam down before the ship breaks orbit, but I cannot prom – "

I silenced him with a kiss, followed by the repeated words, "I know."

He picked up his bag with one hand and put his other arm around my waist. We walked to the front door that way and shared one more kiss.

"Zoe," he began, holding me at arms' length, staring into my eyes. "I – "

"I know," I said yet again. "I love you."

"Etudes," he said, pulling me close again and kissing the top of my head. I got the sense he was reminding us both. "Etudes."

(=A=)

Stardate 45461.03

(Monday, 17 June 2368, 5:44 PM PDT)

From: Lt. Commander Data, U.S.S. Enterprise

To: Zoe L. Harris, Corsican Flats, Unit 2-A.

My Zoe,

I had hoped to find you home and ask about your first official day with the Idyllwild Troupe, but my presence is required on the bridge.

Our conversation at the museum prompted me to arrange the delivery of a few items: the print is a copy of the same Tableau I that hangs in our home here on the ship, and the other pictures are of us – to remind you that we will be together soon.

I am devoted to you.

Yours,

Data

(=A=)

Stardate 45462.44

(Tuesday, 18 June 2368, 6:05 AM PDT)

The comm system wouldn't normally have woken me, but I'd purchased a personal communication device after my first day at the rehearsal studio the night before and routed all of my calls to it – just in case.

When it began buzzing at me in the pre-light of dawn, I cursed into my bedroom, but I answered it anyway.

"Zoe, I apologize for waking you… you are in bed."

Annoyance faded at the sight of Data's face on the tiny screen. "Lach recommended we all get personal communicators. They use less power and take less space than padds and make it easier for important calls to come through."

"Ah."

"You know there's no one more important than you," I teased. "Mom comes in second… maybe even third."

"Thank you, Zoe."

Something in his voice told me this wasn't a dinner invitation. "The ship is leaving?"

"This afternoon, yes. This is the only time I could guarantee speaking to you 'in person.'"

"So, you found the information you needed. Is Wes… are they expelling him."

"I do not know what result our data will cause. I would suggest that you consider calling him in a day or so. I believe he may need a friend."

"I'll do that," I said. I took a breath, then forced a smile. "I love the pictures. And the print. Thank you. It was a lovely surprise."

"I cannot explain it," he said, "but I find that the notion of both of us viewing the same painting is… reassuring."

"The 'notion,' huh?" I teased. "I'm corrupting your vocabulary, sir."

"Perhaps," he agreed.

We were both quiet for a long moment, but I broke first, "Do you have a few more minutes? You have to hear how my first day went."

"Please," he answered, his features brightening just a little. "Tell me."

I settled myself against my pile of pillows, and began to talk, filling about half an hour with a detailed description of meeting everyone else in the troupe, scheduling coaching sessions with the one of the voice teachers contracted to the company… getting the scripts for the three plays we'd be doing. "One's a musical," I explained. "I'd forgotten how much work – and how much fun – musicals are."

When we ended the call, I was wistful, but when I went into the bathroom to start my morning, I noticed that he'd left a brush, and a travel set of his preferred bath products, and - to my utter delight – a container of pomade.

Somehow, knowing that these bits of him were in my bathroom did as much as the pictures he'd sent to reassure me.

I could do this, after all.

Notes: First, this chapter takes place after "Violations," which is referenced in Zoe's question about Troi, but it takes place during "The First Duty," which I've moved because otherwise it doesn't fit into the calendar in a place that makes sense for a college graduation. This is one of those times that TNG's utter refusal to write arcs works in my favor. Data's conversation about his grandfather is a reference to "The Schizoid Man."

Nonna and Nonno are traditional Italian names for Grandma and Grandpa. Both Zoe's mother (Emily Morelli Harris) and her stepmother (Gia Viglione Harris) are from Italian families, but their similarities end there. Papa can be father, but is sometimes used for grandfather, as well. Amichetto is one of the many words for 'boyfriend.' Capisce means 'understand.' It's used, colloquially, without any modifiers, much like the Spanish comprendo?

Data and Zoe share a meal that wasn't explicitly Ethiopian, but was similar to it, in chapter 43 ("Wallowing") of Crush.

Mondrian's Tableau I is the painting Data shows Lal in "The Offspring." It's seen in his quarters on and off throughout the show, typically on an easel. SFMOMA doesn't have any Mondrian in its current permanent collection, but 350 years from now? Who knows?

Revised: 25 August 2019