Archive of Our Own

A stranger stood among the yellow flowers in the garden, and Geordi recognised him.

But he didn’t rush to the door, nor wave to him. There was too much running through his mind; his whirlwind thoughts froze him to the spot. The silhouette was like a mirage—if he moved, he worried that it might disappear.

As he placidly watched the stranger turn towards his house, Geordi suddenly realized that the lights in the kitchen were off. Maybe he would leave, thinking that nobody was home. Geordi didn’t know if he wanted that.

Fortunately, or not, the darkness that Geordi found so comfortable didn’t deter his visitor. The stranger strode up the path, oddly stiff and awkward, until he reached the porch and Geordi lost sight of him. A small, relieved exhale escaped him, unbidden, and Geordi couldn’t put his finger on why. He reacted strangely to things these days.

Three solid knocks boomed out from the front door, shattering Geordi’s melancholic acceptance of the situation. Almost to ground himself, Geordi reached for the switch on the wall and flicked the lights on. (He didn’t have a central computer in his house. He’d removed it.) It was a beacon to the man outside: I’m here. Be patient.

The door was further away than usual; every hesitant step towards it was punctuated by a sharp breath, but he refused to panic. A ghost was not waiting for him on his front doorstep. A ghost had not been inspecting his sunflowers with a curious expression and a cocked head that nearly made him sob. It had been two years, and he would greet his guest without melting into a grief-stricken puddle on the floor, dammit.

His hand shook despite his efforts to still it, as he grasped the ice-cold doorknob and yanked it open. The late evening sunlight caught the stranger’s pale skin from behind, making him seem almost luminescent, and when those eyes landed on Geordi’s face—

Those yellow eyes—

“Data?” Geordi breathed, before he could stop himself.

The stranger regarded him sympathetically, though a familiar smile pulled at the edges of his lips, as if he couldn’t quite keep his emotions under wraps. “No,” came the reply. “Not quite.” It could have been a smarmy response, but it wasn’t; he just sounded… sad.

Almost as sad as Geordi felt.

And Geordi realised that this was not a man he knew, nor one that he would have ever met under ordinary circumstances. There was nobody in the entire universe that looked at him the way he did, and the weight of it was too much for a stranger.

“Okay,” Geordi replied, numbly. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth; none of his words wanted to come out quite right. “Is it a long story?”

The half-smile widened to a full one. “Oh, yes,” the stranger answered. “Very.” There was something familiar in his tone, but Geordi couldn’t spare the brain space to think about it any harder; he was liquefying in the golden glow of the man’s eyes, as if a star itself had stepped down to visit him. He hadn’t felt this way since he’d seen Data face-to-face for the last time.

Geordi stepped aside, trying and failing to swallow the lump in his throat. “Do you want to come inside?” Maybe the stranger wasn’t even looking for him, he thought—but that train fell off the rails as soon as it departed, because his invitation was instantly accepted.

“I would love to.”

They sat on opposite ends of Geordi’s couch; awkwardness and anxiety hung in the air as Geordi alternated between studying his guest and pretending he wasn’t there. Something heavy pressed down on his chest, but he was not going to cry. In desperation, Geordi blurted out the first question that came to mind: “Who are you?”

“Lore,” was the simple response, so casual that it almost didn’t register in Geordi’s brain. And when it did, it was like a knife jabbed right underneath his ribs, piercing the space beside his heart. If Data’s name pulled on Geordi’s heartstrings, then Lore’s name snapped them.

“No,” Geordi said, breathlessly. “No, you’re not.” He had once known a Soong by that name, but that man was currently laying disassembled in a research facility. He knew. He was on the list of people they’d contact if he was ever put back together.

“You’re right.” Lore shrugged. “Not to you, I’m not. Whoever I am here, you don’t like me very much.” He shook his head. “It’s alright. I thought that might happen.”

Geordi’s head snapped up. “How do you know”—he hesitated—“that I… uh…”

“You wanted me to be Data,” Lore replied simply. “Where I come from, if I’d been Data, you would have attacked me on sight.”

Geordi sighed and deflated in his seat. “So, my hunch was right,” he murmured to himself. Then he raised his voice and added, looking at Lore, “You’re from another universe.”

“M-hm.”

“Why?” Geordi asked dimly. “Why are you here, in my house? Why—” Why do you look at me like I’m the only person that matters—like I’m special or important when I’m not? “I’m just… I’m confused, that’s all. It’s not every day that someone shows up from—from another dimension, looking for me.”

Lore smiled softly. “I told you it was a long story.”

“I have time,” Geordi said bluntly. He leaned forward ever-so-slightly. “Tell me.”

Matching Geordi’s movement perfectly, Lore shifted and asked, “Where do you want me to start?”

Geordi hesitated for a moment. Then he replied, “Start with… why me?”

“Why you?” Lore repeated, and he fixed Geordi with those devastating amber eyes again. “Because I love you, Geordi. I loved you, and then you were gone, and I didn’t want to keep living in a universe where that was true.”

Geordi’s breath hitched; Lore wasn’t Data, he was nothing like Data, but to hear those three words uttered in that voice… it was almost everything he’d ever wanted. And pain rang through his heart again, so sharp and raw it seemed as if it had only been yesterday.

Lore continued, “We met in Starfleet, on the Enterprise, and from the first moment I met you, I just… knew. I was a little bit obsessed with you; it was kind of creepy for a while, or so I’ve been told.” He paused to let out a short laugh. “But I figured out how to deal with my emotions properly, with some help, and eventually—well, you decided to give me a chance.”

“So, in your universe, you and I were…” Geordi couldn’t bring himself to say it; the word stuck harshly in his throat.

“Together. Yes.” Lore nodded. “Engaged to be married, actually. And then you went and got yourself blown to bits.”

“Let me guess,” Geordi murmured. “The Scimitar?”

Lore nodded again. “That’s how you lost Data, isn’t it.” His tone was gentle, as if he were soothing a wounded animal. Geordi couldn’t bring himself to feel patronised—he appreciated it.

But it was still painful to answer. “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.” Lore shook his head. “And I’m sorry for intruding, too. I just wanted… to see you one more time. I’ll find some quiet corner of this universe and settle down, where you never need to—”

And as Lore went to stand up, Geordi’s hand shot out and grabbed his wrist, almost without a conscious thought. “No,” he insisted quickly. “No, I think you should… stay. Here, that is.” He tightened his grip, surprised that Lore’s arm felt more like human skin than the smooth bioplast he’d been expecting. “Please. I want you to tell me everything.”

Lore’s eyes widened—the action was so microscoping that Geordi wouldn’t have noticed without his implants. Clearly, Geordi’s sudden burst of confidence had surprised him, too. “Okay,” he breathed. “I… I want to hear about everything from you, too.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, Geordi’s hand still clasped around Lore’s wrist, feeling his heart beat rapidly beneath his skin, until Lore—astoundingly—let out a loud yawn.

“I’m sorry.” Lore’s smile was apologetic. “Can we continue this in the morning? Travelling between universes is more exhausting than I thought.”

