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Chapter Text

The automatons of Daedalus are a sight to behold. Gleaming gold in the sunlight, they look and act just like people, real live people, like how the gods made us, can you believe it? The townsfolk whisper this as they crowd and stare at the automaton in the square. The inventor himself is parading it around, showing off his creation.

Geordi tugs on his father’s tunic. “Describe it to me,” he whispers.

His father leans down and tells him of the broad shoulders, the gleaming skin, the golden eyes, the way he moves just like a man but keeps his face smooth and expressionless. “He’s looking at you,” his father whispers, and Geordi can hear the smile. He turns his face towards where he thinks the automaton might be and feels his face stretch into a smile of it’s own.

A minute later, the crowd gasps. Geordi clutches his father’s arm. “What just happened?”

His father’s voice is full of wonder when he answers. “It-it smiled at you, Geordi!”

“You! Boy!” Daedalus’ voice rings out sharply. “How did you do that?” Geordi heard the crunch of sand beneath the inventor’s feet as he draws near.

“I-I don’t know!” Geordi replies. “I just smiled at him!”

He can smell metal and oil as Daedalus leans forward. “You’re blind, aren’t you?” The inventor huffs.

Geordi’s father grips his arm as he replies: “Sir, my son has been blind since birth. Although, this has never stopped him from being very skilled with his hands. In fact, he’s the best woodcarver in the village.”

“Good with his hands, eh?”
Daedalus rocks back on his heels. “Well, boy, you’re the only person my automaton has ever smiled at. I’ve been trying to figure that out for ages!” He hums briefly, and turns to Geordi’s father.

“I’ll offer you a deal. Since my automaton seems to have taken a shine to your son, I’ll take him as an apprentice. I work with bright lights at times, work that can be done by touch. He won’t need the smoked glasses like a seeing boy would.”

Geordi’s father tightens his grip. “Of course!” Geordi can hear the smile in his father’s voice. “I would be honoured to have my son be your apprentice!”

The next day Geordi takes his cane and his few possessions and goes off to become an apprentice. The automaton helps him into the cart and Geordi can feel the leather smoothness of it’s palm.

“Hello. What is your name?” It asks, or rather he asks. A thing cannot have such a voice. Geordi smiles.

“I’m Geordi. What’s your name?”

The automaton makes a little creak. “My creator has not given me a name yet. I do not think he will.” He seems almost sad about this.

Geordi’s life with Daedalus is an interesting one. He is set to all sorts of tasks - at first, only simple ones that require no sight whatsoever, but gradually Daedalus entrusts him with more complex tasks until he’s doing things that even sighted people have difficulty with, sensitive fingers finding and creating the most delicate parts. Things such as silver and copper wires that can only be differentiated through sight are placed in separate boxes, so Geordi knows which wire is where.

The automaton, however, is the most intriguing part of his new life.

“Geordi?” He asks one day. “Do you think I will ever have a name?”

Geordi selects a copper wire from its box and begins to bend it in a loop. “Sure you will! Why, will Daedalus still not name you?”

“No. I do not think he desires anyone to have such power over me.”

Geordi hums thoughtfully. “Names do have power.” They sit quietly for a while, when he suddenly asks, “have you ever thought of naming yourself?”

The automaton creaks in a way that Geordi has learned indicates thoughtfulness. “I have not.”

“Well, then why not name yourself? That way, nobody could have more power over you than they could over anyone else who’s name they knew.”

The automaton is silent for a while longer, then: “Data.”

Geordi turns to him. “Pardon?”

“That is my name. Data.”

Geordi smiles. “That’s a terrific name...Data.”

Data wonders at the way his new name sounds on Geordi’s tongue.

Daedalus snorts at the name, but the smile is clearly audible in his voice as he says, “well, if you two must be foolish about the whole thing...”

Data and Geordi. It fits like two pieces of a puzzle, like one phrase; Data-and-Geordi.
They spend hours in each other’s company, and each day Daedalus can see how the blind man does what he could not - teach the automaton how to be a human.

He sees the way Data looks at Geordi, and thinks, suddenly, of the way his son Icarus would look at the young men and women when he was a becoming a man. How? He never programmed the automaton to feel attraction, or love. And yet, and yet...

Geordi is painstaking working on the wings of a metal bird when he hears Daedalus clear his throat in the doorway. He jumps. “Daedalus! Didn’t hear you coming.”

The inventor walks over to his apprentice. “I have something for you. Wait a moment. “ He turns. “Data!”

