The Runaway
A "Big O" fanfiction by Artemis836
Roger's eggs are getting cold, thought R. Dorothy Waynewright; I should wake him up. But what should I play for him this morning, another classical piece? Dorothy wanted to play some blues, but that always brought about criticism from Roger.
She could hear him already, "You know, no one can ever be moved by your music because it's fake, your just imitating us."
Fake, she thought, that's what he thinks I am. She knew that this was true and somehow that hurt her. But I am fake, she told herself, what difference does it make if Roger knows what is true and obvious? Yet, she was still disturbed by this revelation. Why did she care what Roger thought of her, he was a louse. His taste in clothes was as bad as his arrogance. Dorothy was puzzled, why did this man confuse her so? Why would she care about the opinion of a man who did not seem to care about her? She would not care any more, she told herself. Dorothy finally decided on a piece: Rhapsody in Blue. As her mechanical fingers danced across the keys, Roger Smith lumbered into the room. There was Dorothy, her hands flying perfectly across the ivory while her upper body swayed with the pulse of the piece.
She's quite lovely, thought Roger. Still he said the same old things to her. He should have told her how wonderful she sounded this morning and that he did not mind being awoken by this beautiful music, but what came out was the total opposite.
"There you go again, Dorothy, imitating humans. You'll never be real so why don't you just stop trying." Wow, he thought, what did I just say?
That was a little harsh. He regretted the words as soon as they left his lips, but the deed was done. Dorothy stopped her playing.
Her head turned towards Roger and her cold eyes stared at him, "Is that an order?"
Her voice contained no anger or hatred, she merely said what she said, no emotion in it at all. Roger was taken back. Did I hurt her? No, she's just a machine. Roger never answered her question but walked into the Dinning Room for his late, and now cold, breakfast. As he sat down, Dorothy sat across the table from him. As she was sitting down, Roger noticed the perfection in her. Normal people all had their little defects: a funny walk, a twisted hip, something. But not Dorothy. Her gait was flawless, as was her posture. She was like some delicate goddess of glass. Perfect in every way, yet so fragile. Roger also noticed that she was wearing a new black dress, Norman must have bought it for her. It was surprisingly attractive for a black dress. Once again, when he tried to tell her how good it looked on her he said something totally different.
"You know when most people drink a glass of tea like you are, they change ever so slightly the way they raise the glass and drink. It's only natural. But not you, you do it exactly the same every single time. Your too perfect to be real."
Roger was vexed. He had always been quite a man with the ladies, what on earth was wrong with him. If she had feelings or emotions, she would have slapped him. Why was everything he said to her an insult or criticism? Dorothy just looked back at him with those beautiful, green, cold eyes of hers. She said nothing. I must have actually hurt her this time. No, that was not possible. Or was it?
The antique elevator doors opened and Roger Smith stepped out. It had been an easy negotiation today. Simple return of a kidnapping victim, everything had gone smoothly and Roger was feeling pretty sure of himself. Then he remembered this morning. The way Dorothy had looked at him after his harsh remarks. I'm going to apologize to her, for once, Roger told himself. Then something caught his eye. On a small table that had one of the telephones on it was a note and an envelope. He read the note to himself.
Goodbye, Roger Smith, here is your negotiation fee. I relieve you of your assignment to protect me. I believe this ends our relationship.
-R. Dorothy Waynewright
Roger opened the envelope and a large sum of money feel out of it onto the table. Suddenly Roger seemed to lose his balance. He steadied himself on the table. She's gone, he thought. She was affected by my comments, and now I have lost her. He shook his head. No, she just got tired of living here, it's no big deal, I have my money. But he knew that this was not so, and he could not believe it no matter how many times he told it to himself.
Dorothy was alone. She walked slowly down the dark streets of Paradigm City, thinking to herself. This is much better; Mr. Waynewright once told me that it is always better not to live in debt. But she knew that was not the real reason she left. Why did I leave? I did not want to be in that house anymore, but why? She knew deep down inside of her, Roger Smith. He was unkind to her. Well that made sense, she thought. To leave a place where someone is unkind to you was logical. What was illogical was that she missed Roger Smith. Although he was sometimes cold and cruel, she wanted to be with him.