The pieces finally fell into place, and revelation dawned. This Lore was human. There was flesh and blood beneath Geordi’s hand, and it wasn’t just the masterful craftsmanship of Doctor Soong. He was a real, tangible, mortal human being—the only thing Data had ever wished to be.

But Geordi respected Lore’s request. They didn’t have to talk about it now. “Sure,” he finally said, after a few beats of silence. “Sure, yeah. My guest room isn’t really, uh, prepared, but I can—”

Lore waved his hand dismissively. “I’ll be fine. Thanks.” His smile didn’t waver.

Geordi showed him to the spare room, then, and they quietly parted ways.

When Geordi took to his own room a few minutes later, Lore was still at the forefront of his mind. It was strange to think of the stony android on the other side of the wall, laying down in a bed and breathing steadily as he slowly drifted into unconsciousness. In his imagination, Geordi thought he looked peaceful.

Then Geordi turned over in his bed and tucked his knees up to his chest, as if it would help stem the ragged tears. That night, he mourned not only for Data, but also a Geordi he had never had the chance to meet.

Geordi woke up cold.

Out of habit, eyes still closed, he reached for his VISOR on the side table, but found it absent, as always. Three years with implants, and it still slipped his mind. But he was glad to be rid of it—not only had it caused him so much pain, but it was one of the things that reminded him of Data.

There was a reason he was on leave from Starfleet.

He rubbed his temple with two fingers as he got up, not bothering to turn the light on in his room or in the corridor when he made his way downstairs. There were a lot of things he didn’t bother with these days. Sometimes he didn’t even try to get up. There was nobody around to force him, no urgent meetings to attend, and no emergencies to worry about… often it was just easier.

Deanna called, sometimes, from the Titan. She’d ask how he was doing, make sure he was having his appointments with a local counsellor she’d recommended to him, and offer to talk to him about Data. Geordi couldn’t lie to her, but he never told the whole truth, and she never pushed him. Deanna, of all people, knew the most about how Geordi had felt about Data—about how much he’d loved him, and what he’d hoped for, one day.

Geordi had always wanted a family, but it had always been a very distant dream. A faceless person and two faceless kids, maybe three, so far in the future that he never thought about it very hard. He’d find someone eventually, he always told himself. Someone where things would just click, and they’d figure out their lives together.

And then there was Data, who sauntered right out of the mechanical diagrams in a textbook and into Geordi’s life, all awkward misunderstandings and unparalleled genius and pure, unbridled curiosity. And Geordi had known that Data was his soulmate. Even if it wasn’t romantic, even if they were just best friends, because the nature of Data’s emotional ability was always in question, Geordi would have been content. And then Data had died.

He was fully lost in thought, getting coffee in the dark kitchen on autopilot, when the light suddenly switched on. He flinched violently, nearly startled out of his skin, and spun around to meet the equally-surprised eyes of his guest.

“Hi,” breathed Lore, nimble fingers tugging the collar of his shirt.

“Hi,” replied Geordi, awkwardly. He gestured to the replicator. “Do you, uh, drink coffee?” It was a bad question; he amended it with, “I mean, uh, I was going to get breakfast, too, if you want some…”

Lore smiled awkwardly. “I take it you don’t have houseguests often,” he teased. “I’d take a coffee. Black.”

“No, I don’t,” Geordi answered, turning back around to order two cups from the replicator. “Everybody’s pretty well left me alone since…” He hesitated. “You know.”

“I know.” Lore took the coffee from him and held it gingerly in front of him. “Can I ask how long it’s been?”

“Two years,” Geordi sighed, leaning back against the counter. "I went on leave from Starfleet after six months. The ship's counsellor... I'm assuming there's a Deanna Troi in your universe?"

Lore let out a short laugh, almost a snort. "Of course. No universe would be complete without her, I don't think. She's the one who helped me... with you, more than once."

It made Geordi feel strange, every time Lore fixed him with those amber eyes and spoke of another him—of things that he hadn't done, and experiences he'd never had. But it wasn't a bad feeling, not really. Yes, it made him yearn to be the man that Lore was looking for, to give him his happy ending, but it also made him feel... flattered, almost. The other Geordi had been so impressive, so wonderful, that Lore had thrown himself into another universe looking for him. And from what he'd said so far, they didn't sound so different.

"Deanna recommended that I go on leave, and I didn't have the stubbornness to insist otherwise, y'know? I wasn't in any state to be handling a warp core, especially not in an emergency. Everything just reminded me of..." Geordi saved himself from finishing the sentence by sipping his drink; it didn't matter, because Lore understood what he meant.

"I felt the same way," Lore replied gently. "Except you were better than me. I just slammed down my resignation and left."

Geordi could see it—Lore marching through the door of Captain Picard's ready room, PADD in hand, and throwing it onto his desk. "Yeah. That sounds like you," he said, absentmindedly, before realizing that it might have been the wrong thing to say. "I mean—sounds in-character from what I know of you, I don't... I'm not trying to—"

"Nothing worse than I've been saying to you about my Geordi," Lore interrupted, waving a hand dismissively. "I think this is going to be an ongoing thing, with me and you. If we keep in touch after this, of course." He said it so nonchalantly, but Geordi knew what he meant.

"Lore," Geordi responded quietly, "you can stay here as long as you'd like."

Lore grimaced. "I don't want to impose," he insisted. "Besides, as you said, you barely know me. And I barely know you."

"You said you wanted to talk about... everything today," Geordi reminded him. "You can't be worse than my Lore, anyway. You've been really... nice."

"I hear the insult." Lore raised an eyebrow. "Is he really that bad?"

"Worse," Geordi admitted, fiddling with the handle of his coffee cup. "It's not exactly the kind of thing I tend to share with house guests." Or anybody else, he added silently. Even with Data, he hardly ever discussed what Lore had done to him.

"Well," Lore replied, deftly and almost tenderly, "how about you show me around that beautiful garden of yours, and if you want to talk, we can talk."

Geordi hesitated, then pushed himself off the edge of the counter and took a step closer to Lore. "I don't think you understand what you're asking for," he said slowly. "You want me to tell you about all the horrible things that you did in this universe? I sure as hell wouldn't want someone to tell me about what—what a monster I was, I don't know why you do."

Lore shrugged, surprisingly nonchalant. "My Data was a monster, so it's clear that our positions were reversed between worlds. Comparing myself to your Lore would be like… as you say, apples and oranges." He scratched the back of his head, a gesture that was so painfully human it made Geordi's heart flip. "But, you're right, it might not be pleasant for me, but you seem like you need someone to talk to. And if you don't want that person to be me, I understand, I just thought I'd—"

"I have people to talk to," Geordi insisted, firmly, feeling suddenly defensive. "Deanna—"

"Oh, please." Lore's tone was suddenly sharp. "You may be a different Geordi, but I can still tell when you're lying to me."

Geordi stilled, as frozen as the cold blue of his eyes, and he swore he could hear the snap of ice as he turned his head back to Lore. "I'm telling the truth," he replied, slowly. "I've been talking to Deanna."

