NEW: but for the grace of god... [NC-17] TNG; Data, Lore; Chapter 3/8

[mlo...@ic.sunysb.edu]

RATING: R, for adult themes, profanity (Chapter 3: NC-17, for sex and
violence)

DISCLAIMER:
These characters, their ship, and their universe belong lock, stock and
barrel to PARAMOUNT-VIACOM. I am bending them to my will for fun only,
not profit (unless you consider the release of writer's angst to be
profit.)

Please see intro for the rest of the stuff.

Please keep headers intact.

This is Chapter Three!!! NC-17, be warned...
*****

but for the grace of god...
by Melinda Loges

Chapter Three: Burning Through the Edge

'Secret staircase, running high,
you had a hiding place.
Secret staircase, running low,
but they all know, now you're inside.

Are you on fire,
from the years?
What would you give for your
kid fears?

Skipping stones, we know the price now,
any sin will do.
How much further, if you can spin.
How much further, if you are smooth.

Are you on fire,
from the years?
What would you give for your
kid fears?

Replace the rent with the stars above.
Replace the need with love.
Replace the anger with the tide.
Replace the ones, the ones, the ones that you love.
Ah, the ones that you love.'

"Kid Fears"
Indigo Girls

They met for the fourth date in her quarters. He looked around the room
with a solemn expression and turned to her, one eyebrow raised.

"You did not have to straighten the room for me."

"What makes you think it was for you?" she said, a trace of indignation
crossing her voice. "Maybe I turned into a neat freak."

The eyebrow stayed up. "Did you?"

She laughed. "No, I just didn't want you to get distracted."

He rubbed a finger along her jawbone. "A highly unlikely occurrence." He
turned away from her, biting down a sudden urge, and sat at the table.
"So, what is for dinner, dear?"

They traded stories over the meal and finished dessert on the couch,
holding hands. He tried ignore the tremors that washed through him, to
forestall the panic that lay just underneath them. When he finally leaned
over to kiss her, she smiled.

"You turned into a romantic."

He drew his hand through her hair. "'Doubt thou the stars are fire/ Doubt
that the sun doth move/ Doubt truth to be a liar/ But never doubt I
love.'"

She leaned her head against his shoulder, smiling, her eyes half-closed.
"Who said that?"

He laughed. "Shakespeare. The man who said everything." He kissed her
again, his tongue circling slowly around hers, exploring the ridges of her
teeth, pressing firmly against the smoothness of her cheek. Need burned
through his throat. He groaned, and the wall he had been fighting to hold
up shattered in his hands.

He pushed her down onto the couch, still kissing her deeply; his hand
moved to rub her thigh. He traced a line up her body, stopping to hold
her breast tightly, his tongue groping further into her mouth. His hips
moved against hers. Then the fear swelled against him, and he stopped,
pulling his hands from her body.

"Do you want this?" His voice was strained.

She nodded. "If you do."

With an urgent breath, he reached around her back and dragged her close to
him. He pushed his fingers under her blouse and pressed his lips to hers.
His tongue forced itself into her mouth, and he kissed her hard. He
slipped a hand under her legs, and he stood, still kissing her, and
carried her to bedroom.

He set her lightly on the bed and pulled her blouse open. She sat up
slightly and shrugged it off; he placed a hand on the small of her back
to hold her and unclasped her bra. He pulled it off, threw it on the
floor. He moved to kneel between her legs and dragged her pants off her,
stopping to suck on her sex. Then he stood and stared down at her naked
body while he ripped off his own clothing. He kicked his trousers away,
rubbed a hand over the erection that had throbbed throughout the evening.
His eyes closed for a moment and he tried to think around the pain and the
fear. But they were choking him, blinding him, the need arched through
him so fast that he could barely hold onto the thought that this was
wrong-this was not supposed to happen. His eyes opened and there was only
the naked body lying before him.