"I am confused, " she spoke aloud but none of the people she passed seemed to notice her.
Roger Smith was eating dinner alone for the first time in weeks. He looked across the table, hoping that she would be there, but she was not. Norman walked slowly into the room and refilled Roger's glass of wine.
Then Roger realized something and spoke aloud to himself, "Where did she get the money?"
Norman stopped filling the glass and looked at Roger, "From me."
Rogers eyes popped open, "Why did you do that?"
"She wanted to leave and she told me. I offered my own money to her, she thanked me and told me that she would miss me, sir," Norman replied.
Norman left the Dinning Room. Roger sat there alone again. Suddenly he slammed his fist on the table. It is stupid to deny the truth any longer, he thought. I care about her. Even if she will not come back with me, I will find her and tell her I apologize. If she can forgive me then that will solve this. If she can not, then at least I know that I tired. He stood up and walked to the elevator. Norman was there, as if he knew Roger was going to go out and look for her.
"Leaving sir?" Norman asked.
"Yes," he replied.
"Where to, if I may inquire," said his loyal butler.
"To fix a mistake," responded Roger as he closed the elevator door behind him.
At about midnight, a haggard Roger Smith walked out of the elevator. He saw Norman and explained his situation; "I drove all over the city looking for her, Norman...I don't know what I'm going to do..."
Norman just smiled and pointed to Roger's left. Roger turned his head. There she was, standing there waiting for him. Norman quickly exited. Roger rushed to her and wrapped his arms around her; "You came back! I thought I would never see you again. I missed you Dorothy. Why did you return?" Roger was hopeful.
"I missed you Roger Smith," she replied. "Despite all your criticism, I missed you. It was like I left apart of myself with you."
Roger looked into those lovely eyes of hers and knew that she would never leave him again. I love her, he thought, and she loves me. No matter how impossible its sounds, it is true. Then Dorothy placed her right hand on the left side of his face, tilted her head, and smiled.
A "Big O" fanfiction by Artemis836
Roger's eggs are getting cold, thought R. Dorothy Waynewright; I should wake him up. But what should I play for him this morning, another classical piece? Dorothy wanted to play some blues, but that always brought about criticism from Roger.
She could hear him already, "You know, no one can ever be moved by your music because it's fake, your just imitating us."
Fake, she thought, that's what he thinks I am. She knew that this was true and somehow that hurt her. But I am fake, she told herself, what difference does it make if Roger knows what is true and obvious? Yet, she was still disturbed by this revelation. Why did she care what Roger thought of her, he was a louse. His taste in clothes was as bad as his arrogance. Dorothy was puzzled, why did this man confuse her so? Why would she care about the opinion of a man who did not seem to care about her? She would not care any more, she told herself. Dorothy finally decided on a piece: Rhapsody in Blue. As her mechanical fingers danced across the keys, Roger Smith lumbered into the room. There was Dorothy, her hands flying perfectly across the ivory while her upper body swayed with the pulse of the piece.
She's quite lovely, thought Roger. Still he said the same old things to her. He should have told her how wonderful she sounded this morning and that he did not mind being awoken by this beautiful music, but what came out was the total opposite.
"There you go again, Dorothy, imitating humans. You'll never be real so why don't you just stop trying." Wow, he thought, what did I just say?
That was a little harsh. He regretted the words as soon as they left his lips, but the deed was done. Dorothy stopped her playing.
Her head turned towards Roger and her cold eyes stared at him, "Is that an order?"
Her voice contained no anger or hatred, she merely said what she said, no emotion in it at all. Roger was taken back. Did I hurt her? No, she's just a machine. Roger never answered her question but walked into the Dinning Room for his late, and now cold, breakfast. As he sat down, Dorothy sat across the table from him. As she was sitting down, Roger noticed the perfection in her. Normal people all had their little defects: a funny walk, a twisted hip, something. But not Dorothy. Her gait was flawless, as was her posture. She was like some delicate goddess of glass. Perfect in every way, yet so fragile. Roger also noticed that she was wearing a new black dress, Norman must have bought it for her. It was surprisingly attractive for a black dress. Once again, when he tried to tell her how good it looked on her he said something totally different.