The familiar creak approaches. “Yes, sir?”

“Come over here a minute. I want you to see this.”

He turns back to Geordi. “Hold out your hands.”

Geordi feels something delicate in his palms. “What is it?”

“It goes over your eyes,” Daedalus says. “Help him, Data!”

Carefully, Data helps Geordi slip the contraption around his head and over his eyes. When it is finally in place, Geordi cries out. Data immediately flutters around him, anxious in a beautifully human way. “Geordi! Are you in pain?”

“No, Data...it’s...it’s wonderful! I can see you!” Geordi shouts, uncaring for the tears that begin to fall. “I can see everything! Oh, Data!”

The automaton is more beautiful than anything he could ever have imagined.

Data smiles, and Daedalus feels tears of his own pricking at his eyes.

Geordi turns to the inventor, newly seeing eyes roving over his face. “Oh, Daedalus, how can I ever even begin to thank you...I...”

Daedalus simply waves away the thanks and tells them to go have fun together and take a look at everything.

They walk around the workshop for hours, Geordi in open-mouthed wonder at everything that he’s seeing for the first time. Data cannot seem to look away from his awestruck face, and so catches the way Geordi tries to sneak glances at him any chance gets. He wonders why.

The mirror is a marvellous experience, as is the garden, and Geordi’s joy is so tangible Data thinks he must be feeling it too, in a way.

They’re sitting and watching the sunset together when Data finally succumbs to his curiosity. “Geordi?”

The other hums in acknowledgment, leaning his head against his friend. Data continues.

“I have noticed that, although there are many interesting things for you to see, you appear to be looking at me the most. May I inquire as to why this is?”

Geordi laughs and ducks his head. “You saw that, huh?”

Data nods, patiently waiting for his answer.

Geordi sighs. “Well, I’ve seen a lot of things today, Data, but you know what?” He smiles up into Data’s face. “You’re the most wonderful of them all.”

Data flicks his eyes over Geordi’s features, and then closes the gap and kisses him. It’s like coming home, their lips moving together like they were made to do so. When they separate, Data finds he does not want to stop looking at Geordi. “I do not know why I did that,” he whispers.

Geordi responds with another kiss.

Daedalus, watching them from his workshop, smiles. He cares for both youngsters, in his own way, and what greater happiness could they have found than in each other?

Chapter Text

Geordi has always hated the slave-market. The huddled forms, the frightened eyes, and the heavy chains make him feel sick to his stomach. It’s unavoidable today, however - Picard’s personal slave took suddenly ill and had died in the night. As a favour to his sponsor, Geordi had offered to go to the market and pick out a new one. So now, Geordi, along with his friend Will, are here to find a replacement.

“Ah, good sirs!” Geordi cringed at the slick tone of the trader. “Might I interest you in these Angles? Fresh from Britainnia, they are!”

Geordi cannot help but stare. Three men and two women are chained to a post. They gleam white in the sun, their skins and eyes paler than anyone Geordi knows. Most of them are crouched down, either crying softly or glaring at anyone who passes. One, however, is not.

He stands tall and calm, pale green eyes staring blankly ahead. He looks strong enough, and Geordi motions toward him. “What about this one?”

The trader practically leaps over, eager to showcase the Angle’s powerful muscles and strong teeth. The Angle stands quietly as his jaws are praised open and his mouth peered into, his arms felt and as he is made to lift a heavy log.

Geordi leaves Will to haggle for his life. He’s more interested in the Angle, who seems oddly familiar. Almost as if he’s an old friend. But Geordi has never seen anything like those yellow-green eyes before.

Not awake, anyhow.

Will comes up behind him, startling Geordi out of his contemplation. “He’s ours. You, slave!” He gestures at the Angle. “What’s your name?”

The Angle hesitates a moment before he answers,not meeting their eyes. “Data, sir.”

Will nods, satisfied. “Come along, Data.”

Data is a dutiful slave, always neat and punctual in his duties, never saying more than is required. Picard is pleased by him, and so Data is left to do as he pleases when his duties are not required.

What he pleases, apparently, is to adopt a stray cat that he names Spot.

It’s a scruffy brown thing, surly in attitude to all except Data and a Greek slave called Barclay. It scratches Will one day, and only the benevolent intervention of Picard prevents the infuriated man from dropping the animal in the Tiber. Data loves it, though, and so it stays.