"You have other friends, I'm sure. A Captain Picard, perhaps a Commander Riker... did you befriend Reginald Barclay in this universe, too, or did he stay in his shell?" Lore met him in the centre of the kitchen, leaning down to emphasize his extra few inches of height. "If you're so okay, then why hasn't your guest room been used—as far as I can tell—ever?"

Geordi resisted the urge to shrink. "They're... busy. On the Enterprise." It was a weak answer, he knew, but it was easier than admitting that Lore was right.

"They have shore leave, don't they? You're their friend, I find it hard to believe that none of them have reached out to you. So, you're turning down the company of everyone you care about, except, for some reason, me. Either you don't have the heart to tell me to leave, or you keep pushing everyone away in the hopes that somebody will force themselves on you." Lore's eyes were like golden shards of fire. "Tell me that I'm wrong."

Geordi couldn't. His breath caught in his throat; everything Lore had said was completely true, and he hadn't even realized it until now. His heart was pounding in his chest, reverberating in his skull like drums, and he suddenly couldn't force any more words from his mouth. Eyes wide, his breathing had returned, but his breaths were shallow and scratched at his windpipe.

"Geordi?" came Lore's voice, sounding suddenly concerned. "Are you okay? I'm sorry, it got away from me, I shouldn't have—"

"Stop," Geordi managed, feeling strangled. "Please, I..."

"Are you—what's it called, having a panic attack? Is that what this is? I've never... what do I do?" Lore asked, and he sounded almost frightened. It was strange, seeing the face of both his friend and his foe twisted in such a foreign emotion: fear.

Geordi struggled to reply; his brain felt as if it were traveling at warp ten-point-two. "I... need to sit down," he mumbled, and he reached out to clutch Lore's arm without thinking, needing something to stabilize himself with. "Living room?"

"Okay," Lore breathed. "Okay. Sit down. Got it." At another time, Geordi would've laughed at seeing him this way, feathers ruffled by a human’s behaviour, but in this moment, he couldn't. "C'mon, I've got you." Lore hooked his arm under Geordi's, taking the brunt of his weight, and tugged him towards the doorway.

They stumbled into the living room together, and Lore deposited Geordi on the sofa with ease; it seemed not all of his inhuman strength had been lost with his new, organic body. Geordi slumped into the pillows, his chest as tight as a rubber band about to snap, and stared up at Lore as if he were the only star in the universe, the sky dark behind him.

"I don't know what to do," Lore reiterated, lacing his hands together nervously. "I didn't mean to hurt you, Geordi. I'm… sorry."

Wordlessly, Geordi grabbed the crook of Lore's elbow and yanked him down onto the couch next to him. The former android hit the back of the sofa with a thump and a forceful exhale, and Geordi almost felt bad for winding him. Maybe it was the first time Lore had ever been winded—he was overcome with sudden curiosity about Lore's organic body, but had no will to ask everything he wanted to ask. At that moment, he was just grateful for a figure sitting next to him.

"Can I... hug... you?" Lore asked, tentatively. "You—the other you—used to find it comforting. And you seem like you need some comforting, and obviously since I got us into this mess, I wanted to—"

Geordi shut Lore up by dropping his head against his shoulder. "Yes," Geordi murmured. "I'd like that."

Lore's one arm settled around his back, and the other tugged him closer, almost into his lap. His jaw fell into the crook of Lore's neck, and when Geordi inhaled, he could smell thyme. He loved thyme—his mother had cooked with it a lot when he'd been very young, back when she was still low enough on the totem pole to have time to cook instead of replicating everything. Thinking about his mother was bittersweet, but the smell was calming, almost shockingly so, and he found his heart rate steadily decreasing.

"You seem better," Lore commented awkwardly, after a minute or two. "I guess it helps you, too."

Geordi took a deep breath, trying to fully steady himself. "You smell nice," he then admitted, before immediately realizing how strange it sounded. "I mean—you smell like something I, uh, like." He knew it wasn’t much better, but his words were still heavy in his mouth.

Lore blinked. "Oh." He sounded surprised. "I had no idea. Must be a difference between universes, because I've been using the same replicated soap and whatever since I started having to deal with personal hygiene, and my Geordi never commented on it..."

"It's thyme." Geordi felt compelled to explain. "When I was a kid, my mom used to love it. She worked it into everything, and I always complained about bits in my food." He still felt oddly detached from his body, and he didn't want to let go of Lore, but talking about these trivial details of his life was helping, even if he sounded stilted and strange. "I couldn't even see it, of course, but I'd tell her I could taste it, y'know, and she'd pretend to pick it all off so that I'd suck it up and eat it..."

Lore let out a short, breathy laugh. "I wish I'd had a mother like yours. She sounds like fun." When Geordi glanced up, he could see that Lore had pulled on a tight-lipped smile, and a pang of sympathy rattled his heart. His Lore had never met his mother, but if this Lore had taken on all of Data's experiences, he probably had. And even without emotions, Geordi knew that for Data, the experience had been a difficult one. He could only imagine how short-fused, older brother Lore, even one that had joined Starfleet, would have reacted to the reappearance of the mother that had abandoned him.

But Geordi didn't ask about that. Instead, he just said, "Yeah. She was," and left it at that.

Lore's hand slowly came up to cradle the back of Geordi's head, cupping his neck with a firm touch. "I'm sorry," he whispered, after a few long moments of silence.

"You didn't know you were going to trigger something," Geordi replied, as even as he could.

"Not about—well, yes, I am sorry about that. But I, just, I..." Lore's chin came down, resting on Geordi's head. He felt secure there; protected, even though those hands had inflicted so much pain to him, once. "I'm sorry for your losses. All of them. It's not... it's not fair that someone like you should have to go through so much."

Geordi repeated, "Someone like me?" in a hesitant voice, used to those words but sensing that Lore meant no harm.

"A good man," Lore clarified sharply, picking up on Geordi's question. "A thoughtful and brilliant man who has done nothing to deserve this. Being alone in a house on a barely-populated planet, closest family and friends all gone..." Lore's grip tightened ever so slightly on Geordi's neck.

"It's not all bad," Geordi mumbled, before he could stop himself.

"Do you like—"

"If I wasn't alone, you would've faced a lot more trouble coming to see me," Geordi told him, cutting him off before he could launch into another speech about Geordi's unhealthy living habits. "Captain Picard would've thrown a hissy fit if you'd turned up on the Enterprise."

Lore opened his mouth to reply, then slammed his jaw shut again. After giving a quirk of his head that was so painfully like Data, he admitted, "...I didn't think that far ahead."

"He would've thrown you in the brig on the spot," Geordi continued, slightly amused by the thought. "Will might've slapped you, if he'd had the chance."

A fond smile rose to Lore's face. "Ah, yes. Good ol' Captain Riker," he mused. "He attempted to punch Data for me once, back in my universe. As you can imagine, it didn't go well, as bioplast isn't exactly punchable..."

