Sweet dreams 'til sunbeams find you
Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you...
The view through the exploded bulkhead was like a front row seat. Data's leap took him to the Scimitar, but for a few brief moments there was nothing to see or hear. Leo looked to Geordi.
"What's happening?"
"You know as much as me."
At that moment Captain Picard materialized on the bridge. He pulled the personal transporter from his uniform.
"Captain, where's," Riker began but the sentence was cut off by a blinding flash and a concussion that jarred the bridge. Leo ran to the hole in the bulkhead, nearly touching the force field.
"Data…" Picard breathed. Finally Geordi said to nobody in particular, "He must have found a way to destroy the weapon."
Leo stood nailed to the spot, watching the strange space ballet of the dispersing fragments of the Scimitar. She looked back at Geordi, confused, not processing. Troi was crying, and Will had a hand pressed to his mouth. This wasn't making sense.
"Geordi, how's he gonna get back?"
Nobody answered. Picard moved to put a hand on her shoulder, but she stepped away. "I don't get it. What just happened out there?" Now she turned to Picard, accusing. "You were there, where did he go?"
"Leora," he stopped for a second, then continued as if he was only just admitting it to himself, "He was setting his phaser as I dematerialized. It was the last I saw."
Still she shook her head. "What was there to shoot at?" She was backing up now, toward the turbolift, away from the numbed faces.
"Shinzon's weapon, or the warp core… Leo," Geordi was telling her gently as he could manage, "Whatever it was, he destroyed the Scimitar."
"But how is he gonna get back?" She was stubborn, insistent. Geordi matched her step for step until they stood face to face by the turbolift door.
"Baby… he's not coming back." By now Troi was weeping against Will's shoulder as he pressed his face into her hair. Picard stood by in silence.
"No. That's just not gonna happen," Leo announced flatly.
"Commander LaForge, please take Lieutenant O'Reilly to sick bay," Picard's order hung in midair.
Leo backed into the turbolift as if it had a rear door through which she could escape. "No, okay? No, no, no," she repeated the word in an agonized mantra, shaking her head firmly to punctuate each denial as Geordi came closer. He tried to put his arms around her but she shook him off. "No, fuck you no!" She fought him wildly but couldn't escape him, he was shaking her, "Leo, Leo it is all right."
"No it's not!" she screamed in desperate rage, "how's he getting back!"
Suddenly it was dark, she was still fighting with Geordi, but it was dark, she was struggling to sit up, or lie down, strong hands held her and a gently urgent voice that wasn't Geordi's repeated, "Leo, it is just a dream, wake up Leo, everything is all right…"
Data could easily have pinned her with android strength but she was panicked and he didn't want to hurt her. He let her fight him, keeping her from falling off the bed until he was able to get her to focus on him. "Computer, 1/8 light," he called out to the room, and a dim wash illuminated them as they wrestled in the middle of the bed, Leo half tangled in the bedclothes and Data trying to calm her.
"D?" finally she gasped then cried out, "D?"
"Yes, I am here, you have had a dream, you are safe. We are together in our quarters."
"Data, the warp core, the weapon, something you blew up…" and she began to tremble as he hugged her against him, repeating sensible words to try and drive the fear away.
"That was before, Leo, I am here, it is all right," he said it again and again, but she clung to him like a terrified child, "it was so real, I was there again, it was all happening again," words were lost in tearful gasps and he gathered her closer and rocked them back and forth. Rocking, he knew, calmed her when all the logic in the world could not.
"No, it is not real, sshhh, do not cry, there is nothing to fear." This wasn't the first nightmare she'd had since his return. Nearly every night he responded to her cries of terror and soothed her to sleep again after waking her from a nightmare, and always the same one. At last she lifted her head and looked at him, ran her fingers over his face and hair.
"Okay, you're okay," then she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged, this time knowing everything was as it should be except for her chronic bursts of nocturnal hysteria.
"I'm sorry, D, I'm sorry."
Carefully he disengaged her grip and held her away so he could look her in the eye. "Do not apologize. You cannot control your dreams. But I think we need to find a way to stop them from controlling you." It was always "we", always. Data came to regard life as a joint effort in every respect since the day they were married. There was nothing Leo needed or wanted that he wasn't entirely willing to assist her in achieving if she wanted him to, and everything that affected her affected him. Not merely taking his marriage vows "seriously", they were irrevocably assimilated into his positronic neural net. Which in Leo's eyes made him more of a husband and partner than any human could ever aspire to. It also made him impossible to dissuade when he felt she was headed for harm.
She knew he was right about her dreams, of course. In the weeks since Data's "rebirth" Leo had, in her waking hours, returned rapidly to duty as before. She'd been concerned at first she might become nervous and clingy, but after some brief discussion with Deanna that fear had proven groundless. Treating Data's reentry into his life as a team responsibility (as the captain had reminded her when she was still resistant) had made things much easier both for Leo and for Data, and neither hesitated to bring concerns to the attention of the other. To a point.