He thrust into her, filling himself, scarcely hearing her cry out in pain.
He started his rhythm, building it as slow and steady as he could. She
started to speak; he placed a hand over her mouth and then leaned over to
kiss her, filling her with his tongue and his lips. He pushed hard into
her, needing to be taken completely, needing more. He pulled out.

"Turn over," he whispered, his voice hoarse. She was panting heavily,
her head moving back and forth, her eyes squeezed down. He put a hand on
her side, pushed her onto her stomach, knelt between her knees. He pulled
her thighs up to him and thrust deeply, all the way into her. He resumed
his rhythm and soon felt the release striking. He heard himself cry out
as the feeling surged throughout his systems, coating every corner of his
consciousness.

Slowly he became aware of himself and the woman sprawled, half-kneeling
beneath him. He was breathing hard. He pulled out and stared at her.
She was crying. With a stab, his thoughts were his again.

*No, god, not this...*

She crawled off the bed, pulled a robe around herself and ran past him
into the living area. For a moment he stood quite still, staring at the
bed. A barrage of thoughts and sensations swept through him. The need
sated, his fear rose to the surface and he flinched, suppressing it,
letting the other feelings crowd his mind and cover the horror that was
churning through his mind.

He followed her into the other room. She sat on the couch, rocking, her
arms pulling the robe closed around her. She had stopped crying.

"What is it?" he said, his voice even.

She shook her head and stared at the floor.

"Something is wrong. What is it?" She said nothing. "You said you
wanted it. What, was the sex not good enough for you?" He let a trace of
contempt touch his voice. "Did I miss something in _The Book of Love_?"

She stared up at him then, her mouth parted, her eyes flaring. "Oh, no,
the sex was great, Data," she said, her voice low. "Great technique."
She stood up. "Except that you didn't give a shit who you were fucking in
there!"

He watched her for a moment and then shrugged. "What would you like me to
say? You are right. I did not give a shit who I was fucking in there."

She was across the room in a second, her hand impacting his cheek. He
moved with the blow, surprised at her strength. When he turned back to
her, she was standing there, glaring at him, breathing hard through her
mouth. He stared back for a moment.

"Did that make you feel better?"

She turned away from him. "It would help if it actually hurt you."

"Oh, it hurt, trust me for that," he said. She looked at him. After a
moment he sighed. "I am sorry, Jenna. I needed the release." He
shrugged again. "I should have used the holodeck."

She drew in a breath. "My god, what happened to you? You were such a
nice man. You were sweet and thoughtful--"

He stopped her, his voice hard, his words brittle. "No, Jenna, I was
never nice, I was never sweet. I was empty. Dead. The absence of the
negative does not imply the positive." He laughed. "It makes no
difference anyway. You saw what you wished to see, imbued me with
whatever qualities you deemed appropriate. And I played a part for you.
Until you tired of it. But none of it was ever real."

Her eyes began to water again and she dragged her wrist across them. "Get
out. Just go."

"As you wish." He felt her eyes on him as he dressed and walked to the
door. Just before it opened, he stopped. "I got what I wanted."
-----

He fled her quarters, ignorant of his direction, running from the
sensations bursting in his frame. Tears pushed against his eyes, his
hands twitched. His entire body ached from the control he was forcing
down upon himself. The message that he had ignored for days was flooding
his processors with blinding colors. *Input not recognized, data shunted
to reserve.* This is not supposed to be here.

He ran from it.
-----

He heard her enter. She ordered the computer to pause, and the Klingon
struggling beneath him stopped all movement.

"I am certain I placed a privacy lock on the door," he snapped.

"Data, try to calm down. You're angry and frightened. Your feelings are
overwhelming you."

He turned to her and smiled. "How very perceptive of you, Counselor. But
I am afraid I do not wish to calm down." He turned back to the body under
his boot. "Computer, resume!"

The man growled and grabbed Data's hand, pulling him down to his knees.
Data wrenched it away, and punched the body, both fists pummeling. He
jumped to his feet and brought his heel down on the exposed neck, sneering
at the crack of the spinal column breaking. He pushed the body against a
large boulder a few feet away and began to kick it repeatedly, up and down
the abdomen. When he felt his foot break through the corpse and make
contact with the rock behind it, his smile deepened and he hissed through
his teeth. The packed earth was slowly turning red-blue with blood. He
stood in a puddle of mashed entrails, crying out as the nest of flesh lost
all shape and form.

