Epilogue

I collapse on the deck of the shuttle as soon as the transporter releases me. On hands and knees, I'm shaking and heaving, but there's nothing left inside me to expel except blood and spittle.

"Mon Dieu!" I hear the faintly accented French words from a voice I've only ever heard before on holo-vids and newsfeeds. "Data, help me! Who is this girl?"

I'm dimly aware of Data's voice setting the autopilot, and his footsteps entering the main cabin. Then two pairs of strong arms lift me, placing me in the co-pilot's chair in the cockpit. It's reclined, but not flat; I'm just enough vertical that I won't choke.

"Captain, this is Zoe Harris, late of the Enterprise. It is she who executed the plan for your… extraction."

I want to object. I want to clarify that all I did was set the plan in motion, that Geordi and Aquiel did all the hard work. I can't find the strength to form words, so I seek Data's gaze and hold with my own for a few seconds. "Tired…" I manage. "Hurts…" I add, and then, because I want him to know my feelings for him haven't changed I tack on, "Missed you."

His lips press gently against my forehead. "I have missed you also," he says softly. "Sleep. We will care for you as best we can until we return home."

I manage the ghost of a nod and then let my eyes close. I don't really sleep, but I'm not really awake either. I'm semi-aware of the instruments being passed over me, the soft murmurs of the two men who are caring for me. Eventually, the pain eases enough for me to let that awareness slip away.

(+A+)

If my first arrival at Omicron Theta (I know, now, what planet the Resistance uses as its home base.) was quiet, this homecoming feels triumphant. Picard, despite having been first undercover, then in the Enterprise brig, is not unhealthy, just poorly hydrated and slightly malnourished. He leaves the shuttle under his own power, and is warmly greeted by many – some of whom I recognize.

The Maestro, I notice, is not among them.

I, on the other hand, am carried out on a stretcher. Alyssa's face betrays the truth of her concern for me, but I'm not worried about myself. "My father?" I ask, my voice weak. "Is he…?"

"He's still with us," she assures. "You'll see him soon. I'm going to sedate you now." She turns to Data, "I'll call you – " she begins.

"I will accompany you," he counters. His tone is firm.

A hypospray hisses against my arm, and this time, I feel more than merely a loss of awareness, I feel like my whole self is dissipating.

(+A+)

I wake in the med-center to find my father in his wheelchair, next to my bed. "Daddy?" I ask, my voice cracking from disuse.

"Pigeon…"

"How long?" I ask.

"Four days, sweetie." He raises his voice, "Doc, she's awake."

I expect Alyssa to appear, but instead it's a slightly older woman with long red hair, and a warm smile. "Well, hello, Zoe," she greets me as she inspects the readouts on the monitors above my head. "It's nice to finally meet you. I'm Beverly Crusher… I think you might have met my son, Wes."

I manage a chuckle, sort of. "We've run into each other," I say. "He really doesn't like me. Could I have some water?"

She peers at the readouts again, and then looks at me. "I'm a little worried that you won't be able to keep it down – what did they do to you on that ship? But I'll let you try." She steps away long enough to replicate it, and then returns. "Tiny sips at first," she instructs.

I don't feel hungry, but I have that empty feeling that means every sip of water can be felt going all the way down. And straight water has never tasted so good.

"How are you?" this new doctor asks me. "Any cramping or nausea?"

I shake my head. "I'm fine. Just really thirsty."

Her smile returns. "That's not unusual. You've been getting nourishment via IV, but that doesn't do anything to keep your throat moist."

"Am I okay, now?"

"Yes and no," she equivocates. "I've healed all the damage from…"

"… the agony booth?" I ask, and when she nods, I manage a wry grin. "Lore's kind of a master with that thing. I remember vomiting a lot of blood."

"Yes, you did. As I said, the damage is healed, but you're still depleted. I want to keep you here for the rest of the day, but if you continue to keep water down, and can tolerate broth this afternoon, I'll send you home to recuperate in more comfortable surroundings."

She glances past me at my father, and continues, addressing him, "Maestro, Alyssa will be back in an hour. Do you want to remain with Zoe, or shall I take you home?"

"If he's up to it, I'd like him to stay," I say, before my father can answer.

