DISCLAIMER: I don't own Big O; Sunrise, Inc. does. I do, however, own this original story.

The Handmaiden

By The Lady Razorsharp

Part 7: Rose in Bloom

Katherine rocked her son gently, singing Lotte's lullaby under her breath. On her left sat Alex Rosewater, arms folded and gaze locked straight ahead. To her right, Lotte was slumped into the leather seat, her mechanical frame still stunned by the charge of Alex's sinister device. The windows were too dark to see out, and dread rippled along Katherine's spine.

"Where are you taking us?" she asked again.

Unlike the last two times she'd demanded an answer, Alex sighed through clenched teeth. "I told you. You're going to be staying with the others until it's time."

"Time for what?" she pried.

The interior lights of the car glinted on Alex's frosty smile. "What did the android tell you, Katherine? Did she prophesy about the baby at your breast?"

Katherine held Roger closer. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Alex chuckled. "You do realize that her memory will be wiped, don't you? She won't remember you or your son."

It was as if he had dropped an icicle down the back of her neck. "You--you can't!" She threw a desperate glance toward the slack form. Lotte looked so vulnerable, with her copper hair strewn across her face and her dark eyes in shadow. "She has as much right to her memories as anyone!"

"Memories." Alex turned his gaze to the glossy black partition separating them from the driver. "That's what this is all about. Congratulations, Katherine. You just may be more perceptive than my father gave you credit for."

The car slowed to a stop, and Lotte's door opened to reveal two men in Rose Terrace livery. "Where do you want this, Mr. Rosewater?" one of them asked, eyeing the android warily.

"Alex." Katherine didn't move from her spot. She raised her head and glared at Alex. "Lotte knows Roger. Even if you take that memory away from her, she will find him."

Waving her words away, Alex snorted. "That's nonsense. It's like unplugging a toaster, or snapping off a lightswitch. How could you think this android is any different?"

"Because," Katherine seethed, sliding painfully across the slick leather seat, Roger still tucked securely in her arms. "You didn't see her when she held Roger. They are bound together, Alex. There is nothing in this world that can change that." She strode bravely toward the two muscled guards standing at the wrought-iron gate set into the rose-covered hedges.

"Let me enlighten you," Alex growled, gripping Katherine's bicep when she would have swept past him. "We're going to unscrew the top of her head and stick an industrial-strength magnet in her skull. In less than two seconds, she won't even know her own name, much less remember your son's."  He grinned mirthlessly as Katherine blanched.  "Of course, we're not sure androids can feel pain. There's so much about the core technology we still don't understand. Even if she does, well, androids aren't too good at being able to articulate such things."

Katherine yanked her arm away from Alex's grip. A glob of spittle flew from between her lips to land on his cheek. "Go to hell." She waited until the guards had unlocked the gate, and stepped through without looking back.

Alex wiped his cheek with a red silk handkerchief. "You have no idea," Alex muttered to himself, as the gate clanged shut behind Katherine.

A red rubber ball bounced across Katherine's path, and she made a quick sidestep to avoid getting the ball underfoot. The ball hit the hedge and lodged itself underneath the branches. Up ahead, a small blond boy scrambled up the flagstone path on the hunt for his toy, dark eyes flicking this way and that.  Spotting Katherine and Roger, the boy gave a small gasp and moved back a step.

"Jason!" A woman's voice floated over the tall hedges, and a young blond woman rounded the corner. The sunlight lit stray hairs that had escaped from her chignon; apparently Jason was proving especially elusive this morning. "There you are! Don't go running off like that." The woman stopped in the middle of the path after she, too, spotted Katherine and Roger.

"Oh! Hello." The woman laid her hand on Jason's shoulder, and the boy buried his face in his mother's skirt. "He's shy sometimes around strangers." She dropped to her knees and lifted her son's chin in her hand. "Can you say hello to the nice lady?"

The boy glanced at Katherine skeptically. "Hello," he piped.

