Dorothy had fled to her room as soon as she'd gotten home that afternoon. It was almost a relief to know neither Roger nor Snowy were in. She wasn't ready to face either of them just yet. She'd even made it a point to avoid Norman; Perot's kittenish greeting was all she could handle.
As she showered, the redhaired android cried until she had no more tears left. She knew she needed to think about this mess, to finally sort out facts and feelings from one another and make some sense of it all. No matter what she did, this was going to hurt.
Dorothy next dressed for bed, choosing a delicate negligee that had been a recent gift from the negotiator. The butterfly caress of inky silk against her pale skin felt both oddly reassuring and painful, like a whisper of love she might end up losing. Trying to control her emotions, she bent down to pick up Perot from the floor, cradling the kitten against her bosom to comfort herself with his unquestioning affection. She nuzzled his cloud-soft grey fur briefly, then placed him on the bed and sat down beside him. "I wish you could talk," she murmured to the little creature batting at the hem of her nightgown. She sighed, then glanced over at her nightstand. She kept a notepad and pen there for jotting down her ideas; perhaps the best way to think this through would be by writing everything. Doing that would somehow glue each bit of this down, keep the various trains of thought from crashing into one another.
For the next few hours, the petite androwolf tried to examine what exactly had been going on in her life to bring her to this situation. She drew elaborate flowcharts, made lists of pros and cons for this and that, delved into the contrasts and similarities of Roger and Leon, what she loved and disliked about both men, how they made her feel.
Finally, utterly spent, she fell asleep, Perot curled up in her ink-stained arms, the chart-filled notepad and pen beside her.
She dreamt of cool soft sheets and large warm hands, of Roger's kisses pressed sweet and hard against her willing mouth.
"Like that, poppet?" he asked in her dream, his voice low and full of erotic temptation. She nodded, green eyes closed with pleasure, sensing him move around her to massage her shoulders. Smith nipped at her ear from behind, his teeth tugging ever so gently before taking the lobe and sucking playfully. "I just want to make you happy," he whispered, nuzzling her bright hair. "You know that."
I know, she wanted to reply, but her words were swallowed by an unexpected kiss, this one gentle and questioning, a tongue petting her own almost teasingly.
Roger didn't kiss like that.
Breaking the kiss, Dorothy opened her eyes to blink surprised at Leon Kennedy kneeling naked before her. He leaned forward, his blond hair falling into his eyes as he brushed his face against her like a drowsy jungle cat, the way he always used to late at night when they were both sleepy and warm in bed.
Confused, the redhead backed away from him, only to bump against warm bare skin. Tilting her head up to see who was behind her, she was met with another kiss, now from the negotiator. His fingertips stroked the taut grace of her neck as his mouth slowly explored hers.
"What is happening?" she asked in soft confusion when he reluctantly let her go. "I don't understand, how can you both...?"
"It's all right, poppet," Smith answered, smiling that knowing smile of his, his dark eyes fixed on hers. "We just want to make you happy."
Unable to stop a dream-smile of her own, Dorothy nodded in relief. "I am very happy..."
"Then so are we," Leon murmured. The blond moved closer to Dorothy, delicately nipping her shoulder, the bite barely pressing against her pale flesh. He slid his fingers lightly along her inner thigh, making her shiver.
Roger pressed closer too, wrapping his arms around her body, his hands touching her in all the right places. He buried his face in her fiery hair, kissed and nibbled the nape of her neck in the most delicious way.
Despite being so delightfully kissed, so wonderfully caressed by two pairs of warm hands that knew her so well, Dorothy fought to keep her wits about her, but it was a battle she soon lost. The redhead felt herself sinking beneath their attentions, beneath Roger's kisses so slow and loving, beneath Leon's kisses so teasing and passionate.
She gave up, despite the impossibility of the situation. "I love you...both..." she sighed happily. "Stay with me..."
"Dorothy." Roger's voice answered her, low and oddly distant. "Dorothy, Dorothy..."
Smith eased the door open to Wayneright's bedroom carefully. It was only midnight, far too early for his redheaded kitten to normally be asleep. He'd noticed the streak of light beneath the oaken door, but she hadn't answered his repeated knocks. It wasn't like her to ignore him, even if she wanted to be left alone. At the very least, she would have told him she wanted privacy.
