"I feel..." 
"What do you feel, Lal?" 
"I love you, Father..." 
"I wish I could feel it with you." 
"I shall feel it for both of us...thank you...for my life..." 

       Data sat up in his bed. The dream. The same dream that he had been having on and off for weeks. 'Lal, my beloved daughter...I am so sorry, I tried to save you, I really tried,' he thought, mental anguish still raging through his circuits. He looked around the dimly lit room.

       His quarters aboard the Enterprise-E, though a bit smaller, were a lot less sparse than his quarters aboard the -D. But a few things remained the same. He still had the sculpture on his table, given to him by his one-time love interest, Jenna D'Sora. Over on the nightstand was the holo-crystal with the picture of Tasha. On a shelf sat the violin he still played at ship recitals, and over in the corner was his Sherlock Holmes outfit. But the most prominent items were his paintings, hung over almost every square inch of the walls. He hung them in a fashion that, even if you knew nothing of Data, you could learn a lot just by following his advancement over the years on the walls. He looked over to the left, and could see the painting of an anvil, a raven, a blacksmith, and smoke. As he progressed to the right, he came to his impressionist paintings, and one of his favorites, the blocks. But even among these most telling features, one painting stood out the most. His portrait of Lal. As he looked across the room into the eyes of his long-lost daughter, he was again moved to tears. 

       Could he have done more to save her? Of course, he knew the answer was no. He had done everything in his power to save her, and then some, but he still couldn't shake the feeling of guilt. "Damn this emotion chip," he said aloud. 

       The computer must have taken this as a directive for itself, for it chirped "Please restate your command." Data glanced up at the ceiling, as if the disembodied voice were something hiding behind the access panels and lighting systems. 

       "Damn you, too" The computer understood his intent this time, and shut up. Data slowly climbed out of bed, and trodded over to the replicator. "Water, forty-three degrees Fahrenheit." He chuckled. He knew the computer wouldn't mind the unusual temperature scale, but he still used it in the hopes that one day it would screw up his order, and he could tease Geordi about it. He drank the water, relishing the feel of the cold liquid as it ran down his throat. Even though he didn't need liquids much, he still drank them often, just for the sensations they evoked. 

       He was about to get back into bed, but changed his mind and went over to his workdesk instead. He didn't feel like dreaming anymore this night. He sat down and pressed a button on the console, then began to speak. "Science officer's personal log, stardate 50436.8. I had the dream again. It was the same as always, I knew what would happen, and yet I could not change a thing. I sat there and listened to Lal tell me how much she loved me, and all I could say were the same pathetic words I said then. I wanted to wrap my arms around her, and tell her how much I loved her. To prove to her that her father was not just a mindless automaton, with no capacity for feeling. I tried to say that she was the world to me, and that I would give anything to keep her alive, even give my own life for hers, but the only thing that came out was the same thing that always does. 'I wish I could feel it with you.' It sounds so inadequate. I now understand what I could not perceive before, when my mother told me of the androids that came before me. And, above all else, I finally understand how she felt when she told me her secret. That when she and my father left Omicron Theta she did not take me with them because she was afraid she would have to dismantle me like she had to do Lore." Data paused and reflected on what he had just said. 

       He shut off the recorder, and walked over to the replicator again. "Hot chocolate with mint, one hundred-fifty degrees Fahrenheit." He smiled again to himself. Counselor Troi had unknowingly transferred her habit to Data, and he hadn't been able to get enough chocolate ever since. This was a strange concoction she called a grasshopper. He was almost afraid to ask the origin of the name. 

       He returned to his desk and sat down again. "Computer, establish subspace commlink with Dr. Juliana Soo-, er, Tainer, Atrea IV." He thought to himself as he waited for the link to connect. 'Why am I doing this? This is crazy! I have not talked to her in months, what am I going to tell her now, that I can not sleep, and will mommy please tell me a story? It is absurd...' He was shaken out of his pondering by her voice.

       "Hello? Who is... Data, is that you? What's wrong my dear?"

       "Hello, Mom. I....I just wanted to say that...I love you...and....thank you, for my life..."

FINIS

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