The BLTS Archive - Obscured by Ladonna (Ladonna@delphi.com( --- The first draft of "Obscured" appeared in May, 1995. What follows is the final draft, new and shiny (and improved). Thanks to asfs and its trekrotica writers and readers for being so much hilarious damn fun, to both Ruth ("Paramount rules the Earth, roaming it in large herds") and Atara ("I should know...") for such riveting descriptions of their action figures (and for nice emails in general), and to Cousin Chrislal, wherever you are. Please keep all headers intact. No reproduction without consent, please. My first attempt at this sort of thing hopefully will be received warmly by all you good folks. The setting: the new, post-1701D- crash, post-emotion-chip-for-Data _Enterprise_. Comments are welcomed. All standard disclaimers apply: c'mon, Paramount, stop staring at your cash registers for two seconds...this is for fun. -- May 13, 1995 December 1, 1995 --- ...out in space days away... through these eyes I rely on all I see obscured through these eyes looks like I'm home tonight... through these eyes I deny on all I see... what you said made a mess of me what you said I don't want obscured --Corgan and Iha --- He saw himself adrift among the wreckage. His own body, curving in on itself as if cut free from strings, drifted into cold, deep fathoms, overlooked, lost. The image came to him again and again as it had since the trial. He did not know why. Drifting, drifting, reflected somewhere in those dark, pained eyes... --- He was sulking. It was a new experience. But each time he tried to concentrate on it, to analyze the process of sulking, his thoughts wandered to the cause of it all, and the accompanying feelings were almost unbearable. Nervous sorrow from the fear of losing a friend. Nervous anticipation from the hope of it happening. Dread of a confrontation. Regret for bringing it up. Anger at himself for even wanting it. Self deprecation for wanting it from whom he did. /I should not have asked/ And excitement. /It could happen He might say yes No, I should not have asked/ He sat very still on his small sofa in his quiet room. With pale brow subtly furrowed, he was a real tempest of emotions. --- /why did he come to me, to -me-/ Picard stood, red-faced. The view of the station from his new ready room was lost on him. His eyes stared into the dark, wishing for a mind-busying, stress-causing mission to some virus-stricken colony or a tense confrontation in the Neutral Zone. Anything but the decision wrecking him now. It was late; the nightwatch began long ago. But the calming Earl Grey, sipped an hour ago in thoughtful consideration, and maybe even a fleeting, involuntary fantasy or two, had given way to a caffeine-induced fit of shaking and uncontrolled musings -- sometimes angry, mostly perplexed. Picard missed his fish, always so relaxing to watch. He imagined the moment of impact when its tight container shattered. /He's probably waiting now He'll probably wait all night How strange not to need sleep/ He inhaled sharply and crossed the room. Sitting on the sofa, his thoughts cleared a bit. He closed his eyes and concentrated. /Did he really ask what I think he did? Of course, of course he did. It is too difficult to misunderstand that one. Why, why did he come to -me-/ Picard leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, head in hand. The tension in his stomach caused him to grimace. He was already composing the speech in his mind. /I am flattered you came to me, however, I will not be able to comply with your request due to the awkward nature of the inevitable resulting change in our relationship as officers serving... Oh, a "dear sir" letter, that is. What a terrible thing to inflict/ Hours passed, and Picard began to succumb to sleep. He thought of crashing on his ready room sofa. Being spotted roaming the ship at this hour would raise eyebrows, become fodder for gossip. That would not do. He was a model of calm and control. The Captain was everything upright, respectable, planned, and flawlessly executed. He was command. He had to be. Even when he did not wish it. As the words "why me" rang in his head, as they had done all evening, he was struck with a shocking thought. /Oh, Data, I don't want to say no/ --- The darkened corridors hid what lay beyond each curve. His pace quickened. People passed, their faces appearing suddenly, staring into the face of their captain. The stone facade was firmly in place: a mask of command. Impenetrable. He nodded to each passing face almost imperceptibly. But now he could not see. Something heavy obscured his vision, slowed him. Sounds came to his ears muffled, unable to penetrate woolen air. His feet took on hidden weight, and he could no longer move easily. When his vision began to blur, he at least knew he had reached his quarters: the tiny print marking the door "Captain's Quarters" was the last clear sight he had before falling, paralyzed by an invisible stone weight, through the opening doors. The thud of the hard floor meeting his body did not come. Floating, falling further and further, he waited for the terrible crash, the bone- crushing end that surely awaited such a fall. But it did not come and he strained to see why. His vision focused tightly upon the image of Data's hands, cradling him firmly. "Thank you for catching me, Data. I don't know why I blacked out," he managed to muster rather abashedly in the dark room. The response he heard came in the form of a whisper. "I do." The hands raised him to a stable position, leaning against the wall just inside the doors. Throwing his head back, he braced himself. He saw that Data looked so sad, such an un-androidlike quality, yet so natural. It seemed appropriate just now to Picard. /I must tell him now I'm sorry, Data, I cannot as your Captain, as your friend, as your c.o., as your -what will I say- he has asked too much of me, he has asked for too much of my control, hasn't he/ The words did not come. There were no objections in his heart. The practiced speech found no outlet. And