In Medias Res

by Amanda Swiftgold

Roger and Dorothy may have a closer connection than they realize... Complete.

3. Part Three Reluctor

Please pardon the delay, I was horribly busy with three jobs this summer ^^. This part was supposed to be the conclusion, but it got way too long (the first scene is longer than either of the other two chapters) so I split it up into four separate chapters and will end up laying a horrible cliffhanger on you. ^_~ I probably don't have to remind you but this is in all events most likely an alternate universey-type thing. Doesn't really fit in anywhere, though I kind of try to force it to. And everything that happens in the flashbacks is based on postulation and theories, and nothing official. ^_^
By the way, I took a page from Act Ten of the series, 'Winter Night Phantom', while writing this story. (The whole fatalistic memory-become-reality thing.) So if it seems a little familiar in that respect, that's why.
reluctor - to struggle against; resist; make opposition

"In Medias Res"
By Amanda Swiftgold

Part Three - Reluctor

Accipere quam facere praestat injuriam.
"It is better to suffer an injustice than to do an injustice."
--Cicero

Sometimes he wondered if he felt more natural in his own skin or amidst the blinking lights and controls of Big O's cockpit. Or perhaps the giant mecha was simply an extension of himself, guided with the same mental energy that moved his feet when he walked. Roger was quite sure that this wasn't real, that it was a dream - but as it was a Big O dream he didn't mind. Not like those others had been but he wasn't going to think about that anymore. Even while asleep. It was getting so that he was dreading going to bed at night.

This is weird, that I know this is a dream but it's still happening anyway. What's that called, lucid dreaming? he wondered, scanning his surroundings through the vaguely orange glow of the viewscreen windows before him. What was he supposed to be fighting in this one? Sometimes they were enemies he'd really taken down, and other times they were mecha and monsters his subconscious conjured up. This time, however, he saw nothing except a field stretching out before him, and a small town in the distance, getting closer.

How odd, to be traveling somewhere inside the big robot and actually having to make it move - he'd ridden to the scene of battles inside Big O before, while it was being transported on the converted subway, but never this way. It simply took more fuel than he could easily get, to run the thing for so long but of course, he was dreaming. Who cared about fuel?

It was mind-numbing, almost relaxing, the motion of his feet on the pedals and the gentle swinging of the arms to keep balance. So effortless, it was almost as if he didn't even need to use the controls at all. As if Big O knew where it was going anyway. He could feel the 'presence' of the mecha with him more than ever, the same feeling that had him talking to it, as if it were more than an animate object, a friend.

The town was coming closer now, registering on his radar as a larger blip. It was hard to tell through the tint of the viewglass but he swore he could see fire dancing on the horizon - was the town on fire? It was a small backwater place, hardly more than a handful of houses. And it was not very near to Paradigm, farther out than Electric City he hadn't even realized there were people out here, or at least this many of them. But this had to be his destination, at any rate.

A small flashing light on a panel caught his eye, making him frown to himself. It was on the radio console, but not the one that signaled a message from Norman. This was a light that he had never seen blink before, but his hand shot out without conscious thought, depressing a button nearby.

"Status on your progress, Pilot," a voice barked over the radio, the screen flickering to life and revealing its owner, a square-jawed man in a uniform.

"In sight of Onnesburg now, sir," Roger heard his own voice respond, sounding tense and strained. "It appears to be on fire"

No, this isn't happening, he thought to himself, feeling almost frantic now. He tried to make his hands release the controls, tried to take his feet from the pedals, but it was almost as if he were paralyzed. His body wouldn't respond to his brain, and although he could speak his words had no effect on anything; no one but he could even hear them. Now he knew how Dorothy must have felt when she was being controlled by Beck. It was still rather odd to think of her as feeling things like that, though

He was still wearing black gloves, black clothing, but it was not his suit; rather, it seemed to be some kind of jumpsuit. Not again, not one of these memories... not again... "I won't have it...! I won't have this!" he raged helplessly.

The officer nodded once. "Very good. When in range, fire your beams. That should be enough."

"Sir," he protested - no, Aaron protested; he was named Aaron in these dreams. "They are civilians-"

"They are rebels," the man snapped back, "and you know your orders, Pilot. If it weren't for your father's influence in the company your insubordination would have had you executed long ago. Complete your mission and return to the nearest base at once. Understood?"

