Continuity Note: This story takes place between chapters 4 and 5 of Crush III: Sostenuto.

In the Wee, Small, Hours of the Morning

Stardate 46195.06

(Thursday, 13 March 2369, 04:43 hours, ship's time)

In the wee small hours of the morning
While the whole wide world is fast asleep
You lie awake and think about the girl
And never, ever think of counting sheep

It is exactly zero-four-thirty hours, Data deactivates the padd he is working with and pulls the optical cable from the port in his temple. While there is always more work he could be doing, more research, more things to explore, he has made a tacit agreement with his girlfriend that he will not put in too many extra hours.

They have never specified what would equal 'too many,' so he has decided that nighttime work may begin approximately thirty minutes after Zoe is fast asleep and must stop two-point-five hours before her morning alarm is due to wake her.

They have recently survived their first 'fight,' and enjoyed their first 'making up.' Geordi had told him, when he had sought advice from his friend, that the couple had been 'about due' for such an event, that the 'honeymoon period' of their relationship had ended.

But Data finds that analogy to be an inaccurate one.

And, in truth, it was not their first fight, merely their first since sharing quarters. Nor, he suspects, will it be the last. They are, after all, two beings with free will and independent thought.

As to his partner… she is sleeping beside him right now, apparently undisturbed by the click of the cable-removal, the soft whirr of his scalp panel sliding back into place, the backlight of the padd softly fading to darkness.

I got used to sleeping with monitor-glow and the soft sound of your voice talking to the computer, Zoe had confessed to him, once, when she had been a refugee in his quarters, rather than a resident. Since then she has assured him that, just as she finds it comforting to know he is in the main room of their home, working in the wee hours, she is equally soothed by his presence in their bed, even when he is tapping on padds.

If pressed, Data would be able to share the precise moment that he chose to spend his nights in bed with Zoe, rather than at work at his computer, because he remembers everything, every detail, but he would point out that the time and date are immaterial.

What matters is that he made the choice.

What matters is what he gets out of these nights next to her in their bed.

And he definitely perceives a benefit.

He has learned a lot about his lover from these nights.

For example, when Zoe goes to bed before him, she typically keeps to the right-hand side of the mattress, facing toward the bulkhead on 'her' side. She is almost always a side-sleeper, he has learned. (The rare occasions that he finds her sleeping on her back are when she has fallen asleep reading. On those nights, he will gently remove her book or padd from her hands, and place it on her nightstand.) When he slips beneath the covers, if she does not wake, she will instinctively move toward him in her sleep.

From the first night that they shared this bed, that right-hand-facing nested-spoon position has been their default. She nestles into the curve of his body, and he rests his arm across the bottom of her rib cage, curving his hand upward to cup her breast.

(It is a good thing that Data is an android, because if he were not, he does not believe he would be able to resist tweaking the nipple so close to his fingers, waking her with teasing and touching until she is alert enough to invite him inside. However, as an android, even though Zoe has explicitly told him that he has carte blanche when they are in bed together, his ethical programming would insist that he did not have consent.)

Data often wonders how other couples handle the nuances of their intimacy – sexual and otherwise.

If Zoe is not fully asleep when he comes to bed, she will usually turn over, facing him. Sometimes she will murmur some affectionate phrase and slip back into slumber. Other times she will move until she is lying half on top of him, with her head on his chest and her arm thrown across his mid-section. He has not yet determined how to encourage this behavior, but if she asked him, he would admit that it is his preferred position.

Then there are the nights when Zoe wakes completely. On those nights, there is an eighty-seven-point-six percent chance that she will turn toward him and cuddle, but that cuddling will lead to conversation followed by intercourse. The other twelve-point-four percent of the time, she will press backwards against him, and encourage intercourse that way. He prefers the former because it allows him to see her face, to catch every faint change of expression, and to see her happy, sated smile when they have… finished.

As much as Data appreciates the physical sensation of sex with his partner, as much as he derives satisfaction from the knowledge that he has given Zoe physical and emotional pleasure, he receives a similar benefit just from watching her sleep.

When she is sleeping on her side, face turned outward, he perceives the trust she has in him, to guard her through the night. It is true that his only real foe has been the young woman's vivid nightmares, but he would protect her from anything – anyone.

When she is curved against him, Data experiences the rhythm of her heartbeat and her respiration, and he catalogues the temperature changes in her skin. For a being who exists at a constant temperature the heating and cooling cycles his lover manifests throughout the night are endlessly fascinating. He has even learned to use these fluctuations to predict when she will enter REM sleep, or float toward consciousness.