"You know when most people drink a glass of tea like you are, they change ever so slightly the way they raise the glass and drink. It's only natural. But not you, you do it exactly the same every single time. Your too perfect to be real."
Roger was vexed. He had always been quite a man with the ladies, what on earth was wrong with him. If she had feelings or emotions, she would have slapped him. Why was everything he said to her an insult or criticism? Dorothy just looked back at him with those beautiful, green, cold eyes of hers. She said nothing. I must have actually hurt her this time. No, that was not possible. Or was it?
The antique elevator doors opened and Roger Smith stepped out. It had been an easy negotiation today. Simple return of a kidnapping victim, everything had gone smoothly and Roger was feeling pretty sure of himself. Then he remembered this morning. The way Dorothy had looked at him after his harsh remarks. I'm going to apologize to her, for once, Roger told himself. Then something caught his eye. On a small table that had one of the telephones on it was a note and an envelope. He read the note to himself.
Goodbye, Roger Smith, here is your negotiation fee. I relieve you of your assignment to protect me. I believe this ends our relationship.
-R. Dorothy Waynewright
Roger opened the envelope and a large sum of money feel out of it onto the table. Suddenly Roger seemed to lose his balance. He steadied himself on the table. She's gone, he thought. She was affected by my comments, and now I have lost her. He shook his head. No, she just got tired of living here, it's no big deal, I have my money. But he knew that this was not so, and he could not believe it no matter how many times he told it to himself.
Dorothy was alone. She walked slowly down the dark streets of Paradigm City, thinking to herself. This is much better; Mr. Waynewright once told me that it is always better not to live in debt. But she knew that was not the real reason she left. Why did I leave? I did not want to be in that house anymore, but why? She knew deep down inside of her, Roger Smith. He was unkind to her. Well that made sense, she thought. To leave a place where someone is unkind to you was logical. What was illogical was that she missed Roger Smith. Although he was sometimes cold and cruel, she wanted to be with him.
"I am confused, " she spoke aloud but none of the people she passed seemed to notice her.
Roger Smith was eating dinner alone for the first time in weeks. He looked across the table, hoping that she would be there, but she was not. Norman walked slowly into the room and refilled Roger's glass of wine.
Then Roger realized something and spoke aloud to himself, "Where did she get the money?"
Norman stopped filling the glass and looked at Roger, "From me."
Rogers eyes popped open, "Why did you do that?"
"She wanted to leave and she told me. I offered my own money to her, she thanked me and told me that she would miss me, sir," Norman replied.
Norman left the Dinning Room. Roger sat there alone again. Suddenly he slammed his fist on the table. It is stupid to deny the truth any longer, he thought. I care about her. Even if she will not come back with me, I will find her and tell her I apologize. If she can forgive me then that will solve this. If she can not, then at least I know that I tired. He stood up and walked to the elevator. Norman was there, as if he knew Roger was going to go out and look for her.
"Leaving sir?" Norman asked.
"Yes," he replied.
"Where to, if I may inquire," said his loyal butler.
"To fix a mistake," responded Roger as he closed the elevator door behind him.
At about midnight, a haggard Roger Smith walked out of the elevator. He saw Norman and explained his situation; "I drove all over the city looking for her, Norman...I don't know what I'm going to do..."
Norman just smiled and pointed to Roger's left. Roger turned his head. There she was, standing there waiting for him. Norman quickly exited. Roger rushed to her and wrapped his arms around her; "You came back! I thought I would never see you again. I missed you Dorothy. Why did you return?" Roger was hopeful.
"I missed you Roger Smith," she replied. "Despite all your criticism, I missed you. It was like I left apart of myself with you."
Roger looked into those lovely eyes of hers and knew that she would never leave him again. I love her, he thought, and she loves me. No matter how impossible its sounds, it is true. Then Dorothy placed her right hand on the left side of his face, tilted her head, and smiled.