A Cold Is A Very Human Experience (ST:TNG, Data, M)

[NorthernLady]

"Thank you, Doctor. I will not forget. As you know, it is impossible for me to forget without purposely erasing something from my memory banks. And as I do not intend to do that, I-"

"Follow me faster."

LOL Dear Worf I'd forgot how he was straighforward but your fic reminded me I'm loving this fic so much!

So the only person missing in the fic now is Deanna Troy Can't wait to see the next chapter!

[Aranea]

Thanks for the welcome, @SleepingPhlox! I'm loving this update! "Superhuman nasal strength" has got to be one of the best phrases I have ever read. Seriously. Data is absolutely precious, and I love how you write him, and all the other characters in this.

[Medowsweet]

I literally laughed out loud at this:

Lieutenant Worf approached, his imposing Klingon physique towering sternly over Beverly and Data. He glowered at Data from under a forehead full of ridges underscored with impressive eyebrows-not for any particular reason, "glower" was just his face's default setting.

"I have come to escort you as you move into your new quarters," he growled, which was the default setting for his voice.

So so true!

[SleepingPhlox]

So the only person missing in the fic now is Deanna Troy Can't wait to see the next chapter!

You know, funny you should say that...

As always, I am so happy that folks are willing to keep reading this. Especially since there is still a way to go before dear Data finally recovers.

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Part 5-Data's Reading Sneezefics, LOL

As soon as Data was left alone in his temporary quarters, he looked around to survey his new surroundings. There was certainly more furniture of the variety designed to provide comfort than he was used to. There was a bed, which he would declare surplus to his requirements save for the fact that he had been instructed to make use of it as necessary.

He watched with interest as Spot jumped up onto a chair, seeming to appreciate the firm yet springy quality of the cushions. Yes. Cats desire comfort and quickly seek out places that will be the most agreeable to them.

"I believe you will perceive the value of the bed more than I will," Data informed the creature. "They are designed with comfort as one of the primary attributes. You should go see if it meets your requirements."

Spot began licking a paw.

"Perhaps later, then."

Data began the process of "making himself at home", which consisted of finding the most appropriate places for his few belongings and meticulously placing them there, then taking a moment to assess whether he had made the most fitting choice of location for each object. He had not brought much with him, mostly objects to assist him in pursuing his creative endeavours. He would certainly have considerable time to work on them if he was taken off duty shifts for the next few days.

"I am not certain how long we will need to be in these quarters," he spoke to Spot as he worked. "I am not sure if you are able to comprehend this, but I am currently experiencing a biological viral infection for the first time. However, I disagree with the Captains assessment that I am not fit for duty, nor do I believe it would be particularly taxing on my systems to be allowed to work from my own quarters."

He did have to concede one point: it was true that unless he was physically separated from the means to do work, he would likely find a way to convince himself it was perfectly fine to do some.

"I am rather grateful that you are unable to repeat to the Captain what I am confiding in you." He paused, tilting his head. "Spot? Are you listening to me?"

Spot was currently engaged in an intense grooming process. From Data's experience, Spot was not as adept at processing multiple tasks at once as he himself was. Therefore it was highly unlikely that Spot was, in fact, listening. This baffled him. Much information that he had assimilated had indicated that talking to pets strengthened the pet-owner bond. However, he failed to understand how this bond could possibly be affected if Spot refused to take part in the conversational procedure.

"Very well, I will leave you to...hahhh...hahh...KEHtchh! HngghTCHUU!"

A small "ugh", possibly of displeasure or discomfort-or both, managed to escape his lips before he grabbed a tissue, folded it neatly and precisely, and began the process of clearing out his nasal passages. He was becoming quite adept at it, if he did say so himself.

Data raised an eyebrow at his startled-appearing furry companion.

"I am sorry if I frightened you, Spot. I am afraid that you will have to become used to these interruptions, as I have had to." He turned to walk toward the other chair, then stopped and turned around. "And you do not have to worry. While this particular virus is particularly infectious among humanoids, it is incompatible with feline anatomy, and therefore not transmissible to your species."

He raised the right side of his mouth in his attempt at an approximation of a reassuring smile, held the facial expression for precisely three seconds to allow its message to be sufficently conveyed, and then set about the task of finding something to occupy his mind.

Finding something sufficiently complex to occupy a mind capable of performing several tasks at once is no easy feat.

He attempted to play his violin, but he found his arms tired quickly. Becoming tired was an interesting sensation, and it held his interest for a while before it just became troublesome. He found he could not move his fingers fast enough to play his guitar, and the worsening inefficiencies in his respiratory systems made playing his oboe quite out of the question.

With musical pursuits ruled out, he decided to try to work on a painting. He had been attempting to comprehend the concept of abstract art and symbolism based on feelings recently, and had suspected that such an understanding lay just outside his grasp. His current experience, however, he had very strong impressions about, and perhaps-just perhaps-he would be able to translate that into colours and symbols on a canvas.

Shortly into the process, his legs grew tired, so he pulled his easel over to a chair and attemped to work in that position. His arm wearied and weakened, but he persevered, determined to see his artistic experiment through.

He finally gave up when a volley of three rapid-fire, messy sneezes took him by surprise, mottling the paint where the drops struck the canvas. He leaned back in his chair, assessing his work.

Suddenly, he looked up, slightly perplexed.

"Computer," he said, his command met by a friendly chirp. "What is the temperature in this room?"

"The temperature in this room is twenty-one degrees celsius," a synthesised female voice answered.

"Computer, are you sure that is correct?"

"The accuracy of the reading has been verified by independent back up sensors. It is guaranteed accurate to within .001 degrees."

"Then I am certain one of us is ma...mal...heehhPTCHGGH!...functioning."

"Please restate."

"It w...haaghKTCHHU!"

"Please restate."

"Disregard. Computer off."

Blinking to re-orient himself, he reached for yet another tissue, neatly folding it before blowing his nose. Certainly his sensors or the computer were incorrect. The computer told him that it was 21 degrees, the same as most areas of the ship. The ideal temperature for most humanoid life. His body was telling him a different story. Logic would dictate that based on recent happenings, it was himself that was incorrect, but he was accustomed to trusting his sensory input implicity, and his sensory input was telling him that the temperature had dropped considerably lower than was considered comfortable.

Perhaps it was time to experiment with this "resting in bed" concept. He could combine that experiment with his plan to study accounts of the experience of being unwell, and writing himself a program that he planned to use later to shut off many of his functions in order to better recharge and repair himself.

