Disclaimer: Paramount/CBS owns the canon stuff, and I own the rest. No androids were harmed in the writing of this chapter. Really.

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. Second, much of this chapter is letters again – unless otherwise noted, all are video recordings. Finally, even though Zoe is no longer on Earth, Terran-equivalent (or near-equivalent) dates have been provided, for ease of time-tracking)

UNACCOMPANIED

A Suite for Actress and Android

VII. Gigue

The gigue or giga is a lively baroque dance originating from the British jig. It was imported into France in the mid-17th century and usually appears at the end of a suite.

Stardate 45856.32

(Saturday, 9 November 2368, 9:57 AM, local time, Risa)

From: Zoe L. Harris, Idyllwild Theatre Co.

To: Lt. Cmdr. Data, U.S.S. Enterprise

Dear Data,

I wish I could tell you that it's taken me until this morning to answer your last letter because I've been savoring your words, or because I've been intentionally increasing the time between messages so that I don't feel quite so dependent on you, but the truth is… our schedule here is a bit different than we're used to, and we're all adjusting.

I mean, I know I've been sending brief notes – safe, well, working – but I also know that even you anticipate more, and you deserve more.

Please forgive me?

Anyway… adjusting… Instead of performing Thursday through Sunday afternoon, we're following a more traditional, more "Broadway" kind of schedule. We have evening performances Tuesday through Saturday, and matinees on Wednesday, Saturday, and Sunday - eight shows a week – and even though not all of us are in every performance, it's just enough more work that we're all tired and off-kilter.

But being on the beach – I mean – look at this view!

[Zoe turns the camera to face out the window of her hotel room, and it shows that her room faces a lagoon.]

Data, I love our quarters, but I fear I'm being spoiled by bathtubs and beach-front rooms. For the record, the Risan people – I never knew there were native Risans – I thought it was just a terra-formed pleasure planet! – are incredibly passionate about art and the people who create it, and so we all have these amazing rooms because it's their way of thanking us for sharing our art.

[She turns the camera back to its usual position.]

Mom and Ed were supposed to be coming in yesterday, but now they're coming in this Thursday, and we're having coffee on Friday afternoon, and dinner after the Sunday matinee. We're doing Songs… on Friday, the night they come to the show, so at least they'll get to see my best role in this tour. At least, I think it's my best, which is ironic actually, because I'm really not a singer.

Do you want to hear something weird? I'm nervous about seeing them, and I don't know why. I feel like I've changed – matured – so much in these past months, and as soon as I'm back in the same space with my mother I'll somehow revert into childhood again.

Well, it is what it is.

[She sighs, then takes a beat before changing the subject.]

You'd asked me about imaginary friends. And the truth is, Data, yes, I had one when I was little. He was a mer-boy, tan and human-looking from the waist up, gold scales darkening to amber and orange and red and ending in a fish-tail, below, and he kept me sane on all the trips with my father, checking into yet another hotel, where most of the time he would be partying all night, and maybe remember to check on me. And I'd go find the pool, usually with a frustrated au pair in tow, and swim with Alak (that was his name) until my lips were blue and my skin was prune-y.

I'm suddenly very glad you can't laugh at me.

No, that's not accurate.

I'm never glad about that.

But, I am glad that you asked me. And I'm glad I'm on the home stretch of this gig. I meant what I said; if I could go back and choose again, I'd still take the job, but I'm ready to be home for a while.

One more thing, I know you probably can't even answer this, but I heard Lach and the captain of the Bernhardt, and they were talking about a warning to all private and commercial spacecraft about a Borg scout ship being seen in this sector, and all space traffic being held at origin.

I think that's why Mom and Ed are late.

I should go. Wish me luck with the parental units.

I love you,

Zoe.

(=A=)

Stardate 45865.00

(Tuesday, 12 November 2368, 2:11 PM, local time, Risa)

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

To: Zoe L. Harris, Idyllwild Theatre Company

Dearest Zoe,

Please do not apologize for being busy. With the exception of the seventeen-point-three-seven days that the Enterprise spent caught in a temporal causality, we have been remarkably fortunate about the steady rate of correspondence we have managed to keep up. I believe we both knew that it 'would not last.'

You are correct that I cannot give you a direct answer to your query, though I can confirm that there was a departure-stop placed on all commercial, private, and non-essential spacecraft. The captain of the Bernhardt is Daria Roth. She and I were classmates at the Academy and later served together on the Trieste. Given that information, you may safely assume that what you overheard was accurate. If you have the opportunity, you should make yourself known to her; I believe the two of you would 'hit it off.'

Please do not worry. Your parents' ship is likely to arrive unscathed.

I am not surprised that your imaginary friend was a mythical sea-being. When you are home, I hope you will share with me some of your adventures with Alak the mer-boy.

For now, I must keep this letter short, as I am involved in a delicate project for Captain Picard.

Yours,

Data

(=A=)

Stardate 45873.08

(Friday, 15 November 2368, 1:11 PM, local time, Risa)

"Mom!" The patio café in the Paradise Lagoon Hotel on Risa was busy enough with the lunch rush that calling out to my mother was the only way I could guarantee she would find me. I saw her turn toward the sound of my voice, and nudge the man next to her, and I called out again. "Mom! Ed! Over here!"

My mother and step-father picked their way through the chairs and tables, edged their way past the pool, and joined me in the shade of a blue and green umbrella. I stood up to exchange hugs with both of them. Ed's embrace was warm and robust, like the man himself. Mom did that thing all mothers do, patting me on the back.

"It's good to see you, Zoificus," she said as we took our seats. A server, dressed in a bikini top and a pareo, came to take our orders, leaving a pot of coffee and cream as she did so. I didn't wait to pour a cup for each of us. "You look good. Tired, but good."

"I am tired. I was home for a couple of days at the end of October, and Data was kind enough to let me sleep through a lot of it, but… we've been going nonstop, and even though I love what I'm doing, I'm glad we're here for a couple weeks, and then we just have one stop left before we're done. Worrying over why you two were late arriving here didn't help any," I added, in mock admonishment. "Especially after I heard all traffic in the sector was being held on a departure-stop. And why."

"Data told you?"

I shook my head. "Not exactly. I heard Lach and our captain talking about it over breakfast, and Data confirmed when I asked. In a roundabout kind of way."

A look passed over my mother's face, and I remembered that like my boyfriend, she had been at the Battle of Wolf 359 almost two years before, and that she had been injured as well. It wasn't that I actively tried to forget such things, but that so much had happened since then.

"It's highly unlikely one scout ship will affect anything here on Risa," my mother said.

"Yeah, Data said that, too." I paused, swirling the coffee and cream in my cup, and then drinking some before I continued. "I'm sorry, Mom. I didn't mean to bring up a bad memory."