"Hello, Jason," Katherine nodded. "I'm Mrs. Rosew—ah, that is, I'm Ms. Smith."

"We don't stand on ceremony here," the blond woman smiled. "I'm Tina. Tina Beck."

"Then I'm Katherine. This is my son, Roger."

Tina leaned forward and cooed at Roger. "Oh, what a darling boy. I can't imagine why Gordon—" Her face fell, and she hurried to reclaim Jason's lost toy from the rosebush. "Here, sweetheart. The others will be missing us."

Katherine lunged forward a step. "Please—what were you going to say?"

Tina stopped for a moment, and then turned back halfway. "You'd think by now I wouldn't say such things."

Katherine took another step toward Tina. "What things?"

Tina turned around, her smoky quartz eyes begging Katherine: Please don't ask me any more.

Katherine swallowed noisily. "You can't imagine why Gordon…what?"

Tina lowered her gaze to the path. "I can't imagine why Gordon…wouldn't want to raise Roger as his own." She closed her eyes and shook her head. "I can understand why my boy…well, I had hoped he would take after his father." She smoothed Jason's golden hair, sifting his saffron cowlick through her fingers. The boy blinked, clutching his toy tightly.

Katherine's head was spinning. "I still don't understand," she whispered, gazing at her son's placid, beautiful face.

She looked up at the touch of Tina's hand on her shoulder. "Come," the blond woman said gently. "Let's get you settled. Perhaps in time, you will find answers to your questions."

~*****~

With Paradigm's perpetually cloudy skies, it was more of an art and less of a science for the light tenders in East Town to get the right mix of natural light to sunlamps.  However, today seemed especially bright, and as Alex strode from the foyer into the sunny atrium, he marveled at the perfectly balanced illumination.   "Hello, Dad," Alex said, stooping to kiss his father's cheek. "Beautiful day, isn't it?"

Gordon didn't look up from his newspaper as Alex took his seat at the opposite end of the long table. "Mmm. Did you take care of that errand I asked you to?"

Alex smiled his thanks at Norman, who was pouring coffee into Alex's cup. "Yes, I did. She wasn't happy about it."

"Hmm. I don't expect she was, at that." Gordon shook the paper and folded it neatly.  "Did she sign the papers?"

"On the second try, but yes, she did." Alex removed a cream-colored envelope from his jacket pocket.  He gave the envelope to Norman, who moved the eight steps to deliver it to Gordon. "She was a little hard to convince."

"She's got spirit, that one."  Gordon shook out his napkin and draped it over his knee. "That's why I married her," he added, as Norman replaced the coffee pot on the sideboard and went to retrieve the trolley.

Alex sipped his coffee.  "I never understood that.  Why did you marry her, out of all the others?" His face fell, and he put down his cup.  "Did she please you more than my mother did?"

Gordon sighed.  "I would have married your mother, Heaven rest her soul, but she took matters into her own hands before I had a chance. It's nothing short of a miracle that you survived."

As Norman glided back in with the silver-domed trolley, Alex tried once again to imagine his poor, doomed mother. Gordon had told Alex the story when the boy was eleven; how one night, a lost soul approached Gordon on the street, offering him her body in exchange for money, and how Gordon saw something golden underneath the cheap clothes and the heavy makeup. Gordon burnished her into a jewel with fine clothes and an education, and despite a solemn vow to himself, he took her to his bed for one brilliant, blinding night of passion. When she discovered she was pregnant, the hormone fluctuations in her brain cracked her shining façade to reveal the rotting mass underneath. Overnight, the girl became a raving witch, and in her eighth month, threw herself headlong down the balustrade. Only the most skilled of Paradigm's physicians had been able to rescue Alex from the womb that so easily could have been his grave.

Norman delivered twin plates of bacon, toast, and soft-boiled eggs to the men, and then stepped back from the table.  "Will there be anything else, sir?" he asked Gordon.

"Nothing right now, Norman, thank you," Gordon nodded, cracking his egg with the back of his spoon.  "I do have an errand for you, but that can wait until after breakfast."

