My honey my baby don't put my love upon no shelf
She said don't hand me no lines and keep your hands to yourself


Beck tapped his foot impatiently. He was a few feet from the window in a vacant apartment in an abandoned building close to the market. Anyone who saw movement and looked closely would, if he were careful, assume that it had been caused by the rotting curtains stirring in the breeze from the baseball-sized hole in the window. He was waiting for Dorothy and Roger, and it was taking them forever to finish their shopping.

Apparently it was Norman's day off, and Crow-boy was gallantly escorting the lady to buy the ingredients for dinner. Although Jason knew better than to try to get a bug into the mansion itself, it had been child's play to install one on the lintel of the doorway, and he'd happened to luck out and be listening as the pair left the mansion on foot. What could possibly be taking them so long?

He forced himself to be still. Their conversation had made it clear that they intended to return home immediately after their errand. so it was unlikely that they had left and gone somewhere else. He ran through the steps of the most recent program to occupy himself while he waited. It was too bad that he hadn't been able to perfect the 'fall-in-love-with-Jason-Beck' part of the program, but it had to be subtle, else Mr. Paradigm City Negotiator would realize that his precious paragon of plutonium-powered pulchritude wasn't the same model he'd started with.. Besides, part of the lady's charm was her rotten attitude, and she just wouldn't be the same without it.

That kind of subtle, though, was several orders of magnitude higher than the simple dissolution of a block. He could do it, but it would take him the better part of a year. This program, on the other hand, was ready now.

He caught a glimpse of copper-colored hair and positioned the transmitter. Where was Crow Boy? Surely she wasn't going to leave without him.

Dorothy walked closer to Jason's window, apparently inspecting the display of apples at one of the stands. Was she distracted enough? No, better wait for... there he was, trying to act like he wasn't struggling to carry the three large bags almost overflowing with groceries. "I'd be glad to carry one of those," her voice carried easily through the broken window.

"If I'd known we needed so much, I would have brought the car," Roger grumbled, but Jason noticed he didn't take her up on her offer. That was stupid, she could probably carry six bags without batting an eye.

He waited for his chance, transmitting the signal as Roger fumbled with the bags and R. Dorothy tried to lighten the load by putting some of the heavier items into her basket. Just as the unit finished sending, Dorothy gasped and dropped the can of coffee she was about to put away. For one awful moment Jason thought she was looking right at him! He froze, not even daring to breathe.

"What's the matter?" Roger asked.

"I saw a rat where I didn't expect one," Dorothy said.

"I wouldn't be surprised, not this close to the market," Roger said, grinning. "What, are you afraid? Don't worry, I'll protect you."

Dorothy gave him a look. "That won't be necessary," she said. "It wasn't doing any harm. I was merely startled." She picked up the coffee can, which had survived the fall with only minor dents, and put it into her basket. She closed the cover firmly and began walking towards the mansion.

"I didn't think you could be startled," Roger teased, moving more easily now that the bags weren't so full.

"Surely surprise at seeing something one didn't expect isn't confined solely to humans," she replied.

"I never said it was," Roger said. "I would think that near a food source like the market, though, a rat would be no surprise."

"Usually they aren't so bold in broad daylight," she countered.

"Maybe it was too hungry to wait," Roger suggested, his grin widening. "Well, this is certainly an amazing day! R. Dorothy Wayneright, surprised by a rat!"

"You're never going to let me forget this, are you?" Dorothy snapped.

Jason finally let out his breath when the sounds of their amiable bickering had faded into the distance. That was too close for comfort, and he was very glad that he hadn't been transmitting a more complex program after all.


Roger hurried to shower and shave so he'd be ready on time. After the fiasco of the last attempt to celebrate Dorothy's birthday, he was absolutely determined that tonight would be perfect.

He'd arranged an invitation to a private charity event at Instro's club, so it was unlikely they'd run into anyone with... interesting ideas about androids. His old friend hosted these events every so often, and tonight's benefit promised to be a glittering affair, with several bands in addition to the jazz group that Instro had started a few months ago. Dorothy had another new dress that she had absolutely refused to model for him, saying she wanted it to be a surprise. He hummed to himself as he put on his tie. He was really looking forward to this!