Geordi surprised himself by laughing. "Oh, jeez. At least he tried? Will doesn't punch people that much—here, at least—so I guess it's the thought that counts."

"Yep. Believe me, I appreciated it, once we were both out of harm's way," Lore responded. "He and I were good friends, I think. He called me his old friend a few times, so that probably means something." He let out a small sigh. "I still have a hard time with the whole friendship thing. You humans have such complicated relationships with each other, and all these unspoken social rules about acquaintances and friends and partners—"

"It's not that much easier for us to figure them out, trust me," Geordi admitted. Then he hesitated, before changing the subject. "Could I... ask you something about your time on the Enterprise, by the way? I'm curious."

Lore popped his lip. "Shoot."

"What did you... do? Your position, I mean," Geordi said hastily. "Data, here, was second officer, and an ops officer, as well as helping me out in engineering when I needed it. Were you the same, or...?"

"Hah! Operations? Second officer? No way." Lore shook his head. "Security chief, that was me. Never made it up past lieutenant, either. Oh, I got perfect reviews from all of my evaluators, all the way up the totem pole, but chief of security was the most responsibility anybody ever wanted to give me. I’m ‘reckless’ and ‘aggressive’, you see. Either way, it took a long time for anybody to trust me with that much. Honestly, I wasn't even worse than Picard, but, y'know, anti-android stuff. Picard couldn't crush a man's windpipe with one hand—I guess that's where the difference lies."

Geordi pitched a small sigh. "Yeah. I understand. Data struggled with the same thing," he told him. "People that didn't know him were either scared of him or treated him like an object, and even when they did meet him, he was never an equal. So many people couldn't understand that not having emotions didn't make Data a bad person or unworthy of respect." He pressed his hands together. "A lot of people on the Enterprise thought that way at first, but changed their minds after getting to know him. I... I knew immediately that he wasn't just another machine."

"I've heard." Lore smiled. "The synthetic glow."

"It's one of the only things I don't like about these new implants." Geordi tapped his face beside his eye. "No more halo." In some ways, Data had been a lot like an angel; holy and untouchable, and now thoroughly out of reach.

Lore shrugged. "You wouldn't see it on me, anyway. I'm not android enough anymore, I don't think."

"I've been trying to figure out how you did that," Geordi admitted, a little sheepish. "I thought flesh-and-blood synthetics were nearly impossible. I mean, I know the Federation has scientists working on it, but... not for another hundred years or so, I'd say, now that all the Soongs are gone." He then remembered who he was talking to and wanted to smack himself. "You... wouldn't have that problem, though."

Lore's brow furrowed. "Does this world not have a Lore or a B-4 anymore, either?" he asked. "I know you don't want to talk about the other me, but you didn't mention that he was dead."

Geordi hesitated. "He's... not, not exactly, I suppose. Both of them are disassembled at the Daystrom Institute, and I... I don't know what's going to happen to them, with the state of synthetic politics in the Federation right now. I try not to think about it." It was awful to admit, but after everything Lore had done, and how vividly B-4 reminded Geordi of a younger, more innocent Data, he couldn't bear to have anything to do with either of them.

And maybe he was a hypocrite, because here he was, sharing his house with another Lore.

"Oh, yes, politics." Lore groaned. "I imagine your state of affairs is a bit better than it is back home, considering your rude, abrasive android wasn't blamed for the death of the Federation flagship's chief engineer." Seeing the look on Geordi's face, Lore hastily continued. "They quickly declared me innocent, there was no evidence to start with, anyway, but it's become a whole... ordeal. And that's when I decided to disappear."

"And you came looking for me," Geordi murmured. "I... wondered about that, too. Because I miss Data, of course I do, but I can't imagine... somehow punching a hole into another universe just to see him again. Unless my universe was falling down around me."

"It's despicable, the things they're trying to do back home." Lore shook his head. "They weren't going to hunt me down, or anything, not yet, but they tried to make my life a living hell. Synthetic regulations, they called it, as if there were any sentient synthetics other than me." He slumped down, placing his chin on his hands. "Talk about a targeted attack."

"Christ." Geordi ran his hands over his face. He hoped this world would be different—that they wouldn't go down the same path as Lore's—but the worst part was, he couldn't say for certain. "I'm so sorry, Lore."

Lore's head suddenly snapped towards him, and his eyes widened in surprise, but he said nothing.

Geordi leaned back, regarding him quizzically. "What?" he questioned. "What'd I do?"

"You said..." Lore hesitated. "That's the first time you've used my name."

"Oh."

"I didn't expect it," Lore continued. "I thought, since..." He hesitated again. "That you'd have a hard time..."

Gently, Geordi reached out and laid his hand across Lore's. "Lore, I haven't seen... the other Lore in years. Yes, he did some awful shit to me, but honestly, I've suffered worse. I'm not going to refuse to use your name just because it reminds me of a madman that attacked the ship a few times." He squeezed, ever so slightly. "Okay?"

Lore looked as if he were about to cry. "Okay," he agreed. Then, after a slight pause, "...thank you."

"God, your universe really did screw you over," Geordi said, trying to lighten the mood a little bit, "if you're thanking me just for basic respect."

Lore laughed, but it sounded stilted, almost forced. "Yep. It sure fuckin' did."

Geordi snorted at that, and Lore looked at him curiously. "Sorry," Geordi amended hastily. "I've just never heard that voice say 'fuck' before."

Lore's fake smile split into a real one. "Fuck!" he exclaimed. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuckitty fucking fuckass—"

"If you continue, you're going to make me have an aneurysm," Geordi warned him, through his laughter. "You ridiculous man."

"I live to please. Er, amuse." Lore did a half-bow, which looked silly because he was still sitting down. "Besides, it was getting stuffy in here, wasn't it?"

"Yeah," Geordi agreed, with a small sigh. "Yeah, it was." He realized that he was still holding Lore's hand, and awkwardly pulled his hand back. "You, uh, wanted me to show you around the garden, right?" he asked, fumbling for a change of topic.

"Oh, yes." Lore seemed relieved at the shift, too. "You have beautiful sunflowers."

"Mm," Geordi affirmed, and he stood up as he continued speaking. "My sister sent them to me. There are a few other plants out there, too, but don't expect me to be able to name them all."

Lore chuckled. "I'll take the tour anyway."

A few days later, in the afternoon, Geordi retreated into his office with a cup of tea and left Lore to his own devices. Old Starfleet training told him not to leave a near-stranger unattended in his house, but Geordi trusted him—and the thought scared him, a little bit. However, he'd consigned himself to it. If Lore turned on him, he'd curse himself, but he felt there was no reason for him to stay suspicious. Lore had been nothing but kind to him, so far.

And besides, there was a PADD calling Geordi's name, and he was exhausted from entertaining a guest. He needed a break, even though he'd been having one for two years. Lore could manage without him hovering for a little while.

Even with millions of stories available to him on a PADD, Geordi found himself gravitating towards old favourites, and not just his own. The name Sherlock Holmes was painful, but dully so. He had only happy memories of adventuring on the holodeck with Data, even when Moriarty had come to life to challenge them for his freedom. The only source of ache was the knowledge that he'd never get to experience a holonovel with his best friend again.

