Before Data began his research each day, he tended to each patient. He changed their gowns, cleansed them, and made official records of all their vitals. He attempted to, in accordance with the Captain's orders, speak to each patient. He spoke aloud to each one a subset of the calculations that were currently going on in his head. However, when he got to Doctor Crusher, he was inclined to offer up something more given their friendship, and yet did not have the capacity to determine what defined that "more". He decided to speak about things that were indicative of their more intimate acquaintance. He spoke of people they knew in common, about staff and patients in the sickbay. He told her about Wesley's hard work, and how he was reminded of how surprisingly high functioning he had always found Wesley's mental capacities for someone both human and so young. He had found that humans often enjoyed hearing praise about their offspring.
He felt unusually uncomfortable taking the responsibilities of caring for Doctor Crusher's unconscious body. He was aware that nudity was a very intimate sight for most humans. He himself did not have the ability to feel embarrassed, and he knew that as a doctor, Beverly Crusher understood the necessity. Yet as he peeled off her gown and sanitized her body he felt some reservation in letting his memory circuits record the image of her bare and vulnerable. He noted that after a full week of life support, her body had waned slightly, her bones intruding on softer flesh and the skin looking parched and dull. He wondered how many people, aside from himself, had been privy to this sight.
"I found Wesley asleep under your desk this morning. I believe that the oddity of it is something you may find humorous." Data noted as he lifted Doctor Crusher's body, supporting her on his shoulder as he tied the gown behind her neck. He paused before placing her back down, holding her in his arms for a moment.
"Our position is very similar to an embrace. I found that Wesley was comforted when I embraced him. Perhaps this is comforting to you as well." He patted her back. "There, there. I have tried several permutations of your formula and each time it has been stable for longer. I believe I have come quite close to making the formula work. I still have several variables which I must determine, but the probability of solving it is currently over fifty percent. Meaning, more likely than not." He placed her gently back onto the bed.
He smoothed her hair back. "The Captain, Wesley, and Counselor Troi often touch your hair in this manner. I must assume, then, that it is a gesture of affection." He patted her bangs and gently pushed a lock of hair behind her hair before stepping back from the biobed. "I must return to my work now."
Data unsealed the samples and resumed where he left off during his last session. He let over an hour pass in silence before he spoke again. "Perhaps it is time that I talked to you again. I think it would be important to note that at times when I speak to you like this, my circuits begin to anticipate your response even before it recalls the fact that you can give none. It is odd to speak to someone as though I am engaging in a conversation, and yet getting no reaction or affirmation, which is usually the objective of communication. I believe my dissatisfaction in this type of interaction can be compared to human feelings of longing. You could say that I 'miss' you, Doctor."
He paused and walked over to her bedside and sat on the stool while continuing to run calculations in his head.
"I have been curious, Doctor, about your consciousness. Counselor Troi has said that you respond emotionally to our presence. However, I do not know what that means. When I touch you, my sensors input all of the variables, reading attributes like shape, texture, and temperature, so that I may access my memory banks for previous occurrences of this particular permutation, and create record of this new instance of it. All of this information is then added as another variable in the many that make up my awareness of what is 'present'. However, I can only react physically and mentally to such information." He placed his hand on Doctor Crusher's. "How is your body responding to this? Can you understand what I am saying? Although you cannot react physically, do you react mentally? Your brain activity is at times more similar to that of a person awake, and at times like that of a person who is asleep. Does that mean you are at times 'awake' and at times 'asleep'?" He watched her, but as expected, received no response. "If I had the answers to such questions, perhaps I may understand the nature of your condition slightly better. It is however, futile to ask, even if you can comprehend me. Yet, I have watched many of your friends sit by you and tell you very important, personal things. I do not understand why humans are more honest in situations where honesty is futile. Yesterday afternoon I accompanied Geordi here during our leisure hours. He admitted to having accidentally damaged one of your personal plants two years ago. He then apologized for the incident. Why did he choose to apologize now, when you cannot respond with forgiveness?"