When the next combatant grabbed his hips from behind, he slipped on the
trampled intestines and fell over the first man. He flipped himself,
exalting in the blood that covered him. His attacker tried to pin his
arms, but he slithered down through the carrion and grasped the back of
the man's thighs, pulling himself under the legs and coming up to his
knees. He reached back and took the man's groin with one hand, reached up
and grasped the back of the neck with the other and flung the form over
himself. The Klingon landed in a heap and Data was over him in a second,
yanking him to his knees with a hand gripped around the throat.

He dragged his fingers through the tangle of hair and pulled the head back
to face his own. The man was beating on his back and sides and he
laughed. He spat on the ridges of the man's forehead, and thrust his
fingers into an eye. His face raised as the blood spurted up; he opened
his mouth to drink it in. He leaned over and kissed the man kneeling
prostrate beneath his will. His teeth bared, he bit into the man's mouth,
and groaned as he tasted more blood. He shuddered through a sudden
orgasm, never even aware that he had been erect. Clenching the fist still
full of the man's hair, he pulled the head further back, arcing the body,
and exposing the chest to the sky burning red through sunset above them.

He screamed as he felt his fist break through the ribcage; his hand
extracted the heart. He let the body fall passive to the ground, and
extended his prize to the lurid heavens. Laughing, his face stained with
the blood of his conquest, he was utterly raw, basking in the overflow of
his rage. He threw his head back and let a howl mix with the laughter,
let his tears mix with the blood.

"Rip out the life of thine enemy!"

Sneering, he lowered his arm, and took a bite of the still-beating organ.
He turned and threw it to land at her feet. "It is a Klingon gesture, is
it not, my love? Devotion in the face of honor!" He laughed at the look
of horror on her face.

"Is this it? Is this what you wanted to see?" he spat out, his voice
seething through his teeth. He fell to his knees, his palms extended at
his side. "Is this my anger? Is this my fear?" She turned her head.

"Look at me, Deanna!" he screamed, his fists clenching. "Tell me what you
see! Tell me what I feel!"

He leaned over and pulled his fists to his chest, holding himself and
rocking. His breath rushed, broken, from his mouth, dragging at the pain
in his throat. He tasted his tears through the gasps; and the searing
fury that bludgeoned his mind turned bitter and cold.

When he stood and began walking toward her, he was pleased that she backed
away, pleased to see fright in her eyes.

"Is it enough, Counselor? Do you want more?" He kept his voice low and
let the menace swim through the words. "I should take you. Throw you
down and take what I want from you, now, while I am still full with need."
He moved closer. "Would you like that, Deanna? For me to fuck you? Rape
you?" She was trembling now. "Like my brother did." Her eyes widened
and he laughed softly. "You thought I did not know about that. Oh, no,
my dear, I know everything." He was next to her now, standing over her.
She was backed against the wall, the holodeck illusion shimmering in and
out of view behind her.

He drew a slow finger across her cheek and mouth, leaving a trail of
blood. "It is a shame he did not get what he wanted; you might have
benefited from the humility." He bent down and whispered in her ear.
"But I can be every bit as evil and sadistic as he was."
She turned her head away from his voice.

"No, this isn't you."

He laughed. "Oh, but it is, my dear. This is me." She shut her eyes.
"Not what you wished to see, though, is it? You want the old Data." He
pulled a finger through her hair. "Shall I perform for you then? Cock my
head to the side like the bewildered puppy-dog you trained me to be?
Innocent, kind and gentle?" His voice bit through each word. "So
confused, so endearing, always so fucking eager to please." He smiled and
modulated his voice circuits. "'I have to believe that if you ever do
become human, you won't become a bad one.'" He saw her wince at the sound
of her voice, at the spite with which he mocked her words. "That
irritates you, does it? And what do you think of your assessment now,
Counselor?" He jerked his arms away from her and walked back across the
desert illusion.