"Understood," he replied reluctantly, and the transmission shut off.

Roger sighed, unheard. "Are you actually going to follow orders like those?" he asked the man, knowing he wouldn't get an answer - well, not in words, anyway. He knew in a few minutes he would see what Aaron was really made of.

Big O continued its inexorable walk toward the town, making its own beeline toward the burning buildings, crushing a path through stands of trees and fences like small toys. Apparently someone had decided these rebels needed to be destroyed perhaps they were even right. Roger couldn't know without giving in, without letting himself become Aaron, and that was something he was not willing to do.

And then the smooth rocking motion of Big O's steps stopped, the mechanical song of its joints coming to a halt. They were just barely in range for beams, and the weapons would take out the town in an instant. He could see people running around, not trying to quench the fires any longer but most making a run for the fields, for the small forest that wasn't too far away. They'd seen the mecha, of course, known that they could not survive against it.

If I were him I would let them escape and then destroy the town, Roger thought, trying to keep himself distant, separate. He'd not been trapped inside someone else's body in the other dreams, had been able to move around even though what he'd done hadn't made any difference in what had happened. This was the first time he'd not been able to control what was said and done, and such helplessness made him angry there'd always been something he could do when things looked impossible, but now he had to rely on the judgment of some guy he didn't know to get them through whatever might happen.

There's a car down there, he observed, with peripheral vision seeing an image on a display of a small vehicle racing along behind the mecha at top speeds. They're going toward the town, not away... I wonder who it is? He doesn't seem to notice it...

"Do you agree with them too?" Aaron asked from out of nowhere, and for one shocked moment Roger thought he might have been talking to him. But that was even more impossible than the fact that this was even happening.

Suddenly, however, he realized that the pilot was speaking not to him, but to the mecha. That was not so strange - he'd done it himself before - but the real surprise was that Big O was somehow responding back. "No," Roger gasped, "it's just a machine, how could it..." It was not with any kind of language, none he could define as such anyway, but he could feel a surge of uncertainty, of another kind of influence that made his hands tremble on the control sticks, reach for the button to fire the beams, slowly

"I can't!" Aaron yelled out. "I can't kill them - I won't be programmed! I won't!" He gasped in a breath that became a scream of anguish. "Will you just do what they say?" he cried in desperation. Roger watched in fascination, felt at the same time the struggle to control his body, the pain he was feeling as he tried to pry his fingers from the controls.

And then, as if pushed, he fell over the console that laid between his feet, its rounded edge colliding with his stomach painfully, the ends of the arm control circle bruising his sides as he shot past them. The man levered himself off it, falling to the wire-covered floor of the cockpit. He rolled into the depression near the wall, staring blankly at the ceiling of the space as he tried to get his breath. Even though he was not able to see anymore, he could hear the particular whine of the beams as they charged up to fire on Onnesburg. My God, Roger thought, but I - he - but no one's controlling it! It's impossible! But it pushed me out of the seat...

Aaron's voice sounded out weakly as he tried to sit up. "Big O," he said hoarsely. "Did I choose you or did you choose me? We are none of us tools" The piercing whine of the beams suddenly died down, making the young dark-haired man let loose a light sigh of relief. "I cannot let you be Paradigm's tool my father's tool"

There was a sudden jolt from the robot, sending its pilot smashing against the nearby curved wall with a cry. A roar came from the ground, a large crater forming around the giant mecha's metal fist as it smashed it against the dirt. As the dust roiled about the large machine stood again, and then was alarmingly still.

Roger felt an inexplicable pain coming from 'his' lungs, hearing the gasps for breath that were becoming more and more rapid. He was just thrown around a bit, nothing bad enough to do this, he told himself. Is it some kind of connection between Big O and him? I can feel frustration and anger... is my Big O capable of this? Do I even want to know if it is?

He heard another mechanical whirr come from nearby, but with Aaron's eyes shut tight he couldn't see what was happening. It was familiar, though, unlike most everything else he'd been experiencing lately. And then something was moving him, turning him onto his back and lifting his upper body. "Aaron?" Dorothy asked softly, her visage swimming into view, a trickle of blood running down from a cut on her temple. "Are you all right?"