suddenly the melancholy expression was closer. The hands were warmer. "You need this," Data stated clearly. Jean-Luc gave in. Data's body pressed hard against him, pinning him to the wall. The pale, golden hands found rest on the smooth wall behind his head. The closeness of this, the intimacy, surprised him and surrounded him in a warm deafness. Data's eyes were piercing, now shining through an angelic expression, head bowed, but intent. Picard was no longer dizzied. He met Data's gaze, unflinching. Did he hear rain falling? This felt right. This felt comfortable. Picard pressed his palms flat against the wall behind him. He swore he could feel waters falling on him, a summer shower. His stresses, all the weight of an invisible exterior of stone, were being washed from him. Data was so close. It felt intoxicating, like red wine burning through his body, relaxing his muscles. He untensed and let his eyelids again succeed in becoming heavy, this time with his permission. The rain continued to fall about him. Lightly, a slow, warm kiss reached his lips. Picard awoke with a start. His artificial heart struggled to calm itself, and he began to feel a profound weight being lifted from him. Unclenching his fists, he let the blood return to his knuckles. /I didn't resist/ His body was warm, vibrating. He enjoyed that dream. And even as the images and tastes were disappearing into the increasing alertness of his mind, he smiled. Leaning back into the cushions, Picard smiled. /He came to -me-/ --- The android had sat up all night. Sitting alone, he had replayed the conversation over and over in his head. Regret had long ago melted into simple wonder: what made him admit it? The moment had just taken him, as he had heard others describe bold moves they had made. The moment had just taken him. Guinan is not so wise, he thought. "Lovely!" "Yes, a good end to a good day, Captain!" They yelled over the din of the banquet. After dinner drinks had been flowing for some time, and before that, the wine with dinner, and before that, the pre-dinner cocktails, and before that, the post-trial champagne. Picard's court martial trial lasted weeks longer than anyone anticipated, worrying the crew of the new Enterprise who more than anything else simply wanted their captain back. The loss of the 1701-D was a blow to all, but Picard alone held the blame. For the duration of the trial, he also held the shame. The crew's show of support for the Captain had been overwhelming. The solid numbers in attendance each day were obvious statements in themselves. During the particularly nasty grill sessions, when Picard found himself sitting alone in front of a panel of dour faces being bombarded with accusations and questions that, at best, could be called unfair, the ranks in audience around him broke into angry protests more than once. At one point, Mr. Worf had to be ejected from the room, no easy task even for four of Starfleet's burliest. But Data noticed more. He had sat in stilled attendance, his concerns repeatedly focusing in on the smallest details of his captain's face and body, searching for signs of reassuring confidence, but more often seeing only distress. Fleeting eruptions of severe unease passed through the familiar, carefully maintained mask too often. Data's silent gaze recorded all. He found himself troubled, literally pained, at seeing the man in this position. Nightly he would replay the sessions in his head, to watch again the armrests being gripped by clenching fingers and the torture glinting in dark eyes, and nightly he would find that the pain of the day would not diminish, but intensify. It was his first experience with sympathy and the internal ache that it can conjure. Hiding behind his impenetrable exterior, Picard had seemed to hold up well. Now, he was exhausted. "I need to sit, I think," Picard called to Data. He sauntered to a more secluded area of the party and, out of sight from the majority of guests, allowed himself to sway a bit from the port. It was a good vintage, and Picard wasted none of it. He collapsed loose- limbed on the cushions of the chair. Data followed, relieved to see even the smallest signs of melting tensions. Data spoke, high on celebration. "This is unlike any feeling I have experienced thus far," he mused. "Oh, and is it one of the best?" Jean-Luc and his drink asked. "Best? I do not know if any emotion can be 'best.'" He then paused, sensing the Captain's blooming annoyance. "Yes, it is," he offered. His simple answer pleased Picard enough to make him straighten a bit in the chair. "Data," he intoned, "tell me how you've been. It's been so long." Picard swayed in his seat, hidden giddiness threatening to steal his captainly facade completely. /I should not have said anything/ "I have been analyzing many novel experiences, Captain." "Novel? Data, new emotions?" said Picard, seemingly only half aware of his officer's words. "New for me, yes." /I should not have said anything. I should not have started this line of conversation/ "Please continue, Mr. Data...whatssnew?" Picard slurred his words, and Data noticed. "After experiencing the spectrum of basic emotions," he began, "I found that an entirely other spectrum of feelings existed -- " Data's visage began to take on a shy quality. Picard gave him a cursory glance, noticing the worrisome expression. "Oh?" This caused Data to hesitate, unsure of the appropriateness of his thoughts. Picard took his glass in hand for another taste and finished: "And what is it that is so new and so disconcerting?" Data considered the man to whom he was speaking. They had known each other for years; he considered him to be a close friend and a man he could easily trust. Still, a wave of intimidation passed over him. This was Captain Picard. He was authority incarnate. He was still his commanding officer. And he was the subject of Data's "new and disconcerting" feeling. Data took a quick breath. "Lust. I believe your glass needs refilling, Sir." Before Picard could reply or refuse his offer, Data was at the bar across