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Data had always been a curious case to Deanna. How do you counsel someone as an empath and therapist, when they don’t feel (or at least believe they don’t feel) any emotions? When they’d first met, Deanna was certain Geordi LaForge would be Data’s equivalent to her ship’s counsellor position– only Geordi was able to understand even the most basic, surface-level programming and processing involved in Data’s positronic brain. But as time ticked by on the Enterprise-D, and as Data learned and grew through his interactions with the crew, it quickly became clear that there were problems that even Geordi couldn’t whisk away for him.
That left Deanna in a position out of her depths; for her whole counselling career, she’d relied heavily on the use of her empathic abilities to help and soothe her patients. How do you apply that to an android, who you can’t feel or sense? How do you counsel without feeling? How do you put those non-feeling feelings into a context that an android could rationalize?
One of the most notable times Deanna felt this friction with the help she knew how to provide and the help Data was willing to receive was when he lost his daughter, Lal.
Losing a child is one of the most difficult, emotional things that could happen to someone; It was almost uncanny to see someone she knew so well acting so apathetic to such an earth-shattering event, even if that’s how Data always acted. When Deanna called him into her office to talk about the loss, it took all of her strength to stay as the counsellor and not become the patient. She’d only known Lal for a short while, but her addition to the ship had been so powerful, it felt like the hull may as well have a blast hole through it. The ship felt empty, damaged, torn open like a wound. And there Data sat across from her, tilting his head at a perfect 45 degree angle as he calmly informed her,
“Counselor, I do not 'feel' the loss of Lal. And though I cannot feel, all of her memories are saved in my positronic net. I can revisit those memories whenever I desire. To me, she is not truly gone, and I am incapable of missing her.”
Data didn’t emerge from his quarters for a week after their meeting. Picard visited only once, where Deanna heard from Will that Data requested a week-long leave of absence to “organize his new memory files and clean up the laboratory where he was working on Lal.” Of course Picard honored this request; he, like Deanna, felt that somewhere in that positronic net, Data was feeling emotions about the event that he didn’t know how to identify or name. The least they could do was give him time to process the event in his own way.
Geordi made regular visits during that week. Some were at the request of Data, and some weren’t. When Deanna asked him how Data was doing as he passed by her door on his way back to engineering after one of those visits, he sighed.
“He thinks there’s some.. malfunction. We’ve run countless diagnostic tests, but everything comes up normal. I think he’s just not used to experiencing a loss this strong, and is misinterpreting it as a fault in his programming.” Geordi turned, and looked down the hall towards Data’s quarters. “There’s nothing I can really do outside of being a friend instead of an engineer.”
“And there’s nothing I can do as a counsellor, either. At least, not that I know of,” Deanna added. “I’ve only ever tended to patients who I can read, who I can quantify the experience of in some way. I want to help him, but it's difficult to help someone who doesn’t feel anything– in the technical sense, at least. And even though I called him to my office not long after..”
Lal died, she thought, but felt a lump form in her throat as she tried to say Lal’s name. “...he just told me he wasn’t capable of missing her and thanked me for my concern.” She sighed. “He insists he has no emotions, and yet..”
“I know Counselor.. I know.” Geordi said.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
The Enterprise-D was gone; all that was left was rubble and debris they left behind on Veridian III, which, doubtless, Starfleet was already making arrangements to clean up and recycle into something else. Deanna’s home, gone in an instant. Suddenly she found herself on her way to the nearest starbase aboard the U.S.S. Farragut, awaiting orders, a new assignment, something. Listlessly travelling the stars in the wake of tragedy.
Because of the sheer number of refugees the Enterprise had left behind, along with the size of the crew and passenger population aboard the ships that had come to transport them, they were housed in the cargo bays, sitting on benches that were strewn across the walls and floor. The crew had given all of their effort and available resources to make the trip as comfortable as possible. While it wasn’t that comfortable even with the accommodations, everyone was thankful for the seating and extra replicators, if nothing else.
Data was sitting at Deanna’s side with Spot curled in his lap, while the rest of the bridge crew of the Enterprise were socializing with the crew of the Farragut. The room was abuzz with the constant hum of chatter, but somehow where they were sitting felt isolated, even as others whisked by.
Everything Deanna could’ve expected had been upended in just one day. And now, sitting next to her, the one individual she could never seem to parse was like an open book in her mind– it was like the door between them, where once she could only discern faint, muffled whispers, had been broken open, and a wall of sound now filled her senses where once there was nothing, as though the sound had been intense this whole time, but only made itself available to her now.
The sensation is probably the same for Data too, in a way, she thought.
He’d retired from organizing relief plans with the Farragut and Enterprise crews a while ago and had been sitting with Deanna in comfortable silence, his gaze fixed thoughtfully at the other side of the room. His brow was furrowed, not unlike it would be before he gained emotions and was trying to discern the meaning of a joke. When Deanna began to emerge from her contemplation, she noticed that he’d been in that exact position, with that same expression, for nearly an hour now.
“Data? Is something the matter?”
“Counsellor-” he began, but corrected himself. This was a matter of a more personal nature. “Deanna, going through my memory banks has left me feeling a lot of strong emotions about past events. I feel as though I am processing things that happened long ago as if they are happening to me as we speak, and that is becoming increasingly… difficult.” He didn’t look at Deanna as he spoke, but rather, directed his gaze to the floor, and then to Spot. “I feel that.. although I knew at the time what emotional response would be appropriate, I failed to prepare myself for just how intense it would be.”
“What memory is it that you’re dwelling on?” Deanna asked, but based on the strong waves of pain, sadness, and regret she felt coming from him, she had a feeling she already knew.
“My memories of Lal.” Data said. “And what happened on the day that she suffered her cascade failure.”