Once he was certain (or, as certain as possible) that his verbal commands would not be rudely interrupted by his nose, Data issued an instruction to the computer to transfer to his PADD all works of fiction and non-fiction, from Earth, dated from 1800 to the present, containing references to a person or people with a cold, or similar non-fatal illness with nasal irritation as a main symptom. This was a tactic he used many times when there was a human behaviour or experience that he wished to understand. It often caused minor issues or amusement with his crew-mates when he incorrectly interpreted and put into action things he'd read, but on the whole, it was a good system. Today, he would try to understand as much about the human experience of getting sick as possible.

While he waited for the transfer to complete, he washed his paintbrushes and put his paint away neatly, and simultaneously began to write his shut-down sequence, setting it to activate at 2200 hours. Then, he walked into the bedroom, sat on the edge of the bed with his feet firmly planted on the floor, picked up his PADD and began, to the best of his understanding, the process of "resting in bed and reading". His eyes followed the words as they whizzed past so quickly, a human eye would see merely a blur.

After a while, Spot came in and curled up next to his leg. Data petted the cat absent-mindedly, his concentration on the speeding text never wavering. After a brief self-grooming session, Spot nodded off to sleep, and Data ceased petting, but kept one hand atop the warm ball of fur. Intermittently, he sneezed, which did have the effect of disrupting his attention and he would have to pick up where he left off each time. Also, it woke Spot, which was troublesome.

He was not certain how much time had passed when his doorbell chirped. That was highly unusual. Not the doorbell, the losing track of time. His internal clock was capable of keeping an accurate record of time without the need to consciously monitor it.

"Come in," he called. From his perch on the end of the bed he could see Counselor Deanna Troi, clad in a form-fitting purple jumpsuit, enter tentatively.

"Data?" she called. Spot looked up indignantly toward the intruder that had dared violate this sacred space, and disappeared like a shot under the bed.

"I am in the bedroom," he replied, then added when she got to the bedroom doorway. "You may wish to keep your distance. I am currently infected with a communicable virus at present. You may...'catch it'."

"It's okay, Data. I understand the risks. Can I come in and talk to you?"

"Yes. I have been doing some research into how an individual may personally experience having a cold. I have learned that it is considered extremely bad manners to do things that may put others in danger of contracting it. I wish I had known that earlier. I had been careless in the beginning about spreading my...'germs', as they seem to be colloquially known."

"That's okay, Data. Everyone understands that this is a very new experience for you, and would not blame you for taking some time to completely understand things like the etiquette of it all. Um...may I sit down?"

"Please."

She primly took a seat on the mattress next to him. "So, how are you feeling?" And, as he opened his mouth to reply, she pre-empted him with "And yes, I know. You don't have feelings as such. But I do know that you find it a great help, when faced with something that you don't understand, to voice your thoughts out loud and get input from others." She spoke slowly, in a measured manner, trying to choose words that Data's android brain would feel the most comfortable with. "Why don't you start by telling me what you're doing right now?"

"I am resting in bed, while studying all works of fiction and non-fiction, from Earth, dated from 1800 to the present, containing references to a person or people with a cold, or similar non-fatal illness with nasal irritation as a main symptom."

"I see. And have you learned anything?"

"I have processed 5,796 works thus far and what I have managed to ascertain is that most humans have vastly different experiences of the very same subject. I am not certain which would be the most applicable to me. Some people seem to become very weak and demanding and require a good deal of care. Some are the opposite and risk further damage to their health by refusing to acknowledge their illness. Many fall in a range in between. I am perplexed as to which approach could be considered best."

"Well, lets try to look at it this way. What is it that you want?"

"I do not know what I should want. That is why I am doing this research."

"Yes...but...do you have a gut feeling telling you that there is something you'd prefer?"

"I do not have any feelings, gut or otherwise."

Deanna sighed, trying to think of a way to put this into Data-accessible language.

"Okay," she said. "Try this. Given the choice, and factoring in the limitations of your current condition, what would you want for yourself right now?"

That generated an answer. The words tumbled out of Data's mouth in rapid speech:

"I would wish to have more things to keep me occupied. I would wish not to be isolated for the duration of my illness. I would wish to be useful, and I would wish that a treatment existed that would at least alleviate some of my more intrusive symptoms." His head jerked in surprise. "Ah! I suppose I did have an answer for that after all. You are very talented, Counselor."

Deanna smiled. "Lets tackle those one by one, shall we? Things to keep you occupied...what choices do you have?"

"Very few, I am afraid. I have already attempted to perform several tasks. My hobbies are currently inaccessible to me due to my illness. Had I more energy, or didn't have a 'blocked nose', I would have more success, but unfortunately I am limited by my circumstances."

"I'm sure there are other things you enjoy. You could listen to music...I am sure your friends would not mind paying you a visit, which would also help with the isolation. As for easing your discomfort, well why don't you start by actually resting in the bed?"

Data looked at the bed quizzically, then up at Deanna. "I do not follow."

"Lie flat, and cover yourself with the blanket."

"Ah! Yes, that may indeed be worth a try." He looked down for a moment, in thought. Finally he spoke. "Counselor. May I ask you for a personal favour?"

"Of course, Data."

"Many of the accounts I read described seeking out things that comfort one. Certain foods and drinks were mentioned repeatedly. These are of no use to me as I would not get any benefit from the nutrients or the sensation of consuming them. But many accounts also described deriving comfort from having a trusted individual...'take care of' them. You are singularly skilled at knowing what people on this ship need in order to feel comforted. I have scheduled at 2200 hours a shutdown of my main systems in an effort to recuperate. Will you...possibly...stay until then? And...perhaps...do things like-" He looked at the words on his PADD. "Apply your palm to my forehead, ensure my blankets are arranged tightly around my body, and occasionally ask me if I am okay?"

Deanna put a hand over her mouth to hide a giggle. If anyone else had asked her to do these things, she mightn't have believed they were serious. With Data, the request seemed sincere, and although she wasn't sure he himself knew why he wanted these things, but she would indulge him. Why not?

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To be continued and as always thank you for reading!

[Leafeon78]

Very obssessive but great chapter like the comfort.

[Aranea]

I love your attention to detail in this. I was absolutely cracking up at Data searching for stories to read - I have been there with him! Both in looking for examples on how to behave, and in looking for stories with sick characters.

[Medowsweet]

Oh man! Data is soo Data! I love it

[Cutelittlenose]

Data was funny. I liked when he paused to request what he wanted the counselor to do, reading it word for word, among other things.

[NorthernLady]

Deanna put a hand over her mouth to hide a giggle. If anyone else had asked her to do these things, she mightn't have believed they were serious. With Data, the request seemed sincere, and although she wasn't sure he himself knew why he wanted these things, but she would indulge him. Why not?

