Disclaimer: I don't own Big O

Chapter Five – The Moonlight Sonata

The quickly cooling chicken soup had been left forgotten in the enchanted corridor. There was no time to think about that though, because Roger needed his dinner. The butler made her promise to always have dinner ready for Roger when he got home. Of course she would. It was Roger. She thought it as if it were natural. But of course, my dear sir, naturally (I would follow you to the ends of the earth, let alone make you dinner). There was that ache again… It was so alien, and almost frightening, but just lately, it was becoming common—almost expected, when she was in his presence. What could it be?

            And what to fix him? Did she know how to cook anything? Well… It couldn't be that difficult, right? Norman did it all the time, and didn't seem to put up too much of a fuss. There should be nothing to it. Just as she started towards the pantry, mercifully, Roger put a hand on her shoulder.

"Err—Don't worry about it. I'll just make a sandwich." As he got out the bread, Dorothy seated herself at the butcher block table and watched as the negotiator went about making a delicious, most fabulous, exciting, heart stopping, an on-the-edge-of-your-seat, um… Tuna sandwich.

Mission: Accomplished. He took a big, hearty bite and closed his eyes for a moment as he chewed with slow relish, and swallowed as he sat across from her. Dinner was served. What was this that she felt within her silicon and computer-chip body? What word could possibly describe such a… A complete feeling? Fulfillment? Strange how seeing Roger Smith, first class louse, take a monstrous bite out of a sandwich could evoke such a thing.

Roger looked up from his sandwich for a moment.

"Dorothy, could I ask you a question?" He held the ever-present no-nonsense manner that he always got when he was negotiating with something particularly difficult. Whatever he wanted to say, it was obvious that he was still struggling over whether to say it at all.

"You just did." Oh, damn her mouth. There slid onto his face that "preposterous, god dammit!" expression. It was almost childish arrogance and yet ever-so-civilized dismay. Only Roger Smith could pull something like that off and make it look so good. His inner struggle was showing on his face, as well as the fight to keep it hidden. A smart-ass remark was not something he had been expecting, and it had put him off track. But before steam began to shoot out his ears, she added on, "But if you would like to ask another, please do."

He sat down on a stool opposite from her and set his sandwich down. He stared at it for a moment, as if to collect his thoughts.

"Dorothy… I've always wanted to ask you this. But I never thought it would be… Tactful." He was still looking at his sandwich. Dorothy looked up at him sharply, with a subtle expression that said, simply, bullshit. He had never tried to disguise his misgivings about the why's and how's of Dorothy, and why should he now?

"I guess what I'm trying to ask you is…" He ran a hand through his hair and looked up, finally knowing exactly what to say. "Dorothy, what do you think humanity means? Or love, what is it to you? If you see a couple kissing each other, do you wonder why? Do you ever wonder about the purpose of laughter? If you see someone laughing do you think it's pointless and empty? Do you ever… Just question why we're here? What fate is, and if it controls us or if we control fate? Do you ever question why you and I… If we could…" His voice trailed off and he looked back down at his sandwich, slightly embarrassed that he had let himself go. It was against the rules for negotiators to do such.

"Roger..." How torturous it was to look at him like this and not be able to smile or to frown or to run into his arms crying. She knew very well she was incapable of all three, and what a curse. He was speaking in words what she was trying to tell him all along. Listen to my sonata, Roger, please. Listen to this beautiful song. I've been trying to tell you, but you weren't listening. And now you're asking me the very question I wanted to answer. How ironic that it was you felt the exact same way all along.

After a long moment of silence, his face seemed to change, as if realization dawned, mingled with an overwhelming sense of rejection. She hadn't answered.

"Never mind. It was a stupid question," he said with a false smile plastered on his face. He stood and made a motion towards the door, and Dorothy stood, as well, trying to prevent him from leaving.

"Roger, wa—"

"Goodnight, Dorothy." And with that, he shut the door behind him and the sound of his muffled footsteps faded into the darkness of the house.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Wow this was hard to write. And once again I cannot apologize enough for the shortness of the chapter as well as the lateness. I had promised it much sooner than it was delivered. Sorry again.

I hope there was enough conflict. It was promised, after all. There should be more in the next chapter as well, just wait and see! Reviews will speed up the writing process, as usual. And it may actually take only another few days for the next chapter(s) to come out. I've got so many ideas this time! ^___^

-QueSeraSera