Usually, Geordi wouldn’t really talk to someone else’s slave. It just wasn’t done. Data, however, is something else, and Geordi finds himself talking to him about everything and nothing. Data, he realises, is brilliant, able to remember perfectly everything that’s ever happened to him.

“Tell me about your home,” he says.

Data buries his face in Spot’s fur before he answers. “It was colder than here. And wet. There were wildflowers outside my house.” He seems sadder than Geordi has ever seen him, but he can’t help but ask further.

“Do you miss it? Britannia, I mean.”

Data nods, and cradles Spot to his chest, not meeting Geordi’s eye.

Geordi finds himself wishing to take Data back home.

Data misses home, yes, but what Geordi doesn’t realise is that Data is finding a new home.

Picard is a very kind master, of course, but Data realises that this place is becoming home, or perhaps he has come home; Geordi is home, in a way.

They’re sitting in the garden one evening, watching the sun set, and Data leans his head on Geordi’s shoulder. He has to bend awkwardly to do so, which Geordi finds incredibly endearing. It’s delicate and perfect, and oddly familiar.

He turns his face up towards Data, and finds the other man is already looking down at him. “Have we been here before?” Geordi murmurs.

“I do not know,” Data whispers, and kisses him.

When, years later, Data finally buys his freedom, they find a small farm and live the rest of their lives together. They always wonder, however, if they’ve met before, and if they’ll ever meet again.

Chapter Text

By Royal Proclamation
We hereby announce that
Prince Geordi of the Kingdom of Morocco and Surrounding Principalities
Is to be wed to
Princess Dido of Great Britain and the Surrounding Isles
On the 24th of March in the year of Our Lord 1256

Dido is unsure. That’s the best way to describe her mental state right now.

Unsure of why she is about to be married to a man she has never met before, unsure of that shade of green for her gown, unsure of why Sir Riker has a facial expression akin to one at a funeral.

Her nurse, Beverly, is the only person who will stay with her at her new home. She is not overly pleased, due to the reports of persistent sun that she claims will damage Dido’s skin. Dido is unconcerned - as long as she stays in the shade, she will be fine.

When the time comes for her to leave, King Picard kisses his youngest daughter on either cheek and waves her off and does not cry. Sir Riker kisses her hand and wishes that things were different, that it were him instead of a strange Moroccan prince that Dido was sailing off to.

Dido does not cry, nor does she wish things were otherwise. As she has done since she was a small child, she simply accepts that this is her fate. Maybe, if she had the power, she would have changed things, but she does not and so here she is.

Beverly is seasick the whole journey, leaving Dido to talk with the sailors. Some are shy of royalty, but the cook, Guinan, is full of wonderful stories and good advice. Some of it, like the tips for her wedding night, make Dido blush, but still she drinks it all up like a parched man at a well.

Morocco is indeed hot and sunny, and Dido is wide-eyed at all the sounds and sights and smells. They arrive at the palace just before the evening prayer, so she and Beverly wait in the garden for her future husband.

Future husband! Dido wonders if the words ought to frighten her. Instead, she is simply curious. She has heard many things about him - that he takes great interest in the sciences, that he is no warrior unlike his older siblings, and that he is blind and yet moves through the world like a seeing man.

When they finally meet, she finds that at least one of the tales is true - Prince Geordi is blind. His eyes are a milky blue, a stark contrast against his dark skin. Yet he moves through the garden without hesitation, accompanied by a woman with dark curls on one side and a tall, dangerous-looking man on the other. When he stops, he looks directly at Dido and smiles.

It’s the strangest thing, but he seems almost familiar, like someone she saw in a dream or perhaps in passing.

(Have we met before?)

Geordi is speaking. “I am Prince Geordi. It is a pleasure to meet you,” he says, accent rich and warm.

Dido curtsies. “The pleasure is mine, your highness.”

He takes a sharp breath in, startled at how familiar the foreign princess sounds.

(Are you sure this is our first time?)

He shakes his head as if to clear it. He turns to the man , saying confidentially to Dido, “Here, I have a present I thought you might like.”

The present is a kitten. Dido smile carefully cradles it in her arms and thanks Geordi for his thoughtfulness. He smiles.

They are getting married in a week.

Beverly cries when she sees Dido in her dress, and murmurs something about how she wishes the king could see his daughter now.

Dido wishes she could cry. She never has, not since she was an infant.

Geordi looks absolutely splendid in his wedding outfit, and he hears the approving gasps of the assembly when Dido walks down the isle. She must look beautiful, he thinks.