LOL I love Deanna Troy Also love the fact that Data ended up reading some SneezeFic to know about rituals around colds and caring for a sick loved one. And the head touching... probably a good way to resolve that fever thing you've been talking about.... ;-)

[SleepingPhlox]

Thanks to y'all for saying that Data is in character. It's surprisingly hard to stay in the mindset of writing him, holy crap.

This chapter actually begins to advance the plot. I've been having fun describing his reaction to illness and interacting with all the different characters but yes, there actually is a plot, with sci-fi stuff and a mystery and everything!

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PART 6-I've no clever title for this one

"Are you sure it's okay for you to be so hot?" Deanna said with concern, her hand on Data's forehead. His "skin" was usually cooler to the touch than a living being's, she had noted on multiple occasions, but at this moment in time, he was heated to the point where it was nearly too uncomfortable to put her hands on him.

"I do not understand how you can tell me that I am too hot," he said, wearily. "And the computer can tell me that I am too hot. And the tricorders earlier told me that I am too hot. Yet my internal sensors tell me that I am far too cold. My internal sensors are designed to be highly accurate. If I cannot trust them, I do not believe I can trust anything."

Data lay flat on the bed, his spine ramrod-straight, light blue blanket pulled up to his armpits and his hands clasped, resting lightly on his torso. Although he had professed to wanting to experience this situation as close to how a human would as possible, all attempts to get him to change out of his uniform in favour of something more suitable for bedtime-or indeed, at least remove his boots-had been fruitless. It made him look a rather ridiculous figure, in bed in full uniform, but if that was his preference, Deanna wasn't going to push it too much.

As it had turned out, mostly what he wanted was company. More specifically, to be spoken to. Deanna felt as if she were sitting there telling him bedtime stories, except that his idea of bedtime stories was to be briefed on what had happened on the bridge in his absence-down to the finest detail. Although, she was finding it quite difficult to remember things to a level of detail that would satisfy Data's incessant curiousity. And, of course, it wasn't really a "bedtime" story as such because, as he had reminded her several times, he was not going to sleep, because he was incapable of sleeping, merely shutting down non-essential functions to devote all his available resources to recharging his energy cells and attempting to repair his malfunctioning systems. And he stubbornly clung to this argument despite all her attempts to explain to him that all of that was essentially what sleep was.

"...and after that, we proceeded on for a while-"

"What speed?"

"Um, Warp 2, I believe."

"Ah. Continue." He paused for a moment, then remembered to add: "Please."

"And then after a while-"

"How long a while?"

"About thirty minutes, I think. After about thirty minutes, the Captain decided to change our heading slightly-"

This little tidbit of information seemed to disproportionally intrigue the android. "Oh? What co-ordinates?"

Deanna bit her lip as she racked her brain for the information. She probably hadn't even paid attention at the time...this had proven to be a singularly uninteresting region of space, and not much of the journey through the area had seemed worthy of committing to memory. Fortunately, for her anyway, Data's expectant expression soon melted into something else entirely: his jaw dropped slightly, his eyes and the bridge of his nose scrunched up, and the edges of his slender, proud nostrils curled.

Out of what was fast becoming a habit, Deanna quickly pulled a tissue from the box on the bedside table and put it into his hand just in time for him to bring it up to his face.

"Hmmphk'TCHUHHH!"

He gave a nearly imperceptible little sigh and blew his nose with as much strength as he could muster, which wasn't much at all. His energy was waning fast. Not even bothering to put the used tissue into the receptacle next to his bed, he just let his arm flop down to his side, his hand still clutching the now soaked and useless wad.

"There are only two or three left," Deanna noted, peering inside the tissue box. She had never even imagined seeing someone go through tissues quite this fast.

"There are more on the low table in the main area," Data said, beginning to sit up. "I will get them."

"You'll do nothing of the sort," Deanna replied, pushing lightly on his shoulder to make him lie back down. Then, she smiled. "You wouldn't be getting the full experience of being taken care of if you had to do things for yourself."

Data appeared to ponder this and, judging by the slight nod of his head, found it acceptable.

When Deanna went into the main living area, something caught her eye, something she had not noticed on her way inside. Data had left his easel, with his not-quite-finished painting, next to the chair. She found herself drawn to it. He had mentioned in casual conversation experimenting with abstractness and symbolism, and how much of a struggle he had in comprehending these things, but this did not appear to be the work of someone who didn't understand symbolism.

Large swirls of dark green intermingled with clouds of black, the black seeming to draw everything downward. A bright sky blue had been painted into a jagged, chaotic formation reminiscent of lightning, and red slashes had been flung haphazardly across certain areas. She didn't need her empathic abilities to be able to get a strong sense of what feelings might have gone into the making of such an image.

"I saw your painting," she said as she re-entered the bedroom, placing the new box of tissues on the bedside table and sitting down again. "It's impressive. Can you tell me about it?"

"I am afraid it is unfinished. The symptoms I am experiencing made it quite impossible to perfect it as I would have liked to."

"Does it have a name?"

Data thought for a moment. "I shall call it 'An Android's First Experience With Illness'. I was attempting to convey the unique nature of my experience. Specifically: the combination of loss of energy, the malfunction of my internal sensors, inability to use specific functions, and parts of me being full of fluid when they absolutely should not be."

"If you have enough energy later," Deanna said. "You should try painting your feelings again. You are definitely connecting with something very expressive inside you as a result of all this."

"While I do thank you for your words, I must correct you. I have not expressed any feelings at all. I merely scanned my databanks for cultural and artistic precedents that would help me select the most appropriate colours and shapes to express the concepts I intended to get across in a way that others would be able to percieve."

"Data, I think you should give yourself more credit. Is that really all that different from how a human brain would approach the same task? The only difference is that in a human, the process would be more subconscious. A human might select the colour yellow to suggest cheerfulness without realising that he has made that decision based on an ingrained cultural influence, whereas you might come to the same conclusion by consciously analysing that cultural influence. It's essentialy the same process, if you think about it."

"Ah!" Data said brightly, his eyes darting from side to side as he processed and assimilated this new information. "Thank you, Counselor. Perhaps I can look at this as one way I have benefitted from this exp-...hahhh...this ex-...hahhhhhh...thi-...haahhKTCHNGGKHU!...this experience."

He looked as if he were about to add something else, then suddenly his expression went blank and his head snapped forward. When he opened his mouth, he blurted out in a flat tone: "Commencing non-essential systems shutdown. Shutdown will be complete in 30 seconds."