"Is there a problem, Roger Smith?" Dorothy asked.

Roger smiled. "I was just watching out for rats," he said. The evening so far had been every bit as perfect as he had hoped. She looked so good in deep green silk that it hadn't even occurred to him to complain that she wasn't wearing black. They'd been dancing for quite some time, and although Dorothy was probably capable of keeping up that pace all night long, he was glad for the cool breeze. They had gone out to the raised patio in the courtyard behind the club. The cloud cover wasn't as thick as usual, and there were even a few glimpses of the moon.

"What would you do if you spotted one?" her tone was mild, and he was almost prepared to swear he saw the faint tracing of an answering smile on her lips.

"Shriek, jump up on a chair and beg you to protect me, of course" he joked.

"You are teasing me." Yes, that was a smile.

"A little," he admitted. "This is nice, isn't it?"

"It's been very enjoyable," she said. "I was surprised when Instro asked me to sing!"

"I'm glad you did," Roger said, leaning against the railing. "You sounded great."

"It was strange," Dorothy said. "At first I wasn't going to, but then I thought that maybe the best way to put aside an old memory was to make a new one."

Roger nodded. "Do you miss your father?"

"No." She was abruptly silent.

Had he said something he shouldn't have? They almost never discussed the time Before, although they were two of the very small handful of people who retained their memories of the previous cycle. "I didn't mean to bring up anything upsetting" he began.

"I am not upset," she said, looking up at the sky. "I was just thinking that one of the best parts of coming to live at the mansion was knowing that I didn't have to think about him."

"I can understand that," he said, although he was definitely curious. She never spoke of her time with Timothy Wayneright.

"You probably don't," she said, but her calm tone told him she was simply stating a fact and intended no reproach.

"Hey, tonight is for good memories!" He could have sworn he'd caught the glint of tears, and he quickly put an arm around her shoulders.

"Very good memories," she said, resting her head against him for a moment. When she looked up at him again, he wondered if he'd imagined the tears. "I didn't smudge, did I?" she asked.

Then it hadn't been imagination. As he looked into her eyes, he realized that if he stood here for another minute, he was going to take her into his arms and... "Not at all," he said, breaking the spell. It was time for a change of venue. "I think I've had enough rest. Do you want to dance some more?"

"I'd love to," she said, and they returned to the party.


Aside from that disquieting moment in the courtyard, the evening had been a complete success, and Roger intended to repeat it as soon as possible. The impulse to kiss her, he was certain, had been caused by the romantic setting and the rare moment of vulnerability. Certainly, she had acted no differently than usual since the gala, and life had settled into its normal routine, with him trying to sleep until noon and her playing the piano to insure he was up and about several hours before that. He broached the subject at breakfast as he drank his second cup of coffee. "I really had a good time at the charity benefit," he said. "It made me realize that both of us should get out more. I was thinking it might be fun to go and see a movie on Friday night, maybe stop for a nightcap afterwards. Is there anything you'd like to see?"

"Not this Friday," she said. "I promised Angel and Dan that I'd babysit, they asked me yesterday."

"Well, what about Saturday?" he said.

"I'm not free Saturday either," she said. "I told Instro I would play piano at the club for a few hours. He's going to be auditioning singers for the jazz combo. I'm sorry, Roger. If I had known you wanted to go somewhere, I wouldn't have promised."

"That's quite all right," he said, being careful to hide his annoyance. He had gotten entirely too used to her being there at the mansion all the time, and that really wasn't fair. "Perhaps we can make plans for next week."

"I would like that," she said.

"It's a date, then," he said, draining the last of his coffee and rising from the table. "I'm headed out to see one of my clients, I should be back by supper."

"Very good, sir," Norman said from the doorway. "Would you prefer roast chicken or beef?"

