Okay. I had this idea around Halloween. I thought I killed it, but here it is again. I'm posting what I have of it as is to gage the interest and angle for a beta so the idea might be finished and leave me in peace.

Canon wise, this exercise in silliness feels like it belongs in Season One, sometime in October of that year.

If it seems slightly ooc...there's a point to it. I promise.

Nine Tenths
by Lilly

Something was wrong with R. Dorothy Wayneright.

Nothing too obvious, that would be too easy. No signs of physical or mental deterioration. Her movements looked regular and without effort.

Yet something about her was...off. As he picked at his breakfast, Roger Smith picked at the irritating feeling. Several untasted bites later, he still hadn't reached a firm conclusion. Irritated, he looked over at the source if his contemplations.

Dorothy occupied her usual place at the other end of the long table. Her customary cup of tea sat cooling and untouched at her elbow. A plate of half eaten toast sat beside the cup.

Toast? "Dorothy, since when do you eat toast?" he asked her. He almost asked, since when do you eat breakfast? As far as he knew, she saved that particular affectation for dinner.

She fixed him with her deep onyx stare. "Since I felt like having toast," she answered.

Her usual lack of inflection once again carried more meaning than it should. She clearly thought her reasoning obvious, and he an idiot for not understanding it. Any other day, he would have called her on it. Today, he was curious about her choice of words. Since I felt like it. He'd heard that from her before, after the advent of one Caseey Jenkins, a.k.a Angel.

Had something happened to confuse her? Asking her outright was useless. She'd deny the issue, lest she admit to having any flaws. He'd take a wait and see approach. If he kept her with him that day, the problem was bound to come out.

He set down his fork. "If Norman can spare you, I'd like your help today Dorothy."

Dorothy was usually ready to leave before him. He looked at his watch; he'd been waiting ten minutes for her and was starting to wonder if he should be annoyed or concerned by her tardiness.

When she did come downstairs, he had to stop himself from doing a double take. He was a man, and men don't notice when a woman changes he appearance unless the change is drastic. Dorothy was different. He'd assumed she couldn't change, and became accustomed to her looks.

"Dorothy, what did you do to your hair?" he asked her. It was different somehow, less severe and more...wavy?

"I was tired of the old style," she told him as she brushed past. From a human woman, that tone might have meant she was pleased that he'd noticed. Which of course was both ridiculous and impossible.

Yet without thinking about it, he opened the passenger door for her. A gesture he never thought to offer her before. She thanked him, something she had never done before.

The earlier feeling surged back. It didn't help that, although her expression never changed, he had the sudden suspicion she was suppressing a smile.

The day passed in a series of negotiations. Some of which were so routine as to be boring. The others simply showed the pettiness of the human spirit. Roger was bored witless with the first, and annoyed with the second. R. Dorothy, however, remained impassive through either situation.

The last negotiation of the day seemed easy, an annulment of the marriage contract between James and Regina Davies. Easy- or so he thought. In his preoccupation, Roger forgot one of his own rules. If a negotiation seems simple, it's anything but simple by it's end.

"I want more money."

Across the table, James Davies was the definition of average: average height, average looks, and average build. However, he was an average man in extravagant clothing. The price of his suit jacket alone would feed a block of the Illegal Residence section for a month.

Roger knew the type well. The man was enjoying holding up the proceedings, because doing so made him feel important. "Mr Davies," he began, his tone brooking no room for argument. "the previous agreement was more than fair..."

"...that was before she tried to extort more money from me!" Davies thundered, slamming his fists down on the table to emphasize each word.

Roger was unimpressed. And he really hated to be interrupted.

"I told him I was still in love with him because I thought he should know before he signed the papers."

Regina Davies was small, almost as small as Dorothy. She had an air about her that almost screamed protect me. She spoke in a voice barely above a whisper, but she sounded sincere. James Davies clearly didn't believe her. He rolled his eyes, muttering something about missed meetings and unavoidable delays.

Regina reached out and laid a hand on his arm. The man visibly winced, but he didn't push her hand away. "James, please. I realize we're better off apart. I only wanted you to know that my loving you was never an issue."

Whatever protest Davies was about to vocalize was drowned out by the sound of a very feminine sniffling. The Davies turned dry eyes towards the source of the crying . As did their Negotiator- and for him it was like being kicked in the stomach. The suspicions he'd carried with him all day blossomed into questions. Yet for a moment, all he could do was stare at the improbable sight before him.

R. Dorothy Wayneright, an android, was crying.

Fortunately, he recovered himself quickly. If nothing else, his time as a Negotiator had taught him how to mask his own emotions. He forcibly shoved down his shock, and presented a calm face to the Davies'.

"I think we could all use a small break," he suggested. Neither Davies protested the decision. Quickly, he escorted Dorothy into the hallway.

"I'm sorry," she sniffed as he closed the door behind them. Then she stepped forward and leaned her head against his chest . Her arms went around him. His body instinctively stiffened at the unexpected contact. What did she think she was doing?

"She's still in love with him." Warm and damp, he could feel her flood of tears seeping into the material of his jacket. "It's just so romantic," she managed before lapsing into incoherency again.

Romantic? He thought the whole situation was ridiculous. If he knew her at all, Dorothy would think the Davies ' behavior ridiculous as well. Yet here she was, crying into his jacket.

Something was definitely wrong with R. Dorothy Wayneright.

He had a momentary concern about the Davies'. Yet his contract with Dorothy predated his contract with the Davies. Therefore her well being was a greater concern. He wasn't leaving the Davies' contract unfulfilled, he was only delaying its' conclusion.

He'd justified his decision in his own mind. Now all he had to do was convince Dorothy. "Dorothy, listen to me." He tried to gently push her away, but she refused to move. "We're going home, and Norman will take a look at you..."

For the third time that day, he was interrupted. "I don't want Norman. I'm fine, I'm really fine," Dorothy insisted.

Dorothy sounded...petulant? And fine? Since when did she use that word? "Clearly you're not," he retorted. "You're not yourself today."

Dorothy let out a muffled snort. A moment passed before he realized what the odd sound meant. Dorothy was laughing through her tears.

"I was wondering how long it would take you to notice," she mumbled against his jacket.

Irrational as it was, he was unable to deny the first thought that came to his mind. Her. He'd seen her destroyed. How had she survived that? What had she done with his Dorothy? And could he and the Davies' manage between the three of them to restrain a crazed android?

"I know who you are now," he told her, working to talk around the thick taste of fear in his mouth.

She raised her tear stained face to his. A slow, lazy smile spread across her mouth. "I seriously doubt you do."

He'd seen enough to have his proof. This was not his Dorothy. Fear, anger, and an inherent sense of self preservation galvanized him into action. He stepped back and to the side to try and to escape her grasp. A useless maneuver, of course. She seized his hands and pulled him back to her before he could move to deflect her.

He realized two things at once. One, she wasn't trying to hurt him. And two, the hands holding his were warm.

"Dorothy Wayneright," she introduced herself. "The original one and only." If possible, her smile grew wider. "Pretty neat, huh?"

tbc?