the room. "So, Mr. Data, what's new?" Guinan's greeting made him look up with dread. How could she know? How could she have heard? His expression was one of soft horror. "I only mean how are you..." she began suspiciously. "Looks like I said something wrong." "No." His answer was too abrupt. "I mean, I am fine. Another port, please." "Ahh, so you've taken up the drink, have you? Watch out, too much of this stuff'll ruin your liver." Data began to protest, but stopped short, his mouth befuddled by wandering thoughts. Guinan noticed Jean-Luc in the corner; he looked befuddled, too, staring Data's way. "What did he do to you?" she assumed the Captain was the cause of Data's expression. "What, did he hurt your feelings?" she smiled a jovial smile. Data looked over his shoulder at Picard. The vision of his solid, compact figure looked invitingly pleasant. Instantly, a sweeping fantasy came to his mind. He did not share it with the barkeep. "He did not hurt my feelings. However," Data tried to explain his own hesitancy to speak. "The Captain, ...has been the object of certain, new...feelings...or inexplicable...thoughts...actually for some time now...weeks...I do not expect too much from him... a long term relationship between us would not be feasible, however, I, I..." His words trailed into defeated silence, but he did not need to finish. Guinan leaned in and looked knowingly, deeply into his eyes. She looked at Picard, sitting alone and attempting sobriety even though Guinan herself had seen to it that his hand always held a glass. She knew that letting go of tension was not one of Picard's natural skills. Tonight, it seemed not even alcohol could grant him release. Guinan looked back to Data's furrowed brow. Her gaze, thoughtful and intuitive, sharpened itself as she prepared to speak. "Data, it's a good thing to take a risk sometimes. Be bold. You never know what can happen." Her words were like unexpected slaps to a dazed man. Data was not expecting such advice, bold in itself. He leaned in, intrigued. Guinan smiled devilishly. Eyes on Picard, she nodded slowly, "He needs it. Especially now. He needs it." She focused again on Data. "And you can give it to him." With a request for a seventh drink for Riker, she went back to her bartending duties, but gave Data one last remark. "But then again, I'm no expert. Follow your--" the devilish grin curled into an elfin smile. "Do what you feel is right for now." He did not fully understand her enigmatic words, but was moved by her charisma nonetheless. He took the glass, turned, and approached the secluded corner of the room. Holding Picard's stare, an intense courage building within him, he dodged the swaggers of fellow crewmates and heavy admirals. Picard's gut told him something big was about to occur. The feeling was not unlike the feeling he had after Beverly confronted him by the campfire on Kes-Pritt. That certainly was a disappointment. Before Picard could register the import of that sensation, Data sat Picard's glass down in front of him, and, chin raised, courage up, the words on the tip of his tongue, fear in his amber eyes, he inhaled a deep breath-- and was slapped on the back by a boisterous Riker. The jolt was enough to knock Data into the table and cause the port glass to tip over. "Ships called Enterprise! Ships called Enterprise, Data!" Data could only nod uncomprehendingly. Riker wandered off as abruptly as he had appeared. Data turned again to Picard. Picard's eyes were alight with curiosity. He knew Data was holding something back from him. Data could only look away, the more simple emotion of embarrassment creeping in. He stared at his hands. "Data," Picard intoned, sounding less intoxicated than before, "what is it you mean to say to me?" His mind was racing with the possibilities. That look Guinan had given him, was it what it seemed? Or was the beverage spilled on the table in front of him clouding his mind? It did seem meaningful. "He needs it," he had read her lips. Needs what? It certainly affected the android sitting close to him. Very close to him. Picard looked at the golden face, and his mind jumped to the only conclusion to be drawn. "I have not felt this way about anyone thus far - " The words seemed heavy. "I, I would like...very much..." Data began tentatively. "...to, to have you consider, ...the possibility..." He looked up from his lap into Picard's face, moments before drunk and approachable, now hardened by an all-too-familiar captainly wall. Data's eyes dropped once more. /Now or never the moment said/ Guinan watched from the bar. She saw Data staring at his lap, stopped in mid-sentence by the change in Jean-Luc's demeanor. He seemed to build courage and say something -- just a few words, simple and to the point. It took all the bravery he had; just as soon as he had finished speaking, she saw him freeze in fear of the response. The Captain gave no reply. He stood and walked toward the door, the sober, straight walk of a commander. Guinan folded her arms and watched him, her face tightening into a wise smirk. Picard saw her but did not allow her to see him blush. --- Down in engineering, the worries of his night were pushed to the back burner. Alignments, adjustments, and new ensigns confused by the tasks kept him busy. An anomalous reading in one of the Jefferies Tubes had Geordi stumped; Data took on the mystery and repairs himself. Still, his thoughts had room to wander. The decision of that morning stole some of his focus: he would apologize, and hope for the best. If he was lucky, a friendship would not be ruined. He did not have to interact with Picard that day. The time spent in the confines of the Jefferies Tube mostly took care of that. When he was outside making use of the consoles, only the Captain's brief visit down to chat diagnostics with LaForge was all he had to bear. Talking with Geordi, Picard had a difficult time concentrating. He continually glanced Data's way. Data was expressionless. When their eyes met, Picard looked away, seemingly enthralled in LaForge's