"Chicken sounds good," Roger wiped his mouth and dropped the napkin on the table. "I'll see you both tonight." He left the room and a moment later they heard the Griffon starting.

"What does one wear to a movie?" Dorothy wondered aloud.

"Well, formal dress is unlikely to be required," Norman said. "Perhaps Miss Angel can advise you."

"That's a good idea," Dorothy said, and helped the butler clear the table.


When Dorothy said she was going to do some clothes shopping with Angel, Roger didn't think anything of it until the items were delivered and he saw the bill. "R. Dorothy Wayneright!" he roared.

"What is it, Roger?" she came down the stairs and into the study. "Oh, my clothes are here," she said, and smiled. It wasn't a huge grin, but it was much more obvious than the usual tiny uptick of the corners of her mouth.

It took the wind right out of his sails. "You know, if you're intending to do a large amount of shopping, a little warning would be nice," he said lamely. His righteous indignation had completely deserted him. "Just so I don't go into shock when I see the bill, you understand."

"It was a lot," Dorothy said in her forthright manner. "I needed everything".

"What about the clothes you have?" Roger protested.

"Do you really want me to go to the movies with you and wear the dress I've been scrubbing floors in all day?" she asked politely. "You said we should get out more often, and if that's going to happen, I need more clothes."

He looked at the bill more closely. Well, her point was valid, and it did look like she'd been pretty sensible about her purchases, but... lingerie? "Why on earth do you need--" he was about to say 'brassieres', but cut himself off abruptly. It would be an absolutely fatal error to imply something like that to a lady! He quickly amended himself. "--so much underclothing?"

"I thought it was silly too," she said, "but depending on what one wears, one needs the appropriate underclothes so that the outfit looks the way it should."

It would also be a fatal error to mention that the extent of his knowledge about a woman's underclothes was first to admire and then to remove as quickly as possible, so he just nodded. "That makes sense," he said. "Still, a little warning in the future?"

"Of course, Roger," she said. "I'll probably get a few more things every now and then, but I won't need everything at once like I did this time." She smiled again as she picked up the bags. "Thank you for being so understanding," she said.

"You should have done this a long time ago, so I have to thank you for being so patient about it," Roger said, still flabbergasted by the sight of R. Dorothy smiling. When she had left the room, he sat down at the desk and put his head in his hands. He had the feeling he had just been out-maneuvered... and by an expert.

A polite clearing of the throat told him his butler was standing there.

"What is it, Norman?" he asked.

"If you'll forgive me for being so bold, sir, I wanted to thank you for not making a fuss over Miss Dorothy's purchases," the elderly man said. "She was very worried you'd be angry with her, and I promised her I'd make it right with you, but the delivery came before I'd had the chance to tell you about it."

Roger sighed. "Do I look like an ogre?" he demanded.

"Oh dear, of course not, Master Roger," Norman said, "but I know you dislike surprises of that nature, and you must admit that occasionally your conversations with Miss Dorothy can become a trifle... heated."

"She was due for some clothes," he said. "Other than the special dresses, I don't think she's had anything new since she first came to us."

"Quite so," Norman agreed. "If you don't mind my saying so, it was nice to see her so excited about it. She really seemed to take pleasure in the outing."

Roger nodded. "It was the smile," he admitted in defeat. "I didn't have the heart to take it away."

"Exactly, sir," Norman said. "It's good to see her finally taking an interest in things."

"Do you think that's what it is?" Roger asked.

"I believe so," Norman told him. "I'm not an expert on android psychology, but even the most basic androids have simple emotions. If not for these recent developments, I'd be worried that Miss Dorothy's early experiences had done her permanent damage."

"I hadn't thought of it like that," Roger said. "Thank you, Norman. That actually explains a lot, and we can well afford it--at least, we can afford it as long as I don't get a bill like this every week."

"I should think we could simply budget a monthly clothing allowance," Norman said.

"That sounds fine," Roger said. "I'll leave it in your hands."

"Thank you, sir," Norman said. He glanced at the clock on Roger's desk. "My, it's getting late," he said. "I should be headed off to bed. Can I bring you anything before I go?"