Leo had been insistent in reassuring Data whenever his doubts about her emotional state arose. Since she'd had such a hard time when he first came back, it was natural for him to want to be sure that her adjustment was complete and as free of trouble as possible. On her first day back on duty he had contacted her several times with minor issues. When finally he wished to consult her about whether or not they might go dancing in Ten Forward that evening, she ignored the invitation and responded with a gentle reproof.
"You don't need to check up on me." She'd been delivering some schedule changes to the captain when her comlink badge had chimed, and had one eye on him as she spoke to her over-cautious husband.
"I was not 'checking up'," he attempted lamely.
"Y'know, nothing is a sorrier sight than an android attempting to lie. And to his wife, of all people."
A heartbeat of silence, then, "Am I on the captain's view screen?"
Picard cut in, "If you were, Commander, you would see that I am not amused. Kindly leave Lieutenant O'Reilly to get on with her work. Should she falter in her duties I will be the first to know, and the first to bring it to her attention."
"Yes sir. Leo," he began to attempt an explanation.
"O'Reilly out… D. See you at home." She turned to the captain. "I'm sorry, he's just being a little, you know…"
"Husbandly? I suppose I knew there was a reason why marriages between officers on the same ship weren't encouraged but the reason was never altogether apparent until recently."
This ticked her off. After all, he was the most vocal of those who went to bat for them when the Federation questioned establishing the precedent of android/human marriage.
"I see. And which one of us would you like to transfer, sir?"
The captain regarded her righteous expression with a mixture of annoyance and guarded amusement. His administrative exec was quite good at traipsing along the razor's edge of insubordination. Having been assigned to this post as one of the earliest graduates of the Academy's starship administration program she was of course the first officer of her kind he'd ever had under his command, and under the circumstances they had pioneered the organizational protocols together. How he would deal with another in this function (one he still hated admitting to himself was even necessary) he couldn't begin to imagine. And equally true was the fact that Leo couldn't imagine working under any other command but Picard's. To a certain extent each had earned the right to bend official protocol when dealing with the other.
This time, however, amusement won out as Picard warned with the shake of a finger, "You will visit that well once too often, madam." He held up the schedule chips she'd brought him. "I'll confirm these with you in due course. Dismissed."
"Yes sir," Leo had barely made the door to her adjoining office when the captain got the last word, "And Lieutenant, for god's sake take your husband dancing tonight before he drives us all crazy."
"Is that an order, sir?"
"Yes, Lieutenant, make it so. And quickly."
So in terms of day-to-day living things were returning smoothly to the "normal" that Data had promised Leo. Unfortunately all bets were off at bedtime. Data spent a large part of his formerly productive off-duty time tending to Leo's night terrors and while his concerns were entirely focused on her well being, he knew quite enough of human psychology to be aware that the "normalcy" of a situation may be judged by the extent to which it disrupted daily life. And without question, daily life was beginning to disrupt. Leo's sleep disturbances were affecting her energy level and logistical skills and, while not yet severely compromised, if nothing were done her work would begin to suffer as well as her health.
Now she withdrew from Data's embrace and announced, "Computer, half light" as she attempted to regain her composure. "Data, I wouldn't worry too much about it. I'm sure this will settle itself in time."
His gaze remained steady and uncompromising. "It has been three weeks and two point seven days since my return. Your nightmares have increased in frequency from one every three days to one and sometimes two every night. I do not believe this could be characterized as 'settling itself'." Leo reached for her robe on the floor and got up as she wrapped it around her.
"Leo…" Data chided her. "You know I am right. You know your disrupted sleep no longer restores you. You know it is only a matter of time before your work and health are compromised." He followed her out of the bedroom and into the bathroom where she was wiping her face with a wet washcloth. He continued to look at her over her shoulder in the mirror.
"Cara mia, listen to me."
Uh-oh. Now Leo knew she'd never shake him of his determination to get her to Deanna. She'd had a couple of meetings with the counselor in the few days after Data's return, but considered the adjustment matter settled. Her sleep problems were her own to deal with, or so she'd tried to convince her husband. He'd been patient – as only an android could be with a wife as stubborn as Leo – but his use of the Italian endearment was a head's up that the issue would not be placated away this time. She couldn't quite remember where he'd hit picked it up or why, but Data used "cara mia" as others would use the firm enunciation of "now, darling" when addressing a recalcitrant spouse. Patient, affectionate, and absolutely intransigent. That, and "yes dear", which they both used in the same manner as any other couple would when one of them was on an obsessive track about something. Of course the latter was employed as a teasing reminder to lighten up. The former was reserved to alert Leo that her normally mild-mannered spouse was morphing into the Immovable Force.