The wedding feast is a raucous affair, and Dido is slightly overwhelmed by it all. She is almost grateful, then, when she and her new husband are sent off to the wedding chambers, accompanied by whoops and catcalls and a slow wink from Guinan. Dido does not know when she arrived at the wedding.

When they are alone, Geordi reaches up to carefully touch her face. He runs his hand over her features. “Dido, this may sound strange...but have I ever met you before?”

She shakes her head. “No. But you seem familiar.”

“Like coming home,” he breathes, and she kisses him.

They cannot ever be kept apart.

Chapter Text

Dido has always been a little different. In the town of Patience, different is bad. Different, for Dido, means being able to calculate the exact price you’ll get for your wheat based on the weight. Different means telling you how long something will take down to the second. Different means having a mad twin sister, Laura, who murdered a man and then disappeared.

Different means that when her father dies, she is dragged to the town square and the mob is howling for her to be burned at the stake.

She is alone. She has no friends. Her father is dead and Laura is gone and the pastor is smirking into her face.

“What crimes has this child committed?” He asks. The words are gentle, but he sneers as he speaks.

A man comes forward from the mob and stabs his finger at Dido. “I saw her dancing around the fire up on t’ hill! With the Devil himself playing the fiddle!” The crowd hisses and boos, and if Dido were a few hundred years later she would’ve thought of a pantomime.

“She spoiled the milk in my dairy with her magic!” Shouts a woman from the middle of the crowd.

“And remember when a horse kicked her and broke her leg? She never cried once, but a cat ran screaming through the village that night!” The accusations come thick and fast now, spurred on by hatred.

“She makes potions in her hut and gives them to her cat to make it fly!”

“She sings to the cattle and they birth dead calves!”
****
“She lusts after my daughter, trying to get her to turn to witchcraft!”

“Enough!” The pastor spreads his hands and the crowd is hushed. He turns to a stock-still Dido. “What do you say to these accusations?”

She tilts her head, considering. “I am not a witch. These accusations are false.”

“What of the cat? Did you not put your pain into the cat?”

She frowns. “I would never willingly hurt Spot. She is my friend.”

“And yet you did not cry.”

She lifts her chin. “I have not cried since I was an infant.”

The pastor leans forward. “And what of Goodman Brown’s daughter? Did you not lust after her?” Victory gleams in his eye.

Dido looks at the ground.
****

The verdict is passed; she is a witch, and will be burned at the stake tomorrow midday. One man gives her a coalshed to spend the night in.

It is cold and dark in the shed. She misses Spot and her father and she even misses Laura, but she does not cry. She does not even know if she can.

“Psst!”

Dido turns, frowning. “Who is there?” She whispers.

“It’s me! Laura!” A pale white hand reaches through a tiny hole in the corner.

“Laura!” Dido crawls over to the hand and clasps it in her own. “Why-“

“To rescue you, idiot! Hold on, I’ll get you out.”

Dido hears a scuffle outside the door, and a moment later it swings open. Laura is standing there, a bloody knife in her hand and a smirk playing about her pale green eyes. “Hello, sister.”

Dido looks at the knife, and her twin snorts. “Don’t tell me you’re about to make a fuss, or I might leave you here.”

Laura grabs her by the wrist and they begin to move silently through the village. Suddenly, Dido stops. “Where is Spot?”

“That cat?” Laura hisses. “How should I know?”

“I cannot leave without her.”

Laura rolls her eyes, unseen in the darkness. “I can’t believe it. You’d risk your life for a cat?”

Dido doesn’t hear her; she’s too intent on scanning the bushes. Spot often likes to hunt here, and...

“Here she is!” Dido lifts up a squirming Spot and tucks the cat under her arm. “Now we can go.”

“You’re impossible,” Laura whispers, and the two disappear into the night.

A week later, Dido is stood on a dock with a new dress and Spot in her arms, staring up at a ship. The word Enterprise is painted on the hull.

“Here,” Laura says, clapping her sister on the shoulder. “You have a job as finance advisor on this ship. You were always good at math, weren’t you?”

Dido nods. “Where will you be?”

Laura shrugs, smirking. “I have friends in high places.”

A tall, burly man is introduced as the first mate, Riker. He smiles and kisses her hand. The Captain gives her a nod and a smile and “welcome aboard.” The surgeon scratches Spot under the chin.

Laura leaves before Dido can say goodbye. Such is her nature.

“Well, well, well, who do we have here?” A teasing voice says behind her. Dido turns, and is suddenly frozen.