"You're bleeding," Aaron said in concern, reaching up to wipe the redness from her skin with the thumb of his glove. "What are you doing here?" For his part, Roger was relieved at the sight of another familiar face, despite the fact that it wasn't the Dorothy he knew, that it was strange to see such emotion on her features, to look into human eyes glittering from under the russet bangs.

"I'm fine," she told him seriously, resisting his attempts to make her let him sit up on his own. "I drove here following you. I got shaken around a little going up in the elevator from the foot, that's all. I came here to try and stop this horrible thing from forcing you to destroy that town." Her eyes smiled a little then. "Looks like I didn't have to, though my car must be dust by now. How did you resist it?"

He gritted his teeth, pulling himself upward and raking a hand through his messy hair. "I didn't, not really. He was going to shoot the beams without me, but then decided to stop."

"Decided to?" Dorothy frowned, settling back on her knees. "You can't mean-"

Aaron nodded, a small grin creeping up on him although his voice was full of the seriousness the subject had for them. "Yes, Big O went rogue finally." He sighed. "I wasn't enjoying fighting with him - he always wins."

She twisted her slim pale fingers together in her lap, brushing at the folds of her skirt. "They'll know, and it will be more of an excuse to kill you, Aaron." Roger was surprised at the glitter of anger he could see in her dark eyes before she looked away. "Androids and megadeii we made them but they control us. I'm always going to hate them."

"Dorothy" he said softly, putting his arm around her shoulders. "Be careful about that. He hears"

The young woman leaned against his chest, sighing, "I don't care if it hears me. I still hate them, and what they've done to my father. What they force you to do."

At the same time, Roger thought to himself, I hope Dorothy never finds out that the girl she's modeled after hates androids. When was he going to wake up? This memory was starting to go places he didn't want to tread. Especially with her looking exactly like R. Dorothy, who he'd have to see in the morning. No, he definitely didn't want to think about that either. Where was his own life? He'd thought he'd been safe from the problems of regaining memories since he was too young to have lost them in the first place

A sudden rumble reached the ears of the two and the 'ghost' from the future, only mere moments before an explosion rang from outside, tremors shaking through the metal of the megadeus' framework. "Who's firing?" Dorothy gasped, hands searching for a hold among the wires and ridges of the flooring.

"That wasn't a direct hit," Roger said without thinking, cursing quietly when he remembered no one could hear him. He'd forgotten for a moment - the way Aaron had his hand out to steady the young woman was exactly what he would have done.

The man stood, lunging for the pilot's seat awkwardly as another blast rocked them, closer by now. "It was a warning shot; why isn't Big O defending himself?" he cried in frustration, dragging his eyes up from his panels to look out at the viewscreen. He froze suddenly, hanging over the control circle with eyes wide. "No no, it's a Speaker, Dorothy, they sent a Speaker," he blurted, his skin paling visibly even in the amber-orange light of the cockpit.

She let out an involuntary cry, grabbing onto the edge of a console to drag herself to her feet. Dorothy stared in disbelief at the large, disturbing megadeus standing before them, biting her lip at the familiar outlines of its eerily offset head, the sweeping, curved necklines making it look off balance. "It couldn't be Father would never let them-"

"Oh, yes, he would," Aaron said grimly. "He doesn't know you're here, remember? And he loathes me."

The deep voice that came from the Speaker was enough to shake the black robot that stood before it, although Big O remained as still and motionless as if it were stone. No one knew who piloted the enforcers of Paradigm's creations, those that were judge, jury and executioner no one knew the true identity of the voice that sentenced megadeus and pilot alike - if there even was a human behind it. "Pilot Aaron Soldano - stand forth," it commanded.

Roger frowned mentally, trying to combat the feeling of fear he was getting from his 'host'. The family name was familiar but he was too preoccupied to place it at the moment. Nothing's going to happen, he told himself. You know how he... how they die already. It's not here, not now...

"Aaron, don't," Dorothy cried softly, catching hold of his arm as he took a step forward. "Why isn't it doing anything?" At his look of confusion she elaborated, "Your Big O, why isn't it doing anything I don't feel anything from it, it's like it's been turned off"

The dark-haired man shook his head, staring back out at the megadeus opposing them. "He knows he's been sentenced. He went rogue, so they will destroy him you can't fight a Speaker," he murmured, gently shaking off her hand. "Not unless you want two more after you. It's better that he's 'asleep' when he's destroyed."

