"I understand what you're suggesting, but I'm not sure I'm equal to the task." Jean Luc Picard was well aware of the acute needs that had driven several unique interactions between himself and Leo, but he wasn't at all sure that he could successfully initiate them. After all, it had been she who had broken the fragile barrier the few times before.

"Captain, I'm not suggesting that you undertake a 'task'. Sometimes the support of deep personal connection is all that can save us from despair. I believe that you and Leo share that type of connection, regardless of how it's been manifested in the past."

Picard shifted uncomfortably. He'd come to the counselor's office of his own accord, because his last look at Data's face was haunting him, reminding him of what he should be doing, and wasn't. As his second officer and longtime friend saved his life by forfeiting his own, the last expression Picard saw was a request for something in return. No, a demand. Though no words were spoken in that brief second, the knowledge of how to repay this debt was given to him then and there, and couldn't be ignored.

"I understand that this isn't easy for you," Deanna told him. "It wasn't easy for Leo, the times she crossed those lines of comfort the two of you have established, but she did it because she saw you were in pain and felt compelled to try to help regardless of your 'comfort zone'." When Picard reacted with a stern expression she added, "Captain I don't have to remind you that this room is where all typical 'rules' are suspended. Here and now, as ship's counselor, I'm not required to request permission to speak freely."

"Of course," he nodded in agreement. "And everything you say is true." He struggled to express things he'd spent a lifetime learning to hold back. "But I see this bereft young woman, my protégé, my friend under our self imposed constraints, more lost and desperately afraid than she ever was when she arrived here, and the best I've been able to do is to order her to quarters and counseling. That is not easy for me, because I can't help thinking that Data would have expected more of me." He paused a moment. "That's not true. I know he expected more of me. And by god I expect more of myself, and owe that much. To both of them." He still couldn't express that personal, specific commitment to Leo, he kept it to himself as if it were some shameful expression of illicit desire. Damn you, why can't you let it be simple?

Though she'd been aware of the depth of the bond that had grown between the captain and Leo, recognizably against their will, it was a welcome surprise to see it expressed so plainly. Neither one of them had typically been inclined to do so, except under great duress.

"You came here because you want to help, and you don't know how," Troi declared. "The most important thing to know is it is the first part, the wanting to help, that matters most. The second part will become apparent on its own. Just be there, whether it seems Leo wants it or not. Listen, don't advise. Be a safe place for her to say and do anything she needs right now, and resist your need to 'make it better'. You'll know how to protect her from herself. Things will get better, in time, but we can't control the process, and the best thing you can do is just let her express what's inside of her, because right now she believes that nobody will understand it. Show her it's okay to think and feel whatever comes to her now, whether or not anyone understands. I think you know she'll believe you." Deanna saw that Picard was concentrating, trying to absorb her words as if they were being spoken at a training seminar. She leaned forward and laid her hand on his arm. "Captain I know this will sound odd, but you have to forget what you've learned in commander bereavement training. We both know this is not a standard command situation. The most important thing of all is to remember that when someone you care about is suffering the only wrong thing do is nothing. I have no doubt that your heart will lead you in the right direction."

Picard took this in and suddenly shook his head, angry at his own denseness.

"Quite bloody right, " he muttered to himself then stood abruptly. "Thank you Deanna. Sometimes I need to have the obvious pointed out to me. Too often, I'm afraid."

"I don't mind telling you that right now not much is 'obvious'," Deanna saw him to the door and smiled kindly. "But I'm always here to help. Let me know if you need anything else, whatever it is."

After the door hissed shut behind him Deanna leaned against it and heaved an exhausted sigh. She gave in to her own feelings for a minute or two, then wiped her eyes and went to her desk to confirm the next appointment on her schedule. What would Data think, she wondered, if he knew his passing could engender such an immense wave of human grief?

Picard paused outside the door of the VIP quarters Leo had moved into, and straightened his uniform. The Picard Maneuver. He knew, of course, that's what the crew called it. Not as tactically grand as the Corbomite Maneuver, to be sure, but there were worse things to have named after one. Enough dawdling. He pressed the comlink.

