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Will knew about the comments that were made about the Enterprise ’s second officer behind his back. Despite numerous reprimands, they always persisted. Most of them were harmless—lighthearted jokes about his emotions or lack thereof, remarks about the unnatural colourlessness of his skin or brilliant yellow of his eyes, and recollections about things he’d done that confused other officers. Will sometimes wished that he could snap his fingers and make the whole crew respect Data as much as he did—he was an android, yes, but that just made him different. Just the same as how Worf was a Klingon, and Deanna was half-Betazoid.
It was soon after that that Will realised what he felt for Data wasn’t just simple respect. And as it turned out, Data was equally interested in him, though he said it was more out of a desire to learn about human love. But Will was happy, and Data was content, and they each taught the other a lot—after a while, Will even found himself in engineering, being instructed on Data’s circuits by Geordi and the android himself.
And the comments continued, but they became harder to ignore.
“People think I’m too good for you, Data,” Will complained one night, shedding his uniform and changing into a pair of loose sweatpants and a white t-shirt. “I hear it all the time, that a man like me shouldn’t be with a man like you, because you’re not human enough or whatever.”
“Does this bother you?” Data asked, not looking up from the PADD he was reading off of.
Will sighed and climbed into bed beside him. “Of course, it bothers me,” he explained. “You’re perfect, Data. You’re certainly good enough for anyone, especially me. I don’t need you to be human—hell, I’ve never been exclusive to humans before, and you might be a machine but you’re not just a machine.”
“Thank you, Will. I am glad you think so. But I am very aware of the comments that are made about me, and I have developed, as you might say, ‘thick skin’,” Data replied. “You should not worry yourself with them.”
“I know you’re not bothered, Data, but I can’t help feeling… angry—annoyed. There’s even rumours that I’m cheating on you, though I intend to take that right to the captain tomorrow and get it shut down,” Will continued. “We’re senior officers—first and second, at that. We shouldn’t have to tolerate this.”
Data blinked at him. “‘Cheating’, Will? I am unfamiliar with the term.”
“Er—engaging in another relationship without your consent,” Will told him. “I’m not, I promise. I would never. There’s nothing I could possibly want from anybody else other than you.”
Data gave a small tilt of his head. “I had not even considered that as a possibility. I am not programmed with many romantic subroutines, though I am familiar with the traditional monogamy of humans—it is not offensive to me that you may be unsatisfied with our relationship, and seek—”
“Data, stop,” Will said gently, taking his hand, and Data fell silent. “I want you , Data. Just you. And if that changes in the future, we’ll talk about it—if you want something different in the future, we’ll talk about it, too.”
“Communication is a vital part of healthy relationships,” Data replied, probably quoting from a book or an article he’d downloaded. “I understand. You are content?”
“Very,” Will assured him. He decided to change the topic. “What are you reading?”
There was an almost imperceptible shift in Data’s expression, one that Will recognised as delight—it was an expression that always accompanied the answer to a genuine question. “I am reading The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald,” Data told him. “It is an old Earth classic. Would you like me to continue aloud?”
Will smiled. “That sounds nice, Data. Yes, I would.”
When Data spoke again, it was in a lower tone. “It was seven o’clock when we got into the coupé with him and started for Long Island,” he read. “Tom talked incessantly, exulting and laughing, but his voice was as remote from Jordan and me as the foreign clamour on the sidewalk or the tumult of the elevated overhead. Human sympathy has its limits, and we were content to let all their tragic arguments fade with the city lights behind. Thirty—the promise of a decade of loneliness, a thinning list of single men to know, a thinning briefcase of enthusiasm, thinning hair.”
Will put his head back on the pillow and stared at Data, as if he could look hard enough and maybe catch a glimpse of the dazzling aura that Geordi had once described to him. A halo, he’d said, it looks like he has a halo. And it was fitting, Will thought. An angel among men. A creature that no mortal could understand, and many feared.
“But there was Jordan beside me, who, unlike Daisy, was too wise ever to carry well-forgotten dreams from age to age. As we passed over the dark bridge her wan face fell lazily against my coat’s shoulder and the formidable stroke of thirty died away with the reassuring pressure of her hand.
“So we drove on toward death through the cooling twilight.”
And Will fell asleep to the sound of Data’s soothing voice, and the beat of his synthetic heart against his ear.
It was the memories of that night that continued to resurface as Will turned himself into the captain’s ready room. He knew what this conversation would entail, and he dreaded it. The real hearing would be easier; this was a private discussion between himself and Jean-Luc Picard, and he was likely to be faced with the full force of Picard’s disappointment.
“Come,” came the sharp word from the other side of the door, and Will entered. Picard brusquely gestured for him to sit, and Will again did so. “Number One,” Picard greeted curtly. “I never anticipated a day that I would have to court-martial you for assault against a fellow officer, yet here we are. Would you like to explain what happened?”
“Lieutenant Ross made multiple demeaning and disrespectful comments about my relationship with Lieutenant Commander Data,” Will replied evenly. “He was ordered to stop and ignored it. I lost my temper and… punched him.”
Picard rubbed his temple. “Luckily, no serious damage has been done to Lieutenant Ross’ face,” he said. “Number One, I expected better from you.”
“I know, sir,” Will responded. “I’ll face the consequences, and it won’t happen again.”
“You said he made comments about you,” Picard continued. “Were you being provoked?”
“Yes, sir,” Will answered. “He started by claiming that I was a fool for ever being ‘tricked’ into a relationship with a machine. He also commented that he knew I had nothing against non-humans but didn’t think I’d ever ‘stoop this low’.”
“To your face.”
“Yes, to my face, sir.”
“Continue.”
“I told him that he should be careful what he says about his senior officers,” Will said, “and that I wouldn’t be reporting this to you if he stopped now.” He wrung his hands together. “Then… he asked me why I cared so much about the feelings of a man who couldn’t feel.”
“And you punched him?” Picard questioned, raising an eyebrow.
Will shook his head. “I told him again to stop, and stood up to leave and report the incident. He grabbed me by the arm and said, ‘Commander Riker, you’re a decent man’.” The words were burned into his memory. “‘Don’t you see that nothing good can come of treating that thing like a person?’” He took a small breath. “Then I punched him, sir.”
Picard was quiet for a long moment. “Well, Number One,” he said. “I expect you to not repeat this at the hearing, but I think you exercised more self-control than most officers would.” He steepled his fingers together and folded them. “Still, not as much as a first officer should.”
“I wish I’d just stormed out of there and reported him,” Will admitted. “Or sentenced him to cleaning Jefferies’ tubes for the next week, I don’t know.”
“The charges should be light,” Picard reassured him. “You were provoked, you had already attempted to diffuse the situation, and you only hit him once. This kind of thing happens a lot, I’m afraid—though if it happens again, the consequences will be much more serious.”
Will nodded. “It won’t happen again,” he insisted. “Oh, and if I may, sir?”
“Speak freely, Number One.”
“Someone has been spreading rumours that I’m cheating on Lieutenant Commander Data. I’d like to shut them down,” Will said matter-of-factly. “I’m no Buchanan.”
Picard regarded him strangely. “I’ll see to it,” he replied. “And… Buchanan?”
“The Great Gatsby, sir,” Will said, to answer the vague question. “An old Earth classic.”
“I… see.” Picard paused. “I expect to see you in the briefing room at 1300, Commander.”
“Of course, Captain.”