When they'd rematerialized in the lobby of her building, Leo told Data, "I'll be fine. You don't have to come up. You must have stuff to do for tomorrow's sessions."

"I will see you to your door. It is no trouble." He followed her into the turbolift and stood by as she keyed in the access code at her door.

"You know, I don't even know where you're staying."

"There is a block of rooms reserved in the guest building near the front gate."

"But that's over a mile from here," a deep chime sounded, "and the transporters just went down for the night."

"You forget, Leo, I can run 100 kilometres per hour."

"Oh, I suppose you can, can't you." She smacked her forehead, "Android, android. You'd think I could remember." Mildly alarmed, Data grasped her wrist to keep her from hitting herself again.

"You will injure yourself."

"Data, I…" and she didn't ask for permission this time before reaching up to kiss him.

Data sensed more connection than gratitude in this kiss, so he returned it in kind. Leo's heartbeat and respiration elevated slightly as he took her in his arms and she reached around his neck to hold on. Reading her responses as indicative of a growing if cautious affection, he tightened his embrace and deepened the kiss. Temperatures and textures, warm soft mouth, cool silky hair in his fingers, warm and strong where his arm held her around the waist. All of it somehow held more fascination for him because it was part of the whole being of a stranger who'd proven to be not much of a stranger at all over the course of a few extended conversations. Maybe it was because she was from another time, because she was lost herself and a stranger in the world by her very nature, like he was. She reached out to him, now and before, with no need to interpret and no fear of making "mistakes". So much like Tasha, who also had come to him of her own inspiration, and even when her first virally-driven rush of physical need had passed he had never once had to translate doubts into questions or progress reports. If a response was misdirected or a signal misread, there were no apologies and no regrets, there was only learning, and a sense of belonging that turned uncertainty from an obstacle to an opportunity. Though unable to feel or project human emotion in the accepted manner Data could fully experience belonging because it was a condition and not an emotion. For reasons Data believed he would never understand, of all his friends Tasha had seemed to symbolize this "belonging", perhaps because she was the first to offer it with no need for explanation. Its presence, and absence, was keenly perceived by Data as the nearest true analog to human emotion he was capable of experiencing. Even when he was among his closest friends there was just a shadow of it lacking. That it had returned in the person of this impulsive time jumper was a brilliant surprise Data was not inclined to question.

Warm, Leo realized again, he was so warm and solid, but not hard at all. His mouth was soft, tasted a little sweet, and as he opened it to hers she didn't feel a heartbeat's (if he'd had one) hesitation. He was following her lead, she knew he could gauge every beat of every cell merely by touch; he was responding entirely to her responses and not to advance any of the usual male agendas. Something was in him that spoke to her, that resonated as she'd told him, not in spite of his unique construction but because of it. Utterly different in form and origin, they shared a similarity in substance that she'd never even expected from a fellow human. Making a life in this new place took up all of her effort, and she'd decided that easing the inner bruises from her "before" loss and the utter disorientation since her arrival would have to be left aside. But then Data showed up, an everyday sanctuary she'd resigned herself to doing without because she couldn't imagine it existed. The number twelve screamed in her brain, twelve days until lives – not even parallel – continued in their own directions. This world and time was all about distance, all about more places for anyone to go farther away than she ever had conceived of in her life. More shiny things to entice you, goals and possibilities she'd likewise never imagined, they pulled at her already and all she'd done was pass a goddamn exam, the stunning possibilities to be lived and learned and experienced spun her head. He'd told her she'd make a home for herself but already she knew the rules were different here, with all the galaxies to travel in you'd better keep your home with you, because then you'd always be where you belong no matter where you are. It wasn't right, it wasn't sensible, but this 6 foot assemblage of positronic brilliance threatened to feel so much like home she wanted to scream at the hideous unfairness of it. She'd left the whole idea of "home" behind and then it came back to her uninvited in the shape of a lonely (even if he thought he wasn't) android. And only long enough to remind her why she might have changed her mind in the woods that night if only she'd taken a little more time to think.

Two brains, one positronic and one organic, implausibly whirled their respective thoughts almost exactly at the same speed. It would be the first and last time such a marvel occurred. In only ten seconds both Data and Leo weighed the events of the past two days, gave them context, and considered both their existential and more esoteric impact. And as Data's possibilities reached into the future Leo's screeched to a halt at twelve days, and instead of clinging to the gentlest most inviting kiss she could remember she withdrew her mouth from his and stepped back.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have jumped you like that."

"Do not be sorry. It was a pleasant interaction."

"Yeah, but…" she trailed off. He waited for her to finish, but she didn't. When she saw him still waiting, Leo added lamely, "Nothing."

"It has been common in my experience when interacting with humans that the conjunction 'but' announces an additional thought. Therefore discontinuance of a sentence immediately following 'but' implies a thought not expressed. While it is true we have not been long acquainted," Leo found that to be ironic, considering the clinch they'd just shared, "I would like to make it plain that based upon even a brief demonstration of your personality and character that you may express any thoughts that arise as a result of our interaction. In fact, nothing you say can affect the future of that interaction." When Leo didn't reply except by an odd change of her facial expression, perhaps denoting discomfort, Data amended, "I assure you, it is the truth. I am incapable of lying or harboring a secret agenda."

"Sometimes I wish you could forget you're an android," Leo confessed. "Okay, what was sucked back into my brain after 'but', is this: you're leaving for parts unknown in just twelve days. That being the case, this happy convergence of existences is pretty much an exercise in futility."