The old man reaches out to pat my hand. "I wouldn't leave, even so," he states. "I'm fine, Doc. Might even join my pigeon for some broth when it's time."

"Alright then. Zoe, call me if you need anything, okay?"

"I will," I promise. The doctor leaves us, and I turn to my father. "How bad was I, really?"

"We nearly lost you, Pigeon. It took Alyssa and the Doc hours just to stabilize you. They've been taking turns keeping watch on the monitors, but now that you're awake, you'll be able to go home, and rest there in a less antiseptic environment."

"Dad, that's great… but last I knew I didn't have an official home. Unless you plan to turn your library into a guest room?"

"Don't you?" he asked. "I was under the impression that you were quite comfortable sharing quarters with Data." His tone is gentle when he says it.

"I… " I hesitate, unsure how to answer. "Where is Data?"

"He's been keeping watch over you every night, little bird, but he also has duties of his own. If he knew you were awake, I'm sure he'd come running."

"Every night?" I ask, touched.

"Every night, all night."

I close my eyes to ward off the tears that are suddenly threatening. "I was so afraid I'd fail, Daddy. I didn't want to disappoint you. Or him."

"You couldn't have disappointed us, Zoe. Even if you had failed, we wouldn't have blamed you. We're grateful you managed to escape."

"I didn't escape, Dad… Lore… Lore sent me back. To punish me. And to hurt Data."

My father stared at me for a long time. Then he patted my hand again. "I think you know whom you have to discuss this with, Zoe."

"If you see him, can you let him know I'm awake?"

"Of course, pigeon."

Alyssa arrived then, and came to see how I was doing. "It's good to have you back, Zoe," she said. "It's even better to have you awake. You know, Data's been practically living here while you were unconscious."

"Yes, I heard that," I said. "I heard you and Dr. Crusher were both involved in keeping me alive, as well. Thank you."

The older woman's smile was warm. "You were touch and go for a while, but you're a fighter." She peered at the monitors, and read the notes keyed into the system. "I'm going to get you another cup of water. After you drink it, you should try to rest. I'll make sure Data wakes you when he gets here; you can have dinner with him."

I look away, trying to hide the blush I know is forming. When I look back at her, I ask, "Is there anyone in this community who doesn't know about Data and me?"

"Not many, no."

"Fantastic."

Alyssa laughs and then turns her attention to my father. "I think it's time you went back to bed for a while, Maestro."

"If you insist," my father responds graciously. "Zoe, I'll see you in the morning if not before. I love you, child."

"I love you, too, Daddy," I respond. I watch as Alyssa wheels him away. Not for the first time I wonder if there's more between them than a mere doctor/patient relationship, and I'm not sure how I feel about it.

I drink the water I was given, and despite the fact that I've been basically asleep for days, I do succumb to the need for a nap. When I wake up, the lights are slightly dimmer, and Data is in a chair next to my bed. "Hey," I say, not wanting to call attention to us.

"Zoe!" His volume remains constrained but there is real relief in his voice. "I am gratified that you are awake," he adds.

"Gratified, huh?" I can't help but tease a little. "It's a start, I guess. How are you?" I ask, shifting my tone to one a little more intimate. "How's Captain Picard?"

"The captain has recovered from his time in the Enterprise brig, and is gratified to be reunited with his family."

"He has a family?"

"He and Dr. Crusher married several years ago," Data explains. "He adopted Wesley as well, though it was mostly a formality."

"I had no idea," I say. "I'm glad they're back together. Families shouldn't be apart."

"No," he agrees, "they should not."

"Can you help me sit up?" I ask. "Dr. Crusher said I could try some broth tonight, and that I was allowed to leave the med bay if I can keep it down. I'm all for getting out of here, but I'm not sure I have any place to go…" I let the words trail off even as Data is supporting me while I move into a more vertical position. "I'm sorry, I don't know how else to start this conversation. Did my father tell you that it was Lore who got me off the ship?"

"He did."

"He wanted you to see me bloody and hurt. He wanted you to blame yourself. He said you'd remember forever, what I looked like. But Data, it wasn't your fault. I volunteered to go."