“Oh, Data..” Deanna breathed, laying a hand on Data’s shoulder. He didn’t react. “Describe to me how you’re feeling. That may help you process the experience.”
He thought in silence for a while. “I feel.. As though there is something missing inside of my chest cavity. And like that thing has been replaced with something heavy.” A tear streaked down his face, but he didn’t seem to notice.
“I believe that’s a feeling of guilt, Data.” Deanna offered. “Guilt manifests in different ways, for different people. But some describe it as ‘a pit in your stomach’ or ‘a weight in your chest.’ Maybe you feel guilty about your inability to stop Lal’s deterioration.” She kept her voice soft and light, as though the barrier holding back their emotions would buckle under the weight of her words.
Data nodded. “I think you are correct.” He contemplated for a moment before continuing.
“During the week I spent in my quarters following the event, I remember replaying the memory of Admiral Haftel and I’s attempts at preventing Lal’s deactivation, trying to find a logistical fault in the actions we took, but I could not. Now, recalling the experience, I feel what I believe is frustration and…helplessness.” As he finally lifted his eyes to meet Deanna’s, his voice broke, and he noticed the tear as it dropped onto Spot’s head. “There was nothing I could do for Lal, even though she had done so much for me.”
Spot lifted her head and began purring, trying to comfort Data by kneading his leg as his tears came faster. His face remained stonelike as the tears streamed silently in yellow-tinged rivulets down his cheeks until they dropped into his lap. Spot paid no mind. Deanna bit her lip to try and keep from crying herself, remembering how she felt– or rather, how the whole crew felt– when Lal died. It lit a flame in her heart that threatened to burn her down like a forest fire every time she recalled it.
“I can now feel what she felt in her memories.” He continued, his furrowed brow shifting upwards. “I can feel her fear at Admiral Haftel’s request to separate us, and her fear of deactivation. I wish she could have made more memories– experienced more positive emotions. Her feelings were so strong, so overpowering to the rest of her programming. I wish she could have lived long enough for me to feel love for her as strongly as she felt love for me. Long enough for me to understand her.”
Deanna tried her best to compose herself; her voice quivered anyways. “Whenever we lose someone, it’s natural to dwell on what could’ve been, rather than what was. But what happened wasn’t your fault Data– it was no one’s fault. Sometimes things just aren’t meant to be.”
At this point, the rest of the senior officers had noticed the exchange, though they couldn’t hear the words. Deanna glimpsed Geordi and Will glancing over, and Beverly coaxing them away. She could feel their worry, but also their restraint; they knew that this exchange was meant to be just the two of them.
“When Lal died, the whole ship felt her absence. Even in the short time she was with us, she made a difference in so many people’s lives. But more than that, Data– you made a difference in hers. And even without emotions, you gave her a lifetime’s worth of experiences. Without you, she would’ve never felt emotions in the first place. And it’s because of you that, despite her fear, the emotion that prevailed as you both said goodbye was her love.”
There was a long pause as his eyes fell away again. Deanna hoped her words reached him, even just a little. So many emotions came from him in waves, it was hard to discern what he may be thinking. He seemed to compose himself before replying.
“Thank you, Deanna. For calling me to your office after Lal was deactivated, and being there to offer support while I isolated myself. Although I did not know how to articulate my gratitude then, I want to express it now. Without your intervention, I fear I may have dwelled on my loss even longer.”
Deanna smiled. “I’m glad I was able to help, even just a little.”
Data gave a slight smile in return. “I did not know it, but for all this time, you have been showing me how to be human in ways I did not know I needed, and may not have understood at the time. All of the advice you have given me over the years… I understand now what you meant. It is because of your help that I am able to learn about… what it means to ‘feel.’”
They both looked up to see the rest of the senior officers standing in front of them, with mixed expressions of hopeful optimism and concern alike.
“Is everything alright, Commander?” Will said, donning his “First Officer” voice, but carrying himself more as a friend rather than a superior.
“Yes Commander. I believe the colloquialism that would best suit the situation is that everything is.. ‘a-ok,” Data said, and Will let his face relax into a smile. It was one of his wide, genuine smiles, which felt as warm as a sunbeam on a cold winter’s day. Deanna knew it all too well.
As Data stood up from the bench while gently setting Spot on the ground, Worf laid a firm hand on his shoulder for a moment and nodded with his usual stoic expression, as if to bestow strength, while Beverly offered Deanna a hand to join them on her feet. Geordi moved to his right and rested a hand on his other shoulder.
“Data, just because there’s a lot going on in your mind right now, you don’t have to bottle it up. If you ever need anything, we’re all here for you. After all, we have a lot more experience with the whole ‘emotions’ thing.” Geordi said with a light chuckle. “You’re not gonna be on stable footing at first, and that's okay. You have 34 years of memories to process from a new angle– take them one step at a time.”
Now free of the professional persona, Will jubilantly threw an arm around Data from the other side, grinning ear-to-ear. “Welcome to the ‘Emotions Club’, Data– since we were too busy plummeting into Veridian III for me to say it earlier. You’re in for one hell of a ride.”
Suddenly, Will’s free hand pulled in Deanna, who grabbed Beverly, who interlocked arms with Captain Picard, who lightheartedly rested a hand on Worf’s back, guiding him into the fray as he went stiff as a board in protest. In an instant, they were all surrounding Data in one big embrace.
Maybe it was a sort of catharsis for all of them, in the wake of everything they’d gone through. Maybe everything would be alright after all, as long as they had each other.
In the past, Data had never proclaimed to be for or against hugging; when prompted, he’d reply that he “did not gain any personal benefit from the activity, but respected its meaningfulness to humans regardless.”
But now, Deanna thought, she could sense he was finally coming to a consensus.