A woman with dark hair and skin and blue eyes is standing there. She is the most beautiful person Dido has ever seen, and she has the sense that they have met before.

Georgie LaForge was not expecting a gorgeous woman to come aboard today, and she definitely was not expecting to recognise said gorgeous woman.

Riker, for his part, is about to ask if they’ve both been struck dumb when Georgie laughs and points at Spot, who has her tongue stuck out mid-groom and decided to leave it like that. Dido frowns at the cat. “Spot, that is very undignified. I am afraid I must ask you to put your tongue away.” The seriousness with which she addresses her pet makes Riker snort. On the other side of the ship, Wesley Crusher calls for Georgie to help him with the loading.

The strange, delicate tableau is broken, and so Georgie and Dido go their separate ways and help the ship load up and generally prepare for departure.

That night, the crew has a last on-shore hurrah before they set sail. Georgie has one objective - find that girl with the cat, and ask her where she’s from, because the mystery is driving her crazy.

She finds the girl standing with the crew, holding a violin. Riker has an arm round her shoulders (damn him) and is trying to tell her how to play. The girl simply shrugs his arm off, lifts the violin, and begins to play.

It is quite possibly the most sublime thing Georgie has ever heard. Every note is perfect, each movement precise. She doesn’t move until the girl is finished, and then she joins the rest of the crew in their wild applause. The girl smiles, like a child being praised for saying the alphabet correctly.

Georgie finally manages to corner her after Riker and Wesley and all have finished complementing the girl. She looks into Georgie’s eyes, and the breath seems to leave her lungs.

Dido licks her lips unconsciously. “Hello. You are Georgie, correct?”

The other girl nods. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”

“Dido. “

Georgie leans against the railing and crosses her arms. “So, Dido, what brings you to the Enterprise?”

Dido glances at Georgie’s posture and carefully folds her arms. “My sister helped me find work aboard this ship. She rescued me from my village after I was accused of witchcraft.”

“Witchcraft, huh?” Georgie chuckles bitterly. “I know all about witchcraft. Out here, folks are way more open-minded, but in some places being a black woman who reads Sappho is basically a death sentence!”

“Sappho?” Dido enquires, tilting her head.

“A Greek poet. She wrote about women who liked women.” Georgie looks warily at Dido. “That’s not gonna be a problem, is it?”

Dido shakes her head. “No. I... I too like women.” It feels as if something has fallen off her back, leaving her free and vulnerable.

Georgie can’t help the delighted smile that spreads across her face at the news that Dido is also attracted to women. The fact that she’s falling so hard for a woman she’s only just met is a little odd.

Just met?

“Have we met before?” She asks suddenly.

Dido shakes her head. “It is strange. It is almost as if I have known you from long ago. But I am certain I would remember meeting someone as beautiful as you are.”

The sincerity in her tone makes Georgie’s cheeks heat up. “Same to you.” She bites her lip, and Dido finds herself looking at the other woman’s mouth. “You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met,” Georgie whispers.

Dido steps closer, until they are almost touching. She reaches a tentative hand up to Georgie’s face. “Is this alright?” She whispers, her breath skimming over Georgie’s face.

In response, Georgie kisses her hard, feeling both comforted and exhilarated at the same time. She’s so happy, she can even ignore Riker wolf-whistling in the background.

They’ve found each other again, as always.

Chapter Text

“Hurry! We’re nearly there!”

Georgie grips Guinan’s hand and tries not to panic. She can’t afford to panic, not here, not now, when for all she knows they are being hunted. But it’s terrifying to be dragged along in unfamiliar territory with only the wild sweeps of her cane to give her even the faintest idea of where she’s going.

Their guide, Riker, crashes to a halt. Georgie clings to Guinan, depending on the older woman to keep her safe. The man’s breathing is loud. “This is as far as I can take you,” he whispers. “I’ll take you to a safe place - you can rest there till nightfall.”

Georgie can smell cattle and hay in the ‘safe place’ - a barn, but it’s way better than being caught and dragged back to the plantation. Guinan leads her over to a wall and helps her sit, and then walks back over to Riker. Georgie hears their gushed conversation.

“Your next guide will be here at nightfall. He can take you to the border, alright?”

“How will know that it’s him, and not a trap?”

“He’ll have a password - Enterprise. Remember that, now.” A rustle. “I have to leave now. Godspeed, both of you.” Georgie hears him walk away.