"No, that will be all," Roger said.

"Then I'll bid you goodnight, sir," Norman left Roger to his thoughts.

Well, if Norman also thought it was appropriate for R. Dorothy to get some have clothes, then obviously they were needed-the butler wasn't at all extravagant. By the time Roger had himself a nightcap and sought his own bed, he'd practically convinced himself it had all been his idea in the first place.


That last alteration had certainly done something, even if it wasn't precisely what he'd had in mind. Jason sighed and put down the report. Lately R. Dorothy Wayneright had gone from recluse to veritable social butterfly--and most of her outings were sans one Paradigm City Negotiator. She was apparently attending a weekly luncheon with a group of Military Police wives and daughters, she played piano at Instro's one or two evenings a week, she attended the church where Instro was the organist, and she'd been seen pushing a stroller in the park--Angel's brat, no doubt. Jason still found it hard to believe that the curvaceous blonde had embraced the whole white picket fence life, but it seemed to suit her--he'd seen her walking with Dorothy just last week, and he'd lay down money that there was another on the way. He never would have thought Angel and Dorothy would be friends, either, but there they were, chattering away as they window-shopped.

It had taken him a minute to realize that Angel's companion was indeed R. Dorothy! She had been wearing regular street clothes, and her good taste in evening wear apparently extended to her whole wardrobe. She hadn't given up the black completely, but she'd leavened the severity with a white blouse and a pretty blue cardigan. The change was startling! To a casual glance, you would never guess she was an android.

Well, maybe it just needed a little more time. He was still working on the fall-in-love program, so he could afford to leave it alone for now. He also had some new research to do for the gallery, and it was a lot more appealing than the reports on Dorothy's activities at the moment!


Roger studied Dorothy from behind the newspaper. She was engaged in an animated conversation with Norman, telling him about someone she had seen while she was out the day before. Well... animated was perhaps too strong a word, but it was clear that both android and butler were enjoying the exchange. He cleared his throat and the two looked up at him in surprise. "Can I get you something, Master Roger?" Norman asked.

"If it's a good story, I'd enjoy hearing it too," Roger said.

"You don't like being interrupted when you read the paper," Dorothy said. "You made that very clear some months ago, Roger Smith."

"It's kind of hard to read with the noise," he growled.

Dorothy's eyes narrowed, but to Roger's surprise, she didn't rise to the bait. "That's true," she said, and picked up her plate and cup. "I apologize, Roger. It was inconsiderate of me." She turned to the butler. "I'll help you with the dishes, Norman, that way I can tell you the rest without disturbing Roger."

Norman topped off Roger's coffee cup and the pair disappeared into the kitchen.

Roger threw down the paper in disgust and stalked off to the garage. He hadn't had a good argument with R. Dorothy in more than a month, and he had to admit he missed the sarcastic comments. Hell, lately she wasn't even playing the piano every morning. The first couple of times it had happened, it had been bliss, but he hated changes in his routine, and being woken up by the crashing chords of the grand piano had been happening for so long now that its absence disturbed him.

Not that he would tell her that, of course.

A half hour of driving settled him down considerably, and he was able to think objectively again. He didn't begrudge Dorothy a social life, nor was there anything wrong with any of her activities. As Norman had said, it was good to see her taking an interest in things instead of keeping to the shadows.

She hadn't even been excluding him from the conversation this morning--Roger had picked up enough of it know that she'd been telling Norman about one of the street people who wandered the area near the market. The butler was often amused by the man's antics, and Dorothy had probably seen him doing something that she knew Norman would enjoy hearing about. Roger also happened to know that his butler saw to it that the man had a warm coat and enough to eat when the weather turned cold. Roger approved of this, but didn't find the stories particularly amusing, and Dorothy knew it, which was most likely why she had chosen to tell Norman about it when Roger was presumably absorbed in the paper.

No, the real problem was that he missed her.