Deanna had to force herself not to flinch. It was always a bit unsettling when he did something so overtly inhuman and mechanical. She could actually see the different parts of him switch off. It was indeed like watching someone go to sleep, albeit in a precise and ordered manner from the toes up.

"Ten seconds," his voice said again, this time far more slowly and in a much lower register than usual. As his eyes closed and his head sank, she stood up, carefully plucking the tissue from his hand with her fingernails to avoid actually having to touch it with her fingers.

"Goodnight, Data," she said softly, then before she left, added with a touch of mischeviousness in her voice: "Sleep well."

After it was clear that the unwanted presence was gone, Spot slunk out from her hiding spot under the bed. She gave her master's unmoving form a cursory inspection, then decided that the warmth he emitted was exactly perfect for curling up and going to sleep against.

Data had only the vaguest cognisance of the cat curled up next to him. He had allowed for a slight awareness of his surroundings, to allow for a quick awakening if necessary, in the event of danger, or a red alert, or some such situation. His awareness mainly concentrated on a scan of his internal systems, which he ran in the hopes that he'd be able to glean more information in this state without the pesky risk of losing consciousness.

Yet, somehow, a flicker of something else danced at the edge of his perception. It seemed he had a strange sense of...two beings, standing at the edge of his bed. Someone from the ship? No, he did not recognise them. They made noises. A language? He did not know this language.

An instrument. Sharp? Smooth? It was pushed into his face, just under his left eye. But yet it wasn't. It was there and it was not there. He did not feel it but he felt it. It went in but caused no damage.

Instrument pushing into his artificial lung. The instrument is there and it is not there. No puncture but it is in, he can feel it but he cannot feel it. His lung has changed but it has not changed. They have done something. They have changed something. But have they? It is the same but it is different.

Do they know that he is sentient? It is not right to do this to a sentient being. Not without consent. No consent. Has not given consent. Sentient. He is sentient and they should not do this. Do they know? They should not. No consent.

Sentient. No consent.

They should not.

No. Do they know?

Sentient.

No.

System shutdown aborted. Normal function returning.

He sat up abruptly, sending a startled and indignant Spot running for cover, and his hand flew to his commbadge.

"Data to security!"

"Security here," Worf's voice replied over the communications channel.

Data looked around, perplexed. There was no trace of anything that could have caused him alarm.

"Lieutenant Commander Data, please respond!"

"Disregard. I...appear to have made a mistake..."

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To be continued and thank you for reading!

[Leafeon78]

Aww still finding this very cute much enjoyed.

[Cutelittlenose]

Well, the ending to Part 6 was rather frighting. Poor Data.

[NorthernLady]

Yet, somehow, a flicker of something else danced at the edge of his perception. It seemed he had a strange sense of...two beings, standing at the edge of his bed. Someone from the ship? No, he did not recognise them. They made noises. A language? He did not know this language.

An instrument. Sharp? Smooth? It was pushed into his face, just under his left eye. But yet it wasn't. It was there and it was not there. He did not feel it but he felt it. It went in but caused no damage.

Instrument pushing into his artificial lung. The instrument is there and it is not there. No puncture but it is in, he can feel it but he cannot feel it. His lung has changed but it has not changed. They have done something. They have changed something. But have they? It is the same but it is different.

Do they know that he is sentient? It is not right to do this to a sentient being. Not without consent. No consent. Has not given consent. Sentient. He is sentient and they should not do this. Do they know? They should not. No consent.

Sentient. No consent.

They should not.

No. Do they know?

Sentient.

No.

System shutdown aborted. Normal function returning.

Wow... that was kind of scary. The presences, there and not there. Doing and not doing stuff to his sinus and lungs. I wonders if this is gonna influence his painting ;-)

Can't wait to see what those presences have been or haven't been doing to Data ;-).

[SleepingPhlox]

Pikachu78, cutelittlenose, and NorthernAngel: thank you for your comments which are so very appreciated.

That chapter was a little teaser further into the nature of what has been happening to Data...I'm very glad it seemed to come across as ominous as I'd intended!

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Part 7-Android Aspirin

Data sat on the edge of the bio-bed in sickbay, lightly curled hands resting limply in his lamp, sniffling from time to time-which was an entirely new development-as Dr. Crusher examined him. She had abandoned her tricorder, which seemed to only malfunction as it scanned the systems she most needed information on, in favour of a more old-fashioned physical examination. She had never been more grateful that she had paid attention in the academy when one of her professors insisted on drilling this method of examination into them, while other students groaned and protested that it was highly unlikely they'd be in any situation where they had no access to any kind of technology at all.

She was hesitant to tell him right away, but nothing about his condition had seemed to improve overnight. In fact, not only had his original symptoms worsened, but he now seemed to have developed a cough as well. He'd told her it had come on quite suddenly last night. Unfortunately, while her tricorder had no problem scanning his artificial lungs yesterday, it now refused to produce any coherent readings on them, making getting to the source of things impossible.

Data's golden-irised eyes darted from side to side, following her with a hint of inquisitiveness mixed with trepidation, and occasionally he opened and closed his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but then thought better of it.

Finally she straighted up and looked him directly in the eyes.

"Data..."

"Yes, Doctor?"

"I don't need to be Counselor Troi to be able to tell that you've got something on your mind troubling you. So why don't you just come out with it?"

"Ah." He searched around for the words to properly express what he wanted to say. "I had...an unusual experience last night. I am still struggling to understand the cause. When I initiated my systems shutdown, I left a rudimentary sensory program running so that I would be able to re-initialise myself in the event that I perceived danger. I..." His voice trailed off and he turned his gaze to the floor.

"Go on..."

"I had the distinct impression that there were two beings in the room with me. They were...unsettling. That is, they were doing unsettling things to me. Yet, when my full sensory capabilities came back on-line, I was unable to perceive them any longer."

"A bad dream? Fevers are known to induce unpleasant and vivid dreams."

"But I cannot dream. And I can be certain I did not imagine it, as I am not capable of imagining anything. The only possible explanation is a malfunction, but I was not able to determine what kind."

"Data...in the last two days a lot of things have happened to you that you previously thought were impossible. You can't be entirely certain that having a dream isn't just another thing to add to that list. Anyway, did you see them again after that?"

Data paused, looking almost chastised. "I...did not restart my shutdown protocols after that," he admitted haltingly. "I did not want the figures to come back. I spent the rest of the night running scans of the quarters and theorising as to the nature of the figures."

Beverly rolled her eyes and clucked maternally. "That certainly explains why you look so awful today, anyway."

Data brought two hands up to his face, touching it in various places with his fingertips, testing to ensure that it was the same shape it always was.