My mother shook her head. "It's fine, Zoe… it's just… things have changed so much since then."

Ed reached over and covered my mother's hand – her left – with his own. "Most of those changes have been for the good, though, Em."

"Oh, definitely," Mom agreed, turning slightly to meet her husband's eyes.

I couldn't help but smile. "I love that you two are so happy."

Our food was delivered, and we kept the conversation light while we ate. Mom and Ed shared some of their honeymoon stories, and I told them some of the backstage stories from Idyllwild, but as the amount of food on our plates diminished, the conversation became a little bit more serious.

"Mom, I need to talk to you about school," I said, just as my mother began a topic of her own.

"Kiddo, I have a job offer I want to talk to you about."

We met each other's eyes, and passed matching grins back and forth. Ed was splitting his attention between us, like a spectator at a tennis match.

"You first," we said at the same time.

"No, you," we both responded.

By that time, all of us were laughing. "Why don't we let Zoe go first," Ed suggested, during a lull.

"Go for it, daughter-of-mine," my mother affirmed.

I took a swig of my just-refreshed coffee. "You know I've applied to Yale, early decision – don't worry; I have backup schools as well – and I should have their official response by the time tour is over in a month, and I'm excited about that, really, but I'd be lying if I said I was excited about going back to regular classes in January. Data and I talked about it some while I was on the ship last month, just casually, and I also spoke to Ms. Phelps, who suggested I might do some kind of internship, and then Captain Picard invited me – well, Data and me – to tea, and an opportunity sort of fell in my lap."

I outlined the pilot program Captain Louvois had detailed to me, and explained that I'd grown beyond normal high school, and felt like I would be regressing if I had to sit in classes.

"Mom, I'm already emancipated, and even if I wasn't, I'm turning eighteen a week after the semester begins. I don't need your permission, but I'd really like your approval."

I noticed that my mother's eyes were misty when I finished talking. "Oh, Zoificus," she said, using her nickname for me for the second time in the same conversation. "How could I not approve something like that? I think it's exactly what you need."

I peered at her over the rims of both our cups. "That was too easy," I declared. "You're about to throw something really tough at me."

Mom set down her cup and glanced at Ed, who covered her hand again. "I told you she'd figure it out," she said to my stepfather.

"And I didn't argue the point," he reminded her. "Zoe, your mother-"

"No, let me," Mom interrupted him. "Zo' darling, I've been offered a teaching position at Starfleet Academy. You know my plan was always to stay on the Enterprise until you finished high school, and I'd been speaking with the chair of the social sciences department about transferring there next fall, but one of the current instructors is pregnant, and going on maternity leave, and they need someone for the new semester."

"Did you already tell them you'd do it?"

"No, I wanted to discuss it with you first."

"As well, I'm still supposed to teach on the Enterprise through May," Ed put in. "So, I'd have to help Ms. Phelps find a replacement."

I acknowledged Ed's statement with a nod, but turned back to my mother. "But you want to," I said.

"I do, Zoe. I really do."

"So, why not just take it; why ask me?"

"Because I brought you to the ship as much because you were out of control on Centaurus, as because I wanted to fix us – fix our relationship." My mother's tone was level, serious, but not without warmth. "I feel like to leave now, before you're done with high school, would be unfair to you. I know you've moved in with Data, but I can't help wondering if I don't owe you a sort of… safety net."

"You think I need a refuge in case Data and I break up?" I asked. I wasn't insulted, though the very notion of a break-up was preposterous. I was moved. "Mom, that's not going to happen."

"You don't know that."

I thought about all the conversations I'd had with Data over the summer, and since, and I smiled as much to myself as for her. "Yeah, actually, I do," I said softly. "Anyway, Mom, Data said I'm no longer listed as your dependent on the Enterprise roster, and if something were to happen, I have people who will give me support. If you feel you should stay on the ship through May, then you should, but please don't give up an opportunity you really want because of me."

My mother freed her hands from Ed's and reached across the table to clasp mine. "Thank you, Zoe, for being so mature about it."

I squeezed my mother's hands, noticing how similar mine were to hers, and then I grinned and tossed off a nonchalant comment. "Oh, haven't you heard? I'm oozing maturity these days."

We finished the meal, which I put on my hotel tab, and parted ways not soon after that.

(=A=)

On Sunday, Mom and Ed didn't join the cast for Chinese food, the way Data had when he'd visited me on Hunter's Moon, but I made sure they met Lachlan and Oberlyne, at least. The burly Scotsman clapped Ed on the back. "So ye teach literature, d'ye? How come the lassling here has nearly no knowledge of Robert Burns, then? I'd take a look at yer curriculum, if I were you."

Ed burst out laughing, realizing that he was being twitted. "I'll take that under advisement."

He'd turned to my mother next. "The lassling is a credit to ye, Commander Benoit," he said, and kissed her hand.

It was the first time I'd heard my mother being addressed by her new name, and I turned my face so that she wouldn't see my reaction.

After we had dinner together, Ed went back to their room to pack, and Mom and I went back to my room to have some more mother-daughter time.

"You were amazing tonight, kiddo," my mother said for the third or fourth time that day.

I smiled as I kicked off my shoes. "I'm glad you think so. I've had fun with the music. Jesse Caldwell would probably scream at some of the things I've done to my voice, though."

"Probably," my mother agreed. "Will you be working with her when you're back on the ship?"

"I think so? I know I need to start arranging things, but I feel like I need to keep my focus here right now. I'll have almost a month before my program starts, anyway." I grinned at her. "I'm sure I won't sleep away more than half of it."

"That must be odd for Data… you having to sleep during a good portion of your time together."

"I don't know if he considers it odd, so much as just… it's normal for me. He stays awake for 'a good portion' of our time together. It goes both ways."

"I suppose it does." She collapsed onto my bed, kicking off her own shoes. "I feel like I should be asking more questions, making sure you're really ready for living with a man – any man."

I laughed softly, and sprawled next to her. "I think you're a little late, Mom. But seriously, it's good. I mean, there's going to be some adjustments – like I keep telling him he doesn't have to stay in bed with me all night." Her face colored slightly, and her eyes darted away from mine. "I'm sorry, Mom. I didn't mean to embarrass you."

"It's a very odd thing," my mother explained after a bit, "a very odd feeling, to be talking about love and sex with the daughter you remember giving birth to, and teaching to walk and talk, and reading to sleep at night."

I smiled softly. "You used to do all the voices." I remembered telling Data about that once. "And I got impatient and wanted to know what was next in the story, and then you stopped reading to me. And now I'm on stage, acting the stories."

"Do you love it? You said you did, but… do you really love it?"