Even though they had been going out once a week or so, now that she was actively pursuing her own interests, it seemed that their evening out was the only time he saw her, especially now that she wasn't waking him in the morning. Well, there wasn't much point in being a negotiator if he couldn't apply his skills to his own situation, and those skills suggested that the solution wasn't to complain that she was always out--the solution was to find things they could do together.


A few months' time found Roger much happier. After consulting with Norman as to Dorothy's current schedule, he began casually inviting her to come along on some of his cases.

To his satisfaction, most of his clients found her charming, and her assistance proved invaluable in some circumstances. During one negotiation, Dorothy was able to speak privately to a female client on a matter that the woman had found too embarrassing to discuss directly with Roger, but the information had made a real difference in the outcome.

After a particularly long day involving a lot of legwork, Roger suggested that they stop at a small restaurant near the wharf for dinner. She agreed, and he called Norman to let him know he didn't have to worry about getting dinner. The restaurant was crowded at that time of day, so Roger got his fish and chips in a take-out bag, and parked the Griffon in a spot that offered a good view of the water. Dorothy walked along the shore while he was eating, and after a few moments of relaxation after the meal, he got out of the car and joined her.

She looked out over the water through the deepening twilight. "Do you ever miss the way it was before?" she asked after a long silence.

"Sometimes," he admitted. "I don't really miss the dangerous parts, or how crazy it got just before it ended, but I do miss Big O and the feeling that I had a higher purpose than negotiating a divorce agreement or settling a landlord-tenant dispute. What about you?"

"Sometimes," she said . "I knew what my function was, even though I didn't like it. When my memories were stolen, I didn't expect to survive."

Roger slid a companionable arm around her shoulders. "I'm glad you did," he said.

"It is better to live than to die," she said, "but I don't know what my purpose is any longer, or who I belong to. There are times when I miss that certainty."

He nodded, remembering how lost he'd felt just after the Event. It wasn't that he disliked the return to sanity, it was more that it had been so chaotic for so long that he'd forgotten what ordinary felt like. Some of his restless energy had been absorbed in arranging the repair of the mansion and replacing things that had been damaged, but that only went so far. He'd had Norman to complain to, and Dorothy, and when the walls seemed to be closing in on him, he had his work. After three years, he was ready to start thinking about the future, but it seemed Dorothy was just coming to terms with the past.

He gave her shoulders a squeeze. "I felt that way at first," he said. "It's hard to look forward when you're still looking back."

"It's not that I am looking back so much as I don't know what it is to look forward to," she said. "Instro said that he felt that way when his father died."

"You'll find your purpose in time," Roger said. "Maybe you'll even find more than one purpose."

"Instro said that, too," Dorothy said. "He said that one didn't need to belong to someone to have a purpose."

"Of course not," Roger said. "First and foremost, you belong to yourself." In a sudden flash of insight, he realized that she wasn't trying to lay the past to rest, she was trying to deal with becoming a fully independent person. This had been happening since the day she had arrived at the mansion, but her expanding circle of friends seemed to be accelerating the process. "When I finished school and got my first apartment," he offered, "I remember how strange it felt not to have anyone to answer to. It was good, I liked being independent, but sometimes it felt a little lonely."

She looked up at him with a mild expression of surprise. "That's exactly it," she said.

"Well, if it's any help, everyone has to go through it," he said. "The other thing is to remember that even though you feel lonely, you aren't really alone. When I was starting out, I had my parents. Now I have you and Norman and my friends."

"I have you and Norman," she said, "and Instro, and Angel, and..."

"Exactly," he said.

She smiled then, and it was like the sun coming out. Roger looked into her eyes, discomfited by a memory of a night much like this with another woman beside him.

The best way to put aside an old memory is to make a new one.

His hand reached out almost involuntarily to slide through the coppery strands of Dorothy's hair. Roger felt as though he were only a heartbeat away from dropping over the edge of a cliff. Another step and...

You're in love with that surly android!

The angry words echoed through his head, but this time, he had an answer.

Damn right I am!

He pulled Dorothy closer and brought his mouth down to hers.


