For all that Daneel keeps insisting that he is incomprehensibly other, that the gulf between human and robot is much too far for understanding, Ned feels nothing but sympathy and understanding for him, as he recites his fears. Because that's what it is, Ned recognizes. It's not that Daneel dislikes him, or is uninterested in- in whatever this is between them. He's afraid. Afraid that he's not good enough, that something about his existence is fundamentally insufficient, afraid that he'll cause pain without meaning to. Those are feelings that Ned knows, inside and out.

So he doesn't listen to the negatives - the cannots and the should nots - but only lets himself really hear the but I would like to. And those are fantastic words to hear, made even moreso by Daneel's subsequent gesture.

He's just about to start arguing that no, another human being with human-style feelings isn't what he needs or wants at all, but when Daneel reaches the drawing of him in the sketchbook, his voice dies in his throat. Because he'd said he only drew people who were significant to him. Said that Ned was his friend and in Daneel's mouth that word has weight. Said that he wants to be more to Ned, even though he's afraid he isn't capable of it.

All at once his eyes are stinging with tears and he has to look up at the ceiling, blinking rapidly. But he's smiling as he does it, beaming, overwhelmed with a luminous kind of joy.

"How could you possibly think I need anything more than that?" His voice is thick with emotion,and he half-laughs, wipes at the corner of one of one eye absently. He can't seem to make himself stop smiling long enough to get the words out, "You can say all you want about being so different, but I've given that same speech before, a dozen times. Told people they should stay away because there's something wrong with me and I can't be what they need. I know how frightening it can be, when you think you might hurt someone, or think that you aren't good enough for them. It's so frightening that it seems safer to not even try to get close."

Ned swallows, looks at the page again now that his vision has stopped swimming. There's that same level of detail and affection in the lines as there had been in some of the others, and it almost hurts to look at it, but in a good way.

"I think you're capable of more than you give yourself credit for. But even if you weren't, and even if you could never return my feelings in a way that seems human to you, that's not the point. That isn't what I need. What I need is- is what you've been doing this whole time."

Ned rests his head on Daneel's shoulder, admits, "All of this is confusing for me, too, Daneel. I'm playing it by ear as much as you are. But all I know is that I feel good when I'm with you, and when I'm not with you I keep thinking about when I can see you next. You make me feel safe and happy and I've gotten so used to not feeling safe and not feeling happy that I almost don't recognize what it feels like. And I just want to make you feel that, as much as I can, in whatever way you can. So I think... even if there are no guarantees, I think we shouldn't let ourselves get scared away from something that might be good for both of us."

He holds out his hand, palm up, fingers outstretched. It is there, if Daneel wants to take it. Not a demand, but an invitation.