This was very puzzling. "Do you mean that our geographical distance from one another will inhibit the development of our friendship?"

"Pretty much." Struck by the absurdity of discussing such intimate matters in the hallway, Leo opened her door and beckoned, "well come in, no sense sharing it with the entire building."

Data looked up and down the hallway, seeing no one, but decided that silence was the best choice for the moment. When he entered the main room Leo was already slouched on the sofa, so he picked up on that as an indication he should join her. Upon doing so he ascertained his impression had been correct. No questions, no misunderstandings.

"Leo, you harbor the belief that friendship and interaction are a function of proximity, and are not possible if geographical distance is a factor."

"Uh-huh."

Well then, he thought, this was going to be easy. "You are new to this century. In your time, interpersonal connectiveness had barely begun to transcend physical contact. In this time, it is a natural part of interaction. Sub space messages, communications that are simultaneously visual and verbal, and even holographic interactions are possible that make distance and boundaries no barrier to interpersonal relationships."

She was beginning to understand, but couldn't entirely accept it as a reasonable substitute. "It's not the same."

"No," Data admitted, "it is not." He examined the dilemma for a moment, and a thought occurred to him. Not knowing if it made sense, he opted not to question it completely, following Geordi's frequent successful habit of "following a hunch".

"Do you still interact with your deceased friend Paul?"

Leo reacted physically to the question, stiffening and widening her eyes at the audacity. How dare he? That was different, that was a connection nobody and nothing could break because she protected it in her heart and mind even after he was gone. That was… a very astute question.

"Yes." She didn't bother to explain the details, or the fact that she knew in a corporeal sense it was entirely one-sided. She knew instinctively she didn't need to explain anything.

"You are able to interact with your friend not because he is here with you, but because your understanding of each other, of your thoughts and beliefs, your memory of your interactions built a knowledge so complete that even now you know exactly what he would say to you, and how you would respond."

"Yes." She was unable to say another word. He was so completely right that it beggared the imagination.

"If that is true," and here Data's voice became gently persuasive, "how much easier might it be to cover a lesser distance, with no need to draw on your knowledge or imagination?"

Still she clung to the familiar. "But your life is so demanding, and mine isn't even started yet. How could either one of us possibly have time, possibly remember the importance of this?"

The Mona Data Smile… then, "One of us is not able to forget. So one of us will always be able to remind the other, in cases when life is particularly demanding."

Leo heaved a huge sigh and fell back against the sofa cushions. She was exhausted, confused, and very, very needing to believe everything he told her. "You can't be this anxious to get laid." Even as she said it she realized how ridiculous a statement it was.

"Laid… ah, yes. The male sexual imperative. No, Leo, I am not 'anxious to get laid'."

"I'm sorry…" she was terribly ashamed of having even thought of it.

"There is no need to be sorry. Humans make mistakes in verbalization. It is a fact of existence. You are, however, partly correct. I am 'anxious' to know you believe as I do that we may remain friends, and that our friendship may continue and develop as we do ourselves."

"But," and only sheer burnout lowered her inhibitions enough to allow her to say it, "what if I love you? What then?"

"If that occurs, on that day that you are able to tell me so, if you are able to tell me, I will tell you: I would love you if I could. Would that be enough? I do not wish to hurt you. I would never, if allowed to make the choice myself, hurt you."

Leo sat up, then just as suddenly doubled over with her head in her hands. "I can't think, Data, I can't. But I believe you. It's the best I can do right now." She felt his hand resting lightly on her back.

"To do the best that you can do will always be sufficient." Uncertain how to continue, Data leaned down and told Leo quietly, "My friend Tasha told me often, more is lost to fear than danger."

"Oh I hope she was right." Leo sat up and regarded Data as if he were a sudden apparition sent to enlighten her. She was so close to tears, without knowing why, she was hesitant to speak.

"Tell me," he said in the quiet gentle voice she already knew she didn't want to live without.

"Would you think I'm some sort of indecisive virgin slut if I asked you to stay? Just to be with me? I think I might sleep better." Liar, she knew if he left she'd be lying with her open eyes riveted on the dark ceiling, sleepless until sunrise, worrying, wondering, and probably coming up with the worst decision she could possibly make.

"I do not know whether or not you are a virgin, but your behavior has made it evident that you are not a 'slut'. Yes, I will stay."

She disappeared into the bedroom then, and was gone for such a long time that Data wondered if she had changed her mind, that he should leave. He rose and approached the bedroom door. "Leo?" he called softly, "Leo? Are you all right?" He poked his head in the door and saw that she had changed into tiger-striped pajamas and fallen asleep on the bed. He didn't know that, overcome, she'd lain down for "just a second" to clear her head. He approached the bed and leaned down, lifting her carefully in his arms so as not to wake her. He needn't have worried. He managed to pull down the covers on one side and slide her in, then covered her again. For a long time he stood looking down at her. She'd expressed the need for him to be with her. That could mean sitting on the sofa, or in the chair at the foot of the bed. After a few more moments' musing Data removed his boots and stretched out full length beside Leo, on top of the covers. Turning onto his side, he reached an arm across her waist and laid his head next to hers on the pillow.

"Sleep, now," he whispered, "I will be with you."

Though one of them was deeply asleep, and the other was destined for none at all, both minds were suddenly filled with a single thought.

Belonging.