There were few kisses for quite some time after that astonishing moment on the beach, although it wasn't due to a lack of trying on Roger's part--not that he was trying all that hard. There was nothing wrong with taking things slowly. It was taking a toll on him, though. Lately just the sight of her was enough to make his mouth go dry and his heart start beating faster.

It was the hardest to handle when they went out dancing. The pretty dresses, the soft scent of the perfume she'd taken to wearing and the sensation of holding her close was enough to drive him to distraction. "Roger, this isn't really appropriate," became words he dreaded, although he had to admire her finesse--half the time he couldn't even get her alone for long enough that the words were necessary.

Every once in a while she'd permit a kiss goodnight in the foyer when they were returning from an evening out, but Roger quickly learned to leave it at that. He'd made the mistake of trying to steal a kiss out on the balcony one time too many, and she didn't set foot upstairs again until he promised to behave himself.

Still, it was getting a little ridiculous. It wasn't as though she were shy, or unaware of the biology between a man and a woman. When she did consent to kiss him, the way she melted into his embrace made him sure that she wanted him, too, but for some reason, she was holding back. Asking her directly had been no help either. "It just doesn't seem appropriate" was the only answer he could get out of her. The last time he'd gotten annoyed and muttered something about it not being appropriate for a man to be in a state of... tension all the time, she wouldn't let him near her for a month!

Something had to give. It was starting to drive him crazy!


Roger found himself lying on the floor looking up at the ceiling. What the hell had just happened?

He sat up and tried to shake the cobwebs from his brain. "Are you all right, sir?" his butler's voice sounded stiff and disapproving.

Roger rubbed his jaw and winced, wondering why Norman wasn't offering to bring him some ice. He must have...

"I'm fine, thank you," the last bit of haze cleared and he remembered perfectly well why Norman was looking at him like that and how he'd ended up on the floor. He got up and tried to pull the tattered shreds of his dignity together. "Thank you, Norman. Good night," he said and stalked off to his room.


There was an old saying that three people could keep a secret if two of them were dead, and the dinner party incident was no exception. Beck nearly choked with laughter when word of Roger Smith's little problem made its way to his ear. Slugged for trying to cop a feel! It was too perfect!

Dorothy had given a dinner party in return for some of the invitations to varying social functions she and Crow-Boy had accepted. In order to avoid overworking Norman, she'd hired a small catering firm to take care of the food. A member of the staff was the source of Jason's information.

Apparently everything had gone off like clockwork, which was to be expected if R. Dorothy was handling the arrangements. A good time was had by all, and the proceedings had come to a civilized end at around eleven.

According to Jason's source, Roger had overdone the conviviality just a little. He wasn't exactly drunk, but he was certainly very close to tipsy, and became very affectionate towards Dorothy once their guests had left. She'd discouraged him quite gracefully until the point at which Roger had gotten annoyed and a little too insistent. She tried to extricate herself from his embrace in a civilized fashion, but apparently his ardor overcame his good sense. She actually pushed him away, and when he didn't take the warning, she smacked him. Hard.

He had, according to the staff member, promptly lost his balance and gone over backwards. Dorothy had stormed out of the room, obviously furious, and a minute later Norman had appeared to make sure that his employer hadn't suffered any lasting harm.

Roger was already coming to at this point, and a minute later, he got up off of the floor and went upstairs. Dorothy returned shortly thereafter, acting as if nothing had happened. She'd helped the crew finish clearing up, thanked them for their good work and sent them on their way.

Jason Beck would have given a lot to be a fly on the wall at Smith Mansion right about now.


If Jason had gotten his wish, he would have been sorely disappointed. Roger emerged from his room well after noon. Dorothy wasn't home and Norman wasn't speaking to him--not that he cared! The whole situation was absolutely preposterous!

The next day was the same, as was the next, and the day after that. By the eighth day, he was getting heartily sick of sitting in the solarium and being avoided.

He found Norman in the kitchen peeling potatoes, so he grabbed a peeler and pulled up a chair. "I apologize for the unpleasantness the other night," Roger wasted no time in getting it out of the way.