She leans her head against the rough wood of the wall. “I never thought we’d make it this far,” she murmurs. Two escaped slaves were in enough danger without one being blind, but here they are, one nightfall’s march away from freedom.

Guinan sits beside her and passes her some hard bread, humming a slow song under her breath. Once they’ve finished eating, Georgie feels her companion spread a blanket over the two of them. “Get some sleep,” Guinan whispers. “I’ll make sure we wake up in time.”

True to her word, Georgie is awoken by Guinan’s hand on her shoulder. The other woman puts a finger to Georgie’s lips, and she can hear footsteps around the barn. Is it the guide? She wants to ask, but if it isn’t and they hear her, then they are lost.

“Enterprise,” a man calls, and Georgie feels her breath catch in her throat.

That voice! Where has she heard that voice?

The voice is close by - he must be standing just on the other side of the wall. Guinan taps on it. “We’re in here.”

Georgie hears the man walk around the barn, and then the door opens and he walks inside.

“I am Data, the guide-“ he breaks off mid-sentence. Georgie has turned her face towards the source of the voice, and she just barely hears the gasp.

Guinan has, as she puts it, seen a lotta shit in her time. Love at first sight isn’t really anything new to her, but the way Georgie instinctively leans towards the man like a sunflower towards sunlight? The way he looks at her as if nothing else could ever possibly worth looking at compared to her? That’s new, and it makes her think that this is beyond here and now.

But they are two escaped slaves, a night away from freedom, and they can’t afford to do this right now. She clears her throat.

Data jumps a little, recovers. “You must come with me. We do not have much time.”

Guinan takes Georgie’s hand, and almost before the younger girl knows what she’s doing she’s reaching out her other hand to the man and he takes it. So they go, strung out in a train with Georgie in the middle. She feels safer than she ever has, her hand enveloped in a stranger’s leading her to freedom.

It seems all too soon when he stops. Surprised, Georgie smacks into him, and he turns and catches her before she can fall. “We’re here,” he whispers, and his breath near her ear makes her shiver.

“There is a house where you can rest, and money and a new life. I must leave you now,” he continues, and Georgie feels her heart sink.

“Leave?” She whispers. “Data, I don’t know how, but-“

He cuts her off with a kiss.

It’s soft and sweet and heady and all too brief, but she’s aware of Guinan waiting not too patiently.

“I know,” he whispers. “I will find you again, I promise.”

He does, years later, when the war ends. They have a little cabin in the mountains, where nobody can say anything about a white man and a black woman in love, and it is perfect.

Chapter Text

The stars shines down on Data and Geordi as they sit by their campfire. It is a full moon tonight, and the backs of their cattle shine silver in its light.

The two ranchers have just finished their supper, and are sitting quietly together when Data speaks up. “I had a strange dream last night.”

Geordi leans back against a rock and waits for his partner to continue.

Data poles the fire with a stick and speaks, his eastern accent softened by his years out west. “It was a mighty strange dream. I reckon it must have been a vision or something, cause I have never had a dream like it before.” He flicks his gaze sideways, watching for Geordi’s reaction. “I dreamed that you and I were in Ancient Times, that I was some kind of machine and you were an engineer. Then I dreamed I was a slave an’ you were kind to me.” Geordi leans forward, interested.

Data goes on. “I was a lady in the next one - well, next two, I suppose. But, my point is, the dream was about us - about how we’re connected like, through history.” He shrugs. “Anyhow, I thought it was pretty neat. Thought you might like to hear about it.”

Geordi tilts his head. “That is a weird dream. Weirdest thing is, I had a dream just like it.”

Data looks up in surprise. “That is weird.”

Geordi nods. “Prob’ly means something pretty big. I’ll have to ask Guinan next time we’re passing her way.” He considers for a moment, then grins. “Know what wasn’t weird, though?”

“What?”

Geordi moves closer to Data and put his hand on his partner’s thigh. “No matter when or where we were, we’re still in love.”

Data turns and smiles at Geordi. “That is a pleasing thing to know.”

Chapter Text

Sergeant Riker nodded at Data. “Writing a letter?”

The private looked up, and tilted his head to consider the paper and pen. “Yes.”

Riker grinned. “You got a sweetheart back home? A pretty girl waiting after the war?”

Data half-shrugged. “In a way, yes.”

The sergeant laughed. “Well, I wish you luck with her. I’m sure any girl would think you a fine catch.” He winked and turned away to talk to the other soldiers.