Geordi wondered, faintly, if Lore enjoyed Sherlock Holmes, before shaking the thought away. This wasn't about Lore. This was about spending some time alone and burying himself in remnants of the past—in remnants of Data.

He thumbed through the options until he found The Hound of the Baskervilles— he hadn't read it in a while, and it was long enough to keep him occupied for the rest of the day. At that moment, that was what he wanted. He could emerge, half-starved, at dinnertime, order something from the replicator, then take his book to bed and turn in as soon as he was tired. It sounded perfect.

Geordi leaned back in his chair, let out a relaxed sigh, and tapped open the book.

He was just starting the fifth chapter, many minutes later, when a different PADD began to beep from beneath the mess on his desk. Geordi sighed in annoyance, bookmarked his spot, and reached over to brush away the bits and pieces of an unfinished project from on top of the device. When he picked it up, he saw that it was a video call—which explained why the PADD was buried, because hardly anybody called him. The name was familiar, and Geordi suddenly found himself much less frustrated by the interruption.

"Hey, Reg," Geordi said, after the call opened and he was greeted by the ever-anxious face of the Enterprise’s new chief engineer. "This is a nice surprise." It came out awkward, but he hoped Reg wouldn't notice—he did mean it. "I haven't seen you in forever."

"I know." On the other side of the screen, Reg scratched his head. "I... I wanted to give you space, at first, but—but then it just kept getting longer and longer, and I wasn't sure if it would be uncomfortable, or if you even wanted to talk to me, or—"

Geordi cut him off before he could continue his anxious rambling. "It's alright, Reg," he assured him. "I appreciate you reaching out."

Reg managed a smile. "Are you... are you okay?" he asked, sounding genuinely concerned. And Reg was the sort of person that was always worried about something, but Geordi had never had that worry turned on him before. It was odd.

"I... yeah, I'm alright." Geordi ran a hand through his hair, scratching his scalp. "I'm doing better, I think." He hesitated, not sure whether or not he should mention having a houseguest. "How's the Enterprise? The warp core hasn't exploded on you yet, I hope?"

Reg let out a nervous laugh. "No—no, not yet," he stammered. "But, I really... I really just wanted to talk about you, Commander—I mean, Geordi, sir—I..."

"At ease, Commander." Geordi couldn't stop himself from chuckling under his breath. "I just haven't really... been in touch with anyone on the Enterprise," he admitted, "and I'm doing fine. You can understand that I don't want to talk about it, right?"

"Ri—right." Reg glanced away, looking uncomfortable. "You... haven't talked to anyone else?" he squeaked, in the cornered-animal way he often did.

"I speak to Deanna from time to time, but she's on the Titan now," Geordi told him. "Captain Picard, Doctor Crusher, Worf... I haven't heard from any of them, no." He pressed his hands together. "Well. Uh, I've had a few messages, but nothing like this. Just the occasional 'thinking about you', y'know, or 'your bat'leth skills must be horrendous by now' from Worf, obviously, because he doesn't really do comfort. But I appreciate it anyway."

Reg laughed—again, it was high and nervous. "Don't you get, um, excuse me, Geordi, but don't you get lonely?" he asked.

Geordi let out a long breath. "I... haven't noticed," he said slowly. Again, he considered whether or not he should tell Reg about Lore... but he figured, out of everyone, Reg was the most likely to let it slip to someone he shouldn't. Sorry, Reg, he thought, and he continued his lie. "I think I like it. It's a nice change of pace from how busy the Enterprise is—and I grew up on starships, y'know, so it's been a weird adjustment. But I'm... having a nice vacation."

"So you are, um—I mean, are you coming back to Starfleet?" Reg questioned. "I—I have to say that the promotion isn't... exactly what I wanted..."

"I'm sure you're doing a great job, Reg," Geordi assured him. "There's nobody I'd rather have looking after the Enterprise’s engines. I've seen you working with her, and you're a genius, alright? But... I know, being chief engineer isn't for everyone." He rubbed his temple. "Lord knows it gets to be a lot after a while."

Reg opened his mouth to respond, then shut it again.

Geordi knew he hadn't answered Reg's question, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to. "Look, I... about coming back to Starfleet, I just... I don't know, Reg. I don't know. If I did, it would have to be on another ship, or maybe there's an opening on Deep Space 9 or something. I just can't be on the Enterprise, and right now all of Starfleet is the Enterprise to me."

"Two years..." Reg said, quietly. "Geordi… it feels like you've been gone forever."

"I can't ," Geordi repeated, putting extra stress on the word. "Reg, I'm sorry."

"Is... is this what Data would have wanted?" Reg suddenly blurted, and his face instantly displayed regret. "I—I'm sorry, I shouldn't—" He fumbled with his PADD on the other end, and Geordi couldn’t stop him. "Talk-to-you-again-soon-maybe-goodbye," he stammered, frantic, and before Geordi could say anything, the call had disconnected.

"Reg—" Geordi started, but it was far too late. He slumped in his chair, holding the PADD. Is this what Data would have wanted? he'd asked. It was easy to forget that Reg had been one of Data's closest friends, too. But Reg wasn't Geordi. He couldn't understand why Geordi had to disappear. Why he had to sign off everything he'd ever known, everything he'd ever loved…

There was a firm knock on the door.

Geordi swallowed the harsh lump in his throat. "Come in."

Lore's head poked into the room, slight concern on his face. "I heard you talking to someone. Everything okay?"

"Fine." Geordi sighed. "Just... a friend checking up on me. Not your problem." It came out a little harsher than he'd meant, but he left it like that; he didn't have the energy to rectify his tone.

"Alright," Lore replied, but he sounded doubtful. Geordi wanted to shout at him, insist that there wasn't anything for him to worry about... "I made dinner. Well, I got dinner from the replicator. But I got enough for you, if you want it."

Geordi perked up a little bit at the mention of food—he was hungry. "What is it?" he asked, as he put aside the PADD and got out of his chair.

"It's, uh... chicken, mashed potatoes, and those fried banana things you like, whatever they're called," Lore told him. He pushed the door open, and Geordi joined him in the hall.

"Plantains."

"That's the bitch." Lore snapped his fingers in frustration. "I just had it! I don't know how you can stand not being able to remember things."

"I don't have a choice." Geordi shrugged. "Also, you learn to write things down."

"Ew. Disgusting." Lore scrunched up his nose. "But I guessed right, on the food?"

"Yeah." Geordi followed Lore into the kitchen. "This is what your Geordi used to like, I'm assuming."

Lore hesitated, before admitting, "Yes. You and him... really aren't very different."

And you loved him , Geordi thought. You loved him, and now you're here with me. "Some things never change, I guess," he said, and with a shrug, he sat down at the kitchen table.

They ate dinner together in near-silence; Geordi didn't want to talk, and neither, it seemed, did Lore. That, or the food was too good, but Geordi still found that his stomach had shrunk to the size of a pea. He absentmindedly poked at his mashed potatoes.

