Hello again.

Yep, this is the start of a new Big O fic. I just hope you like it.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Big O, Characters, locations, yadda, yadda, so if anything is out of character i'm sorry in advance. I DO however own Daniel Smith, as well as one location, and one other character, as well as something else i'll talk about in the ending Disclaimer.

Read and Review, No flames, cos i'll just ignore you.

Enjoy!

Dearing

CHAPTER 1

THE DIARIES

"We're here again?" He asked as we entered the old mansion, before smirking, "Aren't you afraid of your 'little sisters' trying to attack us again?"

I scowled at him as we walked past the mechanical bird, and upward to the laboratory.

"Remind me again why we're here?" he grumbled as we approached the giant metal door.

If I had been human I would have probably sighed.

"If you remember Roger," I said in monotone, "We did not have enough time to probably investigate my father's lab, and it was you who suggested we returned here."

The Negotiator sighed and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "If you say so." he sighed.

I allowed myself to smirk slightly as I pushed down on the metal handle down effortlessly, much to Roger's chagrin.

I heard him mutter something about androids knowing everything as we entered the library. The library with no books in it.

"Mind your step," I said emotionlessly as I stepped over the red laser, making sure Roger did the same, not really wanting to be stuck to a giant magnet…again.

I heard him sigh behind me, followed by a couple of clunks as he stepped over the laser with a flourish.

"Louse,"

As I continued towards the second metal door, I took the time to look around the empty room, gazing at the empty shelves, gathering dust.

It was then something caught my eye, making me stop suddenly.

It was a book.

Or, to be more precise, three, small books. Three hard-backed, black, leather bound books.

I stopped so suddenly that Roger bumped into me.

"Hey!" he stumbled back, "Why'd you stop?"

I didn't answer, I just kept looking up at the books, right on one of the top shelves.

When I didn't give him a reply, Roger followed my gaze to the books, before raising his eyebrows in surprise.

"Didn't see those last time," he mused aloud.

"They are pretty high up," I observed, "no doubt we missed them in the dim light."

Roger nodded absently, "Guess we better get them down."

Without a moments hesitation, I suddenly leapt onto the shelves with surprising agility, before grabbing the books, and coming down neatly to the floor.

Roger smirked, "Show off."

I scowled again.

"You really are, such a louse Roger…"

At that moment a grinding noise from behind me forced me to cut short my insult.

Upon turning around, I realised that several shelves, around six from the bottom, appeared to have pushed themselves out of the wall and split off, all the while as a opening appeared in the floor.

I heard Roger gasp in amazement as a tall, narrow, silvery tube slowly emerged from the floor in a blast of steam, filling the space provided by the shelves.

"What on Earth?" Roger whispered as he stepped forward, "What is this thing?"

It was a long silver tube, with a glass front, probably with enough room to fit one person, perhaps slightly shorter then Roger, but slightly taller then me.

The glass was fogged up with steam coming from the inside, allowing any view of the inside to be impossible.

I couldn't tell at the time, but I felt this was all…very familiar. Like I had seen this pod before.

While I was pondering this feeling, Roger had his eyes up to the glass, trying to peer in.

"I…I can't tell. But…it looks like…there's someone in there."

Then, it hit me. Or rather, poured out of me. That strange android code that had affected me around that Megadeus we found underground. It poured out of me like a torrent that couldn't be stopped.

I knew the feeling that came with this gibberish as Roger called it. It was a cold feeling, a deathly feeling. A feeling Roger called…fear.

Without thinking, I quickly forced my hands over my mouth, dropping the books in the process with a loud thump.

Roger looked back at the sound of the code, fearing what I had been thinking.

Quickly, he rolled up his left sleeve, and brought his watch to his mouth.

"BIG O! SHOW…"

He was cut off suddenly however, for at that moment, the silver pod began to beep softly.

"Huh?" Roger turned back to the pod, just in time to see the glass doors slide open, allowing the smoke to clear.

Making sure I wouldn't start babbling again, I slowly bent down and retrieved the books from the floor. As I did so, I noticed some gold writing on the books front. Slowly, I wiped the dust of the lettering, my eyes widening as it was revealed.

"Dorothy," I heard Roger say uncertainty, "Do you know this guy?"

I looked up. Standing in the pod was a boy. No, not a boy, more of a young man, around the same age as I looked.

He had dark straight hair, neatly trimmed, curling around his forehead slightly.

He didn't look of a particularly strong build, but, as I have proved to countless people, looks can be deceiving.

His clothes appeared casual. He wore a simple black T-shirt, over which was a grey jacket, hanging open. Below he wore a pair of sky blue jeans, held up by a black belt with silver buckle. Finally, the jeans were tucked into a pair of knee high, black leather boots, zipped up on one side.

His features were handsome, aside from the fact I couldn't see his eyes, for they were closed, but what intrigued me so was the colour of his skin.

It wasn't the fleshy pink of humans, it was white. Almost ivory white, like my casings.

"Dorothy?"

"He appears to be an android," I said simply. I couldn't understand why, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I had met this person before. No, I couldn't have. Perhaps the original Dorothy had met him. It was her house after all.

I looked down at the books in my arms, reading the gold lettering again. I had to ask him.

"Roger, what was your father's name?"

"Hm?" Roger looked agitated, "Dorothy, I hardly think this is the time…"

"What was his name?"

Roger sighed, there was no way he was going to win this, and he knew it.

"James," he said finally, "Why do you ask?"

I frowned down at the cover of the diary, no that wasn't it.

"What about your Grandfather's name?"

"Daniel, I think. Dorothy what's this about?"

I knew it. Without a word, I picked up the book on top of the pile, and held it up for Roger to read.

His eyes widened as he did.

There, in gold writing sat the words:

THE DIARY OF DANIEL SMITH