He knelt next to the still body of the Klingon and stared at the face he
had mutilated. He heard her release a ragged breath, and spoke, his
voice soft. "You are relieved? I would never actually hurt you."

His eyes closed. He felt the fire drain from his body, the anger fade to
fatigue, leaving nothing in its wake but a bare sense of vacancy. He
heard her walk slowly up behind him, and waited.

"Data." Her voice was very quiet. He opened his eyes and looked up to
her, blinking around the tears that had begun sliding down his face. She
closed her own eyes for a brief moment and then knelt next to him. "Turn
the chip off."

"It is off."

She gasped softly. "But that's--I can sense your feelings. It must be
on."

He shook his head and reached an abrupt hand up to wipe the tears and
drying blood from his face. "The chip is off."

"Oh my god," she whispered.

He stood and walked away from her, staring into the reddened sky. "I do
not think god has anything to do with it." His voice was drawn but steady
as he continued. "It is what you wanted, that I should have to live with
this. With no recourse and no escape. I can have no sleep without
dreams; I can have no thoughts that are not drawn from my emotions. They
follow me, they crowd out every influence but their own. And every aspect
of the universe, I see through their field. Every moment of every day,
they are with me." He looked down to his hands, shivered slightly and
removed the blood-soaked tunic. And then he sat, cross-legged, on the
ground.

She came up to sit beside him, but stayed silent. After a few moments, he
looked at her. "Why did you come find me?"

"Jenna called me."

"Ah." He looked back to the ground, began to draw random patterns in the
dirt. "How much did she tell you?"

"Just that she was worried about you."

He laughed under his breath. "I have no doubt."

"What happened?"

"I used her. As casually as I used that." He waved a hand to the bodies
behind them.

She said nothing for a while, and then gently asked, "How long has it been
this way?"

"Two months, four days, thirteen hours," he looked up and smiled,
"forty-six minutes, eighteen seconds..." She laughed a little. "The
emotions have been there, dampened, from the moment I turned it off at
Yrizren. The physical responses began to emerge several days ago, but I
held them back. I was afraid. When I was with Jenna, the need became so
strong that I... broke. I just could not keep it inside me any longer."
He brushed an hand over his drawings. "So, what advice do you have for
me, Counselor?"

"I... I don't know."

He smiled and closed his eyes. "Somehow I did not think that you would."
He sighed. "Deanna, would you mind... I think I would like to be alone."

She was silent for a moment and then he heard her get up. She brushed a
kiss against his cheek. "We love you."

"I know."

He waited until the door slid shut behind her. "Computer, Omicron Theta."

The dead world shimmered into view.

He walked through the gray field and knelt before the stone shelf on which
he had lain thirty-six years before. The memories that the place invoked
flashed before his eyes, and he waited for the anger and the censure to
grow. But his thoughts were soft. Words formed in his mouth, words that
he desperately wished his brother could hear.

"I miss you. I suppose you would be surprised to hear that. But it is
the truth. It is funny, the things that come to me now, when I am trying
not to remember. Things you said to me, things that made no sense. I was
innocent then. But now I can understand.

"There are times when I wish you were here... so that I could open myself
to you, and take the chance that I could not risk taking then. Times when
I wish I could beat the shit out of you... for being what you were. Times
when I only want to talk with you, to share my life with you. I wonder if
it felt the same for you, if we are really as close to one another as I
think we must be. I look around me and see that I am alone, that no one
can understand, no one can fill the... emptiness inside.

"And I think of Him... despite myself. I think I must have worshipped
him. But there are times now... Times when I truly hate him... for
leaving you. For leaving me.

"And there are times when I think... that you might have been the innocent
one, through it all..." His eyes ached behind tears. He let them flow,
crying out for everything he had lost, everything he had turned away.
Everything he believed they might have been to one another.

"I love you too, Brother."

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