"Doctor, I do not believe that my appearance has changed significantly since the last time you saw me. Are your sensory inputs malfunctioning too?"

"I mean that you look very tired. One look at your face and anyone can tell that you're extremely exhausted and unwell."

Data tilted his head and processed this new information. Humanoids were very good at telling the mental state of other humanoids based on subtle changes in their faces and body language. And humanoids subconsciously projected their feelings even without meaning to, with barely perceptible changes. He knew this well. He had even learned, with enough scrutiny and concentration, to pick up on some of these subtle changes himself. Unfortunately, most humanoids did not enjoy having their faces intently studied by a curious android, and more often than not, the facial expressions he tried to analyze were quickly replaced by annoyance, discomfort, or a mixture of the two.

And he'd certainly never had much success trying to reproduce the subconscious, subtle facial changes. Unless he made a conscious effort to change his expression, his face remained a blank slate. Even with considerable practice, his attempts to mimic human expressions were sometimes awkward and a little off, and people around him sometimes found them slightly disconcerting. So, he usually didn't bother with such things, and just stuck with the blank, expressionless face he and everyone around him was used to.

It actually rather pleased him that someone was able to "read his face". Between this and the sudden burst of creativity he'd found yesterday, this was the closest to human he had ever managed to become. Pity it came as a package deal with a hefty side-helping of feeling like a shuttlecraft landed on him.

He grabbed a tissue and raised it to his mouth, coughing into it. He had thought of this action himself. He had not been taught to do it, but had inferred it from learning about germs and the need to cover sneezes. His creator had given him a brain that could learn by inferring from other knowledge and past experiences. Would his creator be pleased with him for learning this? Would he be glad that Data was putting his programming to good use? Data found he had a strong preference for believing the answer would be "yes".

As Beverly put a hand on his shoulder in a comforting gesture, Data looked up and studied her face.

"Doctor, if you do not mind my saying so, I observe that you look...awful, as well. Are you also sick? Have I...haaahh...hav-...hahh'KTCHMMPH!" Good thing he was already holding that tissue. "Have I spread my illness to you?"

"Thank you for your concern, but I'm fine. Actually, I was up until 0400 last night working on something with Geordi that is hopefully going to help you out quite a bit. We'll test it after I'm finished with your check-up. Open."

Obediently, Data dropped his jaw as far as it would go, allowing Dr. Crusher to shine a small, but incredibly bright, pen-sized light into his mouth to examine his throat. He knew it would be easier to examine him if she were to remove his head, but he had suggested that to her once before, and learned it was probably not a good idea to ever suggest it again. He closed his mouth as she pulled the light away and dropped it into a sanitation chamber, which immediately lit up a bright blue, and watched her with an expectant curiousity, following her with his eyes as she walked over to a desk and picked up a small silver flask.

"Now," she explained. "We haven't figured out a cure as such. Not yet. However, after a long night and a lot of trial and error, we managed to adapt an impulse engine grade coolant into something that should be easily processed by your body. It should temporarily bring your temperature down, which won't do anything more than just making you feel more comfortable, but it's something."

Data cocked his head. "Intriguing. I would not have considered such an option. As I recall, such a substance is of entirely the wrong consistency for my systems to process, and would indeed be far too strong to avoid damaging my instrumentation."

"Yes. But, if you break the coolant down into it's component particles, isolate certain particles and dilute them in a suspension similar to the silicon nutrient liquid you drink...well, we won't know if it works until you test it. It's designed for android use, and you're the only android we've got. It worked in simulations, but...well you're too complicated to simulate exactly. It will either work, or do nothing and pass harmlessly through. There is no chance of it harming you. You have my word on that. However, if you have any doubts, you don't have to drink it."

"Doctor, you and Geordi are two people I would trust with my life. If you both say it is safe, I will trust that judgement. I will try it."

She handed him the silver flask, which he opened to find it filled with a milky white, chalky liquid. He observed that humans would probably find it unpleasant to ingest, but it was indeed very similar to his nutrient drink he took from time to time to assist his functions. He would have no problem with it. He downed it quickly, then was instructed by Beverly to lie down and wait, which he obediently did, clasping his hands over his abdoment and staring patiently at the ceiling.

Doctor Crusher left him there to rest while she went about her other work. Her son, Ensign Wesley Crusher, who had been sitting at a computer terminal doing some work of his own, occasionally glanced over his shoulder at Data. An observer would have noticed that he obviously wanted to go talk to Data, but was hesitant for some reason. After a while, the young man managed to gather up his courage with one deep breath, and approached the bed where the android lay.

"H...Hi, Data."

"Ah. Wesley..." He paused, confused. "Inquiry: Your demeanour suggests that you feel apprehensive toward me right now. Have I done something to cause you alarm?"

"No, not exactly...I just, I got really worried about you, you know? I was so afraid something would happen to you and...well, I don't have a lot of friends, and I think of you as a really good friend and when I thought about losing you I got upset...so...I was being really selfish. I'm sorry."

"Do not be sorry, Wesley. I think of you as a good friend as well, and I would likewise be concerned if I thought something might happen to you. Do not worry. Dr. Crusher and Geordi are both working on how to correct my current situation and I have every faith in their abilities."

Data perhaps would have said more, but he was interrupted by three harsh sneezes, followed by a bout of coughing that left him drained of energy. Wesley watched, finding it difficult to hear Data's optimism and trust, all the while knowing what he knew-that his mother and Geordi spent quite some time last night discussing how stumped they were at this whole affair, and what should happen if they were unable to come up with a cure. So he decided to avoid the whole subject with:

"So, what are you doing with yourself all day, anyway?"

"Very little," Data said, in a tone that suggested he was capable of subtext. "I do not have the energy for many of my favourite pursuits. I-OH!"

Wesley started at Data's sudden interjection. The android was clearly reacting to some sort of stimuli, his eyes open as wide as they could go and darting quickly, his mouth pursed in an expression of wonder.

"Data, are you alright? Do you need my mom...um, I mean Doctor Crusher?"

"I...oh!" The right side of his mouth curled up in a curious approximation of a smile. "I believe the coolant is beginning to work...OH!...oh, that is a most intriguing sensation...ahhhh...if I were capable of feeling pleasure I believe I would call that most pleasurable indeed."

"Did I hear that the experiment worked?" Beverly swooped in, her blue coat swishing behind her. "How is it, Data? How do you feel?"

"Reduction in discomfort...temperature sensors closer to normal..." He flexed his fingers and elbows. "My joints are less stiff...I am still feeling the symptoms, but not as intensely"

"Good. We did think that getting rid of the excess heat would help alleviate other symptoms as well. Now, you must remember that this is purely to make you more comfortable so you can get better rest. You might feel slightly better, but you are not, under any circumstances, to over-exert yourself or start thinking you're fit to return to work. That is an order, and my authority overrides the captain's in this matter. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Doctor."