"Yeah, Mom. I do. I really do. I mean, I'm always going to have music in my life. There are times that I feel like I think in music. But I love this as much, or more, and I'm excited about this internship-thing, and trying not to get excited about Yale until I hear for sure."

"I'm sure you have nothing to worry about."

"Everyone keeps saying that. Even Data says I'm a shoe-in."

Mom laughed. "Did he use that phrase?"

"Oh, yes. Audible quotation marks and all."

We both laughed at that, our voices mixing. I wondered why I'd never noticed how similar our voices were, I mean, hers was still a warm alto to my perky mezzo-soprano, but… a lot of our patterns were the same. I missed it, I realized, being with my mother, and I was suddenly aware how much I'd miss, being without her. Softly, after our laughter had ebbed into a comfortable silence, I asked, "Would you really stay on the Enterprise until May, just because I might need you?"

"I really would," my mother answered. Then she reached across the space between us to brush my hair back behind my ears with gentle fingers. "I'm so proud of you, Zoe. You've grown into an accomplished, talented, beautiful young woman."

I could feel myself blushing. "It's kind of miraculous, really. I was such a brat when you brought me to the Enterprise."

"Yes, you were."

"You weren't supposed to agree!"

"Oh, Zoificus, you know I love you like no one else."

I smiled. "I know. And… for the record… I never hated being there as much as I might have said I did."

"And now you're calling it home, and in a committed relationship, not just with an officer, but a line officer, at that."

"Yeah, I've pretty much resigned myself to being irony's pin-up girl."

"Pin-up?" my mother arched a brow.

"Well, poster-child sends the wrong message. And isn't that the conceit we're playing with here? The young starlet and the dashing officer?" I was teasing her, and she knew it.

Our mutual laughter lapsed into silence again, until we were interrupted by the comm-system chiming. It was Ed, reminding my mother that they had an early morning departure.

We both got to our feet, Mom slid her feet back into her shoes, and I walked with her to the door. "Be safe, kiddo," she said. "I'll see you in a month."

"I love you, Mom. I'm glad you included me in your honeymoon trip."

She pulled me into a tight embrace, ruffled my hair, and left.

I stared at the closed door for several seconds. Then I went to get ready for bed.

(=A=)

Stardate 45882.34

(Monday, 18 November 2368, 10:30 PM local time, Risa)

The comm-signal chimed right on time, not even thirty seconds after I'd finished my bath and wrapped myself in the luxurious bathrobe provided by the hotel. Part of me wanted to steal it – it was that plush – but I had a bathrobe, just as soft, waiting for me in the bathroom at home on the Enterprise.

"Hey handsome," I greeted after the hotel logo resolved first into the Starfleet logo, and then into the specific insignia for the ship where my boyfriend was waiting for me, and finally into the pale gold face I loved so well. "It feels like forever since we've had a proper call. Have Mom and Ed made it back yet? Are you okay? Do you know how much speculating I end up doing when you're all cryptic about your work?"

Data didn't laugh at me, but I'm pretty sure he would have if he could have. As it was, there was a slight widening of his eyes and a subtle quirk at the edges of his mouth that told me he was finding my barrage of questions familiar, not only because it came from me, but because he often exhibited the same tendency.

"It has not been 'forever,' Zoe," he began, his tone affectionate and chiding at once. "However, I agree that it has been 'too long' since we have had a real-time conversation. To answer your other questions, Commander and Professor Benoit's shuttle is not due to rendezvous with the ship until late tomorrow afternoon, but we have made contact, and they are 'fine.' I am also functioning adequately; though missing you has caused my efficiency to decrease by one-point-one-three-seven percent. As to any speculation I may have caused, while the limits of your vivid imagination are not calculable, I can surmise that any number of scenarios occurred to you. The alternative to being cryptic would be to 'blow you off,' and I believe that would have been a lower-percentage choice."

I had to grin at his rapid-response answers, but I also had to ask, "If you could tell me what you were working on, would you?"

"Of course, Zoe. Always."

"Okay. So, since you can't talk about your work, let me tell you about mine. Today, we went to a local elementary school, and did basic acting workshops with the kids. We talked about The Tempest, and how Shakespeare often used magical characters to goad and to guide the other characters, and we did some improvisation with them, where we would give them an idea and they'd do a scene, and then they'd give us an idea and we'd improvise it for them. Data, I have no desire to ever be a teacher for a living, but it was so much fun."

"It sounds as though both you and the children had a rewarding and enriching experience."

"Yes! So, Wednesday, for our last matinee before we leave Risa, all the kids and their parents are coming to see The Tempest." I paused a moment, and let my face soften. "I think you should know, though, that you have someone competing for my hand. An eight-year-old named Tobin asked me to marry him today."

Data's eyebrows lifted and fell very quickly, and when he spoke his tone was grave, but I knew he was teasing me. "What did you tell him?"

"I told him that it was kind of him to offer, but since I was leaving in two days, it might be wiser if he set his sights on a girl who lived on Risa. He saw the wisdom of my suggestion."

"Ah, then he is a bright young man."

"Very much so. He wants to make holodeck games about giant monsters when he grows up, and he made sure to show me his art folder, so I could be properly impressed. I was actually more impressed with his teacher."

"Oh?"

"Sarah Finch. Really lovely woman, about five years older than I am. She's actually applied to be a primary school teacher on a starship."

"If you are asking me to 'pull strings,'" Data began, but I cut him off.

"I'm not. I wouldn't. But we went to dinner tonight and I told her what it was really like being a student on a ship. I think she'd do really well, actually. Not that I was ever in the ship's primary school. If nothing else, I'm pretty sure we'll stay in touch."

"You do seem to have a talent for acquiring friends," my partner observed. "I believe that will serve you well in your internship."

"I hope so." I took a beat. "So, I told my mother about that, and you were right, she's totally on board with it. Although, she might not be on board – literally – after the holidays."

"I do not understand."

I opened my mouth to tell him about my mother's offer from the Academy, but something occurred to me before I began to speak. "Data… can you listen to what I'm telling you as my boyfriend, as family, and not as second officer of the ship?"

"You wish this to be unofficial?"

"Something like that. As far as I know it's just an offer, and I don't want it to affect anything, but it affects us – well, me – and I need your input."

"Will you wait one moment?" I nodded, and he stepped away from his console. When he returned a minute or so later, he was no longer wearing his uniform jacket, only the tight, black t-shirt that went underneath it. I hadn't just looked at him wearing that in a long time, and I felt my breath catch in in my throat. "Zoe…?"

"Sorry," I said. Was I blushing? I didn't think I was blushing. "Data, you know when I called you handsome earlier, I wasn't just teasing, right? I mean, you know…"

"I know," he said softly. "As I believe you know that I find you to be beautiful. However, you were going to tell me something about Emily."

