Leo and Data were ushered into Picard's isolation area by one of his med-tech team, who introduced herself as Laura. "Please, if you have any questions at all, about the Captain's general condition, about his physiological responses, about your responsibilities here, just ask. I'll be able to help you in any way you require." She went to the captain's bedside, and adjusted his pillow, re-tucked the bed covering, then gave his hand a squeeze as if he were simply sleeping. "Don't be afraid to touch him, if you would like to. The medical systems are quite secure; it would take a precise order of operations to disrupt them," she explained.
She returned to where Leo still stood frozen by the door, Data close by. "This is very difficult for you, I'm sure, Mrs. Soong. Are you the captain's daughter?"
"Call me Leo," she corrected. In spite of everything, what Laura suggested triggered a near-smile. "God help him, if that were true. No, we're friends. I served under his command on the Enterprise some time ago and, well, some things take on a life of their own."
Laura looked at both Data and Leo, unable to keep from being puzzled by the notion that a former officer could be named next of kin without some familial or matrimonial connection. Surprisingly, Data picked up on her puzzlement before Leo did.
"There is a saying among humans, 'you cannot pick your family'. While my wife accurately describes her relationship to the captain, I might add that in this case, a family relationship 'picked' them. It has been most extraordinary to experience."
Leo took his arm and nodded. "My husband has a way with words, and with seeing things very clearly."
"I see," Laura nodded. "Well Captain Picard is lucky to have such friends. I'll stay for a minute in case you have questions about the systems." She was encouraging Leo to approach the bed.
"I am right here," Data whispered to Leo.
Leo took a breath, walked to the bed, and looked down at Jean Luc. There was no mark, no bruise, nothing to indicate he'd been injured at all, just the small device that covered part of his forehead, and the thin silvery shell surrounding it that protected the frontal area where his skull had been injured. Crushed. Removed during surgery. She didn't have to ask. The device on his forehead had two tiny lights, one blue and one red. Blue for respiration, red for circulation. She'd seen enough in the Enterprise sick bay to recognize a cortical-stimulator when she saw one. This one obviously was designed for sustained use.
She watched and listened for a minute or two, the rise and fall of the uninjured chest, the breath sounds. It was so different than years ago, when he was in stasis. No blue light, no wasted look. His color was perfect, and when she finally dared to touch his face, it was warm. And for the first time since she got the medical summons, she really understood. This wasn't the dangerous wait for a replacement organ, and there would be no dramatic, last minute rescue.
This is different. Sometimes it is true.
Data forced himself to stand back, next to Laura the med-tech, who though well trained and genuinely caring could not possibly understand what this meant to both him and Leo. She did not know that without the man who lay on the bed, he and Leo would not be here together. She would not be working by his side on a paradigm-shifting project. He, Data, would not be the person he'd become, fully recognized as a person, a man, not an imitation of one. It was not Laura's fault that she did not understand. The human phrase "you had to be there" never held so much weight for Data as it did at this moment. He waited and watched; ready to offer whatever support Leo needed as he struggled with his own feelings. Feelings he would not have except for the support of the man… the friend… who lay on the bed. Then Data saw a movement in Leo, a subtle shudder of recognition that only positronic senses could discern. Then her voice, so faint that only Data could hear.
"This isn't him."
"I'm sorry, I didn't hear you," Laura said.
"I said, this isn't him. This isn't Jean Luc Picard."
Laura opened her mouth to reply, but was silenced by Data's hand on her shoulder and the terse shake of his head. Leo turned to face them, her expression equal parts anguish and resignation.
"What's here, it isn't him. Not anymore. There's nobody to read to, nobody to wait for, it's just the body where he used to live. Oh Data, he's really gone."
Data would have covered the space between them in a single leap, but Leo's eyes told him not now. She addressed Laura in an even voice.
"Is there any brain function at all?"
"The frontal lobes were injured beyond repair, and the hemorrhage and resulting swelling caused further damage to the rest of the brain. Certain portions of the limbic system are intact."
"That's some of the autonomic nervous system, right? So is there any chance at all this could take over if support is removed?"
Laura paused, trying to determine why the question was being asked. Data knew why, and stepped in to answer.
"Depending upon which portions of the limbic area of the brain are functioning, it is possible that, like a damaged machine, they may be able to be repaired sufficiently, or repair themselves, to support very basic bodily functions. After a time, this alone would be insufficient, and even those functions would begin to break down."
Thinking she knew where this was leading, Laura added, "Pain response is still evident."
"You didn't tell me he was in pain!" Leo cried out in near panic, and this time Data did go to her. Wrapping one arm around her he turned to Laura and announced sternly, "This is not acceptable."
"No, you misunderstood, I'm sorry…" Laura approached them both, but addressed Leo. "Captain Picard is not in pain, what I meant is that pain is the only stimulus his brain can interpret." She took one of Leo's hands and squeezed hard to focus her attention. "He is not in any pain."
Leo caught her breath, nodding, focused inside her head as she spoke rapidly under her breath. "Okay, okay, he's not in pain… but his body could live without the machines, but nothing would change… it'd end the same way..." Data sensed a sudden physical weakness overcome her, and surreptitiously tightened his grip so the med-tech wouldn't see.
"Tell me what comes next," Leo asked Laura. "What do I have to do?"
"First, I think it's important that you get some rest. If you haven't arranged for a place to stay, we have very comfortable accommodations for visiting family."
"Yes?" Data whispered to Leo, who nodded. "Thank you, that will be helpful for the time being," Data told her.
"I'll take care of the arrangements, then, it won't take long. I'll be back in a few minutes."
"Thank you," Data repeated, still focused on Leo.
When the door shut behind Laura, Leo gasped in an enormous breath and turned to wrap her arms around Data's neck, hugging so tight it would have fractured human vertebrae. He held her there, pressing her head to his shoulder, not speaking for a minute or two. She was trembling violently, but he could tell she wasn't crying. That would come later.
"You are doing very well, my love," he finally told her in his quietest voice.
She raised her head and looked him in the eye. "No, no I'm not." She looked over Data's shoulder at the bed. "He's gone, Data… I've always had both of you, everything I am in this world came from both of you. I don't know how to be without both of you!"
Data kissed her gently and reminded her, "You did not know how to 'be' when you first came here, so long ago. You will learn. We both will learn."
They stood there like that, wrapped together in a painfully changed world, until the soft knock at the door announced it was time to begin to live in it.