Still, he was rather surprised to find her asleep, deep in the throes of a dream. As he quietly moved beside her bed, he could hear her talking. "Stay," she muttered, her voice strangely yearning. "Stay with me."
Smith's brows knotted as he looked down at her, puzzled by all of this. Was this another part of the mystery? He reached down to take hold of her shoulder and shook her gently. "Dorothy. Dorothy?"
The dainty biodroid woke in stages, head turning right, then left, dark lashes fluttering as her large eyes reluctantly opened. "Wha--Roger?" She blinked at him, not quite sure if she was still asleep or not.
The negotiator knelt at her bedside, tenderly stroking her bangs from her eyes. "You were dreaming, poppet," he explained softly. "Are you okay?"
"I...I think so." Dorothy sat up carefully, as if she was dizzy. Perot tumbled off her onto the floor, still deep in his own dreaming. The redhead glanced down at the unconscious ball of grey fur, then turned her attention back to the young man kneeling beside her. She tensed, seeing the concern in his black eyes. "Roger, are you alright? Is something wrong?"
"I'm fine," he answered quickly, continuing to stroke her hair; he knew such petting always soothed her. She looked so tired, so sad. Something was troubling her, and it was more than a bad dream. He waited patiently, watching one of her slender hands wipe at her eyes. "Are you okay?" he asked again.
Dorothy closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then shook her head. "No. No, I'm not okay at all."
The flatness of her quiet voice struck Roger like a slap across his face. Something HAD been going on. Snowy's mysterious dog tags vanished from his mind. "What happened, kitten? Tell me, we'll make it right."
Dorothy suddenly reached out and hugged him, burying her nose in the silky black hair behind his ear and breathing him in. "I'm sorry," she choked out. "Please, I'm sorry."
Smith held his tongue, instead sliding onto the bed beside her. Normally, he would have immediately taken charge, pushing hard for answers with this opening. Lately, though, the more he tried to push, the more she seemed to pull away. Better to let her reveal herself as she chose. His patience was soon rewarded.
Dorothy clung silently to him for another moment, then let him go, dropping her hands into her lap. She took a deep shaky breath, rubbed her eyes briefly, stared at her palms as if searching for something. Another moment silently passed, until she reached a trembling hand up to her forehead. She pressed an invisible spot to display her disk drive with a click and a whirr. Its softly glowing light haloed her heart-shaped face in blue, as if she were some electronic angel, the tears sliding down her cheeks shimmering like moonstones. "I have to tell you something," she said haltingly. "It's about this, and about the parking ticket."
Smith inhaled sharply; he couldn't help it. "I knew it. I knew it all the time--that cop, he said something to you."
Dorothy's lips parted in a soft o. "What?"
Roger stroked her cheek, tracing her tears. "That cop, Kennedy, he said something to hurt you, upset you, didn't he?"
The redhead shook her head, hair fanning over her shoulder, eyes wide with surprise. "Is that what you thought all this time? That he had made me uncomfortable?" A small nervous smile played over her lips.
"Apparently I'm wrong," Smith responded, slightly annoyed by the smile. "Care to enlighten me?" This wasn't exactly going as he'd hoped.
Dorothy frowned. "If you're going to make this even more difficult--."
The negotiator reminded himself about not pushing her. "No, I'm sorry. It's just...I'm concerned, you know that."
She nodded, accepting his apology. "I know. It's so hard, though..." She paused. "Roger, you know that Snowy and I are pack." The words were rushed, as if she feared she'd never get them out otherwise.
He smirked slightly, despite himself. "Of course, poppet. What of it?"
"You never asked how I became a wolf."
Roger felt himself tighten at that. It was true, he'd never asked her, or Snowy either for that matter. Pack was pack, as the girls liked to say. Dorothy was a wolf, Snowy was a wolf. He understood all the painful implications of those facts, knew that becoming a shapeshifter generally involved an initiation no one wanted to remember. He had never shared the prejudices of his society in regards to androids or shifting or anything else, choosing to judge the individual for who they were instead of what they were. Thus, he had never felt compelled to question the situation, as long as he had both his girls in his arms.