"Lieutenant? May I come in?"

No response.

"Lieutenant?"

Still nothing.

"Leora, please. It's me." He swallowed. "It's Jean Luc. I'd like to talk to you."

When still there was no answer he became concerned, and pressed the door release. Not locked, well that was good. He stepped into the dark quarters.

"Computer, half light." Upon exploring the suite he found the rooms empty. "Computer? Location of Lieutenant Leora Eileen O'Reilly."

"Lieutenant O'Reilly is in Holodeck 1."

That was very odd. Bereaved crewmembers were strictly forbidden access to any holodeck until cleared by their commanding officer, and the ship's counselor, for return to duty. If someone had fumbled this protocol, especially now, heads would most certainly roll.

"Computer, what program is running in Holodeck 1?"

"No program running. Lieutenant O'Reilly's permissions have been code locked until further notice."

Well thank god for that, Picard thought as he made his way to Holodeck 1. As he arrived there he hoped she hadn't come up with some complex lock of her own to keep everyone out. Data had been quite willing to teach her some of the ins and outs of basic code security and she'd proven a damnably apt pupil. Without activating the comlink he pressed the door release. To his relief it slid open.

It took a moment for Picard's eyes to adjust to the dim light of the idle holodeck grid that surrounded the empty room. Well, not quite empty… once he could focus he saw her in profile, sitting on the floor exactly in the center grid. She was holding something in her lap… as he moved closer he saw it was Data's tuxedo. Picard drew a harsh, silent breath. It was too close, too very close to what he'd felt and where he'd been in his mind after René and Robert had been killed. He'd sworn to leave that place behind and never go back... he never imagined he'd find someone else there. She relieved him of the burden of what to say by speaking first.

"I thought maybe I could activate our wedding program. I learned quite a bit about how to weasel around in the files, and figured I was smart enough. Well Miles and Geordi were smarter, I guess."

"With good reason." In spite of his best intentions Picard was on the verge of offering a sympathetic lecture on the principles of avoiding fantasy during bereavement. It didn't surprise him that she caught him before he could.

"Stop right there," she said sharply. Leo got to her feet, still holding the tux, and faced Picard. "I don't have to request permission to speak freely here." She swept her free hand in a wide gesture around them. "Because this is the place where nothing, and everything, is real. Can you guess what I want real, and what I want not real?" Her eyes were lit with sleep deprivation and something too desperate to name.

"I think I can. Lieutenant…" he cursed himself for slipping again.

Leo backed away and swung in a circle. "But I'm not the Lieutenant, not here! I'm not anybody… I'm not the Ship's Administrative Executive Officer, I'm not Data's wife, I'm not at home in the woods where I should have stayed!" The last word erupted in a scream of rage. Picard stood still, watching and listening. Which didn't quite seem like "nothing" here and now.

Gesturing with the tuxedo, her voice suddenly matter-of-fact, Leo continued, "I thought maybe I could conjure him with this. You know, like people do when someone's gone," she looked pointedly at Picard, as if to see if he'd noticed her choice of adjective, "they hang onto things, things that smell like that person who's gone." She raised the rich collection of fabrics to her face, breathed deeply, and lowered them clutched in a now-angry fist. "Of course androids don't have any smell. He used to tell me the only thing he'd smell like since we met was me. So what good would that do me, anyway?" She flung the clothes away.

Picard approached her cautiously. "Leora, I know you're in terrible pain right now, and I want to,"

She turned on him as if he'd insulted her. "You want to what?"

"I want to tell you,"

Again she wouldn't let him finish. "Tell me what??" She paced away again, pausing occasionally to gesture wildly. "You want to tell me it's understandable? You want to tell me it won't always be like this??"

He raised his hands, nodded and offered, "Yes."

She rushed toward him so rapidly that he jumped back a step.

"Wrong!!" she cried in deranged triumph. "It will never be understandable, there isn't a book or a manual or a philosopher or a Starfleet sanctioned cyber-shaman who will ever make me understand. And it will always be like this, always." She stood still for a few seconds, then repeated more calmly, "Always."