Other times, he must leave their bed before she is ready to begin her day, because duty does call. When that happens, she may wake enough to watch him dress and wish him well before resuming her own rest, but it is equally likely that, sensing his absence, but knowing it is a finite one, she will sprawl across the entirety of the mattress, legs kicked in directions that do not seem optimal, but that do not phase the woman in question.

Finally, there are the moments when Data returns from one of those early mornings to find Zoe, rumpled and groggy, sitting up among the sheets. He has not yet painted her that way, but he wants to. In fact, wants to paint two versions – one where the sheets are tucked modestly around her upper body, and one where they are not. It is in those unaffected, candid moments that he is struck by how much she truly is his Zoe, and also by how much he is hers.

Data prefers not to think about the nights when their bed goes unused. For the better part of six months, she was away from their bed, away from the Enterprise, away from him, and during those times, he learned what loneliness truly was.

He understands, now, that there is a difference between being alone and being lonely.

(He still insists that loneliness is a condition rather than an emotion.)

There is a part of him that knows these nighttime ruminations, these hours spent watching his other half (for she has truly become that) in repose are a way of steeling himself against the long absences they will both be facing all too soon.

Data understands – they both understand – that Zoe's university years will be difficult. They have already begun memorizing her vacation schedule, and planning the fastest routes across sectors. She has told him that any vacation long enough to warrant the travel will bring her home, and he has promised to visit Earth at every opportunity.

He does not doubt her commitment to him.

Zoe has made it clear that she trusts his commitment to her.

But he cannot pretend that he will not… miss her.

At exactly zero-four-forty-three hours, Data slides into a supine position in their bed. His intent is to let Zoe continue to sleep without disruption, but she stirs beside him, rolling over and sitting up.

"I did not mean to wake you; go back to sleep."

But this is one of the nights that will lead to conversation.

"You're thinking too loud," she accuses. Data has come to realize that the woman he shares his life with does not mean literal volume, but rather that she has learned to sense when something is troubling him, or when he is in his 'brooding' mood. "What's wrong?"

It is a fallacy that he cannot lie at all, but it is an absolute truth that he will not lie to her.

"I was watching you sleep – "

"Hah! Caught you!" She interrupts his confession.

"Yes, you have."

They both know that he is referring to his observance of her nighttime behavior.

"I'm going to miss you too, you know," she tells him, having figured him out, even in her fresh-from-sleep condition. "I won't even have your things around to keep me company."

Her point is a valid one. He will, at least, have evidence of their relationship. She will not be taking away every item she owns, only what she needs. Not for the first time he reflects on another conversation they had in bed.

"I want you to promise me that you won't propose before I'm nineteen," Zoe had said, "Because if you do, I won't be able to say no to you, and it's too soon."

'Too soon' in September is not necessarily 'too soon' in March, Data realizes. By the time the coming September arrives, that arbitrarily chosen date of Zoe's 19th birthday will be a mere three-point-seven-five months away. By the time she comes home for her holiday break, it will be only one month.

He does not know if she expects a proposal at that point.

He does not know if having their future 'settled' will ease the fact of their separation.

He is certain that this woman is his future.

But Zoe is concerned about the here-and-now, and he must answer her question, address her worry. He reaches for her, draws her down against his chest, breathes in the tropical-fruit scent of her hair, and answers quietly, "I was considering how empty our quarters will seem when you are away, and considering what steps we might take to make your absence easier for both of us."

"Oh, Data," her voice is laced with love and sympathy. "You don't have to fix everything – or at least, you don't have to tonight. We have months before I leave, months to figure it out. Months to store up every memory we can."

"I am aware."

"Do you want to know something?"

"Always."

"Sometimes when the junior officers tease me, calling me 'Mrs. Data,' I don't just tolerate it. I – I like it. It's sort of like a promise to hold onto." She yawns, then, and cuddles closer to him, tracing random patterns on his bare skin with her fingers. "I shouldn't have said that. 'm sleepy."

"Then go back to sleep. I will attempt to think more quietly."

"Do that," she tells him. "Love you."

I wish I could love you, his mind screams. But his voice is even when he responds to her. "I am devoted to you."

When your lonely heart has learned its lesson
You'd be hers if only she would call
In the wee small hours of the morning
That's the time you miss her most of all.

Notes: "In the Wee Small Hours of the Morning" was written by Bob Hilliard and David Mann. References are to almost all of Crush II: Ostinato and Unaccompanied: A Suite for Actress and Android. (Revised 24 September 2019)