An Android's Lullaby

Continuity Note: This is a CRUSH future-fic, and takes place about four months before Nemesis.

Stardate 56457.01

(Saturday, 16 June 2379, 19:27 hours, ship's time)

Commander Data, recently promoted to full rank, entered the quarters he shared with his wife and infant daughter, and stopped for a moment just inside the closed doors. The main room was only dimly lit, but the bedroom door was open, a rectangle of soft pink light forming a path from the entry to the inner room.

As stealthily as possible he crossed the dark expanse of the living room, moving toward that warm glow. Wafting out of the room, he heard the soft sound of his wife's voice, singing a lullaby:

"Lula, lula, lula, lula, baby
Do you want the stars to play with?
Or the moon to run away with?
They'll come if you don't cry"

Data smiled at the sound. He was not the type to classify things as 'favorites,' but even though his wife claimed she was 'not really a singer,' he knew the truth of things: she had decades of vocal training, an excellent sense of pitch and, while she had a marked preference for songs composed for Broadway belters, could make herself sound warm and comforting, as she was doing now.

He did not lean against the doorjamb of their bedroom, but paused just inside, taking a moment to watch the women in his life.

Zoe, who had celebrated her twenty-eighth birthday nearly six months before, did not look appreciably older, to Data's eyes, than she had when they had first become lovers when she was seventeen, or when they had married six months after her twentieth birthday (their anniversary was in ten days; he hoped she would appreciate the gift that he had planned). It was true that her breasts were fuller, and her face was thinner, but she had retained the physique honed by a lifetime of swimming and surfing, her chestnut hair still had a life of its own, and the same brown eyes that were fill of love for their daughter could still flash annoyance at him or telegraph desire.

Elizabeth, on the other hand, at a mere seven-and-a-half months old was still developing. Her ears had just begun to display the points that came from her biological father, and her hair, as unruly as her mother's despite it's relative shortness, was jet black. The baby's eyes were echoes of Zoe's, slightly softer in color, and while she hadn't yet begun to form discernible words, her shapeless babble had a musical quality to it.

When Zoe began singing the second verse of the lullaby, Data moved all the way into the room, stepping into his wife's personal space, albeit behind her, and sliding one arm around her waist while the other lent support to the baby in her arms. This had become a sort of ritual on days when his shift allowed him to be home for his daughter's bedtime.

Zoe turned her head to flash him a look that combined welcome and gratitude, and in response, Data blended his voice with hers, joining in the song she had taught him.

"Lula, lula, lula, lula lula, baby
In your mommy's arms, you're sleeping
And soon dawn will come creeping,"

Perhaps she was finally tired enough, or perhaps Elizabeth really was a 'daddy's girl' at such a tender age, but the combination of her mother's mezzo-soprano and her father's tenor singing together sent her to sleep.

"May I?" Data asked his wife, whispering the question into her ear.

Zoe nodded, and they shifted positions so that it was he who held their sleeping child.

Carefully – oh, so carefully – he placed her in her crib, used touch commands to activate the monitor, and then drew his wife into a loving embrace.

Neither spoke until they were out of the bedroom, and the door was mostly closed. "You're home early," Zoe observed. "I thought you were on duty until midnight."

"Captain Picard had all fathers relieved early today, myself included."

Zoe smiled. "Because tomorrow's Father's Day. I know we're going to have to put in an appearance at the brunch in the Riding Club, but aside from that, what would you like to do? It's your day, after all."

The Riding Club – more formally the Happy Bottom Riding Club (so named by Commander Riker) was the equivalent on this ship of the old Enterprise's Ten-Forward, and it was run by a woman named Malia. Community events were incredibly important to her. Brunch on Mother's Day and Father's Day had been her creations.

Data's mouth curved up at the corners, and he nudged his wife toward their couch while stepping over to the replicator to request, and then retrieve, a light meal of spaghetti aglio e olio and glasses of chilled water with lemon for them both.

"I wish to do this," he said, after they were both comfortable on the couch, with their meal. Eating in a casual setting had long been a pattern of theirs and he had come to appreciate it over the years. "I wish to spend the day quietly in our home, with our daughter. I cannot think of any activity that could be more special."

"Not any activity?" Zoe asked in her flirtatious voice.

"Perhaps one activity," Data amended. Physical intimacy had always been a component of their relationship, and they were still learning how to find the right moments for it now that they were parents to an infant. He was gratified to see Zoe smile in response to his comment. "We may not even have to wait until tomorrow."

Laughing softly, his wife began to eat her dinner, eventually setting the bowl aside and moving to curl against Data's body. "I think I'm ready for dessert," she said in what Data thought of has her sultry tone.

"I believe there is only one item on the menu," he replied, punctuating his words by kissing her.

They made love on the couch, coming together with the ease and familiarity of two people who have been connected for a significant length of time, but that comfort did not lessen his desire for her, or the pleasure she received from him, Data knew. Instead, the years they had shared added context and meaning, deepening everything they experienced.

Several hours later, after they had changed to pajamas – she wearing only the top over the lace underwear she never would give up – and he wearing only the bottoms – and moved to the bed, Data eased his sleeping wife from his embrace and went to tend their daughter.

This had been their pattern from the moment of Elizabeth's birth. While Zoe still had to wake to feed her most early mornings, it was Data, who did not require sleep and therefore would not suffer from its lack, who handled wee-hour changes and early morning soothing.

After quickly and surely replacing his daughter's soiled diaper with a clean one, Data cradled the baby against his bare chest, and began singing to her in a voice pitched low – just loud enough for infant ears but not so loud that it would disturb Zoe's sleep.

And yet, he was repeating the song for only the third time, when he heard his wife's voice, muzzy from sleep and sex, but still holding a note of affectionate teasing, calling across their room. "It used to be that when you were singing in the middle of the night, it was for me."

Data's response was to bring Elizabeth into their bed with them. Another advantage of his android nature: there was no risk that he would fall asleep, and the baby would come to harm. With one arm around his wife, who was resting her head against his shoulder, and his other holding his daughter against his chest, he repeated the lullaby his wife had been singing earlier.

"Lula, lula, lula, lula, baby
Do you want the stars to play with?
Or the moon to run away with?
They'll come if you don't cry

"Lula, lula, lula, lula lula, baby
In your mommy's arms, you're sleeping
And soon dawn will come creeping,

Lula, lula, lula, lula, lu…"

Zoe kissed their daughter's head and then his cheek, causing Data to turn toward her. "Zoe?"

"I love you," she told him. "Happy Father's Day."

One moving speck among millions sailing through that vast, black, sea called Space, the Enterprise traveled onward, and in a bed, in a cabin, on deck two of the silvery starship, Commander Data kept watch over this most precious pair of passengers: his family.

Into the darkness, he smiled.

Notes: Something short and sweet in honor of the day, since I've been writing so much Mirror Crush the past weeks. The song, which was sung by Paul Robeson, is technically Lula, Lula, Bye, Bye, but my grandmother, and then my mother, always sang it as "baby."