"C’mon, Geordi." Lore gestured at his plate. "Don't make me tell Deanna you're not eating."

"You can't," Geordi told him, evenly. "Nobody else even knows you exist."

Lore sighed. "You still have to eat. It won't do anybody any good if you're starving." He cut off another piece of chicken and continued eating. "That means you didn't tell your friend from earlier about me, then."

"No." Geordi stiffened. "It was Barclay, and I don't trust him not to accidentally tell someone he shouldn't. I—I don't know what they'd do about you. I don't know what they'd do with you. I don't want you to end up in a box next to the other Lore just because some admiral thinks you might be dangerous, just like in your world." Geordi hesitated. "As far as anybody else is concerned, I'm alone here."

"You're alone here," Lore agreed. "Though, I don't think they could do much with me. I'm an organic, just like you. Maybe I could pretend to be our dear father's long-lost nephew... my father isn't still alive here, is he?"

Geordi shook his head. "He died years ago. He was... sick." And then you threw him into a wall , he added silently, but he didn't know if Lore would appreciate that detail. It refused to come out of his mouth, anyway.

"Sick," Lore repeated. "Yes. Mine was, too. I'd hoped..." He sighed, looking down at the table. "It doesn't matter. He was a shit father, anyway."

"Data seemed to like him."

"I'm not Data," Lore replied pointedly. "Your Data, at least. Mine... hah, you don't even want to know." He absentmindedly poked his hand with his fork, gently, as if he were trying to feel something. "Cruel bastard."

"I can't imagine Data ever being cruel," Geordi admitted. "Even before the emotion chip, he went out of his way to be kind."

"And now you're eating dinner with me," Lore pointed out. "You probably couldn't have imagined that, either."

Geordi was quiet for a moment, before he said, "No. I couldn't have."

Lore went back to his chicken.

Geordi tried to return to his plantains, but he still had something on his mind. "What... what do you want from me, Lore?" he asked, simply, fixing his gaze back on the man across the table.

"I don't know," Lore admitted, quietly. "I just wanted to... to see you, I think. I planned to go away after I did, but now, I don't know if I could leave. Now that you’ve asked me to stay."

"But neither of us wants each other," Geordi said. "We're both sitting here wishing it was someone else. Isn't that... I don't know, wrong? It's... I feel like I'm taking advantage of you, Lore. I feel like I'm using you to, I don't know, pretend Data's still alive? And it must be worse for you."

"Are you?" Lore asked.

"What?"

"Pretending that Data's still alive."

Geordi sucked in a breath. "No," he replied. "No, I know he's gone. I... this isn't like my mother. I saw him die, I had to face it." He steepled his hands on the table. "I just mean—I don't know if this is good. For either of us."

"Well, clearly I'm doing some good, because I got you to eat some proper food." Lore chuckled.

"Lore, I'm serious." Geordi pushed his plate aside. "I'm not your Geordi, and you're not my Data. I just think—"

"Geordi La Forge," Lore interrupted sternly, "are you telling me to leave?"

Geordi hesitated. "I don't want you to leave," he murmured. "I just... don't want to hurt you. Or me."

"I'm a synth, not a glass sculpture," Lore snapped. "You're grieving. So am I. We're allowed to share it. You don't think a dead man's ever had a boyfriend and a twin before? And honestly, who gives a damn if it's 'good' for us?” He looked to be just a moment away from slamming his fist on the table, but he restrained himself. “Do you know what's not good for you? Sitting alone in this house doing fuck-all! I know, I've been there, I did it too!"

Geordi struggled to come up with a coherent response, but all he could land on was, "...he wasn't my boyfriend."

"I'm sorry?"

"Data," Geordi managed, through gritted teeth, "was not—my boyfriend."

Lore opened his mouth, then closed it again. And he slumped back in his seat, suddenly looking defeated. "I... I just thought, since... everything else was the same, you..."

"He didn't really do romance." Geordi spoke like a stranger; his mouth moved, but his brain was sluggish. "After he tried with Jenna—she was a crewman on the Enterprise— he didn't... ever try again. He said it was unfair."

"You... never told him that you loved him, did you?" Lore questioned, slowly. "That's why you're out here, beating yourself into the ground. You never even told him."

"No." Geordi's voice was a harsh whisper. "I couldn't. I couldn't do that to him. It wouldn't have been fair, either."

"Fair," Lore repeated. " Fair. When is life ever fair? When does life ever give a damn about what's fair?" He stood up, knocking his chair backwards with a loud scrape of wood against tile, and Geordi could see the rage painted on his face—now directed, it seemed, at the entire universe, not just Geordi. "If it had been me—"

"Lore, don't," Geordi breathed. He didn't want to hear this.

"If it had been me," Lore continued anyway, ignoring him. "I would have given you the world. This Data of yours—this Data of yours could have had everything... he could have had you, but he made himself unavailable for what? Because of some fling with a crewmate that went poorly? He had no idea what he passed up on.

“Because, Geordi—Geordi, you're the most important person in the universe. You're the only person that matters, that has ever mattered. I'm no Q, but I'm sure of it. I see you... everywhere, you—you haunt me, you tear me apart, I... I became human for you." Lore's hands fell on the table, and he bowed his head.

"I didn't... I never wanted to be human— really human. I just didn't want to outlive you, Geordi. And I failed." There was a hitch in his breath, and Geordi realized that Lore was crying.

Geordi got up, a sympathetic ache in his heart. "Lore," he began, slowly, but he didn't know what to say. "Lore, I..."

Lore turned away, hiding his face. "Maybe you're right," he mumbled, voice hoarse and raw. "Maybe this isn't healthy. Maybe I should go."

"You've barely been here a week," Geordi whispered, reaching out for Lore's arm. "I don't want you to go."

Lore barked a harsh laugh. "You tell me to stay, then go, then stay, then go, then stay," he said bitterly, still standing with his back to Geordi. "Make up your mind."

"I don't know what I want, Lore," Geordi stressed. "I can't decide if I want you here or not. You're... God, you're so much like him." And it made Geordi want to either pull him close forever or push him away, never to be seen again. "And you're driving me insane."

"I do have that effect on people," Lore tried to joke, but it came out weak. "I'm also a goddamn mess."

"I know," said Geordi. "After what we've been through, I'm not... I'm not surprised."

"Two years."

"Two years," Geordi repeated. "And here we are."

Lore turned back around, eyes reddened and cheeks damp. "Here we are," he agreed. "Two... fucked up old men."

"I don't think we're old..."

"Well, we're not young," Lore interjected. "You're almost retired."

"I don't want to retire," Geordi admitted. "It's too final."

Lore snorted. "Not like this whole leave of absence you have right now, of course not."

"Oh, stuff a sock in it, Lore," Geordi snapped. "We can't talk about the same damn thing for more than five minutes—I knew I was bad, but you're worse, by a long shot. Ten seconds ago, you were crying thinking that I wanted you to leave!"