He stared at her for a few moments. He did not bother to feign blinking, since she could not be made uncomfortable by his gaze. "Why is it that, more so than anyone else who has visited, Captain Picard treats you with a far greater degree of affection when you cannot return it? Is it not the nature of humans to show affection with the hope of having it returned in kind? I ask you this because I do not believe it would be appropriate to ask either the Captain or you such a question normally; the nature of affection is not something that is spoken so openly about, especially with one's superior officers. However, it seems in accordance to the ritual of honesty and openness being practiced by the rest of the crew in your presence."
Data fell silent and returned to the desk to jot down the results of one of his mental calculations. He opened her journal, and continued analyzing some molecular structures. He had identified a particularly puzzling squiggle in one of the diagrams. He started up a new set of calculations while still running some longer computations. Some more hours passed before he looked up across the room at Doctor Crusher, still lying as he left her, one hand slightly further away from her body than the other. He returned to her side and shifted the hand so she lay symmetrically.
He lingered on her fingers, letting them rest loosely on his. "The question that returns to my thoughts most often is the most difficult. I do not think I would, under other circumstances, ask it aloud." He paused, leaned forward, and lowered the volume of his voice, modulating its vibrations to impart a softer, gentler sound. "Doctor, are you aware that you might be dying? Are you… afraid? This fear of death is something which I wish I could experience. I believe it is a vital component to the human equation—essential to the desire to achieve ones fullest potential. However, even when I have believed I may be nearing the end of my existence, I was unable to feel the fear that drives humans to parse through their minds to seek out that which is most important, most essential to their being. I cannot 'soul search', as you might call it. If indeed you are conscious, you currently have much time to 'soul search'. Despite your undesirable situation, I find that I desire to experience your circumstance. I believe this means that I envy you, Doctor."
He slid his hand out from under hers. "I must start my night shift at the bridge soon." Data began sanitizing the room, working at inhuman speeds. "Do not worry, Doctor Crusher. As the probability of success is slightly better than that of failure, you are marginally more likely to recover. Despite there still being a chance of failure, I have programmed myself to access the information on the likelihood of the positive outcome before the negative one. This is as close as I can get to the feeling of hope."
On his way out, Data stopped at Doctor Crusher's bedside. "I have yet to determine which manner of 'goodbye' is most appropriate for our relationship. Due to his diplomatic sensibilities, I consider the Captain to generally be a good model of human behavior for me to follow. However, at times I find his interpersonal skills in more informal relationships to be less generally well-received than, say, Commander Riker. The ways he says goodbye to you," Data experimentally squeezed her hand with a little extra pressure and pressed his face against hers gently, "They are not something I have often witnessed." He lifted his face and relaxed his grip. "Wesley is usually quite brief in his goodbyes." Data stooped down and set a quick kiss on her forehead. "It suggests routine—many years of a repeated action. Counselor Troi and Commander Riker use the same method of goodbye. They often exhibit similar mannerisms. Since my relationship to you is more akin to theirs than Wesley's, and their method less odd than the Captain's, I will follow their example until I have formulated something of my own." Data brushed one of her arms with his hand and placed a quick kiss on her cheek. "Goodnight, Doctor Crusher."
With that Data shut the lights and returned to the bridge.
The Captain was there, awaiting Data to switch shifts. He looked less commanding than usual, bent forward, gazing into the passing stars with his chin resting on his hand, pressing his fingers firmly against his lips. His eyes were beginning to sink into his brow from many nights spent either sleepless or drifting in and out of troubling dreams and distant memories.
"Captain, it is time for me to begin the night shift."
The Captain straightened quickly, yanked out of some deep thought. He stood up. "Any progress on the infection?"
"Yes." When the Captain was still standing in front of Data, looking expectantly at him for elaboration, Data continued. "I do not think I could adequately explain the complex nature of my progress in the time we have here."
The Captain offered a weak smile. "Yes, of course, Data. Of course." He nodded a few times, glanced around the bridge, before stepping aside from the Captain's chair. "You have the bridge, Mister Data."