words. When he looked again, Data was gone. A feeling of disappointment touched his stomach. "Where did he go?" "Pardon, Sir? Where did who go?" Geordi looked around. "Data, where did Data go?" "I don't know. He's been acting, well, odd all day. Preoccupied, I'd say." "I'm sure." Picard seemed distant. He remembered his rude behavior after dinner. /Dammit I should not have walked out like that/ "Anything I should know, Sir?" Geordi had only professional concerns in mind. "No, all will be consummated soon." With that, he turned and left. Geordi looked after him, completely baffled. --- Picard walked onto the bridge, lift doors sliding shut behind him. He would go to Data at the first possible moment he had free. Foremost on his mind was the apology he owed. He stopped himself from imagining where things would go from there: Troi was nearby. He chuckled inwardly at the expression she would wear if she only knew. /How unlike what a captain should be and on his own bridge as well/ He seemed smug in his new, more relaxed mindset. He remembered Guinan's words, "He needs it." He smirked at himself. /yes, I guess I do/ The good feelings lasted only a moment. LaForge's voice, loud and full of panic rang out through the comm system. "Engineering to Bridge! I'm in Jefferies Tube 5244-A... We have a problem! Power surge in conduit five... Data, Data can you hear me? Dammit! I'm gonna need help here -- I can't move him alone!" Geordi's calls to the android sent a sick wave of heat through Picard. It was evident from Geordi's tone that Data was down and not responding. /Not now not before I've talked to him I should not have waited so long dear God/ And the Captain was on his way. --- "Captain," explained LaForge as he worked on Data in the android's own quarters, "it was a simple surge, just an accident. Data was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. My team has repaired the glitch." The atmosphere was not unlike that of a deathbed, Picard noted. Geordi paused again and looked at Data, his expression of concern showing under the VISOR. "He really took a blow of power. No other member of the crew would have survived it." With that, he went back to work on Data's wounds. Picard walked slowly to the end of the bed to get a better view of the pale face, placid now with eyes closed and circuitry exposed. The sight was unnerving. The material of the woolen uniform was charred at several points on the chest and arms. Picard touched the android's arm where some of the material had burned to nothing. His skin was soft and warm. "-Will- he survive?" Picard asked point- blank. "Well, Sir, Data is unique. Power we need and power we use, but sometimes, power burns." The words contained a second meaning for Picard. "Whoever's in the way gets hurt." As Geordi spoke, he continued making adjustments. Suddenly he stood back, as if expecting a reaction from his patient. Data sat up and rested his legs over the side of the bed. When he attempted to speak, his friend stopped him. "No, Data, don't try. I haven't reconnected your language circuits yet. You can't talk." Data looked around him, hands folded on his lap. At the sight of the Captain, his face took on a subtle change. He bowed his head. Picard, who hadn't taken his eyes off Data's face, noticed the slight transformation. What was it? LaForge excused himself to retrieve some tools he needed from Data's desk in the other room. Picard stepped closer to the android. Data's eyes held their mute frustration. When Jean-Luc opened his mouth to speak his own peace, Data jerked his head and stood, walking to the far wall. He faced his bookshelves covered with the mementos of his past. A violin and its case, obtained for a trip to Baker Street, a nightcap worn in one of his dramatic efforts on the holodeck; they were various items familiar to both Picard and their owner. Picard approached Data and saw him reach out for something. He tried to see what Data had just plucked from his shelves, the sound of rustling pages urging him closer. Now he stood by Data's side, looking into the quiet face. Data looked at the page and rested his hand gently beside a passage; he touched the book as if it were a rare, delicate artifact. Picard understood he was silently being asked to read. He read in a soft, low whisper so that the third one present would not hear. "...the offender's sorrow offers but poor consolation to him who bore the brunt of the offense." Picard became silent with emotion. Data was apologizing to -him-. He shook his head, eyes closed, brow knitted. So much made sense now; and this book -- this book was important for so many reasons. Data had often come to him for assistance in learning about humanity, in learning about human being. So many things simply confounded him. Picard aided him in his search gladly. The gift of this book was the beginning of it all. Picard realized in this moment that he shared a certain intimacy with Data: one that may have never seemed special to him, but which was overwhelmingly important for his friend. The impression of rain from his recent dream floated into his head and heightened his emotion. /How natural this new turn in him is so natural how could I be so blind so inconsiderate I was too busy being blind to him Too busy being a captain, his captain/ The pages rustled again. Opening his eyes, Jean-Luc looked into the childlike eyes, then read to himself Data's final message. /"Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown."/ Picard inhaled sharply, mouth falling open, the stresses of the day finally settling into his heart. Thoughts of his inexcusable behavior toward his sincere friend /who knows me so well/ overtook him. This Godsend stood next to him, innocent, offering not only an apology but an understanding of his pains of late, as well -- neither of which he knew he was deserving. He felt a heat rise into his face and resisted the tear rising in his eye. Data stood quiet, the book which Picard had given him so long ago still in his gentle grasp. With this vision before him, all fell into place within Picard's mind, and he let his eyes smile with warmth and understanding. /You came to me/ --- Happy but exhausted, Geordi took his leave. Data was left alone in his quarters, now in the wee hours of the morning. Picard had left long ago. Geordi, sensing some of the Captain's urgency, although for what he did not know, had convinced him that he would only be in the way and that the rest of Data's wounds would take hours to repair. Picard had left hesitantly. "You have tomorrow off, if you want, my friend," Geordi had said before he went to his own quarters. "No one will expect you to be in a working mood this soon after what happened. Take it easy." Easy. He actually saw the humor in the word: his mind was once again racing with worry. Too late to approach the Captain, Data wandered the ship and eventually found himself on Omnicron Theta in Holodeck 4. --- The forest air was sweet and thick. The woodland creatures of the holodeck were heard but unseen. A conjured blackbird called from a conjured sky. Data looked at his reflection in the water at his feet. His uniform seemed inappropriate for this locale, his birthplace of sorts. He removed the tunic and laid it over a branch, his black undershirt tight against his chest. Before traversing the rushing stream, he removed his boots and socks. Freed from Starfleet, he walked into the thick of the trees. --- Picard dozed. He had fallen asleep in his uniform, boots and all. When the computer made its announcement, he awoke, a tangled mass of nerves. He had instructed the computer to monitor Data's quarters and to inform him when LaForge had left the premises. He bolted out into the corridor, eager to see the android's condition, eager to see the android. --- Data had found a mossy knoll in the darkness of the woods and had chosen it as his spot for contemplation. He felt the texture underfoot and reveled in its softness. Laying back, limbs sprawled, he allowed his thoughts to wander on their own: no analyses, no worrying. Unlike recent times, the images coming to him were not of his captain. Tasha's face was flushed, her mouth open. The smoothness of her skin, her breasts, her legs, washed over him anew. Her clothes were thrown onto the floor where she had stripped for him moments before. His bare chest received her caresses and playful bites. She was astride him, her legs spread for his talented fingers. And then she was around him, his shaft enveloped in warmth. She was saying something, her lips struggling to make sounds through her labored breathing. Data looked up at her from his memory. He saw now the beauty and the trust. He concentrated on the dream of her body, trying to ascribe feeling to the sensory records of years ago. Her hips undulated against his, her hands on his chest. He felt the wetness of their joining, and the sounds of pleasure rising from her throat. All was tactile record. And a bit muddled, too. No memory from that day was entirely clear. /Next time I will remember if there ever is a next time for me/ --- Picard reached Data's door and waited. He stood in the hallway alone, looking from side to side, hoping no curious ensign would drop by and ask him what he was doing outside one of his officers' doors at this time of night. No answer to his presence came. A query to the computer alleviated his worry. "Computer, location of Mr. Data." --- He concentrated further on the remembered images. A sharp pain invaded his chest: "It didn't happen." The memory of Tasha's denial was not at all distorted. He forced his thoughts back to their brief tryst. Tasha smiled at him, this time underneath him. She spoke to him, asking for slower, faster, harder, softer. She told him he was perfect. She told him he was beautiful. He kept up a rhythm inside of her and noted with curiosity the way she dug her fingernails into his buttocks and arched her body into his. Memories of hot kisses and passion-driven hands clutching at his shoulders were becoming more and more real to him as he assigned new feeling to them. The old memory record was turning into new fantasy. The pain in his chest diffused into the darkness of the trees. He felt good. --- Picard stood outside Holodeck 4 and hesitated. He had come this far, this late, but he did not wish to disturb anyone's privacy. His captainly concern for Data's welfare overtook his politeness. --A fine excuse. He entered tentatively. Dwarfed by the towering trees, he scanned the density of the foliage for Data's figure. He saw only a discarded tunic and a pair of boots by the water. Feeling the humidity of the surroundings, he contemplated removing his own tunic. His hands stopped short of the fastener. /What if someone comes in?/ Remembering Guinan's glare from behind the bar as he slipped out of the party, Picard rolled his eyes at his own hesitancy and undid the fastener. /If Data can come out of his shell, then so shall I/ A single ragged footpath offered him direction, and he set off into the forest. --- Another fantasy had taken control. The face so close to his own was Picard's. The falling water of the shower trickled down their bodies. Water showers...one advantage of command on board a starship. Chiseled features and expressive eyes gazed down upon him with fire. The hands on his head, on his back, on his hips were hot and roaming. The mossy clearing pillowed his body as he concentrated on these images. Now he was leaning against the steamy tiles, Picard's arms holding him up. His hands reached for the hardness straining from the man's heated torso. Running water mixed with the slickness of bodily juices as he pumped with his hands and received open, exploring kisses. Picard took him by the chest and neck and faced him toward the tile wall, pressing him forward. Arms then surrounded him from behind, one hand grasping at his narrow hips and erect member. Water streamed down his back. He could feel the urgency of the hard shaft, pulsing to invade his inviting body. In the brush a faint rustling disturbed some foliage, but Data did not take