"Right." I explained about her offer to teach at the Academy, and how she'd basically implied it was up to me. "I told her not to base her decision on that, but… she's my mother. She can't… not."

"Do you believe you require the 'safety net' she spoke of?" Data asked.

"I don't know. We've had barely a week, plus a two-day visit, of sharing quarters on the ship. We've had a month together, plus the odd visits, in my apartment on Earth, but that's a lot different than sustaining our living arrangements. I want to believe I'm ready. I know I don't want to live with Mom and Ed. But sometimes, I feel like everything with us is so big and intense."

"Zoe, if you are reconsidering our cohabitation, I will understand. It is a 'big step,' for both of us."

"Do you ever? Reconsider?"

"I have had ample time to do so, during these past months. I have discussed our relationship with Counselor Troi, as you know, and I have learned much from the time we spent together in San Francisco. I would not have suggested that you move in if I had not believed it was the correct choice for us. I still believe it to be the correct choice."

Data's words were all the reassurance I needed. "All this time," I told him, "I've been thinking about waking up every day in our bed, and coming home to you – and being home for you when you return from an away mission. As I said, sometimes everything feels intense and huge, and sometimes I get a little nervous, but no, I'm not reconsidering. Actually, I'm looking forward to my first Christmas on the ship – my first Christmas with you."

"You will not be spending the holidays on Centaurus?"

I shook my head. "I hadn't planned to. I mean, I easily could. We're heading there as soon as we're done performing on Wednesday, but… I want to be home, and home is where you are."

I could see that my words had touched him, but what Data said was, "I believe that you know what you will tell your mother."

I grinned at him. "I believe you're right. As usual." I wrinkled my nose on the last two words, but I'm sure he realized I was kidding. I waited a beat, and then said, "I should probably get ready for bed. Talk soon?"

"As soon as we are able. Goodnight, Zoe." Data put his hand against the camera in his console, and I matched it with mine. "I am devoted to you."

"G'night, Data. I love you."

(=A=)

Stardate 45896.45

(Sunday, 24 November 2368, 02:27 hours, ship's time)

Aboard the FRS Bernhardt, en route from Risa to Centaurus

The Idyllwild Theatre Company owned two warp-capable starships. One was the Olivier, but it was currently docked at Jupiter Station, undergoing repairs. The other was the Bernhardt, which had been my home-away-from-home since my mother's wedding. She wasn't a bad ship, really – every member of the company had their own room, with a sink/head/shower unit, but the replicators were basic units, and only existed in the common areas, one for passengers, one for crew. Similarly, there was a basic comm-center for unofficial use, but except for a few short messages – the digital equivalent of postcards, really – I resisted using the thing.

As for the crew, we ran into them at meals from time to time – the common areas weren't that far apart – and of course we'd all been introduced to each other on the first day aboard, but it wasn't like the Enterprise, where officers, crew, civilian consultants and scientists, and students mixed relatively freely.

It came a surprise to me, then, when someone banged on my cabin door sometime after two on Sunday morning. "Ms. Harris, are you awake."

I was, but only because I'd saved Data's last letter to my personal communicator, and I was playing it for the sixth or seventh time. "I'll be right there," I called. I set the comm-unit aside and pulled a bra, a pair of sweatpants and slippers on underneath the Starfleet Academy Athletics t-shirt I was already wearing. It was Data's of course. Someday, I'd have him explain why he'd kept a never-worn shirt. P.E. had been the one set of requirements the Academy had allowed him to skip. In the meantime, I was glad I had something of his that I could wear in public

I pressed the button to activate my door, and found myself face-to-face with an eager-faced young (not much older than me, if that) yeoman. "Ma'am, you have a subspace call from the U.S.S. Enterprise, and Captain Roth has requested that I escort you to the bridge to take it there."

"Thank you." I said. "Um, forgive me, but how do I address you. I know you're a yeoman, but…"

"I'm Matt," came his answer. "We're pretty informal here. Captain Roth is 'Captain' until she tells you otherwise, and our Chief Mate, Madison Sinclair, is 'Chief' to almost everyone, but most of us just use our names."

"Thank you. I've lived on a starship for most of the last three years. I finally got used to that hierarchy when I started dating… you don't really want to know this, do you?" I was following him down the corridor of the residential deck and toward the forward turbo-lift.

But Matt was amiable enough. "I don't mind. But begging your pardon, Ms. Harris – "

"Zoe," I corrected.

"Zoe, then. We all know who you are."

I blushed. "I guess the tabloids get around."

"There's that, but…" he stepped into the 'lift and I followed.

"But what?"

"We had a message from someone on the Enterprise asking that we look out for you," Matt admitted, somewhat sheepishly. "The gentleman who sent it… I guess he and the captain go way back, because she didn't even grumble. Just smiled the way older people do when they're remembering lost youth."

"Why Matt, are you a bit of a poet?" his observation had been too on point, and I couldn't help but tease him a little.

"I write a little. Not poetry so much. Short stories."

"Are you published?"

"In a couple of journals."

"I'd love to read some of your work, if you don't mind."

"I'll bring you a data solid at breakfast."

"Thank you."

The turbo-lift stopped, the doors opened, and Yeoman Matt ushered me onto a bridge that was as efficient as it was small. "Here's Ms. Har – Zoe, Captain."

A woman with hair that was half-way between blonde and white rose from the command chair, and climbed up the three stairs to the mezzanine level of the bridge. "Welcome to my bridge," she greeted in a voice that was raspy but managed to convey good humor. Her blue eyes twinkled merrily. "Ol' Sarah is a basic ship, but she's sturdy. I'm Captain Roth, but you can call me Dotty." She made it into a challenge.

"It's good to meet you, Dotty," I said, extending my hand, which she met in a firm, quick shake.

The older woman laughed. "Good show! Right, you've got a call waiting. My office is just through there, the system's engaged already, and take as long as you need."

"Thank you," I said, and moved toward the door she'd indicated. I wound up in a space that was less than half the size of Captain Picard's ready room, but was cheerfully cluttered and quite cozy. I took the seat behind Dotty's desk, and took the call off-hold. "Data?" I could tell, without him speaking a word, that something was off. "What's wrong?"

"I am sorry to call you so late," he began, uncharacteristically tentative. "I assumed you would wish to know."

"Know what? Data? It's not… it's not my mother?"

"No, Zoe." His eyes had been downcast, but he raised his chin slightly, and I saw how wide open they were. "Your mother is well. It is… it is Geordi. He is dead."

I squeezed my own eyes shut in a combination of relief and sudden sadness. "Oh, Data. I'm so sorry, love." I'd never called him that before, but there was no better endearment for him. "When's the funeral? Should I try to come home?" The last, of course, was not likely to be possible. We were in the middle of the space lanes, nowhere near a starbase, and the two ancient runabouts that we used for shuttling ourselves and our gear back and forth between the ship and whatever planet we were on, would never survive a journey to wherever the Enterprise might be.