She frowned, lips moving before sound came out. "Aaron."

Ignoring her, he pressed the button that released the viewscreen wall, a strong gust of wind blowing inward as the cockpit opened up, dusky sky and huge metal creation before them clearly now. He stepped out onto the ledge he'd created, shooting a wry smile at the golden megadeus. "I'm here. Do your thing."

"Pilot Soldano," the Speaker boomed, "you and your rogue megadeus are to be destroyed."

"After all this time?" Aaron called back caustically. "Fine, you'll kill me, then; everyone knows I'm rebellious. Why destroy Big O? Why waste such a good tool? Megadeii can be reprogrammed."

The robot's offset head shifted on liquid-smooth joints, its white eyes piercing, glowing. "So can humans, but you are not worth the effort. You are a mere sack of flesh, human, and your infectious rebellion will stop here. You are both guilty and you are both sentenced to death."

Dorothy's soft voice pierced through the whistle of the wind, and although the black-clad pilot did not hear it, the one who was watching this memory through his eyes did. "Ye not guilty," she breathed, her eyes fixed on the flashing words which had suddenly appeared on the round console in front of the pilot's seat. They repeated, over and over again, casting a pale glow on her white face. The chestplate of the Speaker megadeus began to rise, its torso elongating and parting, a high-pitched whine from inside of it growing louder. "Ye not guilty"

A long, thick cable flew from the open space in the megadeus' torso, three parallel prongs unfolding from the metallic tube's center. Big O's framework shuddered as the tines slammed violently into the golden socket piece on its chest, sparks flying from the meeting of metal and metal. Aaron gritted his teeth, clutching at the metal edging nearby to stop from falling, feeling a sudden 'cry' from his mecha resounding in his head as the Speaker began to suck away its programming and power.

It's in pain! Roger thought, astounded, too in shock by what was happening to feel the same draining sensation Aaron - and he too - was experiencing through the empathic link with his megadeus. How can this be? It's... a machine...

Dorothy's eyes grew even wider as she watched the man start to pale and slump against the side of the open cockpit, gloved fingers losing their hold on the metal. Her footfalls rang on the plating of the floor as she ran to his side. Roger peered up at her through Aaron's unfocused eyes, seeing her skin so pale that she looked uncannily like the android he shared his home with. God, this was hurting. Why was he feeling what Big O was was feeling? Could it feel, really? He'd thought Dorothy wasn't capable of it either, but he'd been wrong about that.

"Speaker!" Dorothy screamed out to be heard over the whining sound of the megadeus being purged. "Speaker, I am Dorothy Wayneright, and I command you to stop the execution at once!" It did not pause or even hesitate, and she drew in air for another yell. "I am Wayneright's daughter, and if you destroy this megadeus you will destroy me as well! Do you understand? Scrap metal!" she howled, raising a hand to her throat at the sensation of the raw feeling her yelling had produced.

There was a sudden, blessed break in the sucking feeling that Aaron, and Roger with him, could feel almost physically on his skin, and he fell to his knees, vertigo making his surroundings spin around him. "You will be returned to the city," the Speaker informed Dorothy finally. "Your presence was not foreseen, but it does not matter."

She shook her head firmly. "I will not go! I know what you are, most horrible of my father's children. I know what you desire, what you were made to desire. Would you destroy a Chariot, purge one of the instruments of cleansing? Would you endanger the rebirth, the purpose that is your sole reason for existence?" The young woman's eyes held phantoms of suffering, of horror that Roger could not begin to explain. What in the world was she talking about, anyway, that made her look as though she'd just fought something and lost?

The golden megadeus reared backwards, the eyes in the offset head glowing intensely. A ring of sparking electricity ran down the cable, rocking Big O with its force and making Aaron scream, clenching his fists to steady himself. "This rogue is no Chariot!" the deep voice boomed. "Anything that disobeys Paradigm cannot purify the world!"

"This Big O is a Chariot," Dorothy said dangerously. "My father made it so, and I caused this man to be its pilot. Everything is performing as foreseen! Do you dare to claim to understand the whole of the plans for a miracle, megadeus?" She raised her hand, pointing imperiously at the mecha before them. "And as you refuse to obey me, you will be the first cleansed!"