Norman avoided looking at him. "I'm not the one who is owed an apology," he said. "Miss Dorothy is a lady, she's not one of your painted Jezebels."

"Well, I can't apologize to her if I never see her!" Roger left the Jezebel remark strictly alone. He'd known that Norman hadn't approved of his bachelor lifestyle before Dorothy came to them, but he'd never realized the depth of the butler's distaste for the company he'd kept.

"I haven't seen much of her either," Norman said. "She's usually on her way out just as I'm getting up."

"Do you know where she's going?" Roger asked.

"Not to see her friends," Norman said. "Angel's called three times asking after her and she hasn't been by to see Instro. She didn't go to church on Sunday, either."

"That doesn't make sense," Roger said. "She's mad at me--why would she avoid seeing her friends?"

"She said something about it being too humiliating," Norman said.

"How could that be?" Roger frowned. "All the guests had left."

"Apparently you had forgotten about the catering crew," Norman lifted his eyes from the potatoes to glare at him.

"Oh." The magnitude of his error began to sink in. "Oh, God."


"Where are you going?" Roger had stayed up all night to make sure that he caught up with Dorothy. It was almost painful to look at her. The woman whose slow emergence had delighted him these past months had completely disappeared, to be replaced by the expressionless android. She was wearing her old black dress, he noticed, and she was carrying a large box.

She turned and looked at him. "I'm taking my clothes to the church," she said. "I'm sure someone could use them."

"I thought you liked them," he said.

"I do," she said, "but it seems wasteful to just leave them hanging in the closet."

"I think we need to talk first" he said.

"If we must," she said, monotone. "It's only going to make you angry."

Roger made an exasperated sound. "Do I have the word 'Ogre' painted on my forehead?"

Dorothy studied his face closely for a moment. "No, it just says 'Louse', same as always" she said.

He laughed in spite of himself. "I thought that was a given."

"Apparently so," she said, looking out the window.

"Well, I'm not so much of a louse that I won't apologize," he said. "I am truly sorry."

She shook her head. "Unfortunately, an apology isn't really going to help.".

"Are you worried about gossip again?" he asked. He didn't say a word about ignoring it--he'd gone to the Speakeasy after his conversation with Norman, and there had been a couple of stage-whispered remarks about the worth of a negotiator who couldn't even negotiate himself into an android's bed. He'd taken his own advice and pretended he didn't hear, but he had to admit the taunts rankled.

"It's not the gossip, really," she said.

Roger had a sudden, horrible thought. "Are my attentions... unwelcome?"

"No," she said. Her expression softened. "That is a... joy, Roger Smith."

"Then what's been stopping you?" he asked, frustrated all over again. "I'd think that what goes on between two adults isn't anybody's business but their own. If people are going to talk anyway, why not just suit yourself?"

"The problem is that it limits what I am able to do," Dorothy said. She hesitated and then seemed to come to some kind of decision. "I am sure you and Norman are perfectly well aware of my original function?"

Roger felt his face turn red. He hadn't expected her to bring up that. He answered honestly. "Yes," he said. "We didn't know what you remembered, if anything, so we agreed not to discuss it unless you brought it up. We figured you had enough to deal with."

"I'm bringing it up," she said. "There is generally only one purpose for a young-looking female android built with the kind of detail I possess, so even if I didn't remember every minute, it would take no great effort to reach this conclusion. I am," she continued, "very grateful for the discretion and courtesy you and Norman have shown me from the beginning. It did help."

"We knew there was also a chance you'd only been intended for a nurse-companion--Wayneright was getting on in years." Roger pointed out. "Regardless, you didn't have any choice in the matter."

"Many people believe I still have no choice," she said. "I had hoped that the work I was doing at the church and with the Ladies' Auxiliary would convince them otherwise, in time. It seemed to be helping, but then came the catering crew with a juicy story to tell."

"Maybe it did help," Roger said. "I did hear a bit of talk when I was out, but it seemed mainly focused on my part of it."