For the first time he felt guilty about not asking. He'd simply taken things for granted, quietly accepted the fact that Dorothy was strong as a truck and could fight her way through almost anything, that Snowy had the skills and reflexes of a professional soldier, and was almost as powerful as Dorothy despite not having an android body.
He looked at the redhead beside him, terribly aware of how physically dainty she appeared despite everything. He had never thought to ask what it had taken to make her this way. What had she struggled through? What had she bled for that he didn't know about, hadn't been willing to ask about? His first impulse was to touch her, but he decided to do the hard thing instead: "I'm sorry, poppet. I didn't know if you wanted to talk about it. I thought...that you would tell me on your own if you wanted me to know." He shrugged, embarrassed a little by the poor excuse.
It seemed to be the right thing to say, though. Dorothy looked up at him, her green eyes meeting his squarely.
"Well. it wasn't much fun," she admitted with a little chuckle. Her face quickly sobered again. "I used to waitress."
Smith felt his lips twitch upwards into a smile at that. She would never have to wait tables again, never have to balance trays on her slim arms again. Not while he was around.
She continued: "I used to waitress in a coffee shop, and one day a customer got out of hand." Her expression was grave, as if she were admitting sins, was awaiting judgement.
"How out of hand?" Roger asked, though he could guess at the answer.
"So out of hand that a metal skeleton was one of two things that saved my life, and now I live it with a wolf beneath my skin as well." She stroked her forehead again, almost absently, retracting the disk drive, the smooth skin closing over it magically.
Roger did touch her then, running a gentle hand up and down her bare arm soothingly, feeling her shudder with the awful memory, or perhaps the feel of his skin against hers. "Dorothy, my kitten, my treasure, you kn--" And then it hit him. "One of two things that saved your life. What was the other?"
Even as he asked the question, he had a pretty good idea of what the answer would be. His hunch soon proved correct.
Dorothy blinked deep dark eyes at him, her pupils wide. "A police officer. Officer Leon Kennedy. He held the lycanthrope away, kept him from finishing me off until help arrived. He saved my life." She closed her eyes tightly, biting her lips.
Roger's breath slid out of him in a long sigh. He'd had it all wrong. Not only were Dastun's opinions of Kennedy true, Roger actually OWED the guy. He was about to apologise...then Dorothy started to speak again, interrupting him.
"There's more," she whispered. "I wanted to tell you all along, but it was so uncomfortable. After he saved me, after I recovered...we became lovers for a while. He broke it off..."
Roger felt his hackles rise and his teeth grit. If this guy was Dorothy's hero, why was she now infected with lycanthropy, why was she living in his house, sleeping in his bed instead of Kennedy's? She's mine, he thought ruthlessly. You didn't appreciate what you had, to break off with her. You were too little too late then, and just too damn late now...it didn't matter, it was the past. She was his now.
He gripped her shoulders, trying to keep his hold light when he really wanted to lock her in his arms and squeeze to feel her there. "Why on earth were you afraid?"
"I can't lose you," she moaned.
"Lose me? I had lovers before you, I never assumed I was your only one. Don't be silly--."
"I'm not being silly!" Her voice was a growl, with a razor's edge he rarely heard in it. "It wasn't just that, it was---Argh, you and the police...I just...I was afraid..." She shook her head as she searched for the right words. "Please, Roger, I see the way you and Dan tense up when you're in the same room. You can pretend all you like, pour your endless cognac and swap information, but the air will never be still between the two of you. You couldn't handle what the force had become, and Dan couldn't handle that you walked out. Nothing can change that."
The negotiator opened his mouth to argue, but she was right. "What," he said, trying to keep his voice calm, "does this have to do with your...friend?"
"My...'friend'..." she echoed (apparently his voice hadn't been calm enough, Smith realized) "...is an excellent policeman. He is what the standard was before Paradigm's corrosive influence took root. He serves. He protects. He loves his job. God, he's you, Roger, before you became aware of the corp's tainted heart." Her voice was ragged with feeling. "I could not tell you...I thought you'd be angry if you knew what he was, or that despite all that he failed me somehow."