"He is correct about the memory of your injuries being indelible, Zoe." His voice is so soft that I can't read the inflection. "But so are the memories of the injuries I caused you directly. There was no joy in having to harm you," he adds. "I would undo it all, if I could."

"I know," I tell him. "I know you would. I think we just have to decide if we can live with that, and if we can live with the deeper knowledge that sending me back to you demonstrated something I honestly hadn't expected."

"One moment." Data steps away from me. I hear him working at the replicator and then he is back with a mug full of steaming broth. "It is vegetarian; I thought that would be the gentlest on your system."

"Thank you." I accept the mug and spoon from him and just breathe in the aroma. I hadn't felt hungry until the smell of food hit my senses. Now I hear my stomach growling, and wrinkle my nose in response. "Sorry."

"Do not apologize for typical bodily functions, Zoe." I respond to that with a nod, but he continues. "Will you tell me what it was about my brother that… surprised you?"

I choose my words very carefully. "When I first met Lore, I was attracted to him, but… I was never in love with him. I knew I was too young for someone in his position, but he seemed to think otherwise. I assumed our relationship was solely about politics and power." I shake my head, confused. "I never expected that he actually cared about me… I mean, it was a sick, twisted version of caring, but… I'm a horrible person Data."

"May I sit?" he asked, gesturing to the bio-bed.

"Sure."

He joined me, sitting close enough that I could sense, rather than hear, the subtle thrum of your internal systems. "Zoe, I do not believe you to be 'horrible,' in any sense. You are very young, and you have been caught in a situation you should not have been required to navigate. If my brother did, indeed, come to care for you in some fashion, I believe that speaks to your character."

"I turned him off," I blurt.

"Zoe?"

"Right after I activated the signal beacon in the tongue stud. I pretended I wanted to kiss him goodbye and I deactivated him. He wasn't going to hurt me any further. He was letting me go." I finish the broth, using the time to gather my thoughts. "I'm tired," I tell him. "I should go back to sleep, I think."

"I will find the doctor and arrange for your release."

"Release?"

"Do you not wish to… come home?"

"With you?"

"Yes. I have been told more than once that the comfort of home is a benefit to the healing process. I will not require you to share the bed, if you no longer wish to pursue that aspect of our… "

"Do you… still want to?" I interrupt.

"My… feelings… about us have not changed, Zoe. I would welcome the continued exploration of 'what we are' to one another, when you are ready. Until then, you are healing, and I am uniquely qualified to provide you with the care you require."

I tilt my head to look at him for a long moment. "You're used to me being there, aren't you?" I ask. "You like sharing quarters with me."

Guileless as ever, Data fixes his yellow eyes on my face. "Yes," he answers honestly. "I believe we… fit."

I press the call button on the bio-bed controls and when the doctor – it's Crusher this time – appears, Data confirms that I successfully consumed broth, and that I would like to be allowed to go home with him.

"I want you to rest a lot for the next week," she directs. "Let Data fetch and carry for you, and if you're comfortable with having help in the shower, let him do that, too."

I glance at the android still sitting next to me on the bed. "We'll manage," I say, more for him than for her. "Thank you."

(+A+)

For the rest of the week, Data and I coexist much as we did in my first weeks here. We don't touch, except when his hand is at my back, or when I need help with something. There's no kissing, and no sex. It's not that I don't want it… but I have a lot to work through.

I know he would happily resume the relationship we'd begun, but I feel like I need to focus on just getting myself back together.

So, what do I do? I rest a lot. I spend time with my father. I have lunches with Keiko and Alyssa and help Noah with his English homework. Data meets me every night before dinner, and we dine with Dad. Afterward, they play chess or just talk while I play the piano. On the fifth such evening, Data b brings his violin. Our impromptu duet is unrehearsed, but it still draws the attention of several members of the community. By the end of the evening, many of them have joined in, a fully-recovered Miles O'Brien has relieved me from the keyboard, and I'm pressed into singing.

In making music with these people, I feel completely at home for the first time I can remember, and I discover that I still have the capacity to feel joy.

That night, as we are leaving my father's chambers, I slip my hand into Data's. I know the old man sees the gesture, but it's the younger man's reaction I'm focused on. He looks down at our intertwined fingers, and then back up at my face, and I don't miss the question in his eyes.