For a second she seemed a bit more herself, so Picard ventured closer. "It won't always be like this, I promise."

Leo's eyebrows rose. "Really? You 'promise' it won't always be like this? That's a big, weighty promise, but then you're the captain. So… he won't 'always' be gone? I won't always be alone?"

Finally Picard saw an opening. "The first may be true, but the second… never."

The frantic madness seemed to fade a little, but the doubt remained. "Liar."

"Whatever mistakes I've made where we're concerned, I've never lied to you." Shaking his head firmly, Picard advanced until they stood toe-to-toe. "You won't be alone, not always, not here and not now. Not ever, do you understand? There are too many people here who care about you. It's true Data brought you into our lives, but you're one of us now. We won't be easily persuaded to let you go."

Leo looked at him vaguely. "You're the captain of the Enterprise, so I guess you can speak for the crew."

There seemed to be little challenge left in her, so he took a chance and reached for her hand. She didn't pull it away.

"I'm Jean Luc Picard of La Barre, and I speak for myself."

Finally Leo looked down at his hand where it held hers, and saw it as if through a gap in an evil, black fog. She was so tired, she was so confused. Where had she been? She looked into his face then, and the rest of the fog continued to burn slowly away.

"Jean Luc…" she reached her other hand up, touched the side of his head, ran it around to the back of the smooth close-trimmed skull. It reminded her of something she'd done before that seemed like a very long time ago.

"That's right." He smiled gently. "No captains or lieutenants here. I want to help, even if neither one of us know how. Data expects that of me, and I wouldn't let him down, or you. As Deanna might ask, what do you need most, here, as the world is now? What is it you need most?"

She could only think of one thing, and it didn't even make sense. "I'm lost, somewhere… Can you find me? Can you do that?"

Such a simple, impossible request… and one he couldn't deny. She wasn't an officer, or a responsibility. She was his ally, his friend, his family.

"Of course I'll find you. Do you remember what you told me before you left the Enterprise? 'There's no place that far.' We'll do it together, you and I and all of your friends."

Picard touched her drawn and wounded face, the gesture so often begun and never completed until now. For just a second she turned her cheek into his palm, and he longed to kill Shinzon a dozen times more.

Leo shook her head and grasped the front of his uniform in both hands. "Just you, right now. Just Jean Luc. That's what I need, that's all I can handle here and now. Just Jean Luc." Everyone else was just too much for her to consider.

He nodded firmly. "Then you shall have him." At last she stepped into his arms and rested there for a minute, face lying against his shoulder. Deanna had been right, he realized, the way was becoming apparent.

Leo tried hard to focus only on this, the seemingly magic space that had grown between and around the two of them; even with the borders in place, it had felt safe. Now with the borders moved aside Leo sensed some protection for the deep, perpetual wound her life had become.

I will keep you safe until you heal.

Picard felt a single, deep shudder rock her. He tightened his grip and spoke quietly, "You need to rest, let me take you home."

Her head jerked up. "No, I can't do that. I can't sleep there. I can't sleep at all."

"Yes, you can. I'll stay, as long as you like."

Leo closed her eyes and tipped her head back. Nothing made sense, but he'd never lied to her. He never would. "Okay."

Picard stepped back, holding her hands between them. "Computer," he announced, "two to beam to Lieutenant Leora Eileen O'Reilly's quarters."

An hour later Picard sat next to where Leo lay wrapped in a blanket on the sofa in her quarters. While he'd been able to persuade her to change out of the uniform she'd worn since the Scimitar incident, he knew it was too cruel to suggest she sleep in the bed she'd shared with Data. He reclined with his feet stretched out on the coffee table, having instructed the computer "lights out". Will had the conn, well aware that the captain had abandoned all other routine duty to tend to this, his most important duty. Leo was finally and fully asleep, thank god, and Picard was left to consider his worthiness against the trust Data had placed in him. Gradually he became aware of a gentle bleating sound, and heard Leo stir slightly where she lay.

"D," she wept quietly, "D?"

He reached out and closed his hand over the trembling fist that clutched the blanket to her face.

Damn you, Data. Why couldn't you have been just a bit less noble?