notice. --- Picard stood, perspiring slightly from the hike. A pale, blue-winged creature floated and bobbed through the intermittent sunlight and lit upon his hand. Picard thought only of its delicate color and delicate life. His breath was steady, and his eyes were on the figure of Data reclining in the half-light of the forest. His body looked powerful, but at rest. His hands seemed to float on the green cloud of moss, his arms so slim and defined, the whole of his form peaceful and still. It was somewhat of a mythological image, he noted, a mechanical man daydreaming amongst the verdant growth and decay of a forest. He almost called out to him but resisted shattering the quiet scene. It was only then he noticed the physical state of this mechanical man, and deduced the nature of his dreaming. --- He felt Picard's heavy torso upon his own, his hands catching the water running down his thighs. He felt his body respond in this daydream; the sensation of excitement was heady. /I will feel it/ His own hands worked to support himself against the shower wall. He pushed back against Picard's chest, the intimacy attained pushing his body to depths he could only imagine. He felt the heat; he felt the contact. /What will it be like/ In his reverie, he marvelled at the experiences he had not yet had. In his reverie, he hoped the hope of a child that the experiences would indeed come. --- The bulge in the dreamer's uniform trousers startled Picard. It took a moment for him to fully imagine Data as a sexual being --a thought which had not totally occurred to him. /What will it be like/ His stomach fluttered. As he recovered, he realized he had overstepped his boundaries by entering the holodeck, obviously a place of contemplation and escape for Data, meant to be utilized in privacy. At the thought that he was now a peeping intruder, Jean-Luc quietly disappeared back down the path toward the exit. --- The Enterprise had a week's voyage ahead. Missions must begin somewhere, the next one light years away. With all pressing matters taken care of or passed on to Riker to handle, Picard spent the remainder of the afternoon in his quarters. All attempts at concentrating on ship's business had failed, anyway. Recurring images of Data's reverie in the verdant setting the night before, as well as the additional images invading his daydreams, took up most of his day and exhausted all of his efforts at captainly focus. Now he sat in the stillness of his bedroom, his uniform traded for a softer ensemble. His thick forearms with their delicate lines and strong hands rested on the cushions. The large shadow occupying the cabin draped itself across Picard's body. Suddenly, in drifting thoughts, anticipation gripped him. /Does he know how I feel I did not make it clear/ His nervous energy made him stand. Stiffly, he paced through the dim light to the window and looked out on the streaked starfield, jaw set. /I want this why does he not come now/ His concern for Data, his expectations for the evening, and his sudden realization that Data did not know his feelings washed through him, a wave of pain. The door chimed. /Data/ He stood in the doorway, the light from the corridor hiding his face in shadow. He stepped inside and did not look into Jean-Luc's eyes. "I apologize," he began, "for any ...damage I may have caused by my remarks to you." Data's gentle voice was a whisper. Picard stood in shock. Data had not intuited his feelings -- why should he have? Picard's head fell in disbelief of his own blindness, his own inconsideration...again. "Please, Data, come in." Data could not bear it. The tension was too thick. Emotion once again was a painful hindrance, and a thought which had never occurred to him suddenly did so. /Damn my father/ "I really must go, I...must go --" He turned to leave, avoiding Picard's eyes still. The doors opened for him, and he escaped the room into the bustling corridor, full of passing people. Full of Picard's crew members. Full of eyes looking at their captain's face, watching Data's abrupt exit from their captain's room. Picard followed. The ship's bright lights stung him. He had to pause outside his door, fist against the wall, to adjust. Squinting to see the pale figure moving farther away, Picard pulled away from the corridor's support to give chase. He caught Data by the arm just a few steps from the lift. His heart pounded in his ears. He could feel eyes upon them. His own eyes were glimmering. "Please come back to my quarters." His words were confident. He did not care who heard. Being pulled back down the hallway, Data could only blink in slight confusion. The people moved on. Picard looked around him, his eyes now fully recovered and his vision now clear. To his surprise, the staring, suspicious eyes he imagined were only that: his imagination. He had to sigh at himself. "I do not understand," Data protested as the doors slid shut. "You understand more than I realized." Picard's words were soft, a murmur... "I'm, I'm sorry." Picard stepped forward and took Data's head in his hands. Ever so gently, he placed a kiss onto his lips. And Data did understand. The shock he experienced in the busy hallway paled by comparison. He paused to cherish the feeling in his chest...anticipation. He raised his fingers to his own mouth, astonished at the warmth and vibration left there. He looked up at Picard's face and saw no wall, no mask. Only warm, grey eyes. His focus wavered as he considered the new feeling tickling him, making him...light. He placed his hands on his chest and imperceptibly cocked his head. "Butterflies," Picard said. At his words, Data looked inquisitive. "...Butterflies in your stomach." "How do you know?" "Because... I have them, too." Tentatively, Data reached out his hand to Picard's chest, partly exposed by the V of his shirt. Under his palm beat a heart; it pounded fiercely under the lean muscles. As the reality of the moment slowly began to sink into Data's dreamlike state, Jean-Luc spoke again. "Circuits and hard polymers." Picard smiled at his own