The glittering eyes grew substantially brighter, the Speaker making no response except to fire its eyebeams, the deadly light streaking toward them. Aaron was forced to cover his eyes, anticipating the impact of the weapons that had been fired directly into the unprotected cockpit. Roger felt his heart leap into his throat, trying desperately to wake up from this dream he was trapped in. He felt the blast hit them, felt the megadeus shift; they were going to fall, he knew, and there was no way they could survive something like that in here, being thrown against walls, thrown out into the sky but they'd died falling from a balcony - hadn't they?

When the deadly collision never came he peered out from behind his arm, gasping softly as he saw dark gray-black metal blocking the cockpit, the insides of the mecha's arms facing him as they had blocked the blow. "Big O!" Aaron cried, a happy yet disbelieving note in his voice as the amber-orange glass slid back into place protectively. He felt a sudden prickle of discomfort and then relief as the mecha tore the cable out of its socket with a wrenching movement, severing the connection between the two megadeii. "You saved-?" he asked the machine aloud.

"I will kill you!" His question was cut off by Dorothy's mutter, and he wrenched himself around from where he was sprawled on the wiry floor to stare over the rise at the small woman seated in the pilot's chair, her eyes black as she stared outward at the golden Speaker that faced them, revealed by the movement of the huge arms.

The black-haired man's face was twisted into a look of shock. "He - let you control-!" He hauled himself up, leaning on the curved console surrounding the seat, saying nothing as he watched her shift her feet on the pedals, hands on the control sticks moving the mecha's arms into an attack position.

She can barely reach the controls! Roger thought. Dorothy piloting Big O...

Shockwaves rocked the machine as the Speaker fired at it, beams deflected by the plating on Big O's arms. Its own limbs were thick and strong, but the consciousness of the eerie megadeus had its own personality, it seemed, and it was using its energy weapons more than physical attacks. Dorothy saw this, and, no longer defending, pressed forward with piston-driven punches it was unable to parry.

Big O was responding sluggishly, from both being drained of power as well as unfamiliarity with its pilot, but at least it was responding. Aaron, and Roger too, silently, wanted to suggest to the woman that he take her place, but there was no way to do it in the middle of a battle, he was still feeling woozy from the empathic energy drain, and besides, at the moment he didn't want to chance suggesting it, not when faced with that stunning dark look in her eyes.

So he remained by her side, watching as, little by little, she wore down the assassin megadeus. Its attacks shook them from time to time but it was forced to wait long periods to recharge enough power in order to fire again. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she ran the controls with more effort than a completely bonded pilot would have had to use. Finally, she had the arms of the Speaker braced in Big O's hands, holding them there with all her strength, all the mecha's strength. Its eyes glowed again, charging up for another hit, and she gritted out, "Aaron, the missiles!"

"We're too close to it," Roger objected, scowling inwardly as Aaron immediately lunged without thinking of that, twisting himself uncomfortably over the console walls to slam open the panel, uncovering the buttons. He depressed them all with both his hands, hearing the satisfying whirring noise and slight backlash as the projectiles flew forward, embedding themselves into the widened torso. Moments later they exploded in a blinding flash, blowing the two megadeii apart and the Speaker into metal fragments. Only its huge voice remained for a second more, emitting a chilling scream that quickly faded away over the burning remnants of Onnesburg.

Had there been a pilot in that thing? Roger didn't think so.

Suddenly, however, neither he or his 'host' could think one thing more, as Aaron slammed into the back wall of the cockpit with a cry, Dorothy's voice echoing his as Big O was knocked back, landing hard on the ground with a resounding crash. She had been protected in the seat and quickly climbed out of it, pulling herself over the round console in front of the foot pedals to reach the man where he laid. "Aaron, Aaron, are you all right?" she asked, her steady voice reminding Roger yet again of the android he knew.

She made a good android even while human, he thought before remembering her tears, and the fall from the balcony, and rethought that. He had to wonder why he was being shown this now, how this man's memories had gotten into his head, and how he could get them out. He went through enough of this kind of 'excitement' in his own life, thank you very much.