"I had— dust, there's a lot of dust in here, you should really clean up more often—"

"You've already bared your soul to me, you can't take it back now," Geordi interrupted. "Get over yourself, and help me with the laundry."

That took Lore by surprise. "The... laundry?" he repeated, questioning.

"Well, it doesn’t do itself." Geordi turned towards the table, where their dishes were strewn haphazardly. "I'll clean up the dishes, and you can start that."

"I... yeah, sure." Lore still looked shocked, blinking owlishly at Geordi. "I'll... figure it out."

And, quietly, Lore left the room.

Geordi let out a long sigh as soon as he was out of earshot, before he began tidying up the kitchen. Everything he'd told Lore had been true. He didn't want to be alone again, but there was also nothing he wanted more than to sink into his bed and lie there for the rest of his life, without anybody to bother him. His friends didn't need him. Starfleet didn't need him.

He placed the dishes into the replicator, and they vanished as another thought crossed his mind.

...Lore needed him.

That was the truth, wasn't it? He tried so hard to hide it, but Geordi could see it on him. He'd been willing to disappear, to live his life in an unfamiliar world where nobody could know who he really was, if only to know that Geordi was alive, somewhere. Geordi didn't owe him anything—there was no guilt there, no feeling of obligation towards a stranger that looked like an old friend.

But Geordi was coming to realize that he needed Lore, too.

Or wanted him, at least.

Yes, he looked like Data, but that wasn't why. He'd come around to Lore all on his own—that infuriating, short-tempered ex-security chief with a heart of clockwork gold. And Geordi wondered why he couldn't just fall for someone ordinary, for once.

He supposed the answer was that he wasn't ordinary, either.

Geordi considered going after Lore, but he figured another conversation wasn't what either of them needed, right then. So, instead, he made his way outside and watched the sunset from amongst the flowers.

On Tuesday, stardate... whatever, Geordi didn't get out of bed.

It was raining outside, he was exhausted, and his bed was by far the most comfortable spot in the house. He didn't have anything to do—he never had anything to do—and he didn't feel particularly hungry, so that was no motivation to get up. So he rolled over, listening to the rain pattering on the window, and went back to sleep.

When he woke up again, Lore was sitting on the edge of his bed, shaking him gently.

"Go away," Geordi mumbled, and he pulled the blanket over his head. "Not doing this today."

"Not doing what?" Lore questioned.

"Anything." Geordi's voice was rough from lack of water. "'Specially not arguing with you."

Lore was silent for a moment. Then he said, "Okay. Do you want anything to eat?"

"No. Leave me alone."

"Water?"

Geordi's throat was rubbing itself raw; he had to admit that maybe some water wasn't a bad idea—especially if he was planning to have a comfortable day in bed. "Fine," he conceded.

Lore left, then, and Geordi pitched a sigh that turned into a rough cough. When his housemate returned, he choked down the water as if he were a dying man. He couldn't remember if he said thank you; everything was a haze.

"Are you sick?" Lore asked, and he attempted to press a hand to Geordi's forehead.

Geordi knocked it away. "I just don't want to be alive today," he admitted, quietly, "so please, leave me alone."

"I can bring you breakfast in bed," Lore offered. "Is that worth living for?"

Hesitant, Geordi decided not to answer the question. "I don't want anything," he insisted. After a moment under Lore's scrutinous gaze, he added, "...right now."

"I'll come back in an hour," Lore promised, "to ask you again. Sound fair?"

Geordi supposed it was the best deal he was going to get from the stubborn synth. "Sure. Fine. I'm going back to sleep." He rolled to the other side, and pressed his face into the pillow, trying to block everything out.

"Sweet dreams," Lore replied, and Geordi heard his footsteps recede to the door.

When he returned an hour later, Geordi requested a piece of toast—mostly just to make sure he didn't come back to bug him again. He ate it tentatively, because his stomach felt as if it were full of rocks, and then he went back to sleep.

He finally dragged himself out of bed around noon to use the bathroom, but returned without speaking another word to Lore. It wasn't until mid-evening that he actually emerged from his room.

"Feeling better?" was the first thing Lore asked him, when he found him watching Klingon music videos on the couch.

"Eh." Geordi was sure he looked like shit—he hadn't even bothered to change. Why would he? It was his house, and it wasn't like Lore hadn't seen his pyjamas already, nor were they anything to particularly be ashamed of, other than a little worn out. "No," he admitted.

"Feeling even more tired than when you woke up this morning?"

"...yes."

"M-hm. I already ate, but I know exactly what'll help you feel like an organic again," Lore told him. Before Geordi could even open his mouth, he answered the unasked question. "Ramen."

Geordi's stomach growled at the thought. "Oh. Yes, please."

Lore grinned. "Sit down, I'll get it for you."

"You don't have to—"

"I'll get it for you," Lore repeated, his tone firm. "Don't be a martyr, now, Geordi."

"I'm not..." Geordi began to protest, before thinking better of it, and he took a seat on the couch.

Walking to the kitchen and ordering ramen from the replicator took Lore all of two minutes, and when he returned, Geordi took the bowl graciously. Lore watched him the entire time he ate, with that piercing, yellow-eyed stare that had persisted into his organic body, but Geordi was too ravenous to care.

"...thanks," Geordi murmured, once he'd devoured all that he could muster. "Is this another thing your Geordi used to like?"

"No... I, uh, checked your replicator history," Lore admitted sheepishly. "Sorry."

Ashamed, Geordi set aside the bowl. "No, it's... fine, that's okay, I don't... mind that, it's... nice, actually," he stammered. "I didn't mean to... I'm just..."

"Having a shit day?" Lore offered.

"Yeah. That."

"Sometimes it just hits you, doesn't it?" Lore said, low and gentle.

"Lore—" Geordi's voice cracked.

"C'mere." Lore beckoned, and Geordi crashed sideways into his arms with a strangled, pained sound. "Let it out. C'mon, let it out," he encouraged, and Geordi let out a hoarse sob.

"It should've been me," Geordi choked out. "I wish it had been me."

Lore held him close, tight and caring, and murmured, "I don't."

And that was all it took. Geordi cried into Lore's shoulder, soaking his shirt with ugly tears, but Lore made no move to push him away. His throat constricted as he wept, preventing him from saying anything more, and he wasn't sure what he would've said, anyway. There was too much to say, and so much that had already been said.

"It's okay, Geordi. I've got you," Lore continued, and he began to gently rub the back of Geordi's neck. "I've got you."

He repeated it, over and over, and Geordi knew that it was true. Lore had him, and it meant everything.

Geordi didn't leave Lore's arms, that night. Once the tears had run dry, at Lore's suggestion they watched old Earth movies until past the stroke of midnight, until the stabbing pain in Geordi's chest had subsided to a gentle ache accompanying a small, crackling ember. And he fell asleep to the sounds of music and laughter, with hand entwined in hand.

Two months after Lore had first turned up on Geordi's doorstep, Geordi told him that he wanted to return to Starfleet.