words. Data's demeanor transformed, and Picard wondered if he had misspoken. The android's eyes seemed to be saying, "like me." Picard clasped Data's hand, still on his chest, and leaned forward. Data met his lips with his own. They were testing, feeling everything anew. Jean-Luc's arms hesitated before encircling his confidant, and he felt a surge of excitement as their bodies pressed closer. Data felt the surge as Picard's hardness jumped against his own. All he had waited for began to happen. /I feel this/ His hands pushed Picard's shirt off his shoulders. It hung about his hips. Data again pressed closer. /The warmth/ Picard's muscles worked as he forced the clasp on Data's tunic loose and pulled it from his torso, so defined, so svelte a figure. The undershirt was next, over Data's head, ruffling his hair. Picard placed his hand on the back of Data's head, slipping and gripping his fingers into the softness, ruffling it further. A tingling sensation traveled down Data's spine. He savored it. /I will remember all of this/ Data looked at his companion through new eyes. Picard met the gaze and knew the change he was feeling within himself was visible, too. He could feel all the tension of the past weeks flowing out of him like the heat emanating from his body. No more pretenses. "Thank you," they whispered simultaneously at each other. Any shred of shyness or distance between them fell into the void of space at that moment. All walls were rubble at their feet. Data took Picard's hand and placed it on his own chest. He looked at Picard almost apologetically and spoke. "Nothing." "Oh, Data," Jean-Luc spoke with the wisdom of years, his eyes reflecting both the concern and the flames within him, "you have always had a heart; you just didn't realize it." He held the android in his arms and pulled him slowly toward his words. "You've had one all along." The words fell on Data as if they were warm, caressing waters, soothing his soul. He wanted to hear it, he needed to hear it; and the man moving closer, surrounding him in a blanket of heated tenderness, was just the one he needed to hear it from. Years of need found fulfillment in one moment of intimacy, in one affirmation. He felt as if a long, difficult journey had just ended. "All along..." The words echoed. The embrace was strong; Picard held him in a feverish comfort neither of them had known. Data's mind spun at the sensation of their tongues mingling. Breathing slow and shallow breaths, each was continually surprised at the power the other's touch possessed. Golden hands cautiously moved over Picard's body, finally to hold Picard's head in a desirous kiss. Picard was mildly stunned to hear a short moan escape his own throat. Passion took hold of them both. Data's hand slid across Picard's stomach, removing the shirt still hanging from his waist. The trousers loosened easily under his graceful fingers. As he slipped under the waistband, Picard gasped and clutched at Data's hips. Picard realized he did not know what to do next, and in Data's grip, was quickly losing his power of reasoning. Data suffered no such problem. He held the member firmly, and skillfully ran his thumb and smooth palm over its sensitive head. Picard jumped slightly at each caress. His head slumped forward onto Data's shoulder, and he returned Data's caress by rubbing the heel of his palm over the hardness within Data's clothes. Data felt the breath upon his neck and had to pause to catch his own: the sensations were like new people to meet, showing themselves to him one by one and then mixing in the space of his body. He reveled in it. The intensity increased when he felt his hardening shaft being released from the confines of his trousers. The rest of his clothes fell to the floor as Picard maneuvered quickly. Careful not to break the increasingly passionate kiss between them, Data took on the responsibility of discarding Picard's remaining clothes. With a step, Picard was unclothed, and Data found his penis in the grasp of his companion's hands. He could not help but release a word of surprise and pleasure. Picard held him close, hard. The noise from within Data's chest gave him a satisfaction he could not have predicted. A thought flashed through his mind. /This is the first time for him the first time since... I'm the first./ With purpose, he started to lead Data into his bedroom, but was stopped just short of the partition. Data backed him up against the wall. Picard could not read Data's lack of expression, and the mystery of the intense gaze sent a dangerous thrill through his body. Data knelt. "Oh, God--" Jean-Luc threw his head back and clutched at the shoulders beneath him as Data took his penis into his mouth. Outside the door, Counselor Troi happened to be passing through the hallway with her dinner companion, the ship's barkeep. Both stopped dead in their tracks. Staring at the door, Troi's face flushed. "What the.." Guinan pulled her by the arm. "I'll explain later -- maybe." She grinned widely... /Good./ Picard's knees buckled under Data's ministrations; he tried to concentrate on breathing, anything to keep him from coming too close to the edge too soon. The wall behind him felt cool, and flashes of a recent dream appeared before his closed eyes. Data's tongue and throat now encompassed Picard's shaft to the base, golden hands firmly holding his hips in place. The sensations were overwhelming for Picard: Data knew exactly what he was doing. His hands roamed to the backs of Picard's knees, sensitive to his touch. Moving upward, Data paused to give special attention to the muscular thighs, tensed buttocks, and tightening sac. He placed his fingers on Picard's tight opening, just a hint of a touch, and grazed the flesh of the purple, throbbing cock with his teeth. It was nearly too much for Picard to withstand. He doubled over, grabbing Data's brown locks, pushing his head down onto him. He had guessed a tryst with Data could be good; he had underestimated just how phenomenal it was. Before he could find release from his maddening