"I'm confused..." This still made no sense to him, as if some major part of the puzzle was still missing. "Kitten..."
"He saved my life and now I am this!" she spat, bringing a fist against her chest so hard it made him wince. "I am this thing, this thing that fits nowhere in the world except this house. If anything ever happened, I have nowhere else to go!" Her eyes glittered with moonstone tears once more. "It's so hard to be a girl, harder to be an android, hell to be a wolf...how can I be all three? It isn't fair..." She curled up into herself as if trying to hide from him.
He could think of only one thing to say: "I love you..." Yet the three heartfelt words seemed to give her hope, brought her tearstained face up to look deeply into his eyes.
She spoke softly, almost wonderingly, as if he'd revealed some great secret to her. "No one does as you do. No one could as you do. I can't lose you."
"What makes you think that you'd lose me?" Roger still didn't understand. "Dorothy!"
She buried her face in her hands for a second, and when she lifted her head again her eyes were deep and determined. She hooked her fingers suddenly into the v-neck of her fragile black nightgown and pulled roughly, shredding it lower than it already plunged to reveal more of her bosom. Dorothy then grabbed Roger's hand in one of hers and sliced her own chest open with the nails of the other. That act opened a rift over her ersatz heart , spilling fresh blood down the dark silk of her gown and onto the pristine white sheets.
Roger's eyes shot wide, unable to lift from the dripping wound. Stunned, he let her draw his hand closer to her breast, forcing his palm against the tear, against the clockwork ticking of the small bundle of wires and metal that kept her moving, breathing, singing, sneezing. He could feel the tiny machine hammering, slick with warm blood and oil.
"It's fake," she wept, the tears now falling fast down her cheek, so clear and bright compared to the heavy darkness of bloody oil that ran through her insides, bringing life to the flesh and metal of her small body.
"Dorothy--!"
"It's fake," she repeated tearfully. "Like the tin man's from that old fairytale with the other Dorothy. But it's your's. I'd have it real for you if I could. It isn't real, but what I feel is. It's your's, clockwork, but your's." She had made her choice, without flowcharts, without lists.
Despite his shock, all Roger could think of was how much he wanted to ease her pain, to reassure her, but how? A sudden thought blazed through him. It would be a drastic, life-changing act, but he didn't care, he loved her too much.
He took back his hand from hers in exchange for wrapping her tightly in his arms, ignoring the blood, the tears, the fear. He brought her close to his chest and kissed her face, then made his offer. "I love you," he murmured into her hair. "I'll prove it. I'll become a wolf too, so you won't feel so alone."
She tilted her wet face up to him, her eyes now wide with surprise. "What?' she whispered, disbelieving. No one deliberately chose to be infected. "Do you know what you're saying?"
He smiled down at her and nodded. "We'd be a real pack then, kitten. Wouldn't that help?" He stroked the tears from her cheeks. "Maybe if you and Snowy shifted and bit me hard enough to draw blood, I'd get the same kind of infection you two have."
Dorothy shook her head. "No, it wouldn't work. I went furry only for the first full moon, but that was because I have a mostly android body--it killed the virus after it infected my organic parts. That's the only reason I have control over my shifting all the time, why I can touch silver...why I can't infect anyone else. I don't know why Snowy's the same way, but she can't infect you either. You'd end up like everyone else, a monster controlled by the phases of the moon. " She shuddered at the thought, then smiled sadly. "I couldn't let that happen to you..." Her voice faded as the impact of his offer sank in.
Leon had never offered himself to her like this. To be so loved; it was a gift beyond imagining. She had indeed chosen rightly.
Smith pulled her closer, cuddling her small form tightly. "Name the way then, to prove my love to you," he said softly. "Whatever you wish, I'll do it."
The redhead looked up, her eyes meeting his and softening. "Hold me? The way we used to, til I sleep?"
Roger let his smile show fully on his face. "It's yours."
He arranged her gently in his embrace, pulling the bloody sheet over them both, its stains mattering far less than the girl in his arms. Pressing a gentle kiss on her forehead, he slid a hand over her heart, over the dark tear already healing. "Feel better now that we both know you've got a heart, tin man?" he asked teasingly.
Her small laugh followed him down into sleep.