"I do not believe it is possible for you to get here soon enough," Data said, one part of his brain having already calculated possible modes and routes for travel. "But I appreciate that you are willing."

"Willing? Data, Geordi's your best friend. He's the brother you should have had. I'm your girlfriend. This isn't about being willing, this is about being where I'm supposed to be. At your side. Supporting you the way you always support me."

"I am an android," he said flatly. "I do not require support."

"Yeah, we both know that's not true." It came out snarkier than I'd meant.

He blinked, and when he looked back at me again his eyes, instead of being wide, revealed a sort of tightness, almost like when a child is close to tears. "It is possible that I was mistaken. However, it is still not possible for you to get here in a reasonable timeframe. Perhaps we could… talk for a while?"

Seeing him so unsure was heartbreaking. "I'd like that," I said. "Dotty said to take as much time as I needed. So, is there going to be a funeral?"

"There will be a memorial," he corrected quietly. "As there were no bodies to recover. Ensign Ro was lost as well."

I'd only really met the Bajoran ensign in passing, though Guinan had suggested she might be worth knowing. Still, the Enterprise was a community, and she was part of it, as was I, I realized, even after being mostly away for half a year. "I'm sorry to hear that. I'm told she kept you lot on your toes."

"She and the captain often argued," Data confirmed. "I believe he enjoys being in the company of intelligent beings who do not always adhere to his views."

"From what little I know of Captain Picard, I think that's quite likely." I brought him back to center again. "So, there's going to be a memorial. Who's planning it?"

"I am."

"You should make it a celebration of their lives. Get people to trade stories. Don't let it be maudlin. If you do, people will only remember the bad stuff, especially where Ro is concerned."

He took a fraction of a second to respond, apparently considering what I'd suggested. "I believe that is wise advice," he told me. "Zoe, I am puzzled by something."

"Data?"

"Since learning of Geordi's demise, I have been comparing my perceptions now with my perceptions from when Tasha died, several years ago. In that case, while I noted her absence, I did not have any quantifiable decrease in my processing power. My efficiency did not waver. I missed her presence, for a time, but I have now spent many more years on the Enterprise without her, than I did with her."

"And it's different with Geordi?"

"With Geordi… I cannot imagine a loss I would experience as keenly, with the exception of Captain Picard's. Having come too close to losing you, last February, I refuse to consider what my response to your death might actually be."

I took a breath. "Well, I don't think that's unusual. You work very closely with Geordi, but you also spend time with him off-duty. You told me you'd never really socialized with Tasha."

"That is true."

"I'm not sure I'm the best person to offer insight in this case, Data. All I know about your relationship with Tasha is that you were colleagues and casual friends, who had what amounts to a one-night stand, and frankly, from what you've told me, I don't think she treated you particularly well, but… as much as I wish I were a better person, my view of what you've told me is colored – biased – by the relationship that we have." I hesitated, afraid I'd said too much. "I'm sorry," I apologized. "I shouldn't have sa – "

He cut me off. "I believe we agreed some time ago that you would not apologize for your feelings, Zoe, whatever they are."

I responded with a wry chuckle. "How 'bout you let me rephrase?"

Data accepted my offer. "Please?"

"Grief is personal. Personal to the person grieving, and absolutely specific to the person being mourned. Geordi was your closest friend. Your friendship with him goes as deep, maybe even deeper in some ways, than our relationship. It's normal that you'd perceive his loss differently."

"That… makes sense," Data said slowly. "Yes, I accept your assertion. However, I do not think it is appropriate to compare our relationship with the friendship I had with Geordi. You are my partner, my lover. Geordi was neither of those."

"Okay," I said. "I get that." I took a beat, changing tacks in an attempt to help him be a little less melancholy. "Geordi was a good friend to you, but he was my friend, too. Did you know he gave me the same 'what are your intentions' speech my father gave you?"

"I did... not."

I nodded. "Oh, he did. It was when we were on Terlina III. When I was avoiding the lab. He asked me if it 'bothered me' that you are an android."

"What did you say?"

"I don't remember exactly. I just remember that he was incredibly protective of you." I paused, thinking of an entirely different conversation I'd had with the affable chief engineer. "You sent him, didn't you? When I asked for a break, last year. I was so confused about us… And then he came to my door and dragged me to the holodeck for flitter lessons."

"I… yes."

"He called me 'the woman my best friend is in a relationship with,' and it was the first time anyone had actually referred to me – or us – that way."

"He admonished me for making that promise to your mother."

"Really?" I laughed. "I would love to know how that conversation went. I'm going to miss him. I wish I could be there. I feel farther away from you than just the actual distance."

"You will be home soon."

I give him a watery smile. "Yeah." I pause. "Would you tell me about the first time you and Geordi met?"

Something about my request brightened Data's demeanor. "Certainly. It was not long after Captain Picard assumed command of the Enterprise. Geordi was assigned to the helm, then and – "

"Wait, he wasn't always an engineer?"

"No."

"Wow, I never knew that. It always seemed like his true calling."

"I believe you are correct." Data arched his brows, causing his forehead to wrinkle slightly as he ducked his head a tiny bit. "May I continue?"

"I'm sorry. Yes, go ahead."

We talked for probably another hour, and at the end of it, I knew more about Geordi, but I'd also learned a lot about the way Data had grown and changed since they'd become friends. I'd never wanted to hug him more than when we ended our call that morning.

(=A=)

After the connection was closed, I left Dotty's office, returning to the bridge. "You look like you were run hard and put away wet," she said, turning her chair to face me.

"Excuse me?"

"It's horse talk. I come from a long line of horse people. It means you look beat."

"The chief engineer of the Enterprise was lost in an accident during an away mission," I explained, trying to keep the tears I hadn't cried on the call with Data at bay. "His name was Geordi, and he was… he was the nicest guy on the ship, if not in Starfleet, and my boyfriend's best friend."

The captain glanced at the chronometer readout on her console. "And no wonder, it's gone zero-six-hundred. Chief'll be up here to take the conn – I'm a night owl, so I take the night shift on purpose – any second now. Why don't you join me for a bit in the officer's mess, and then I'll make sure your mates don't wake you until you've slept yourself out."

"I'd like that," I agreed, and then I shook my head slightly, rolling my eyes toward the ceiling in silent acceptance of yet another instance of my partner being right about something. "Data told me you and I would hit it off," I confessed to the gritty captain. "He's going to be so smug when I tell him about this."

"Data? Smug?" Her tone was full of disbelief.

"Trust me, you haven't seen smug until you've seen it from an android."