Data did not like to lie, but he knew that if his relationship was discovered to be with another man, he would be court-martialed at the very least. Deception was excused in this instance. He turned back to his letter, blue eyes fixed on the cheap paper and a soft smile gracing his features.

To my dearest,

I hope you are functioning within normal parameters. I am writing you from the French border. It is cold and wet here, but it does not bother me very much. It is cleaner than the last place we stopped at, and the food is not spoiled.

I wait every day for a letter from you, and when the mail bag passes me by without a correspondence from you I am disrupted from my routine. I have become accustomed to the emotional response of receiving your letters. It should be strange, but such a response is in keeping with the norms of a romantic relationship.

I find that I wish you were here with me, even though it is unpleasant and dangerous. Irrationally, I feel that if you were here with me, it would be a more pleasing experience. I am also glad, however, that you are far away from here and out of danger. It is, perhaps, the best result of your blindness, that you are kept out of this war. It is illogical to think both of these things simultaneously, but then, you have always led me to think strange things that I never would have considered alone.

How is Spot? In the letter Deanna sent me fourteen days ago she mentioned that Spot was pregnant. When are the kittens due? When I return I shall have to determine the father through the colours of their coats. Are you certain that you do not know which neighbourhood cat is their father?

I must finish this letter soon in order to ensure that you receive it as soon as possible, but I wish to tell you that I love you. I love you more than words can say, and if repeating the phrase increased emotional emphasis in a practical manner, I would use up every piece of paper I owned to tell you that I love you. I love you, and I find myself saddened by the knowledge that we cannot be public in our affections. Perhaps one day we can be, but until then,

Forever yours,
Data.

Deanna would read it out to Geordi, he knew. He folded it up, placed it in the envelope, and waited for the mail-carrier to reach him.

He hoped he would live to write another.

(He does not. He is killed the next morning, and Geordi receives the telegram before the letter.)

Chapter Text

Geordi takes a drink and waits for the music to start.

Friday night is live-music night at Ten-Forward, showcasing ‘local talent’, as Guinan puts it. This usually means that Riker goes up onstage and plays his trombone and makes eyes at Deanna, but tonight is different. Tonight, there’s someone new - someone called Data. The weird name prompted Geordi to come out tonight and spend his hard-earned cash on Guinan’s mysterious drinks that always tasted vaguely of popcorn.

He sips his drink now, a bright blue concoction that claims to contain vodka and blueberry but tastes of sugar and, yep, popcorn. The regulars are all here; Deanna drinking hot chocolate, Riker flirting with anyone who’ll stay still long enough, and Beverly, chatting with Guinan by the bar. He doesn’t recognise any of the other patrons, but he figures they’ve all turned up for the music.

The crowd stills when a man walks onto the stage and begins to adjust the microphone. The singer, Data. He’s really good-looking, in Geordi’s opinion - all broad shoulders and long legs. Geordi wonders if he’s seen him before. Another man and two women come out, bearing instruments - Data’s accompaniment.

Data looks at the crowd. “Good evening,” he says, and he’s just about to start when he catches Geordi’s eye.

It’s like being hit by a lightning bolt, and Geordi forgets to breathe.

Data turns swiftly to the rest of the band, whispers something to them, and they roll their eyes and begin to play.

It’s a war song, something that Geordi remembers listening to when he was really little. Data looks him right in the eye, and sings.

Never thought that you would be
Standing here so close to me
There’s so much I feel that I should say
But words can wait until some other day
So kiss me once, kiss me twice, and kiss me once again
It’s been a long long time
Haven’t felt like this my dear
Since can’t remember when
It’s been a long, long time

Geordi is definitely in love.

Data doesn’t break eye contact with him throughout the rest of the set, and even though it’s midnight by the time they finish, Geordi stays.

Afterwards, Data shoulders his way through the crowd and finds Geordi at the bar. He has to crowd close - Ten-Forward filled up during the evening, and there’s precious little space.

“Can I buy you a drink?” He asks, and Geordi barely suppresses the shiver that goes down his spine. He nods, a slow smile spreading across his face. “I’d like that.”

“Data Soong. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Geordi LaForge. The pleasure’s all mine.”

Data buys him a couple of drinks, and between this and the intense eye contact throughout the evening Geordi isn’t surprised when they end up in an alleyway with his knee between Data’s thighs and his mouth on the other man’s neck. He smiles against the pale skin. “You know, I’m glad I came to Ten-Forward tonight.”

Data grips the back of Geordi’s jacket. “I am also glad you decided to come.”