"Go on and kiss him; you know you want to," my father observes from his bed. "

"Dad!"

"Humor an old man, Pigeon. It would do me good to see my daughter and my adopted son happy together."

My father is correct. I do want to kiss him, very badly. I glance at Data, attempting to gauge his thoughts. His face – that beautiful golden face – is open, expectant. I release his hand, raising both of mine to rest them flat against his chest. "This isn't just because Dad wants it," I whisper, low enough that only he can hear.

When our lips meet, it's a completely different kind of homecoming.

(+A+)

My father surprises us all by holding onto life until summer turns to fall, not that there's a noticeable change of seasons on the surface of this world, or in the underground home we occupy. His memorial service is brief, but heartfelt, and as is the custom in the Resistance, he is cremated and his ashes mixed into the soil for a new tree in the arboretum.

When everyone else has left the green space, I collapse onto the ground near the sapling that represents Dad, and water it with my tears, until Data, recognizing my need, lifts me into his arms. "Come, Zoe. Allow me to take you home."

I have no words. I'm too raw. I let him cradle me against his body, and carry me back to our rooms, to our bed.

Our joining is tender.

We begin with him on top, smoothing my hair away from my face. "Zoe, are you certain you want to…?" he asks. Not so long ago, he asked every time.

"I want this. I want you." I stretch up to kiss him, as I've done so many times in the past months. My hands slide over his arms, his back. I tug at his shirt. "I need you."

Data doesn't often use his android speed when we're in bed – he says he prefers to be thorough – but he responds to my statement, my urgency, by pulling off, first his own clothing, then mine. Yes, this. This is what I need.

Skin to skin, my hands move up and down his body, and his hands tease first my breasts, and then, when my nipples have become stiff peaks, he lowers his mouth to first one and then the other while his fingers insinuate themselves between my legs.

My first orgasm is just from his fingers inside me, and his mouth on my nipples, and he holds me while I tremble from all the sensations.

When I've recovered enough to speak I demand, "More… please, more."

Data claims my mouth with his, and as we kiss, he rolls us so I'm straddling him. He reaches for my hair and pulls it from the bun I'd twisted it into for the memorial, tangling his fingers into it. I can feel his length between my legs, and he lifts me slightly, helping me find the right position.

The first time we'd made love in this position, it had been awkward – it wasn't a new position for me, but any 'first' with a new lover can be bumpy – and it had taken time for us to learn what was, in his word, 'optimal.'

He may prefer thorough, but at that moment, I want fast, and I want fierce. I ride him until I'm almost at climax again, and when I'm ready, when I'm close, I tell him, "Now," and he triggers his own release.

Sated and spent, I let the next round of tears come. Data, meanwhile, wraps me in his solid embrace and pulls the covers over us both. "Cry yourself out," he whispers into my hair. "Beloved, I am here. You are not alone."

I don't realize until the next morning that in his understated way, Data has declared his love for me. I do wake feeling much more even-keeled, and when I join him in the main room of our apartment, and hug him from behind, I say, "I heard what you said last night; I love you, too, you know."

His hands reach up to cover mine, squeeze slightly, and then let go.

(+A+)

Three years later…

"Very well then," Jean-Luc says, glancing at each of us who are sitting around the kitchen table with him. "You and Zoe will remain here on Terlina III, along with Alyssa, Taurik, Sam, Laran, Keiko, and Miles. They'll continue setting up the cottages for new residents, get the hospital building ready, and start work on the school, while you establish a planetary comm link and defense grid."

"Am I to assume, then," Data asks, "that you and Beverly will be returning to Omicron Theta to continue our work there?"

"Yes, for now," Picard responds. "It's time for you young people to build your own lives, Data. The Empire has been in a state of relative peace for over a year, and you and Zoe deserve to focus on your dream now."

"Jean," I begin, "please don't think we don't want you here…"

"I would never believe that," the older man assures me. "And don't think we won't be in frequent communication. If nothing else, I expect to be made godfather to your son or daughter when she makes an appearance." His gruff tone does nothing to hide his affection.