"Oh don't start, please." She pushed past him to go into the central room and plant herself on the sofa as if it were the middle of the afternoon and not three in the morning.
"I am starting nothing. I am addressing the ongoing phenomenon of your sleep disturbance. That you do not agree with my assessment is of no consequence." There was a stern note under the quiet voice and the look on his face told her he wasn't going to continue politely listening to her excuses and justifications. One of Data's singular talents where Leo was concerned was knowing exactly how long to watch in silence as she went her own way in the wrong direction. Just before she hit the wall he didn't pull her back so much as insinuate himself between her and the collision point, and refuse to move until she hit the brakes. It didn't take her long in his acquaintance to know that when it came to "resolute" he could give her lessons she never imagined. He sat down next to her, patiently awaiting her response. Patience was another talent. It drove her crazy sometimes how in the face of her unreasonableness he could simply wait her out until she'd beaten every ridiculous argument into the ground. There he'd be, wearing his "forever" face, as in he could wait forever until she convinced herself. And when she was truly wrong, sooner or later she always caved. This time she was putting up more of a fight.
"Look, I know you think I should take this to Deanna. But I've been to Deanna. I'm doing fine, even she said so."
"I believe she would find this indicative of an anxiety you may have neglected to mention. She can help you identify the reason for your dreams, and then perhaps they will cease to disturb your sleep."
"They're not that bad."
He blinked at her once, twice. He waited. When she said nothing, he told her simply, "I believe I have witnessed ample evidence to the contrary. Every night." His memory of his own experience with dreams convinced him that there was often some other issue driving them that may not at first be apparent.
Leo jumped off the sofa and paced the room. "Look, what's the big mystery? I saw you blown up. I lived with the reality of your 'death' for weeks. Even Deanna said you coming back couldn't wipe out that trauma. So it's hard to shake the images from my brain. Maybe they'll just wear themselves out."
"Or you." Data rose and went to where Leo stood by the bedroom door and took her hands in both of his. Quite unconsciously she'd balled them both into tight fists. "Do you honestly believe that this is 'settling itself'?" He raised her hands and massaged them flat against his chest. "Why do you resist when you know I am right?"
"Maybe because I know already what the reason is, and I'm just waiting for it to resolve itself."
He looked puzzled, then his expression changed. "Tell me," he invited her. "You know you can tell me everything."
"Not this." She pulled away and went back to the sofa.
"Why not?"
"Because." She couldn't even look at him. He'd never understand anyway.
"That is not an answer."
She was becoming agitated, frustrated. Why couldn't he just let it lie? Because she couldn't just lie, could she? She screamed and cried like a child every night, driven by the incessant repetition of the unthinkable. And every night he was there for her, soothing and calming and helping her regain herself. Well, why not. He made her this way.
"Well it's the only answer you're going to get." Her voice was so harsh it clearly surprised him. He began to speak again, but she shouted him down, jumping up in his face. "What are you anyway, my goddamn inquisitor?"
Very calmly, very quietly, he replied, "I am your husband."
Something tore in her then. "Then why did you leave me?" she nearly screamed in his face. He actually backed up a step, looking alarmed. "You jumped through that fucking hole to kill yourself and I never knew! Duty before love, duty before anything, you turned and jumped and left me forever, and how the hell do I know you'll never do that again if you couldn't be bothered to warn me this time? How do I know you won't run off and make the ultimate sacrifice to the Federation with never a word to say I mattered to you at all? Because if you need an emotion chip for that I guess I just have you on borrowed time, don't I?" Data still appeared confused, but approached Leo with his hand extended.
"You have never told me the details of the dream."
"What?"
"I said…"
"I heard you! I mean what do you mean? I dream about that day on the bridge when you went to the Scimitar. Every minute, just like I remember. The transporters went down, and you went to the other ship, and the captain came back, and you…" she raised her hand in the air and turned away.
"That is not what happened, Leo." He could see her stiffen. "It is not."
She faced him in disbelief. "Well only one of us was here at the time."
He was shaking his head now, looking like he had just realized something. "Tell me about the dream."
"I told you!"
He stood close, looking down into her eyes. "Tell me again. From the very beginning."
Her breath was becoming uneven, and she looked away. He took her chin in his hand and made her face him. "Look at me, and tell me. Nothing you can tell me can change things between us."
Something in his eyes persuaded her. "The transporters went down. Geordi said there was no way for the captain to get back, that the Scimitar had to be destroyed to stop Shinzon but we couldn't do it from here. You asked him if he still had the personal transporter, and he gave it to you. You said you could probably jump the distance to the Scimitar, give the transporter to the captain, and jump back. And you ran, and jumped, and made it. And the captain came back. And the ship exploded. And you were gone. By the time it gets to the part where I'm fighting with Geordi in the turbolift you usually wake me up. That's all." Her voice dropped from a shout to a whisper, "That's all."