(=A=)

The officer's mess wasn't so much as mess hall as a kind of living room blended with a pub. Two replicators dominated the aft wall, but there was also a bank of stasis units holding the favorite foods and beverages of the crew, as well as a variety of reheating units. Idyllwild may not put a lot of tech into their ships, but was clear that the officers and crew of the Bernhardt were treated very well.

"Come sit with me," Dotty invited, leading me to a table in a secluded alcove, obviously her spot. Someone even younger than Matt, dressed in plain whites came over to see if the captain needed anything.

"Bring us a pot of tea, with all the fixin's, and replicate a couple of ham and egg skillets, if you don't mind?"

"Not at all, Dotty; happy to help."

"Good show, Rob. Thank you."

The boy left to fetch the requested items and Dotty, I noticed, watched him go. "He's my nephew," she explained. "My little brother's kid. Hated the structure of school, so he's technically homeschooled, and the crew acts as his teachers. He might have my job one day. He might not, but being here keeps him out of trouble."

Laughter bubbled out of me, unbidden and unwanted. "My mother dragged me to the Enterprise when I was fifteen because I was out of control back on Centaurus. Now I know that being out of control was the only thing I could control while I watched their marriage fall apart."

"And that's how you met Data?"

"Technically, I met him two years before then, on a visit to the ship, but… that's when I got to know him as something more than a name. I was his student - he led an advanced mathematics tutorial for a few of us in the high school – and then, when I needed an upper level music theory class, instead of just unlocking the holodeck program, he decided to work with me himself." I paused as Rob returned with tea, mugs, milk, sugar, and plates of the egg dish Dotty had requested.

After he left again, I changed the subject slightly. "He said you were at the Academy together. Were you friends?"

Her face clouded. "We could have been. We should have been, but none of us were terribly kind to him, though I think most of us regretted it later. Has he told you much about what he was like then?"

I shook my head. "Not a lot. He's said he didn't really socialize. He showed me a painting he liked – we have a copy in our quarters."

"The Mondrian?"

"You know about that?"

"My boyfriend at the time was an art student, and a docent at the museum; it seemed like something an android might respond to."

I smiled softly, remembering when Data had brought me to the museum at the beginning of my time with Idyllwild. "He did. He told me he used to go there and just… be… whenever the growth in his neural net got too fast."

"Glad to hear it. Eat – the food's getting cold. And drink the tea. You've had a shock and sugary tea will help." She jabbed her fork toward my plate. "I mean it, Zoe. Eat."

Dutifully, I poured tea into my cup, and added more sugar than I'd typically use in a week. The resulting beverage was sweet and hot and oddly comforting. I drained the mug and poured another, but with a more normal amount of sweetener. After that I started eating.

"Data implied that you are friends."

"We… became friends," Dotty explained. "One of our classmates, Tiffani Farber managed to get her hands on Data's specs, and learned about his sexual programming. She decided that banging the only sentient android in the Federation would be some kind of trophy-worthy achievement."

I closed my eyes against the memory of Data's vague mention of the event. "He told me… he told me she only wanted to 'fuck a robot.' She succeeded."

"She did. And after that… Data was different. Flatter. Much more… machine like."

"You're making it sound like he had emotions before."

"Not developed ones, I don't think, but… before Tiffani got her claws in him, he was starting to loosen up a little. And after… it was as though something in him decided that all the people telling him a machine couldn't feel had to be right."

"You know; this isn't really helping me be less sad about Geordi dying." I blurted. "But… it's putting a lot of things in perspective. How did you become friends?"

"Not trying to help you be less sad, Zoe. Just trying to make sure you're distracted long enough to eat and drink – make sure the body's taken care of before you let the emotions take over. Anyway, Paolo – that was my artist boyfriend – and I were the only people who reached out to Data, after that girl hurt him. It was easier for Paolo, because he was used to dealing in abstracts, and he'd been jilted before. But… we reached out to him. Included him in as much as we could. He and Paolo spent that summer doing art together."

"He still does art. He uses it to process things."

"Sounds about right. Anyway, Paolo and I broke up, and I got Data in the divorce, but we were in second year by then, and the work was so intense that there was less and less time to socialize. Ten-twelve years later, we were both assigned to the Trieste. I was the exec, he was the science officer, and we became, if not good friends, then, good colleagues at least."

"Is he the one who told you to watch over me?"

She cracked a wry smile. "He is." She pointed at my plate. "Two more bites, and I'll let you go crash."

I ate the last of the egg dish and pushed my plate away. As if on cue, the tears started to pool in my eyes, and I began sobbing.

Oberlyne and Lach appeared on either side of me; apparently having been paged by Dotty at some point. "Lassling, come here." The big Scot and his wife pulled me out of my chair and into a three-way hug.

"C'mon, Zoe, let's get you to bed. You can sleep until we reach Centaurus, if you need to," my friend urged. "Dotty, thank you for taking care of her."

"She's family, in more ways than one," I heard the captain say. "I'd have done it for any of you."

"Aye, 'tis why we love ye, you old broad." Lach tossed the words over his shoulder as the three of us left the mess.

They escorted me all the way back to my cabin, where Lach remained outside, and Oberlyne stood over me, making sure I took my bra off, insisting I wash my tear-streaked face. Then she handed me a glass of water and a capsule. "Doc Browne gave me a mild sedative for you. You don't have to take it, but it will relax you enough to ensure that you sleep."

"I'll take it," I said, and did so.

Oberlyne waited for me to get into bed, and turn on the tiny reading light. "I'm so sorry for your loss, Zoe. Rest now, and come find me or Lach or Dotty if you need anything, even if it's just not to be alone."

Fatigue was hitting me in waves, and the sedative was helping them along. "Thank you," I mumbled. I pulled my padd from the nightstand and set it to play the recording Data had made for me on auto-repeat. Then I turned out the light, and went to sleep.

(=A=)

Stardate 45904.32

(Tuesday, 26 November 2368, 11:36 PM, local time, Centaurus)

It was distinctly weird being in a hotel on my home planet, less than an hour's flitter ride from my father's house, but at eleven-thirty-six on Tuesday night, that's where I was.

I hadn't quite slept all the way through the last three days of our voyage, but I had slept the clock around on Sunday, waking just after midnight, ship's time, on Monday morning to find that Dotty had left word for me to see her on the bridge when I was awake, and that Matt had actually left me the data solid with his stories.

They were the action-adventure fantasies of anyone who was living on a transport ship, a little trope-y but well written with characters that rang true. They would have made a great tri-vee series, actually.

By Tuesday morning, I'd regained my equilibrium, though my thoughts kept straying to Geordi – we'd barely begun getting to really know each other – and to Data, coping with the loss of his truest friend. I felt like I'd failed him in some way, but Dotty had talked sense into me, and made me promise to keep in touch.