pleasure, Data was on his feet. He took Picard in his arms, heading for the bed. One arm around his shoulders, the other under one thigh, he tossed Picard's small frame onto the cushions. Before Jean-Luc's body had stopped bouncing, Data was on top of him, hard kisses sending a liquid wave through both of them. Picard was startled by Data's passion. He felt the shivering in his golden legs, now intertwined with his own. Their hard shafts pulsed against each other. Jean-Luc reached up with a hand and placed his fingers in the soft hair, his other hand firm on Data's back. With a mighty roll, he flipped them both, the adrenaline of excitement darkening his eyes and empowering his muscles. Data was now on his back, his mustard eyes looking up at Picard. The kiss resumed. Picard probed Data's mouth aggressively, his tongue seeking out the other. He ground his hips into Data's, searching for desperate release from the fervor achieved moments before. His kiss was returned, Data's tongue teasing and testing the space between Picard's front teeth. Data's own strength was not to be underestimated. In one movement, he turned his captain on his side, meeting Picard's back with his own chest and stomach. His erect member rested between Picard's spooned legs. Jean-Luc silently realized he was the weaker of the two. The thought was not unpleasant. /It's alright let go/ Data caressed the man's chest with one hand; the other arm supported his own weight. Another half roll and Jean-Luc found himself on top, gazing into the open view of the stars above his bed. Picard could feel his back on Data's chest and stomach, but he felt suspended, as if floating above Data's body. Being firmly supported from below, and with nothing to hang onto now, Picard let his arms drop beside him while Data held him. Data's hand descended slowly, his fingers roaming over the defined muscles of Picard's hips and thighs, and came to rest on the soft sac, tracing circles lightly on the tight orbs. His other hand lingered over nippled skin, occasionally taking an upward turn to trail along the strong jaw -- the jaw he had seen set in a stone- like pose too often. Now it hung slightly open, breath drifting in and out rhythmically. Data could feel the tip of his own hardness below his captain's. The sensations were startling and new, and he let his hands fall further downward, stroking his own erect head along with Picard's. The reality of this dreamy episode continually hit Data, his amber eyes opening and closing in near disbelief each time. Picard's breathing became heavier as Data manipulated the meat in his hand. Harder, faster. Jean-Luc's fingers clutched at the cushions and covers. He felt the android's hardness between his legs, more slender than his own, wet and slick with the mingling juices of each of them. In a rush, he wondered about his partner's pleasure, the nature of his satisfaction, the capabilities he might discover tonight, and whether he felt the same wonder at the intimacy so easily being achieved. Coming too close to his limits, Jean-Luc grabbed Data's wrists and, crossing his arms, pulled the pale arms tight about his own chest. In a jarring movement, he rolled himself onto his stomach, Data following involuntarily. The sudden flip left Data's hard cock positioned at Picard's opening. His wrists still captured in Picard's grips, Data stilled himself, carefully breathless, above Picard's back. The shyness and hesitancy of earlier seized him again. "I want you to," the words floated out of Picard. The android complied. The penetration made both of them stiffen. Only head deep, Data paused and blinked the shock of the sensation away. Data's penis was so slick: Picard briefly mused over the likely possibility that the android had some divine, built-in ability to make himself so damned easy to take, to want. Picard hung his blushing head over the side the bed. He was deafened by this new closeness, a pleasant numbness enveloping him. "What do you feel?" Data's concern came as a muffled surprise. "I feel..." Jean-Luc closed his eyes to consider. "I feel...safe." Data lowered his head to Picard's neck, cradling his body in slender arms. More juices seeped from his excited member, and he began to rock. Data closed his hands on Picard's shoulder and smooth side, his arms surrounding him to hold him steady below. Jean-Luc felt the urge to spread his legs wider, and framed Data's legs inside his own. The warmth of the contact was now body-length, complete. Picard's hardness dug into the silken sheets as Data's rocking increased. His own wetness added to the slippery, silken movement. He tensed as Data's stone-hard head found a new depth. The blood pounded in his ears as he marvelled at the delight of so much heat and heavy pressure on him, within him. He was grateful for the arms around his chest; he was grateful for the tenderness; he was grateful for the abandon. The pace was becoming tortuously delicious, and Picard furrowed his brow, letting the name of his partner erupt from him, a pleading. The android moved his hands beneath Jean-Luc's hips, gripping the straining penis there. Picard clasped Data's arms in his own. His fingers dug into the sinewy strength. He let go of all thoughts and fell into a much needed release, his orgasm freeing a choked, airy cry from within him. A final lunge from Data sent one last sensory overload. A gasp and an almost inaudible whimper escaped Data's lips next to Picard's ear. Data descended from his position and let his head fall onto the shoulder blades of his companion. The experience was far more than he imagined it would be. His senses were reeling. Jean-Luc rolled over under Data and kissed him deeply. They held each other fast. Picard spoke distantly from within dark, restful eyes. "Data, you taste like the rain." Data closed his eyes. He remained adrift in his thoughts until later in the evening, when the voice beneath him suggested a real water shower. And the android imagined colorful and delicate wings moving within his hollow chest. --- The End