With quiet certitude he told her, "That is not all. Something is missing. Something you have forgotten."
"No."
"Yes. Come here," he took her hands again and took her with him to the sofa, making her sit next to him and face him.
Her tone was bitter. "You left me so you could die. What could be missing that could change that?" The feeling of betrayal she'd tried to push away since it happened had come back full force, as it did every night with the dream. She'd always managed to submerge it after waking. Until next time.
"I tried to tell you, Leo. I do not know why you cannot remember, but I believe that you think that I simply turned away and left you. But I did not."
He couldn't lie, she knew that. She struggled to recall the details, but could think of nothing that hadn't occurred to her before. She shook her head sadly. "You left me, you died. What else is there to know?"
"Know I tried to tell you, before I leaped to the Scimitar. I went to you at the door to the turbolift, I tried to tell you, I said 'There is so much to say.' " At this point Data engaged his positronic voice synthesizer to replay the exact conversation in their respective voices. He hoped it would help her remember.
" Tell me all about it later." "And if I cannot?" "Stop talking like a human. Until you come back, that is."
He couldn't help but see the pain transform her face as she heard their conversation, word for word, as it had happened. As Geordi had played for him from the bridge log recorder, and as he had downloaded it into his positronic net. "You kissed me good luck." He half-smiled at the "memory", the observation shared by Geordi, but the intentions filled in by years of Data's intimate knowledge that told him what Leo would have been thinking at the time. He raised his hand, laid his fingers against her cheek. "I kissed you good bye. There was no time left. Then I leaped to the Scimitar. I put the personal transporter on the captain, and activated it." Leo's eyes filled, she knew that what she was hearing from this point on was not a positronic record or the captain's report, but came from Data's knowledge of what he would have done, and what he would do again. He moved his fingers slightly to catch the wetness. "I fired my phaser directly into the center of Shinzon's weapon. And my thoughts were of how I was finally able to repay those who had done so much for me, and that I would miss seeing you again." Leo pressed her fingers against his lips to stop him from going further.
"Don't," she said softly. "Please. I see it every night. It won't leave me be." The realization burned her, she'd known all along and had pushed it away. Data had tried to tell her everything, everything he had in him, even if it couldn't be done he tried and she'd sent him away and watched him die.
He took her hand, moved it to his cheek. "There was no time then. May I tell you now?" Even now he'd blame time rather than blame her. She nodded, speechless.
"Leora Eileen O'Reilly you have helped me become more than I aspired to be. I have loved you more than I believe even humanity would permit. I would love no other." She was crying in earnest now, and he held her face in his hands as he leaned closer and whispered, "I am glad to be given another chance to tell you." He kissed her tears, her lips, the palm of her hand. "Please stop crying now." After several more kisses and hugs she managed to do as he asked.
"It is very late," he told her. "Are you on duty in the morning?" It was morning, of course, after 4am now.
"No."
"Will you contact Deanna, and meet with her? Please?"
"Okay. You're right, you've been right, you're always right about me." There was no trace of irony in her voice.
As Data drew her to her feet and led her back to the bedroom he observed quite correctly, "It is possible that I know you better than anyone else." He remade the bed neatly and stood aside to let her climb in, then lay down next to her.
"It is possible that you are the only who's been allowed to."
"Computer, lights out," Data announced quietly. Then to Leo, who had snuggled into his arms, he inquired, "Do you think you will be able to sleep soundly?"
"You won't leave, will you?"
He kissed her forehead. "I will stay with you until you wake. And I will always be near when you need me. But beginning tomorrow I hope to be able to spend time reviewing some of Geordi's new engineering design proposals when I am off duty." His gentle warning for her not to get used to all this intensive attention she'd been getting.
"I'm sorry, D, I know I've been really high maintenance."
"Perhaps Geordi has a manual for that, too." Data regarded Leo contemplatively, stroked his fingers up and down the side of her face and over her forehead. She closed her eyes. "I would love no other," he assured her as if he needed to know he'd made himself clear.
"Sometimes I think that's your sorry luck, but I love you too."
He hugged her closer to let her know he disagreed with her first statement. "Go to sleep, please." he urged her.
Despite Data's "warning" many of the nights that followed found him content to sit up next to Leo as she slept, reading or updating his officer's log, sometimes using his bedside dataport to link directly to the ship's computer to catch up on research or private projects. From time to time he would lay a hand lightly on her head as if tapping into what might be happening inside. Even on the rare nights he was engaged elsewhere, when it was nearly time for her to go on duty Data would return to stretch out on his side next to Leo and reach an arm around her so she would not wake up alone. Her notion that he was capable of leaving her without so much as an echo of thought was a profound error in reasoning. He would not, he decided, give her cause to repeat it.