"Very good, sir."  Norman bowed and left the men to their repast.

After the butler was out of earshot, Gordon sighed heavily. "No sense in prolonging the inevitable."  He shook his head. "It's a damned shame, having to lose Norman. I'll never find another like him."

Alex dropped his spoon with a clatter, fury simmering in his eyes. "So it's true. You've really chosen that boy over me?"

"Alex," Gordon began gently, "Numbers don't lie. I had the lab run his tests twice. Every cell in that boy's body rings true; he is Dominus."  He wiped his mouth with his napkin.  "And as Dominus, he'll need someone to protect him. He'll need to have something to spark the connection, to touch the flame to the fuse, if you will."

Tears filled Alex's dark eyes.  "What about me, Dad?" He gripped white-knuckled fistfuls of the tablecloth.  "Who's going to strike the match for me?"

"I know you tested positive for some of the cues, son, but Roger—"

"Roger Smith," Alex spat through clenched teeth.  "He's not even going to carry your name, Dad! How can he be Dominus?"

Gordon's face was grim.  "You must accept what is, my son. Roger is Dominus. Any effort of yours—or anyone else's—to try and skew that fate will be doomed."  He glanced at his watch. "We've wasted enough time on your foolishness, Alex."

"But—"

Gordon took the tablecloth in both hands and pulled it off the table, carrying china, silver, and crystal with it onto the floor.  At the horrific crash, Norman came at the run.

"Sir? What in—Oh, my Heavens!"  Immediately, Norman dropped to his knees and began picking up the broken china.

"Ah, it's my fault," Gordon sighed, motioning surreptitiously for Alex to come stand behind Norman.  "I mistook the edge of the tablecloth for my napkin, and I took it with me when I stood up to refill my coffee."

"Never mind, sir; accidents will happen," Norman was saying, just before the knife-like edge of Alex's hand dug deep into the nerves at the base of Norman's neck.  The butler immediately went limp and crumpled to the carpet.

Gordon stepped forward and checked the butler's pulse.  "Good. He's okay, just out cold. Damn fine work, my boy."

Hating himself for it, Alex found himself thrilling to the modicum of praise. "Thank you, Dad."  He glanced up at the two men in groundskeepers' overalls who had been waiting outside the door.  "Take him the same place you took the android."

The men lifted the butler's slack form, and as Alex made to follow them, Gordon stopped his firstborn with a hand on his forearm.  "Remember, my son," he cautioned.  "Hinder the boy, and you'll only dig your own grave.  Do you understand me?"

"It should have been me," Alex said without emotion, then turned and left the dining room.

~*****~

Everything was pleasantly dark, and he floated along peacefully, outside time. Then a bright light pierced the darkness, blinding him, and he lifted his hand to stave off the light.

"Norman," said a voice that sounded like thunder.  "Norman Burg."

Is that my name?  "Y…yes.  Yes?" He squinted to make out strange shadows thrown by someone standing in front of the light.  "Yes. I am…Norman Burg."

"And what is your purpose, Norman?"

Casting back into the foggy expanse of his memory, Norman searched for the item in question.  "To…to serve the Dominus."

"And who is your Dominus?"

The man wept for joy. How fortunate he was, to know his place, to have a purpose! And such a purpose, such a task!  "That dear boy—Roger Smith."

 A harpy's cry split the air, filling Norman's head with red, red rage. "Roger Smith!"    

"No—You mustn't!" Norman balled his hands into fists.  "I won't let you have him!"

"Roger Smith!"  The shriek echoed for what seemed like eternity. "Die, NEGOTIATOR!"

The first voice boomed out again.  "Seal away the abomination until the appointed hour!"  The harpy screamed in fury, but soon its cries were muffled, and then stilled altogether. 

Norman's vision cleared just enough to see a handsome young man in a red shirt standing over him.  "Who…who are you?" Norman queried, his throat dry.

The young man smiled.  "The new order," he replied.