"But it also seemed to confirm what had only previously been rumor," Dorothy said. "I had the opportunity to do some real good, Roger. You know what a mess Alex Rosewater left. One of the things the Ladies' Auxiliary has been doing is to help put things back together and raise money--there are too many orphans and not enough schools or hospitals. The church works with more immediate needs, and that's important too. But unless they were hoping to use me to get access to you, who would bother with Roger Smith's plaything? Why would anyone waste a moment on a... a... doll?"

"They won't see you as your own person," he said.

"Or take me the least bit seriously," Dorothy said. "A little bit of that is inevitable, some people will always dislike androids, but I could ignore that when I knew that most people could see that I was independent. But in addition to the things you heard, there's also talk that everything I did was just a ploy because you didn't want anyone to know about our real relationship. That you were ashamed of it."

"Of all the stupid..." Roger began.

"It doesn't matter," she said. "It was good of you to apologize, but I'm really not angry any more. I just needed time to think about what I should do next. I thought about finding somewhere else to live, but I really don't have any marketable skills other than..." she shrugged, "well, the obvious. I know how to care for children and keep a house, but no wife in her right mind would want me, and if the husband hired me, it wouldn't be for my Sunday dinners." She frowned. "I could learn to type and take shorthand fairly quickly, I'm sure I could find work as a secretary, but if I were on my own, I'd constantly be dealing with the type that we met that first night we went dancing. Besides, Norman really does need help--this is a big building and it's too much work for him to take care of it alone."

"He isn't getting any younger," Roger agreed, "and I know he'd miss you terribly. He enjoys your company, too."

"Well, he'll probably get tired of my company," Dorothy said. "I decided the best thing to do was to simply drop out of sight for a while. In a few years, nobody will care any more and maybe I can try again then."

"But what about you and I?" he protested.

"I'm going to go and drop off these clothes," she said, ignoring the question. "I'm glad we were able to talk, Roger."

"Wait just a minute, R. Dorothy Wayneright!" Roger took the box from her and put it on the floor. He took her hands in his "What about us?"

"I'm hoping that with time you'll find someone you can really love," Dorothy said finally, refusing to meet his eyes.

"Your terms are not acceptable," he snapped.

"It's the best that I have," she said. "I'm sorry, Roger."

The worst part of it was that he understood. If they continued in secret, it would be almost as bad as if she'd never been free of Timothy Wayneright. Ultimately it would poison their relationship, and she deserved much, much better than that. But to end it like this? They had been through too much together to just give it up. He felt like he had only just begun to truly get to know her, and the idea of finding someone else was more than he could bear. It may have taken him a long time to figure it out, but he knew that the only woman for him was the one standing right in front of him.

There was one option that she hadn't thought of, he suddenly realized. "I have a better idea," he said. "Why don't we get married? People may not respect my android companion, but they will damn well respect my wife. Nobody would think I was ashamed of you then, and you'd have entrée to any social event you cared to attend." He warmed to the subject. "It would really give a boost to your charity efforts, I'll bet, and it would be quite a feather in your cap to be known as the woman who managed to land one of Paradigm City's most eligible bachelors."

Dorothy was giving him one of those looks again. "Is this a marriage proposal or a business negotiation, Roger Smith? I had been given to understand that there were certain traditions involved in a proposal of marriage. Perhaps I was ill-informed."

"The two have their similarities," he mumbled, embarrassed.

"Your terms are not acceptable," she said. She pulled her hands out of his and quickly left the room, the back door slamming closed behind her.

Intending to follow, Roger took a step and nearly fell over the box still at his feet. He picked it up so Norman wouldn't trip on it when he got up. Roger briefly toyed with the idea of hiding it, but that was silly, and she'd undoubtedly find it after a day or two anyway. He finally brought it back to her room and put it on her bed where she'd be sure to see it, then headed for his own bed. He needed at least a nap if he was going to try to see any clients today.

As he drifted off, it occurred to him that she hadn't actually said "no".