He pulled himself up with her help, pressing his palm against his forehead as lights danced in his vision, his head pounding. "I'm okay," he said with a small half-laugh. "Just need to take a very long nap when we get back"

Dorothy regarded him for a moment and then looked away, hiding her face in her hands. Instantly concerned, Aaron reached out to her, touching her shoulder. She shrugged away his fingers, and with a frown he stood; deciding not to press anything yet, he stumbled over toward the pilot's seat. He placed his hand flat on the metal of the console, feeling the faint hum of energy racing underneath the metal through the thin fabric of his glove. "Rest, my friend," he murmured before reaching for a button. "Pilot Soldano to Command," he said into the communicator, his voice suddenly growing stern. "Pilot Soldano to Paradigm Command. Come in, Command."

"This is enough," Roger said, trying to force himself to wake up. "I'm tired of this 'dream'! I know I'm sleeping and I want to wake up!" He was sick and tired of being trapped here helplessly, unable to do anything but watch and experience what was going on. He could only listen as Aaron called Paradigm headquarters, calling for two Duos - whatever those were - to bring them back to the city, could only go along as the man walked over to where Dorothy sat and knelt beside her, once more putting a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Now she didn't push him away, sniffling miserably. "I hate it," she whispered fiercely, suddenly pressing her tear-dampened face into his chest, her arms wrapping tightly around his waist. For a moment Roger was reminded of Beck's control of R. Dorothy and had to fight away a frantic feeling. "I hate megadeii, I hate them. Why did we have to make such awful things? Why did my father have to-" She choked on her words, shaking her head helplessly. "I promised myself, I told myself I'd never, ever pilot these things again, never!"

Aaron held her tightly, resting his bruised face in her hair. "Oh, God, Dorothy," he murmured. "I know I know but you saved us, you saved us all"

"I saved you and me, but I didn't do it for it," she told him in her quiet tones. "If it weren't for the fact that you'd feel it, if there was any way I could do it, I'd have blown your Big O up with the Speaker."

"Dorothy," he said again, softly, unable to do anything but sit there, be there for her, and listen.

The red-haired woman raised her head, looking into his eyes. "Did you hear me, what I said to that atrocity? They're going to do it soon, Aaron, their 'cleansing' they will take away the past to make it their own, and my father, your father, they are part of it there's nothing we can do! Did you hear me, speaking just like him? Rebirth of the world? No!"

He grabbed onto her shoulders, holding her steady. "I know, I know there's nothing we can do we're just two people against all of Paradigm, against our families and God knows who else. But we have to try if we don't try to do something, it's just the same as giving into them."

"But there's nothing we can do," she said brokenly. "We can plan nothing, because you are a pilot for them and they will scan your memories when they debrief you and my father tries to keep me under lock and key. Aaron," she breathed, grasping for his hands, "will you make me a promise?"

"I don't know," he murmured. "I'll do anything for you, Dorothy, but"

She continued on inexorably. "I'm not going to sit there and be saved, to be protected while everyone else is reduced to children, looking to Paradigm to lead them back to the light. I'll die first, and promise you won't stop me. Promise you'll come with me, will you?"

He brushed the hair from her eyes, shaking his head. "I"

"It's hopeless, Aaron. We're alone and there's nowhere to run to."

The dark-haired man sighed deeply, and she smiled just barely, hugging him for a moment. "I'll go with you, Dorothy. I promise."

"What kind of promise is that?" Roger said derisively. At least now he knew what she had been talking about now in that first damn dream that had started this entire mess. Suddenly, he wished he could close his eyes, look away, run away, feeling very much like an intruder as Aaron leaned forward, brushing his lips against Dorothy's. He felt himself kissing her, the pressure of her mouth against his, and quite firmly kept his mind clear of any thoughts that would create complications when he woke up. So she looked like the Dorothy he knew - it meant nothing, it was just a stupid dream

Right.

Soft strains of piano music came to his ears and Roger frowned, waiting for a reaction to it from Aaron and Dorothy, but there was none. It grew louder and louder, and his happiness greater and greater as he recognized the pounding, desperately fast rise and fall of notes from the piano as R. Dorothy, his Dorothy, the android Dorothy, played the piano to wake him.

He opened his eyes to see the ceiling of his room, his beautiful, wonderful room, feeling exhausted despite having slept for eight hours, and never in his life had he loved that piano, and that song she played, more than he did then.

Something was going to have to be done about this.