"The effects will slowly wear off over about four hours. Try not to take any unless you really need it and don't take any more until the four hours is up. This can't be made in a replicator, so I'll have to mix a fresh batch for you tomorrow morning."

"Yes, Doctor."

"Um, Mom...I mean, Doctor...can he have visitors while he's resting? I mean, that is, if you want visitors, Data."

"Of course. I think it would be good for him to have a few people around. Would you like that, Data?"

He thought for a moment. "I would like that very much. But would it not facilitate the spreading of contagion?"

"We'll take precautions," Wesley assured him. "Besides, most humans from Earth are immune to a majority of the strains of rhinovirus anyway. We'll be fine. Hey! How about I bring a game for us to play? You owe me a 3D chess rematch. I have some stuff I have to finish up here but I can come by after...say 1500 hours?"

Data nodded in agreement.

***************************

To be continued (until the end of time, it seems at this stage ) and thank you for reading

[Leafeon78]

I really love the detail and the idea that data is slowly working things out regarding the illness.

[NorthernLady]

To be continued (until the end of time, it seems at this stage ) and thank you for reading

This makes me very happy

[Aranea]

This is absolutely one of the few things that gets so much better with every update. I think it cannot possibly top the last chapter and then it does. I love seeing the updates when I check my laptop, this fic has become my bedtime story!

[Cutelittlenose]

Data's so silly.There was really too many funny moments to quote.

[NorthernLady]

To be continued (until the end of time, it seems at this stage ) and thank you for reading

This makes me very happy

And then, a little scared... did I jinxed it?

[SleepingPhlox]

To be continued (until the end of time, it seems at this stage ) and thank you for reading

This makes me very happy

And then, a little scared... did I jinxed it?

Actually, I had been really disappointed in this chapter, I felt like it was lacking and really short. But I've been working a lot of overtime and couldn't quite find the time to sit down and work on making it better. But your comment actually made me so happy that I decided to sit down and attempt to work on it. At the very least, it gets it out of the way so I can get the next couple of chapters-which I'm much happier with-up.

*************************************************

Part 8-Sick Data Attempts Smack Talk

Data attempted to say "come in" in response to the chirp of his doorbell, but his voice did not want to function at first. Now his voice modulator was failing, it seemed. Just another malfunction to add to the long list. He was now experiencing so many malfunctions that he couldn't keep track of them all. Of course, that was only an expression, as it would be impossible for him to be unable to keep track of a simple list.

His second attempt at calling his visitor inside was slightly more successful, although it caused him to cough violently into a tissue. He currently cut a ridiculously pathetic figure in his armchair, hunched over in a posture very uncharacteristic for him, a tissue a permanent fixture in his hand, and a metallic heated blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He had an air about him of wanting to concede defeat to this particular challenge so that it would leave him alone and allow him to continue on with his normal life.

Wesley tried to smile as he greeted Data. He liked Data. He found the android somewhat of a kindred spirit. They both tended toward social awkwardness, although for different reasons. And Data was easy to talk to. Wesley had always found it hard to make friends, and it was particularly difficult aboard the Enterprise. All the other children were significantly younger than he, and the adults often treated him as more of an annoyance than anything. And absolutely nobody from any group wanted to discuss things like theoretical robotics or any of his other esoteric interests.

Except, for, of course, Data. Data was content to discuss at length any arcane topic Wesley managed to come up with. And he spoke to Wesley as an equal, never condescending down to him. Come to think of it, Data probably didn't have it in him to be condescending, but Wesley took it as a sign of respect anyway. Wesley always knew that he could confide in Data about finding certain social situations difficult (girls being a prime example) and find a sympathetic ear who was able to understand where he was coming from.

Wesley was not sure how Data thought of him. He certainly considered Data a good friend, one of his only good friends, and hoped very much that Data felt the same way, even a little bit.

Now, his good friend, his conversational companion and confidante, sat in a heap, looking absolutely miserable, and nobody knew what was happening to him or how to fix it. He wanted to at least try to cheer him up but...how do you cheer up an android?

"Hi, Data. I brought a few different games...but I see you have the 3D chess board already set up, so I'm guessing you want to play that."

"Yes, if that is agreeable to you. However, I must warn you that even operating at far less than optimum levels, I anticipate that I shall be able to beat you most easily."

Wesley just laughed. "You know, I don't doubt that for a second."

Data looked blankly at him for a second. "Hmm. I do not believe I made my intention clear. I was attempting to engage in the practice of trying to gain a psychological advantage over one's opponent by using negative or insulting language toward said opponent prior to the competition. It is a practice sometimes used by humans, but features more prominently in the cultures of the Klingons, the Tellurians, the Andorians, the...hahhh...the...hehhhh...the...hahh'TCHGGH!...the...hahhh'MPHTCHH!"

And with a sigh, he gave up even trying to finish that thought.

Wesley shrugged. "Psychological advantage or no, I still plan to give you a run for your money."

"A run for my..?...ah. A saying indicating that one plans to be a difficult opponent to beat. Good. I wish for a challenge. It will be a welcome distra-" He broke off abruptly to dissolve into a fit of coughing.

"Gee, that sounds really bad, Data. You sure weren't doing that before. When did it start, anyway?"

"Last night," he answered without hesitation. "Right after the two-"

Wesley waited for a moment. He assumed Data had stopped to sneeze again. But when it became clear that was not the case, he prompted. "The two what, Data? Are you talking about the thing you were saying to my mom in Sickbay?"

"Yes. I am not sure I wish to speculate about it at this moment in time."

Now that was weird, for sure. Data wasn't the sort to not want to investigate things like this. Wesley decided he'd leave it for now, maybe try to draw some more information out of him when he'd had a chance to relax a bit. He slid into the chair at the opposite side of the table. Which had the unusual effect of making Data suddenly jerk as if surprised.

"I have forgotten to provide refreshments," Data said, attempting to push himself out of his chair, entirely unable to hide the fact that even that was a bit of an effort for him right now. "Would you like a drink? A snack?"

Wesley jumped out of his own chair and put his hands on Data's shoulders, pushing him gently back down into his seat.

"Don't be silly. If I need anything, I can replicate it for myself. You sit down and relax."

"I do not underst-hahhh'CHGGHmphh!...understand. The rules of proper etiquette indicate that a host must provide for his guest's comfort, including the provision of adequate food and drink."

"Yes, but you're sick."