"Invite me to the wedding, if nothing else," she'd teased as I'd taken my leave of her.

"That won't be for years," I insisted. "You should come visit the Enterprise, Data would love to see you." I hadn't asked him, but I knew it was true.

"Can't do that, I'm afraid. I swore after Wolf 359 that I was done with the 'fleet. Too much death and loss in one lifetime isn't good."

"At least think about it?"

"Yeah, sure. I'll… think… about it." And she'd cracked her lopsided grin, brushed my proffered hand away in favor of a brisk hug, and then pushed me away. "Go pack, get going… I have a ship to dock."

But that had been hours before.

By six, we'd all been given our room keys and dispersed to unpack and freshen up before meeting for dinner in the hotel restaurant. I talked and laughed with my colleagues – my friends – but my heart wasn't in it. I was grieving, and I was lonely, and I was ready to be done.

Just before midnight, I finally sat down to make the subspace call, only to have an incoming call come in before I could do anything. Please be Data, I begged the universe.

My plea was answered.

"Zoe, I am glad to find you awake."

"It's barely midnight. How did the memorial go?"

"It turned out to be a celebration of a different sort. Geordi and Ensign Ro are not dead after all. They were merely out of phase with our time continuum."

I felt relief and happiness flood through me. "I'm so glad. I've been feeling like I failed you for not being there."

"You did not fail me, Zoe. You could not. You recognized that I required support when I myself did not, and you provided it in the best way you were able at that time. The only other thing you could have done was to take better care of yourself."

I answered with an amused snort. "I was well taken care of. Dotty fed me - and kept me distracted while I actually ate the food she provided. We had an interesting conversation."

"I was certain you would 'click' with her."

"Lach called her a 'broad' to her face, and I'm not sure he was wrong. But yes, we clicked. I'm sorry it took an apparent tragedy for me to get face-time with her, but we had a good talk. Then Lach and Oberlyne tucked me into bed and knocked me out for the better part of a day." I paused. "She filled in some blanks for me, told me what you were like at the Academy. There are some questions I'd like to ask you, when I get home."

"I anticipated as much."

"Data… promise me something?"

"Anything I am able."

"Don't die. Don't ever die."

"Zoe…"

"Just for tonight?"

He didn't close his eyes, the way I would if our positions were reversed. He didn't take a deep, cleansing breath. His eyes flickered back and forth for the briefest of moments. "Very well," he agreed. "Just for tonight, I promise."

I smiled at his image, and lifted my hand to touch the console. "Etudes?" I asked him.

He understood what I was really asking, and matched my hand with his. "Etudes," he confirmed.

(=A=)

Stardate 45916.19

(Sunday, 1 December 2368, 7:53 AM, local time, Centaurus)

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

To: Zoe L. Harris, Idyllwild Theatre Co.

My Dearest Zoe,

It is the first of December, according to the Terran Calendar, which means that your time with Idyllwild is now measurable in mere weeks, rather than in months, or quarters of years, and yet, in terms of our locations in the galaxy, we have never been further apart.

Geordi tells me that I have been brooding ever since his 'return from the dead,' and I believe he is correct. When I mentioned to Geordi that you had asked me to promise not to die, he explained that your request does not mean that you believe such things can be controlled, but rather, that you did not wish to consider the possibility that you might lose me.

He also informed me that a friend's death is often the prompting one needs to tell their loved ones what they truly feel, 'before it is too late.'

In our case, however, the greatest, most immediate obstacle we face is not death but distance.

In all of my research on romantic relationships, Zoe, I have found little useful information about how to reassure one's mate that you are still 'together' even when she is 'too far away,' but I believe the 'love letter' is an appropriate method. However, I cannot give you flowery speeches or profess undying love.

What I can give you, my Zoe is the truth: you are dear to me, and I am devoted to you.

You told me, on your visit home, that you sometimes wonder if you give me as much as you believe that you get.

Let me assure you that you do. Your presence in my life has enriched every aspect of my being. You have improved my music, influenced my painting, and made my quarters into our home. Even though you have spent only two nights in our quarters in the past six months, your essence has never left.

I find strands of your hair on the arm of the couch, or clinging to articles of my clothing, and I am able to discern the scent of your shampoo. Your belongings share space with mine. Your cello, standing in the corner near my violin, appears to await your return, as I do.

When you are not here, I experience a sense of incompletion, one that can only be resolved by your presence.

I am counting the seconds until we are reunited.

Until then, I remain,

Yours, Data.

(=A=)

Stardate 45937.84

(Monday, 9 December 2368, 06:00 hours, ship's time)

Aboard the FRS Bernhardt, en route from Centaurus to Earth

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

From: Zoe L. Harris, Idyllwild Theatre Co.

Dear Data,

It's six in the morning here on the Bernhardt, or "Old Sarah," as Dotty refers to her, and I'm recording this in bed because I can't sleep.

Why can't I sleep? It should be obvious: we're en route to Earth. We've had our last performance, and in two-and-a-half days, I'll be greeting Nonna and Papa at San Francisco Spaceport and flying back to Connecticut, to stay with them until the Enterprise arrives at Spacedock.

How perfect is it that my home is coming to me, rather than me having to take multiple vessels to get home? Everyone in the cast keeps teasing me that the flagship is coming because I'm that important, and all I can say is: I wish!

My time on Centaurus was… weird. Good-weird, but still weird. It was like coming home to a place that isn't quite the same place you remember. I know that doesn't really make sense. We had performances and workshops with more school kids and talk-backs after the shows, and we did a couple of the songs from Songs for a New World on a local morning news program, and they introduced me as "our very own Zoe Harris," but when my father was on the next segment, they introduced him as "father of the up-and-coming actress," and I had to laugh because I've been "Zach Harris's daughter" for so long.

Dad and Gia came to the final weekend of our performances, and saw every show, even Darmok, which I'm not even in! Gran came to the city, too, but only saw my performances. Then, on Sunday afternoon, after the matinee, Dad brought our entire cast and crew out to Beach Haven and threw a barbecue. It was really lovely, but so odd to be a guest in the home I grew up in.

Zeke is getting big, by the way. He's almost a year old, you know, and he's started pulling himself to his feet, using the coffee tables, or a chair, and taking a few tentative steps.

It was a long day, but we went directly from Beach Haven back to the Bernhardt, where, as I said, I'm not-sleeping.

Your letter from the first has joined your song recordings as permanent files on my padd, and I think I've listened to it about fifty times already, and watched it twice that many times. Never let anyone tell you that you don't know what romance is, or aren't capable of courtship, because, my dearest love, you've got it nailed.