Geordi presses a kiss beneath his ear, enjoying the minute shudder it elicits. “Now, where was I?”

Data raises an eyebrow. “I believe you were in the process of leaving a hickey on my collarbone.”

Geordi smirks. “Oh, yeah.”

Chapter Text

Data and Geordi meet in middle school, finding each other as outcasts often do. They’re both bullied - Data has a weird name and is on the ‘spectrum’ as his therapist calls it, and Geordi is a blind kid at a school where nobody else is. Plus, middle school is truly the worst humanity gets, and administration is so busy trying to keep their “different” pupils in the school that they don’t pay too much attention to what happens to them in the hallways. But Data and Geordi don’t mind too much after they find one another. They fit, and so they stick together.

Data likes Geordi for a lot of reasons - he doesn’t mind if Data goes on and on about cats, he doesn’t make Data look him in the eye, and he generally treats him like a normal person and not like a baby.

Geordi likes Data because he’s a fun, interesting person, who doesn’t try and tiptoe around using words relating to sight. Geordi does appreciate people recognising his blindness, but it’s honestly painful to hear people avoiding the word ‘see’ when they talk to him. Data genuinely doesn’t see the point of going through the complex dance of social interaction, so he doesn’t. Geordi finds it refreshing.

They remain best friends throughout middle school and into high school, accumulating more friends as they and their peers grow and learn how not to be massively cringeworthy assholes.

Tasha and Worf are the first - two foster system kids with constant black eyes and bloody knuckles and detentions. They’re inexplicably drawn to Data and Geordi, the latter pair helping to soften them and keep them out of trouble. Very few people tease them once Tasha and Worf begin to sit with them at lunch.

Deanna is next - she offers them some chocolate and asks questions about Spot. Riker joins them after he calls Data’s sneakers cool and flirts with Deanna throughout recess.

Despite the pair expanding to six, Data and Geordi are closer to each other than to anyone else. Nobody is surprised, then, when Deanna finds them kissing behind the 7-11 after school in sophomore year.

They date through the rest of high school and go into the community college together. Geordi proposes in their third year, and Data is confused as to why he felt like he needed to ask.

Of course, it isn’t always sunshine and roses. Data has three meltdowns in the first year of college, Geordi is denied a service dog that he badly needs, and once they go through a horrible period where they just don’t talk. They stick it out though. They have before. They will again.

Chapter Text

Deanna sighs happily as Beverly brushes her hair. They’re having a girl’s night in, watching rom-coms and gossiping and pampering themselves with chocolates and skincare.

“What’s on your mind?” Beverly asks, dragging the comb through her curls.

“Data and Geordi, actually,” Deanna replies. “Just thinking about the vibes I get off them.”

Beverly waits for her to continue. Deanna pops a chocolate in her mouth, talking around it. “Sometimes I get the sensation that they’ve known each other for centuries. As if they’ve been reincarnated hundreds of times, and found each other every time.” She turns to Beverly. “Is that weird?”

Beverly shakes her head, smiling. “No, not at all. If I actually believed in soulmates, I think they’d be the perfect example.”

Deanna nods, smiling softly to herself.

Over in Geordi’s quarters, Data listens to the gentle breathing of his sleeping husband. Spot, having followed him, sits purring in his chest. A sense of contentment, of rightness fills the android, who is still getting used to the new ‘emotions’ subroutine he recently developed.

Something else is currently happening; it almost seems as if part of his positronic net is attempting to access memories that don’t exist. He makes a note to ask Geordi about his in the morning, then activates his sleep procedure.

Time is like a patchwork blanket; everything that ever happens is somewhere on it.

Here, an automaton and an apprentice watch a mechanical bird hop across the table, their hands entwined as they listen to its song.

Here, a slave and a free man kiss behind a hedge, feeling the Italian sun warm their faces.

Here, a prince and his wife look at their tiny, newborn daughter and marvel at her perfectly formed hands as they wave about.

Here, two sailors read Greek poetry, hold hands, and sing along with their crew mates.

Here, a freed slave and a veteran watch autumn leaves turn brilliant red in the mountains they call home.

Here, two cowboys laugh beneath the stars.

Here, a blind man waits for a lover who will never come home.

Here, a singer croons into a microphone as his boyfriend stands by the bar and waits.

Here, wedding bells ring as two childhood sweethearts say ‘I do.’

And here, an engineer and android are in love.

A thousand moments, a thousand lives, and two hearts beat as one.