My hands move to my belly seemingly of their own volition. As it so often had throughout history, prolonged peace had led to a surge of newborns throughout the empire, and it seemed an android and his lover were not immune to the desire to create new life. Thanks to donor sperm from a source we've chosen not to reveal outside a select few, Data and I are only a few weeks away from becoming a family of three instead of two, which is one of the reasons we volunteered to take charge of this new venture.

Our 'dream' was really my father's: he'd hoped for a short-lived resistance followed by a resurgence of the arts. No one's really sure how Empress Kira Nerys - a Bajoran – came into power, but most people are grateful for the change. When my mother – who, as far as I was aware, still believed I was dead – ascended to the position of Prime Minister, she began enacting changes to Empire policy, beginning with restoring Starfleet as an organization of defense and scientific exploration, rather than an aggressive force. She had, it would seem, been on the right side all along, and had simply been biding her time. We talk, sometimes, about telling her where we are, and allowing her to know her granddaughter, but so far, it's only talk.

Terlina III had originally belonged to Data's creator, Dr. Soong, and my father had managed to protect it as an asset, something we only discovered months after his death. Only the main house – our house – had modern conveniences, but when you'd been living underground – in many case literally – for the better part of a decade, a basic cottage and the chance to be a founding member of a multispecies arts colony was incredibly attractive.

I glance at my partner and give him a nod. "Sir," he says to his former commanding officer, "it would be our honor if you would be godfather to Lal when she is born."

"It's a girl, then?" he asks, and follows it immediately with, "Lal is an interesting name."

"It is the Hellean word for 'soul,'" Data explains. "We felt it to be an appropriate choice."

No one would have understood why a Hellean name has meaning for us, but Jean-Luc does, and he shares one final piece of information. "You might be interested to know that Geordi and Aquiel's son Jayden was born three weeks ago."

I share another look with Data and then I say. "Give them our regards, please? And remind them they're welcome here."

"I will certainly do so," Jean-Luc promises. "And now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to bed. I have a long flight in the morning."

"Rest well, sir," Data tells him. "Zoe and I will be retiring as well."

We wait for the former captain, and current leader of what remains of the Resistance, to leave the kitchen and enter the guest room, and then Data and I engage in our newly-formed ritual of checking all the doors, and turning off unnecessary lights.

Through the glass doors, I can see that a one of the cottages dotting the shore of our lagoon still has a light on. "Looks like Noah is up late, studying," I observe.

"He wishes to follow his aunt into medicine," Data reminds me. "I believe he will excel in his chosen field."

"I hope he has the chance," I say.

We head to our own room then, where we change for bed and settle ourselves under the covers, but I can't get comfortable as quickly as I'd like to.

Data doesn't miss my squirming. "Is something wrong, Beloved?"

I shake my head, smiling. "Not exactly. Your daughter is just doing somersaults tonight."

"Last night, you described her movements as kickboxing."

"Last night, that's how it felt."

Data adjusts his position against our pillows so that his arm is around me. "She is always calmer when I am holding you," he observes. He rests his other hand against my stomach. "Good night, Lal," he whispers, directing the words to the developing lifeform I'm carrying. "Sleep well, Zoe," he continues.

The kiss we share is brief and relatively chaste, but it holds the promise of many, many more.

As I drift to sleep, safe in my partner's arms, my thoughts stray to his brother, just for a second. We haven't heard any word of Lore in over a year. It's possible he's plotting some move against us, but it's equally possible he's chosen to simply disappear. I try not to worry about it too much, and when I can't push the worry down, Data reminds me that I am not alone, and never will be.

My father once told me that the best revenge was living well. We've resolved to do just that.

Notes: I thought about a grim ending, but I just couldn't do it. At least not this time. Sorry, Javanyet. I guess I'm reacting to the amount of darkness in the real world these days. This story inspired by the IDW TNG comic book series Mirror Broken, and the Tamara Moir poem "A Broken Mirror, the full text of which is:

A broken mirror

A distorted face

A shattered heart

A clear distaste

A fallen tear

A reddened eye

A downturned mouth

A year gone by

A loaded gun

A finished fear

A bloodied wall

A broken mirror...

Thanks for reading. Now that this piece is complete, I'll be focusing on Crush III: Sostenuto for a while. The primary versions of Data and Zoe are a bit irritated about being neglected for so long.