Sometimes I think you calculate exactly which combinations of words will make melt into a teary-gooey mass of "God, I miss him."

Mostly, I just feel really lucky. Lucky to have had these last six months of work experience, lucky to be surrounded by talented, smart, generally positive people who believe in mutual support instead of brutal competition, and supremely lucky to have you in my life.

I will see you soon.

Really soon.

Love always,

Zoe.

(=A=)

Stardate 45951.95

(Saturday, 14 December 2368, 10:00 hours, local time, New York)

The Starfleet side of the Port Authority of New York and New Jersey transit center was eerily quiet for a Saturday in mid-December. At least, it seemed that way to me, but I'd only ever been through the 'fleet sides of San Francisco and Centaurus, so maybe it was just that New York wasn't typically used for official traffic.

I let the lieutenant at the gate scan my retina and my palm, and then read the contents of my ID chit as well. "Any live animals?" she asked.

"No."

"Any raw fruits or vegetables, or raw meat?"

"Um, no. Do people really bring stuff like that?"

"They try," she said. I wasn't sure if she was kidding, or not. "Only the one piece of luggage?"

"Yes."

She scanned my bag as well, then slapped a sticker on it with a raised printed circuit and the letters ENT-1701D-TRNSPT. Then she returned my ID chit and gave me a temporary comm-badge. "This helps the receiving transporter beam lock into you, and will also be used to communicate with you before you transport. Please take your luggage out of anti-grav mode, go through the portal, and check in at transport alcove five. You'll be called in about twenty minutes. Please accept my best wishes for the Terran winter holiday of your choice, and thank you for transporting through Port Authority."

I followed her instructions, and ended up being one of only two people in the designated alcove. I made eye contact with the transporter operator, and took a seat. Data said he would be the one meeting me, but I wouldn't be surprised if my mother joined him as well. I was just glad to be going home.

The other person, a man in science blues with commander's pips, was before me in the queue, and I heard the operator confirm coordinates for the U.S.S. Lexington before he and his bag were beamed away.

Then it was my turn.

"Good morning, Ms. Harris. Can you confirm that you have one piece of luggage, in manual mode, and that your destination is the U.S.S. Enterprise?"

"That's correct."

She eyed the college sweatshirt I was wearing; taking in the white letters on the blue background. "You're headed to the flagship wearing that?"

She was grinning, so I knew she was kidding. "I live on the Enterprise," I explained. "My boyfriend's an officer. This represents where I'll be next year. I just found out yesterday, and haven't told anyone yet."

"Yeah? Well, congratulations." There was a beat as she typed data into her console. "Okay, Ms. Harris, step onto the platform please. Put your bag on the marker next to you, and relax."

I heard her side of the comm conversation. "Affirmative, Enterprise, one to beam up." She glanced at me, "Ready?" After I nodded she hit a button. "Energizing."

Out of habit, I held my breath during transport. Data had observed that such behavior was unnecessary, but somehow, I couldn't stop doing it. The transporter beam released me, and I sucked in a fresh breath, then let it out, glancing first at the familiar walls of the Enterprise transporter room, and then registering the familiar face of my partner.

"Data!" I didn't wait for permission, just grabbed the handle of my suitcase and ran to him.

He caught me up in the kind of hug I hadn't ever expected from him, and he whispered his words of greeting into my hair. "Zoe… I have missed you."

I stayed in his embrace as long as I could stand it, dimly aware that the ensign on transport duty had confirmed my arrival and stepped away from the console. "I've missed you, too." I lifted my head away from Data's chest and stretched up so that we could share a brief, tender kiss.

"Hi," I said, feeling shy and silly and joyful, all at once.

"Hi," he responded, echoing my word. He had never quite made that syllable his own, and a part of me hoped he never would.

"I got into Yale," I said. "Bet the sweatshirt was kind of a clue."

"I believe congratulations are in order," Data said softly, keeping our conversation private. "Perhaps a celebratory dinner?"

"Mom and Ed already have something planned, don't they?"

"They may have," he hedged. "If you do not wish to…"

"No, it's fine. It's all good. It's dinner, though, right? Not right now?"

"They have scheduled it for nineteen hundred hours, ship's time."

I grinned, and looped my arm through his. "That works. Are you on duty today?"

"No. Is there something you wish to do?"

"Actually," I said, "I'd like to just go home and be, if that's okay with you."

Data's mouth moved into the faint curve that was his version of a smile. "That would be more than 'o-kay,'" he said. Then he thanked the transporter operator for his time, and took my bag from me with his right hand. With his left hand, Data captured my right, and then we left the transporter room and began the short walk to the turbo-lift that would take us home.

Hand-in-hand, we stepped through the doors of our quarters, but instead of letting go, Data led me to the couch, sitting down, and guiding me onto his lap. I had never been so happy to comply.

The kiss we shared then was deeper, and longer, and filled me with the taste of cashews. Data's taste. His arms came around me, and held me close, and I wrapped mine around his neck, and rested my head on his shoulder. Any other time we probably would have started pulling at each other's clothing, but that morning it was enough to just hold, and be held.

Eventually, Spot appeared, demanding that she be given the attention that was her due. When she jumped onto the back of the couch and began knitting my hair, I wasn't even annoyed. "I never thought I'd say this," I said, pushing her paws away so I could sit up. "But I actually missed this stripy old fleabag."

Data opened his mouth, probably to protest my insinuation that Spot might have fleas, but what he actually said was. "I believe that is merely her way of echoing my sentiment, Zoe: Welcome home."

Notes: References the episodes "Imaginary Friend," "I, Borg," and "The Next Phase." Spans, but does not mention, "The Inner Light." Zoe's imaginary friend is named after the character Alak Tarr from the television show Defiance. (Alak was also one of the early influences of T'vek.) Time on the Trieste is part of Data's canon service record, though officially he was there only as an ensign. I like the notion of him returning as a successful science officer once he made rank., which suggestion came from Christopher Bennett's novel The Lost Era: The Buried Age. Daria Roth is my own creation. Similarly, the designation FRS for the Bernhardt is my own naming convention (Federation Registry Ship). Data shares his sexual history with Zoe in chapter 16 of Crush II: Ostinato, and expands upon it slightly in Carte Blanche.

Shout-outs to ReLive4Love and wintermute75 for a) beta-reading some of the sections, and b) helping me name a few characters.

Unaccompanied: A Suite for Actress and Android ends here, but there is more to come for Data and Zoe. Look for Crush III: Sostenuto to begin within a week or two. And don't be surprised if there is a one shot, or two, and if you haven't read Bedtime Story, even though I posted it in January, the bulk of it happens between this story and Crush III.

Thank you all, regular readers, guests, and those who read but never comment, for allowing me to be a bit experimental in this piece. I had fun; I hope you did, as well.