"Not... immediately," he added, hurriedly, at the expression on Lore's face. "But... eventually. Reg wants to transfer to a station, and that'll leave the Enterprise without a chief engineer, again. And I think... maybe it's time I got back out in the world." Geordi pressed his hands together in his lap. "Starfleet has been my entire life, after all."

"And what about me?" Lore asked, an anxious undertone to his voice. "I can't—I can't join Starfleet. I can't go with you."

Geordi hesitated. Then he countered, "Why not?"

"You're crazy," Lore hissed. "This isn't my universe, and everybody here hates me, don't they? You honestly expect that they'll just let me in to Starfleet?"

"They let Thomas Riker in, no questions asked," Geordi told him, though he decided not to mention that the cloned Riker had gone AWOL and turned up again with the Maquis. "It's... possible."

Lore let out a long sigh. "Well. I can't stop you from going back to Starfleet... eventually. I think... I think you should, actually. I know it would be better for you than sitting around here with little ol' me." He pulled on a tight-lipped smile. "But goddammit, I just want to—"

"It wouldn't hurt to ask," Geordi interrupted. "And if nothing else, I could write you in as family, get you permission to stay on board, even if you're not an officer."

"Family," Lore repeated. "You'd put me in... as family."

"Well—" Geordi hesitated. "Yeah. I'd try. I'm sure I could pull a few strings with some old friends."

Lore turned away, his face tilted towards the open window, where sunlight was streaming through to highlight his pale skin. "I'd... appreciate that. At least, I'd want visiting rights, or whatever."

"It's Starfleet, not prison."

"Sometimes it feels the same," Lore mumbled. "I want you to go, Geordi. I know you'll... be happier, back on a starship. But I don't want you to leave ."

"I know, I—I don't want to, either," Geordi told him. "And it won't be for a while, yet. Reg's got a ton of paperwork to sort through before his transfer."

Lore snorted. "Ah, yes, of course. The wonders of Federation beaurocracy."

"I take it you weren't quite so disillusioned when you signed up— may I remind you, you're one of us Starfleet shmucks, too," Geordi pointed out. "What was it you told me? That you passed all of your Starfleet exams with flying colours?"

"Of course I did, I was an android," Lore countered. "I got through Starfleet Academy without even trying—I just wanted to shoot things, and not stick in the same place for very long. Ergo, Starfleet security seemed like a damn good deal to me." He folded his arms. "I can be a Starfleet shmuck without thinking they're almighty and wonderous. If you'd ever spent any time at Deep Space 9, you'd know that this shit gets messy."

"You were on Deep Space 9?" Geordi questioned.

"Briefly," Lore answered. "They needed extra security staff when they first got the place up and running. They decided that an android was the least likely to baulk at dealing with some rowdy leftover Cardassians, second-rate illegal traders, and a... touchy constable. Even one with my track record—I guess they didn't need me to be diplomatic, they just wanted me to strong-arm the organics into behaving. Which was fine. It wasn't bad. Odo and I got along, eventually."

"I... I have to admit," Geordi replied, "that I still find it hard to see you as a Starfleet officer."

Lore snorted. "Did you ever know Ro Laren, here?"

"...point taken." Ro had never been a model Starfleet officer, but she'd still been a great one, before she'd defected to the Maquis, just like Tom. "You are a bit like her. Minus the... wait, did you ever get court martialed?"

"Hah! No." Lore shook his head. "I never fucked up that badly. Yes, I hated taking orders, and yes, I disagreed with commanding officers... a lot... but I never did anything they could take me to court over." He frowned. "Except for that one time, with Maddox, but that wasn't a court martial."

"He did that to you, too?" Geordi's eyebrows shot up.

"What, tried to disassemble me and then took me to court when I said 'no'? Uh-huh. He sure did." Lore sighed. "Bastard."

"Yeah. Happened the same here as well," Geordi told him. "Maddox is the one that has B-4 and the other you, now. I couldn't stop him. But I think he's... different, now. I haven't spoken to him in a long time, but I know Data used to stay in touch."

Lore scoffed. "Different? He has two androids in a box. How could that be different?"

"I don't know, Lore," Geordi exclaimed. "Go march into Daystrom Station and ask him yourself! I just said that I haven't—"

"Okay, okay, sorry," Lore muttered. "Not trying to accuse you." He fiddled with his thumbs in his lap. "I just hope you're right about going back to Starfleet. I want to... to see you happy again."

Geordi slowly reached out, taking Lore's hand in his, and their eyes met. "I've been happy here, with you," he admitted, quietly. "Sometimes. Most of the time. But I need to start... doing something again, as much as I'd like to stay on leave forever."

"You should work up to it," Lore suddenly decided. "We could... we could take a trip somewhere. Maybe Vulcan? Or back to Earth—"

"I haven't lost my space-legs yet," Geordi told him. "I'll have to travel back to Earth when my leave ends, I'm not eager to go earlier."

"Right." Lore deflated slightly. "And so we just... continue as normal."

"Normal," Geordi repeated. "Whatever that is."

Lore's fingers were laced through Geordi's hair, holding his head gently in his lap. The television was on, playing an old Trill romance movie that Geordi was barely paying attention to. He had more important things on his mind; the film was just background noise. It was only on because there was nothing else they could think of doing, and Lore had... a unique taste in media, to say the least. It wasn't bad— it just wasn't really Geordi's style.

When the need to move itched at him, Geordi rolled onto his back, staring up at the underside of Lore's clean-cut jaw. "Hey," he murmured, just barely audible over the din of the movie. "I love you."

At first, Lore made no move to indicate that he'd even heard him, other than a slight shift of his hand in Geordi's hair. Then he looked down, an unreadable expression on his face. "I thought you never would," he admitted in a faint whisper. "I love you, too."

"I know," Geordi replied. "Thank you for waiting."

Lore's fingers slid under Geordi's chin, tipping his head up, and the rest of the world faded away as Geordi lifted his own hand to meet Lore's cheek and guide him closer. When their lips connected, the kiss was gentle and chaste, as if they were trying to touch each other as little as possible. Geordi didn't take kindly to being treated like a glass doll, but he didn't want to go any faster, either. There was nothing more he wanted from Lore than this; being there, tender and caring, was enough.

When they separated, the film was louder—something exciting must have been happening, but Geordi didn't even notice. "I finally understand what you mean," he murmured, "about the universe."

"It's more beautiful with you in it, isn't it?" replied Lore, tracing Geordi's jaw with his fingertips.

"No," Geordi said. "With you."

"I know I'm not Data—" Lore started, hastily.

"I don't care," Geordi interrupted. "I don't—I never cared, Lore. Data... Data always said the only human thing he had left to try was death, and even if I could... even if I could bring him back, somehow, it wouldn't be fair. To him. For ruining that." He continued, stumbling frantically over his words. "You're not him, but he wasn't you, either. And I want you to be you."

Lore smiled gently, and he shone like a supernova.

And by the time the sunflowers had turned away, searching for a star beneath the horizon, the moment had ended. But the two men remained, and Geordi was finally looking forwards—searching for a new future among the stars, with Lore at his side.