"Does that mean that normal etiquette does not apply?"

"When you're sick, everyone else should do things for you. And everyone should be nice to you and do what you say. That's a rule too. An even more important rule. Maybe even the most important."

He was gently teasing Data, having slightly forgotten that such things were often lost in Data's incredibly literal mind. Data simply waited a moment before looking up with innocence in his yellow eyes and simply said "I see. Thank you, Wesley."

"Now. Are we going to get this game started or not?"

********************************************

To be continued...

[NorthernLady]

Actually, I had been really disappointed in this chapter, I felt like it was lacking and really short. But I've been working a lot of overtime and couldn't quite find the time to sit down and work on making it better. But your comment actually made me so happy that I decided to sit down and attempt to work on it. At the very least, it gets it out of the way so I can get the next couple of chapters-which I'm much happier with-up.

Oh no, maybe it was short but it was perfect I love the fact that they made him Android Aspirin and that it's working.

Data attempted to say "come in" in response to the chirp of his doorbell, but his voice did not want to function at first. Now his voice modulator was failing, it seemed. Just another malfunction to add to the long list. He was now experiencing so many malfunctions that he couldn't keep track of them all. Of course, that was only an expression, as it would be impossible for him to be unable to keep track of a simple list.

Also happy to see more symptoms appearing Slight loss of voice, yay!

"Yes, if that is agreeable to you. However, I must warn you that even operating at far less than optimum levels, I anticipate that I shall be able to beat you most easily."

Wesley just laughed. "You know, I don't doubt that for a second."

Data looked blankly at him for a second. "Hmm. I do not believe I made my intention clear. I was attempting to engage in the practice of trying to gain a psychological advantage over one's opponent by using negative or insulting language toward said opponent prior to the competition. It is a practice sometimes used by humans, but features more prominently in the cultures of the Klingons, the Tellurians, the Andorians, the...hahhh...the...hehhhh...the...hahh'TCHGGH!...the...hahhh'MPHTCHH!"

Hihi here's that smack talk interupted by ill timed sneezes.

"Gee, that sounds really bad, Data. You sure weren't doing that before. When did it start, anyway?"

"Last night," he answered without hesitation. "Right after the two-"

Wesley waited for a moment. He assumed Data had stopped to sneeze again. But when it became clear that was not the case, he prompted. "The two what, Data? Are you talking about the thing you were saying to my mom in Sickbay?"

"Yes. I am not sure I wish to speculate about it at this moment in time."

I'm actually really curious about those two. Who are they, why are they doing this to Data, what is their goal and... what are they gonna do next Can't wait for the next chapter... and also... who't gonna win this game

Edited August 12, 2015 by Northern Angel

[Cutelittlenose]

Oh no. Poor Data. I can only look at it sympathetically now. Must protect sick android. I really like this latest chapter, but it's so worrisome now. He'll get better right? Maybe it's a bit too much to ask, but maybe he could get lost in the chess game or something for a bit so that he won't feel as bad. Even for just a bit, I want him to feel better. He seems so weak. It was precious of him to think of the refreshments for Wesley. He's so confused.

*gentle hugs for Data*

[Aranea]

I'm so glad you're still working on this - I adore it! It's probably my favorite fic updating rn, fetish or not! I love your imagery and descriptives! Seriously lovely lovely lovely!

[SleepingPhlox]

Ok, I genuinely had no idea so much time had passed, holy crap, seriously. But, to make up for it, this chapter is kinda longer and plus it moves things in the direction of having everything where it needs to be for them to start figuring out what's going on.

But for reals, I do need to sit down and update this more often. >_<

*********************************************************

PART 9-Actually It's A Very Attractive Nose, In My Opinion...

Wesley sighed and sat back in his chair.

"Well, that's six times you've beaten me in three different games. I think we've proven that even when you're not 'operating at optimum levels', you can still wipe the floor with me. One of these days, I'm going to beat you good, though, just you watch."

Data cocked his head. "Wesley...might I ask, are you intentionally operating at less than optimum levels yourself?"

"What?" He looked at the android blankly. "Oh! Are you asking if I'm letting you win?" When Data nodded, he added. "Goodness, no. But thanks for thinking that was the only thing stopping me from winning...I think."

"Haaah...ehKTCHGHH!" Data sneezed, bringing his hands up to his face in an odd manner, crossed over each other to form a sort of "X". Wesley had never seen anyone attempt to cover their mouth that way, and probably never would again.

"You know, that's good, Data, but you really should use the inside of your elbow."

Data looked at him curiously. Wesley wasn't sure if Data had understood or not, so he elaborated: "If you use your hands to cover your sneeze, you can still spread germs when you touch surfaces that someone else might touch later...like a console, maybe. Or these chess pieces. But if you bring your arm up like this..." He demonstrated. "And cover your sneeze that way, it's a lot more hygenic."

"Hmm. Intere...ehhhh...ehhKTCHEHH!"

Fortuitously, he had an occasion to test this new technique right away. He processed this new experience, compared it to the previous ones, and came to the conclusion that this way was indeed preferable.

"That is much better than spraying nasal discharge into my own hands. I believe I strongly prefer using a tissue, but on the occasions where there is no time, I shall use your technique. Thank you, Wesley."

The boy shrugged. "When you grow up with a doctor for a mom, you have stuff like that drummed into you from a very early age. Hey...here's a question for you. Was it anything like you'd imagined?"

Now it was Data's turn to look at Wesley blankly.

"Sneezing, I mean," Wesley clarified. "Do you remember, shortly after we first met, I walked in on you trying to learn how to sneeze? You said you found it 'fascinating', but you couldn't manage to do it properly. What do you think, now that you know what it's like? Is it like you expected?"

Data thought this over. "I do not know what I expected, as I had no frame of reference to compare my hypothesized outcome to at the time. Now...I believe I find it inconvenient. And unsettling."

"Unsettling?"

"Yes. I have never experienced a random function of my body before. The same part of me that allows me to think also governs my bodily functions. Although it is not at the forefront of my thought at all times, I retain a small awareness of everything every system in my body is doing. I believe this is quite different from the way the human subconscious operates. I know exactly when my "heart" will beat, and the exact strength it will use. I know exactly when I will blink. I have no idea when I will sneeze, nor do I know what pattern the sneeze will take until the moment it happens. I have never experienced this before. I am unsure how to come to terms with it."

Wesley was silent for a moment, trying to think what that would even be like. He wanted to say something reassuring, but could not concieve what that could possibly be. As he pondered, Data became aware of a drop of moisture making it's way down the length of his long, slender nostril, plucked a tissue, and blew his nose, and this led to a fit of coughing that left Data looking weary and struggling to inhale. Wesley couldn't help but note that it was Data's durable synthetic skin that stood between the android and an angry red nose. An ordinary human would have seriously sore skin by now.

Once Data was satisfied that his nose would not leak in the middle of a sentence, he said: "Shall we begin another game? Perhaps this next round will be your lucky one."

"Actually, Data...I think I'm all played out."

"Ah. I see. Well if you have tired of chess, perhaps we could try-"

"No...I mean, I was actually thinking about leaving now, it's getting late and I've got a busy day tomorrow. I'm really sorry."

"You are...leaving, then?" Data asked, the slightest hint of a tremor in his voice.

"Yes...hey, look, I'll come by and visit you tomorrow. I know it's hard being cooped up in here on your own. Unfortunately, I'm human, and we humans need our sleep. I'll come by as soon as I can tomorrow, I promise."

Data nodded. "I understand. Thank you for a pleasant evening. Please give my regards to Doctor Crusher."

"I'll do that," he said. "Look after yourself, okay. Bye, Data." Then, as a parting shot as he passed through the doorway, he called out "And be ready. I'll be stepping up my game tomorrow."

The room felt strangely empty after he left. Data felt the strange urge to get up from his chair and move to a different chair. He sat there for only a moment before getting the urge to get up again.

"Computer," he said, his voice being met by a friendly chirp. "Please tell me the location of Geordi LaForge."

"Commander LaForge is in Cargo Bay 3."

"Thank you, computer," he said, before standing up and, tissue box under his arm, setting out on a mission.

**********************************************

Geordi did not immediately look up as he heard the doors to Cargo Bay 3 slide open.

"It's about time, Ensign. I've been waiting for that...oh. You're not Ensign Wen and that is not the decoupler I was waiting for."

"You are correct on both counts. Is my nose disproportionate to the rest of my face?"

"I...um...what?"

"Do I have a 'big nose'? Is it large compared to other people's? Is it large compared to my other facial features? Is there any method of comparison you would employ that would lead you to describe my nose as 'big'?"

He turned his head to the side to give Geordi a profile view, so he could more accurately make his assessment.

"I..." Geordi decided to go for the diplomatic answer. "Everyone's face is different, Data. You...look like you. Did you come all the way down here to ask me that?"

"No. I came down here for a different matter. While I was in the turbolift, it stopped at Deck 8. Ensign Wen wished to embark. I warned him that I am currently afflicted with a transmissable illness, and he may wish to wait for the next turbolift if he was concerned about the possibility of contagion-"

"There's a point here, right?"

"Ah. Yes. He got on, looked at me and said that having a runny nose must be twice as bad for me because I have twice as much nose as everyone else. I informed him that he was mistaken, I only have the one nose. He said: 'No, because you have such a big nose, get it?', laughed, hit me on the back, and then disembarked at Deck 4 before I had a chance to ask him for further clarification."

Data looked so comically perplexed while relating that turn of events that Geordi had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. Laughing would just make matters worse. Data could be strangely sensitive at times. Must. Not. Laugh.

"Don't mind Ensign Wen, he likes to joke around with people. He doesn't...wait a minute! Ensign Wen? And he got off at deck four? Was he holding a decoupler, by any chance?"

"I am afraid he was not."

Geordi threw up his hands in frustration.

"I can go get it for you, if you would like," Data offered. "I have come to assist you."

"No, you absolutely will not. You're supposed to be resting, remember. Not working. Captain's orders."

"But I am free to...t-...haahh'KTCFFF!...to pursue leisure activities as part of my rest. I will not be working, I will be pursuing a hobby which just happens to be assisting you with the...the...repairs on the..."

"Anti-gravity platform. And that's a very clever loophole you found, but I don't want to be the one to try to explain it to Captain Picard. So why don't you go back to your quarters before we both get in trouble."

"I do not wish to go back to my quarters. Would you like to go to the holodeck with me after you finish here? We could-"

"I don't think that'll fly either, Data. None of your holodeck programs really involve resting. Okay, look. Go back to your quarters and when I finish up here I'll come by for a visit. We can talk, or read, or whatever it is you want. How does that sound?"

"I do not wish to go back to my quarters."

"Data, what has gotten into you? Just...tell me one thing. What is the status of your internal power cells?"

"68 percent of capacity. Recharging at 45 percent of optimal levels."

"And you walked all the way down here...what were you thinking? They're going to empty entirely if you don't watch it. What happens if you power down completely, anyway?"

"I do not know."

"Yeah, neither do I, and that's why I don't want to take any chances. You can stay here, but only because I am not letting you walk anywhere else unsupervised, just in case. Do you think you can sit over there and rest quietly until I'm finished?"

Data nodded and obediently walked over to the corner and sat down, staring straight ahead. He seemed entirely unaware of Geordi's actions. Perhaps he was actively avoiding paying attention, or perhaps...well, who knew what went on in that head of his.

Eventually, however, as time wore on and Geordi became increasingly frustrated with a problem he was unable to solve, he found himself grateful for Data's presence, and figured he'd call him in to help him figure it out.

"Data?"

Data's motionless body snapped back to attention. "Yes?"

"It's making a noise."

"Pardon?"

"Everything checks out. It should be perfectly fine now. But...it's making a noise. A weird whistling noise. I can't for the life of me find out what's causing it. Do you hear it?"

Data held his breath and cocked his head, tuning his auditory receptors to catch any hint of a sound.

"I am sorry, but I do not hear a whistling noise."

"There! There it was again! You don't hear that?"

Data shook his head.

"I dunno, Data. Maybe I've been working too hard and I'm imagining things."

"Should I call Counselor Troi?"

"There! I definitely heard it that time...hold on a second. Data, say something."

"What do you wish me to say?"

"I don't believe it...take a breath in for me."

Data dutifully obeyed.

"Data...are you having trouble breathing?"

Data shrugged. "Yes. However, as that function is not essential to my survival, I decided to disregard the problem for now."

"Yeah, not essential except that the circulating air cools your internal systems, which are running pretty damn hot right now." And he used air to power his speech function, which explained why his voice sounded slightly off.

Geordi put a comforting hand on Data's shoulder.

"Wanna go back to your quarters and rest for a while?"

"Hkchhu!"

"Yeah, I'm gonna go ahead and take that as a yes."

[Cutelittlenose]

The holodeck might be interesting to pursue. Maybe he sneaks out? I'm curious as to whether or not the program(s) would react to his condition or not. This chapter was great. Data went on a mini-adventure to see Geordi. He brought supplies. I hope his breathing gets better.